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carryonsimoncarryonbaz · 5 years ago

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Whumptober Day 28,29,30,31

Last day of Whumptober today! I didn’t get a fic written every day but I did get every prompt in a fic! This one is massive and self indulgent. Thanks for following along.

Read at Ao3

Day 28. Beaten

Day 29. Numb

Day 30. Recovery

Day 31. Embrace

Baz

He comes in night after night, smelling of blood and sweat and fire.

I’m typically the one who’s out late but for the past few weeks Snow’s bed has been empty when I get back from the Catacombs.

I’m almost always asleep by the time he stumbles in but Snow makes such a racket, even when he’s trying to be quiet, that I inevitably wake up.

Not that he would know. I can fake being asleep. I’ve been doing it for years.

I inhale the scent of him, blood and all. I revel in his blundering around the room, tripping over his own book bag and cursing, the great thumping git. I catch glimpses of him, hair gleaming in the moonlight shining in from our window, his bare skin pearlescent in the glow.

He’s so fucking beautiful, even when he’s bruised and battered. It makes my chest go tight.

It makes me want to spring out of bed, makes me want to grab my wand and cast spell after spell on him.

Healing spells. Protection spells.

I don’t know what the Mage is up to. But it isn’t good.

He’s never worked Snow this hard, not night after night like this.

It’s affecting him during the day now. Snow’s not the most attentive in class, under the best of circumstances, but the past two weeks have been bloody awful.

He stammers even more than usual when he’s called on in class. Couldn’t even spit out a simple sentence in Elocution today. He drifted off to sleep during Greek. He’s got dark circles under his eyes and that haunted look to his face.

The one he has when he first gets back to school at the start of term. When he’s thin and drawn and half-starved.

But it’s not the start of term. It’s November and Snow should be back at his fighting weight, the angles smoothed to gentle curves on his face, his arms and chest filled out and firm, the flush back in his cheeks and the brightness in his gaze again.

Instead he drags himself up the stairs to the turret after class, sits down heavily at his desk, his head pillowed on his arms. He eventually rouses himself enough to get through some of his work, plods his way down to dinner and then disappears for the rest of the night.

I don’t know what to do.

I shouldn’t care.

But I do.

I care enough that I don’t even fuss at him. I don’t shout when he leaves his trackie bottoms on the floor. I don’t threaten him with bodily harm when he leaves the window open. I didn’t light him on fire when he accidentally knocked over my contraband Ribena (bless my aunt and her care packages).

I leave my Greek homework conspicuously accessible on my desk. I restock my stash of crisps. I make sure to wash the linens, even though it’s not my turn this week.

I’m not even sure Snow notices.

I’m already awake when Snow comes in this time.

I made sure I would be.

I can hear the door creak open and then his muffled groan as he closes it and leans against it, as if he’s much too exhausted to even cross the room.

Maybe he is.

He’s moving slowly, the scent of him sharp and sour tonight. More sweat than blood then. Good. I’ll be able to keep my head clearer that way.

I sit up when he’s halfway across the room, on his way to the en suite.

He summons the Sword of Mages and takes his defensive stance when I do, only to sigh, run a hand through his hair and put the sword down to lean on it like a crutch, when he’s sees it’s only me.

“Fucking hell, Baz.”

“Who did you think it would be, Snow? A goblin? The Humdrum?” I can’t keep myself from sneering at him.

I don’t want to, not right now, but it’s become second nature. Force of habit.

“Fuck off, Baz. Can’t help it when you burst out of your bloody bed like that.”

“Like what? Like I actually reside in this room and am bloody sick and tired of being woken from my sleep by your late-night blundering about?”

He actually looks contrite at my words. His shoulders slump and he winces, some unseen injury giving him pause. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

I’m seated on the edge of my bed, feet on the cold stone floor. “What’s been going on, Snow?” My voice comes out gentler this time.

He frowns, eyebrows drawn together. “Nothing, really.”

The scoff bursts out of me before I can help it. Snow’s frown deepens. “Come on, now, Snow. This is above and beyond your usual antics. The late nights. More bumps and bruises than usual. Your quests usually wrap up quicker than this. Has the indefatigable Bunce finally abandoned you to your own devices?”

It’s a full-on scowl now. “Leave Penny out of this.”

“It seems you already have. You’re usually coated in a few of her healing spells by the time you stagger in.”

“How would you know that?”

“I can smell her magic on you. Sage and intensity.”

“Yes, well, I do things on my own from time to time, I’ll have you know.”

He moves to his bed and gingerly lowers himself onto it, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his thighs. He looks a mess—hair disheveled, a wide smudge of mud on his cheek, shirt torn and stained, trainers covered in muck.

A lovely mess.

I sigh and pull my wand from the nightstand. “Alright then, Snow. Let’s clean you up.”

He puts up a hand. “Baz, no. I’d rather take a shower.”

He’s always hated other people casting cleaning spells on him. I know that.

I’m not sure what I’m doing. The urge to help him is overwhelming tonight.

I nod my head. “I can cast a ‘get well soon’, since Bunce isn’t here to do the honors. If you’d like.”

We stare at each other in the dim light. I can see it when he nods back, a small gesture, tentative, unsure.

But it’s still a yes.

I point my wand and cast a “get well soon” with as much decorum as I can muster. I watch my magic pulse through him, see it in the way his straightens up and lets his eyes fall closed.

Snow tilts his head back and rolls his shoulders and it’s the most sensuous thing I’ve ever seen, the long line of his throat on display, freckles and moles faded in the low light.

Fuck, he’s beautiful.

“Thanks, Baz.” It’s soft and low and I want to hear his voice like that every time he speaks to me.

“Are you alright, Snow? It’s awkward hearing you thank me.” I am an absolute disaster. I can’t even let myself enjoy this without ruining it somehow.

But Snow just laughs. “Right? About as awkward as you healing me.”

“Are you alright though? Should I do it again? Try a “right as rain” or a “good as new”? Crowley, I’m babbling.

He tilts his head, looking for all the world as if he’s actually considering it. “Let me see how I am after a shower. I still feel pretty wrecked, even with your spell.”

That worries me. That spell should at least have taken the edge off, as much of my magic as I put into it.

“Who or what did you have a run-in with tonight?”

He’s blissfully unaware that I can see him in the dim light, that I can see the moment the frown fades from his face and he makes the decision to speak.

“A pack of ne’er-do-wells.”

“A pack of them?”

I’m incredulous. One ne’er-do-well is problematic. A pack of them would have been a disaster. “How are you still standing?”

He gives me a wry look. “I’m not.”

“How bad is it?”

Snow scrubs at his face with his hands, then clutches at the curls in his hair for a moment before looking at me again. It’s a much more thoughtful look this time, appraising. “Bruises mostly, I think. They got in some good kicks before I went off.”

“Let me see.”

“What? No. I’m fine. Or rather I’ll be fine, once I’ve washed up and had a bit of a rest.” Snow stands up, movements stiff and slow, keeping a hand on the bed to steady himself.

I’m on my feet as well and waving my wand to turn on the lights. Snow blinks and squints at the brightness.

I have a moment to school my features when he does. It’s not a smudge of mud on his face after all. It’s a bruise. Under his eye and there’s one along his jaw as well. There’s dried blood crusted around his nose, the bridge of it wide and flattened and the end of it a bit crooked. Broken then.

He’s got scratches and scrapes all down his arms and I can see gouges in his skin through his torn shirt. He’s leaning to his left, tilted a bit, arm across his abdomen protectively.

“Snow, you should go to the infirmary.”

He shakes his head. “I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse.”

“That doesn’t matter. They’ve got steel-toes, ne’er-do-wells do. And brass knuckles. You could have internal injuries.”

“I’m just a bit beat up, Baz. Not the first time, not the last. Let me take a shower, yeah?” He’s swaying on his feet and before I know it I’m across the space between us with an arm around him, supporting his weight.

He pushes at me. “Get off, Baz. I’m fine.” He’s wincing again as he says it.

“The last thing you are is fine. What the hell is the bloody Mage playing at, sending you out against thugs like that?”

Snow sighs but he stops trying to squirm away from me. I adjust my grip on him and we take a few tentative steps towards the en suite. “There’s been a surge of activity lately. Not sure why. Not just ne’er-do-wells but the goblins again and trolls too.”

“Aren’t the goblins always after you?” I push open the door to the bathroom and Snow shuffles in.

“They’ve finally figured out they’ve got a better chance if they come at me in pairs.”

“Took them long enough.”

“Well, they may be fit bastards, but no one ever said they were all that bright.”

I can’t have heard him right. Did Snow just say goblins were fit?

He shrugs. “Fit as pop stars, they are. Haven’t you ever seen one, Baz?”

Fucking hell, did I truly say that out loud?

I’m ready to set myself on fire but Snow just keeps chattering, as if the fact that he’s going on about dark creatures being fit isn’t a revelation. “Surely, you must have seen a goblin at some point? Yeah, the green skin is a bit off-putting but they’re still handsome devils, the lot of them.”

I won’t have to set myself on fire. I’ll just spontaneously combust if Snow keeps this up. I can’t help snapping at him. “Of course I’ve seen goblins, Snow. I just hadn’t expected you to be affected by their charms.”

I wonder if Snow is delirious. Maybe he had an encounter with some other creature, before the ne’er-do-well thugs got to him. He could be feverish, poisoned. It would explain why he’s saying ridiculous things like this so nonchalantly.

I prop him up against the bathroom sink and lean into the shower to turn on the hot water. I’m thrown off by this whole encounter. Out of countenance. I don’t even know what to say.

I press a hand to his forehead as we wait for the water to heat up and then immediately regret my life choices. He’s warm but not unduly so, at least not to my chilled hands. He gives me a weak grin, the muppet. He’s paler than he should be. I don’t like that at all. “I’m not sick, Baz.”

“I just wondered if you’d gotten yourself poisoned or drugged. You’re talking nonsense, you know.”

He tries to shrug but ends up grimacing in pain again.

“Come on, Snow. Get your shirt off. The water’s bound to be hot enough now.”

His lips curve up. “Not going to give me a spot of privacy then?”

I should never have indulged in half a dozen rats tonight. My face flushes instantly at his words.

I’m not quite sure what to do, honestly. Snow and I have never disrobed in front of each other. It’s not something we do. I certainly don’t expect him to strip down in front of me but at the same time I’m reluctant to leave him alone when he’s obviously injured.

What if he loses his balance or gets light-headed? Gets dizzy, and Merlin forbid, passes out?

Why do I even care? One less problem for me, if Snow puts himself out of commission with a self-induced head injury,

I don’t want him hurt. I don’t like seeing him like this.

He looks vulnerable and I can’t quite cope with that at the moment.

“I can’t trust you not to do something stupid, in your addled state, Snow.” I frown at him, as the steam rises from the shower and condensation starts to form on the mirror behind him.

“I just want to get cleaned up and go to bed, Baz.” Snow shakes his head at me and slowly, haltingly pulls his shirt off.

I’m riveted at the sight. Scars criss-cross his chest, snaking between the constellation of moles and freckles that dot his skin. Healed stab wounds, slashes, silvery old scars, livid new ones, cuts and abrasions that are still raw and seeping.

The scent of blood hits me, as one of the gouges on his chest starts to well up again, the dried blood ripped off when Snow removed his shirt just now. Crowley, I need to get away from him.

I back away, stumbling my way towards the door. “I’ll just get my wand,” I stammer. “You need those cuts seen to.”

Snow’s eyes follow me as I turn away from him and dash back into our room for my wand. I count to ten and take a few breaths away from the scent of him, even though he permeates the room anyway. It always smells like Snow in here.

I stagger back to the doorway, keeping my distance from Snow’s shirtless form. “Get well soon,” I cast again. “Time heals all wounds.” The cuts on his chest seamlessly close, the gouges narrowing as I watch.

There’s a nasty, purple bruise on his flank, swollen and dark. It doesn’t change when I say the spells. I don’t like it one bit. What’s there?

His kidney? Spleen perhaps?

A well-placed kick can rupture a spleen. I’ve learned that from football. Doesn’t take all that long to lose a significant amount of blood.

Fucking hell, I can’t leave him alone after seeing that. He shouldn’t be here, let alone showering.

“Snow, let me take you to the infirmary.”

He shakes his head, stubbornly jutting his chin out at me. I know that look. “I’m taking a shower, Baz, like it or not.”

“Infirmary after.”

“There won’t be anyone there, this time of night.”

“Then we’ll wake someone up.”

“Go on. Out. Let me clean up in peace. We can talk about the infirmary when I’m done.”

I stand my ground. I’m not going anywhere, not with this moron in imminent danger of damaging himself further.

“I will not. You want a shower, you take it with me here, Snow. I’ll not risk you falling down in a faint and the Anathema blaming me for your demise.”

“You are a right arse, you know that?” Snow’s voice is low and raspy and it should not be affecting me this way.

I sit down on the toilet and turn my face away from him, wand at the ready. If he starts to fall I can at least cast a “stand your ground” or a “cushion the blow” on the tile floor.

Snow sighs. “Fine, then.” His track bottoms get tossed at my feet and it takes everything I have to keep my eyes focused on the door.

This was a terrible idea. I’m stuck here now, listening to Snow groan as the hot water hits him. I can smell the standard issue soap he uses. I can hear the rasp of the washcloth on his skin, the intake of his breath as the rough weave of it catches on what’s left of the scabs and healing gouges on his chest.

The splash of water on the shower curtain. The pop of the shampoo bottle opening. The sigh that comes from him as he starts to wash his hair.

The faint scrape of his fingers against his scalp.

I can’t do this. My eyes are closed now, giving Snow the privacy he needs, but the images of him that are filling my head are agonizingly erotic.

I wish I was the one washing his hair.

That my fingers were catching on that tangled mess, gliding through his curls, smoothing the coils of them out, carefully, tenderly.

That I could watch the trail of water droplets slide slowly down his chest, his back, across the taut muscles of his abdomen.

Lower.

Fuck.

This is going to end me. I’m going to meet my doom sitting on the fucking toilet at the top of Mummers listening to Snow’s painfully erotic shower sighs and moans. My family will never live this down.

The sound of the water shutting off shocks me back into the moment. “You alright, Snow?”

My words come out shaky, breathless. Fucking hell.

“Been better.” The shower curtain rattles open. “Hand me a towel, will you, Baz?”

Will the humiliations never cease? I stand up and grab a towel from the rack next to me and lean towards the shower, eyes resolutely fixed on the floor.

I will not look at Snow.

“It’s alright, Baz. I kept my pants on.”

I blink. Snow’s track bottoms are still in a heap at my feet but I don’t see his pants.

I whip my head up to glare at him. He’s standing just outside the shower, the towel wrapped around his waist, hair a glorious, dripping mess.

There is a water droplet gliding down his chest and I am completely mesmerized by the path it takes.

Snow’s body tilts and he’s slumping towards the sink. I’m at his side instantly, arm around his waist, my skin against the damp heat of him. “What the hell, Snow?”

He shakes his head, spraying me with water. “Just got a bit light-headed there.”

“That’s it. I’m taking you to the infirmary.” I maneuver him over to the toilet and sit him down on it.

His towel gaps open when he leans against the wall and I see his pants—standard issue black boxer briefs, soaking wet.

The bloody nightmare actually kept his pants on while he showered.

His eyes are half-closed but there’s a hint of a smile on his face. “Didn’t want to offend your delicate sensibilities, Baz.”

My delicate sensibilities have been overly aroused by this encounter.

I clear my throat before I speak this time, endeavoring to keep my voice cool and detached. “I’m going to dry you off now, Snow.”

He raises an eyebrow at me, the absolutely infuriating muppet. Can’t even keep himself on his own two feet but he’s still being cheeky.

Crowley, I love him.

“Not that way, you nightmare.” I raise my wand and cast a “dry as a bone.”

Snow’s curls spring up as the water drains away from him. I see no reason to check his pants. I know my spellwork is flawless.

I snatch some of Snow’s clothes from his wardrobe and between the two of us we get him dressed. Track bottoms. Hoodie. The usual.

His pallor is more pronounced than before and I am certain that bruise is larger. I cast another round of healing spells on him before I try to stand him up to march him to his bed. I use a “lighten the load” to make is easier for him to walk.

His color doesn’t change. He’s still unsteady on his feet.

I could carry him down the steps, I suppose, and over to the infirmary, but that raises its own host of issues. I could go get Ms. Possibelf. I could go to the infirmary myself and rouse the healer.

That would mean leaving Snow alone and I’m not prepared to do that.

In the end I choose perhaps the worst compromise. I wake up Dev and Niall to help.

“What the fuck, Baz? It’s two in the morning.” Dev’s hair is standing on end and he’s bleary eyed.

“Fuck off, Baz.” Niall glares at me from his bed and then pulls the covers over his head.

“Shut up, the both of you. Snow’s gone and done something stupid and I don’t want him to die in our room and trigger the Anathema simply because I failed to provide adequate first aid.”

“Isn’t ending Snow basically the master plan?”

I’ve often thought of kicking Dev and this seems an appropriate time to strongly consider making that dream a reality.

I restrain myself.

“Listen to me. These are our options, Dev: you can go to the infirmary and get the healer for me while I stay in the room with Snow. Or you can stay with Snow while I go get help. Or you and Niall can help me carry him directly over there.”

“That’s all shit, mate.” Niall’s up now, scowling at me. “You don’t need both of us for that. Dev can watch Snow and you can get help and I’ll fuck off back to bed.”

Which is exactly what he does.

Dev stares at me. His shoulders slump and he leans against the door frame. “Fuck it all. I’ll stay with Snow then. Don’t take all night.”

It doesn’t take all night. One of the third years had a sleepwalking accident so the healer is already awake.

“You’re sure it’s an emergency, Mr. Pitch? Mr. Snow is far more resilient than you might expect.”

I can’t help being testy in my response. “I’m quite aware. I've lived with him since first year.” I take a breath and soften my voice. “I’m concerned about internal injuries. I’ve cast a host of healing spells on him but it’s not making much of a difference.”

She sighs.

“Very well then. Can you get Mr. Snow here?” She points to the third year, who is peacefully curled up on one of the cots. “I can’t leave Colin unattended at the moment.”

I trot back to Mummers and pound on Niall’s door on my way up. He’s grim when he answers.

“For fuck’s sake, Baz.”

“Listen, the healer can’t come. We’ve got to get Snow over there somehow.”

He snorts. “Just chuck him over your shoulder, mate.” He pats my shoulder firmly. “You can manage it.” He gives me a knowing look.

“I’d rather not advertise that at the moment, if you don’t mind.” Me carrying Snow single handedly across the courtyard would certainly raise suspicions. Even with a spell.

In the end Niall comes with me, whinging incessantly, and despite Snow’s protests we end up successfully getting him down the stairs of Mummers.

Well, they do. I don’t quite trust myself to touch Snow at the moment, not after the enticing visions I had of him while he was showering. I do hit him with a “light on your feet” and cast a “carry that weight” on Dev and Niall. I am helping, in my own way.

It doesn’t stop them from grumbling. “He’s your fucking roommate, Baz. Don’t know why I’m suddenly responsible for him. The Crucible appointed you for that role, not me.”

“Shut up, Dev.”

“Can’t you just spell him, Baz? Surely an “early to bed” and a “just what the doctor ordered” should perk him right up. This is surely old hat to him after all this time.” Niall shifts his arm to steady Snow.

He’s swaying on his feet, even though he’s held up on either side by Dev and Niall. His freckles are standing out in stark relief against the pallor of his face, his pupils wide in his blue eyes.

“I am right here, you know,” Snow interrupts, eyes half lidded and head sagging onto Dev’s shoulder.

“Ah yes, Snow, how sporting of you to contribute to the conversation.”

“Shut up, Niall.”

Thank magic the infirmary is on the first floor. We stumble in with Snow and deposit him on one of the empty cots. Dev and Niall fuck off back to their room, still griping about it all as they shuffle out the door.

I stay.

It only takes a few moments of examining Snow for the healer--Ms. Galenus, I think-- to spring into action and start scolding him. I get the sense it’s not the first time they’ve had such a conversation. “What on earth were you thinking, Simon, going to your room with these injuries instead of coming here to be healed? How many times have I told you to stop by, even for a minute, so I can sort you out before you settle in for the night?”

“Didn’t want to be a bother. It’s not bad, really. Just tangled with a pack of ne’er-do-wells.” He smiles up at her, still downplaying it all. “I’m just a bit bruised up.”

She stands over him with her hands on her hips, scowling down at him. “I’m the healer here, Simon. Let me be the judge of that.” Her voice is tender, at odds with her expression. She presses her hands over his chest, his abdomen, his forehead, her eyes staying focused on his.

I’m not very familiar with the infirmary. I avoid it as much as possible. Don’t need to encourage too many questions. Ms. Possibelf dragged me here herself when Snow broke my nose. It’s the only other time I’ve been here.

I am fascinated with what I’m seeing now, the way the healer is assessing Simon, scanning him from head to toe for injury and muttering a variety of spells as she does it. I can hear some of them. Ones I’ve heard before but others are less familiar.

“Blood is thicker than water.”

“Hale and hearty.”

“On the mend.”

“Picture of health.”

She puts her hand on Snow’s nose and shifts it a bit as she mutters a “healing hands.”

It looks better already.

She’s certainly an improvement on the charlatan who set mine.

Ms. Galenus finishes up with a “goodnight, sleep tight” and a “gentle sleep, Nature’s soft nurse.” I’ve not heard that one used before.

Snow’s head sags on the pillow, the tension draining from his form. His body is still, his chest slowly rising and falling, breaths deep and even.

“Is he alright?” I’m leaning forward.

The healer brushes Snow’s hair off his forehead and lets the back of her hand rest there for an instant. “He will be. It’ll take a bit, but he should be right as rain in a few days.” She turns her gaze on me. “It was good you brought him in, Mr. Pitch. A ruptured spleen is a disaster waiting to happen.”

Bloody hell. I was right. Those fucking ne’er-do-wells.

“I wondered, with that bruise.”

She nods. “Yes, that’s a hallmark. How long ago did he return to your room?”

I give the details and she snorts at me. “A shower! Merlin above, the boy is an idiot. As are you, for letting him do that. Standing in all that heat, while he was losing blood. No wonder he got light-headed. It’s a good thing he didn’t faint and knock his head against the tile.”

“I told him it was a terrible idea.”

“Seems you were not persuasive enough.” She sighs and pats Snow’s shoulder. “He’s a difficult one. Tries to soldier on, he does.” She brushes his hair back again. There’s a maternal tenderness to her motions and I wonder how many times Snow has ended up here.

Her next words are so quiet even I can barely hear them. “When will it ever be enough for him?”

I don’t think she’s referring to Snow.

“You don’t have to stay, Mr. Pitch. I’ve got him sorted.”

I don’t want to go. So many years, so many times, I’ve numbed myself to Snow’s misery. I’ve blocked out the groans as he maneuvered himself into bed. Turned my eyes away from the bruises, the cuts, the stiffness of his gait. Ignored the way he’d grimace as he pulled his jumper on.

I let myself believe he deserved it. Verbally sparred with him when he was at his worst, instead of giving him solace.

He soldiers on. That’s what she said.

It’s what he does. He does the Mage’s bidding. Never questions it. Snow puts himself on the line time after time, night after night, mission after mission. For the Mage’s twisted power struggles. To acquire magickal relics and talismans the Mage is too craven to go after himself. To tangle with mythical beings and dark creatures for what purpose?

It’s as if this is all some test of Snow’s powers, his abilities, his limits.

How can the Mage consider setting one boy against the Humdrum? Using one boy as a weapon against the Old Families? It’s ludicrous.

It’s cruel.

I’m not turning away any more.

“I’ll stay, if that’s alright.” I shift in the chair, settling myself. “Just to make sure he’s okay.”

“Suit yourself.” She narrows her eyes at me. “You can take a cot, you know.” She waves a hand around the nearly empty ward. “You can have your pick.”

I shake my head. “I’m fine here. I’ll just stay for a bit.”

“I expect he’ll be here a few days.”

I nod.

She stares at me for a moment longer but I look away, to where Snow is gently snoring.

He’s still too pale.

Snow ends up being in the infirmary for almost a week. Five days to be exact.

And five nights. Five nights that I spend alone in the excruciating silence of our room.

I miss the way Snow slams the door open every time he comes in the room. I miss the way he drops his bag on his desk and then trips over his own mess on the floor. I miss the sound of him humming in the shower. I miss the scent of him—sweat and spice and smoke.

It’s only been a few days but it’s faded even from my heightened senses.

I can still catch a hint of it, if I lean close to his pillow and breathe in. Which I do far more often than I care to admit.

I’m weak. I’m a constant disappointment to myself.

I go see Snow every evening, before I head to the Catacombs. I can’t bring myself to stay away.

I miss him. There. I’ve said it. I’ve humiliated myself once more, for the sake of Simon Snow.

I know for a fact that Bunce heads to the infirmary at tea-time and stays through dinner. I don’t know when Wellbelove visits him. Or if she does. Things have seemed strained between them this term.

I try to time my visits so they don’t overlap with Bunce. She’s got an unnerving glare and I would prefer to avoid her. It’s not so much her looking at me as looking through me and it’s frankly unsettling in its intensity.

I’m not sure if Snow tells her I visit him.

I don’t know why I go see him.

That’s I lie. I know very well why I do it. What I haven’t figured out is how to come to terms with the truth of it.

I love Snow.

I’ve loved him for years. I didn’t realize the tangle of emotions that flamed in me at his presence was love until fifth year. It’s been a struggle ever since.

So every night this week I’ve gone to the infirmary. I’ve brought Snow his school work.

And some of my salt and vinegar crisps.

I’ve helped him with his Greek. I’ve gone over his Elocution with him. He still looks surprised each time I walk in the room but then he grins at me and I know I made the right decision to come.

I help him do his exercises. It seems the ne’er-do-well attack did something to his shoulder. On his sword arm side. It’s healed but there’s a stiffness to it still. So I count the repetitions and criticize his form.

He’s recovering. The color has started to creep back into his cheeks. He was as pale as me, the first few days.

Injuries of the spleen can result in a tremendous amount of blood loss. The healing spells can stop the bleeding, restore the function to the organ, speed up the process of regeneration. What they can’t do is replenish the blood loss. That part has to progress naturally. This detailed medical information comes courtesy of Ms. Galenus, who has yielded to the compulsion to regale us both with the severity of Snow’s condition at every opportunity, likely in an attempt to make us feel worse about our flawed decision making that night.

The upshot is that Snow is expected to be a bit under the weather for a few more weeks. It takes time to recover from an internal injury of this magnitude.

So no strenuous activity. No missions. No swordwork.

Normals usually have surgery for this. Emergency surgery, with blood transfusions and intensive care stays.

Snow’s hardy, there’s no question of that, and he’s a quick healer under regular circumstances, but I think his training regimen prior to this injury took too much out of him.

Fuck the Mage. I hope the healer gives him a stern talking to about all this.

Not that it will do any good. The man’s a menace.

I’ve got my chair pulled up right next to Snow’s cot. His Greek textbook is on his lap and I’ve got my notebook spread on mine. He scoots to the edge of the bed and I can feel the heat of him, he’s so close. His head is bent low over the book, his curls hanging forward in his face.

I’d give anything to run my fingers through them.

He’s scowling at the text.

Snow’s not as thick as I accuse him of being. He’s actually got a good grasp of the grammar and vocabulary, it’s just putting the sentences together that trips him up. He’s almost finished with tonight’s assignment, with very little assistance from me.

I wonder if it’s just the way the Minotaur presents it, that gives him trouble. He’s had no trouble when I explain it to him.

It’s the same with Elocution. He usually stumbles over his words but here, in the privacy of the infirmary ward, his words come out with a clarity and intent that’s often missing when he’s in class .

I wonder why that is.

I think perhaps I should offer to do this, when Snow comes back to our room. Suggest we do our school work together.

I don’t know what I’m thinking. That’s not something Snow and I do. That’s what he does with Bunce and Wellbelove.

Not me.

Why would he consider doing that?

He’d get better marks, that’s for certain, but I doubt he’d feel that was a fair trade for having to spend so much time with me.

Although it would certainly cut down on the time he spends stalking me. Kill two birds with one stone—do better on his school work and be able to keep tabs on me without having to leave the comfort of our room.

Perhaps I should suggest it.

I don’t have to.

“Baz, are you going to the library after class?” Snow asks me the first morning he’s back in our room.

“I wasn’t planning on it. Are you?” He usually meets Bunce there after tea.

He shakes his head. “I’m supposed to take it easy for a week or two. Avoid taking the stairs more than necessary.” His cheeks flush. “I thought . . . I thought maybe if you were going to be here maybe we could just keep doing what we’ve been doing?”

My heart thumps in my chest but I keep my face still, impassive, voice cool and detached. “Keep doing what, Snow?” I think I know what he means but I’m pathetically desperate to hear him say it. To have him ask.

“Do our school work together, yeah? Like we did when I was in the infirmary?” His eyes meet mine. “If you want to, I mean. You don’t have to. I know you were just trying to help and now things are back to normal so you don’t really need to if you don’t want to bother . . .” He’s heading into a first-rate Snow bluster.

I interrupt him, to put him out of his misery. To answer before he changes his mind. “I think that would be fine, Snow. We can do that.”

His eyes widen. “We can? You’re sure?”

I’m far beyond sure. There’s nothing I’d rather do.

Well, I’d rather pull Snow in my arms and snog him senseless but that’s never going to happen. This will do. I’ll still be close to him. Closer than I have been.

The desk chair is uncomfortable for Snow to sit in for too long so he parks himself on his bed, reclined against the headboard. My desk is too far away for me to be able to see his work and my bed is as well. I end up pulling up my desk chair right to the side of his bed, the same way we sat together when he was in the infirmary. It’s familiar, close but not too close.

It becomes a routine.

It’s weeks later and the Minotaur has piled on an excruciating amount of homework as we reach the end of the term. Snow and I have slogged through most of it tonight but there’s still a passage from the Iliad to translate.

Snow’s probably fine to sit at his desk again but he stays in his bed and I keep my chair at his side. I think we both prefer it this way.

There are papers scattered all over his bed. He’s sitting with his back against the headboard, legs crossed in front of him.

Snow left his copy of the Iliad in the classroom today so we’re trying to share mine. It’s not going well.

We’re holding it between us, both trying to copy down the text we need to translate. Snow keeps pulling it towards him and I keep pulling it back. It’s maddening.

“Would you stop?” I yank the book from him. “If we can’t share it we’ll just have to take turns. I’ve copied the wrong line twice already, thanks to you.”

“Then let me go first. I’ve still got Political Science reading to do after I finish this.”

I frown. “You should do your reading first, while I do the translation. That makes more sense.”

“If I do mine first you can check it over while I do my reading.”

We bicker.

It’s not like it used to be. There are no insults. I’m not sneering at him while I do it.

I can’t remember the last time I sneered at him.

I finally relent and let Snow take the book first. I’ve done my Political Science reading already but I take the opportunity to skim the next chapter. Snow’s muttering to himself and shuffling on the bed.

“What are you on about?”

“I just can’t get this part figured out.” He points to a passage.

I crane my neck to look. “Bring it closer, Snow, stop making me lean over like this. I’ll get a crick in my neck.”

He huffs and shifts it slightly. I’m still twisted in the chair, trying to read while he holds it in front of him. “Just give it here, let me look at it.” I reach out for the book.

He pulls it away.

I frown at him. “I don’t know how you expect me to help if you’re being an arse about it, Snow. I can’t see what you’re referring to when you’re hoarding the book like this.”

“You don’t even know which part is giving me trouble.”

“I would, if you’d just show me the book.”

“I am showing you the book.”

“You’re not. I’m practically having to crawl up onto the bed to see it.”

“So why don’t you?”

“What?”

Snow scoots over, brushing papers away so they flutter onto the floor in disarray. He pats the mattress next to him. “Come on then.”

I stare at the spot his hand is patting. I stare up at Snow. I stare back at the mattress. “What?” I say again.

Snow rolls his eyes.

“Just get over here. You said you were craning your neck, trying to lean over to read. Come sit here and I can show the part I’m struggling with.”

It feels like I’m moving in slow motion: standing, shifting my chair away, gingerly sitting on the bed next to Snow. There’s room on the far side but he’s not scooting over so I’m forced to sit close to the edge so I don’t bump into him. “Budge up,” I say. “You’re not only monopolizing the book, you’re hogging the bed too.”

He shifts over slightly, barely enough to let me settle a bit less precariously on the mattress. I try to take the book from him but he pulls it away again, making me groan in irritation.

“I’ll hold it,” he says, shifting it to his right hand, which takes it even further from me.

I reach out with my left hand and grab the front flap of the book, pulling it my way, until it’s hovering between us. We have a brief tug of war before Snow relents and slumps back against the headboard, his shoulder bumping into mine.

I shift to give him a bit of space but he’s shoving against me again a moment later. I give up, letting his shoulder rest against mine.

It’s warm. I can feel Snow alongside me, shoulder to elbow. Hip to hip. The back of his hand brushing against my own. When did he shift so close? His foot bumps mine as he crosses his legs at the ankle, his forefoot almost resting on my shin.

He’s too close. I can feel the heat of him, even through his shirt. He’s rolled his sleeves up to the elbow and I can follow the pattern of freckles on his skin, the play of the muscles in his forearm as he shifts his grip on the book.

I try to focus on the words. I try to focus on the Greek in front of me, with the scent of Snow surrounding me. The lines blur together, the passage just a jumble of words.

“Which part, Snow?” My voice sounds thick, the words coming out slowly.

He’s intoxicating.

“This part.” I watch his hand rise up and point to the passage. I try to follow the words, not the path his finger takes along the page.

I’ve not fed yet but I can still feel my cheeks warm as I read the passage. Fucking hell. This isn’t what the Minotaur assigned.

I clear my throat. “That’s not the right part, Snow.”

“What? He said this whole part.”

“I don’t think so. I think it’s the page before.”

Snow puts the book down and scrabbles for a scrap of paper on the floor. He sits back with it in his hand, shoulder pressed against mine again.

Fuck, it’s warm in here tonight.

“Look. It’s this part. I told you.”

I scan Snow’s crabbed handwriting. I look at the book again. He must have written it down wrong.

“You must have written it down wrong.”

He frowns at me. “I’m sure I didn’t.” He kicks at my leg with his foot. “Where are your notes?”

I pull my assignment notebook to me and compare my notes to Snow’s.

Bloody hell.

He’s right, the ridiculous muppet.

He knows it too, he’s grinning at me now, leaning over to look at my own notes. He rests his chin on my shoulder as he reads and I feel a shiver ripple through me at the sensation.

I drop my assignment book and go back to the text.

“So,” Snow says, pointing at the passage again. “It’s this part. The one where Aphrodite and Hera are speaking.”

He speaks the words in halting Greek, stumbling over the pronunciations. It doesn’t matter. I know the passage.

“There is the heat of Love, the pulsing rush of Longing, the lover’s whisper, irresistible — magic to make the sanest man go mad.”

Fuck Zeus.

I’m going to go mad, trying to reread this passage with Snow leaning against me the way he is, with those words pulsing in my brain.

“What . . . what seems to be the problem for you, Snow?” Focus on the language, Pitch. Not the passage, just the individual words. They’re just words.

“Do you think I should translate it as the “heat of love” or the “flame of love”? It could be either, don’t you think, Baz?”

It’s flames. It’s definitely flames. I’m ready to go up in flames.

“That’s fine.”

“Which one?”

“Either. Both. It’s fine.” It’s most certainly not fine.

“And do you think it’s “pulsing rush of desire” or “pulsing rush of longing”? One sounds more romantic but seeing as there’s a seduction going on perhaps desire makes more sense?” Snow’s still going about the sodding passage.

There is a seduction going on here but it’s not the one he’s referring to.

There’s a pulsing rush of desire in me and it’s all directed at Snow.

I scoot towards the edge of the bed. Snow scoots with me.

“Uh. Um.” Merlin above, I sound like an absolute tit. “I think I’ve seen it as longing. Yes, longing, I think.”

“Hmm. Desire seems to make more sense to me.”

There is no space between us now. Snow is flush to my side, the heat of him making the longing rush through me. I’ve never identified with the Iliad more than at this moment.

Snow puts the book down. “Baz.”

My mouth is dry. I can’t look at him.

He says my name again.

I turn my head slightly, looking at him out of the side of my eye. He’s too brilliant to look at directly, particularly now that he’s been reciting stanzas about love and desire to me for the past five minutes.

I feel his fingers fleetingly against my cheek as he sweeps the hair back from my face and tucks it behind my ear.

I stop breathing.

His fingers brush their way along my jawline and he turns my face to his. “Hey.”

His eyes are so blue. Blue like the ocean. Blue like the sky. Vast and wide. I’m lost in them.

He’s holding my chin, his thumb brushing against my lower lip. I may die. I may meet my end here, on Snow’s bed, surrounded by a mess of notes and a ragged copy of the Iliad.

It would be a good death.

“So, I’ve been meaning to thank you.”

I blink at him. “Thank me for what?” My voice is shaky.

“For taking care of me, that night. For taking me to the infirmary. For keeping me company when I was there. For taking the time to help me with my assignments.” His voice is just above a whisper but I’m leaning closer as he speaks. “For spending that time with me.”

“I wanted to.” The words rip out of me. I’ve lost any filter. The proximity of Snow, the way his breath gusts against my skin when he speaks. I’ve lost all sense of reason.

“Wanted to what?” It’s just a breath of air.

“Take care of you. Help you. Protect you.” It’s out there now, what’s in my heart. What I’ve kept hidden for years.

“I know.”

He leans forward, both hands cupping my face, his lips so close to mine. I’m trembling.

“Irresistible,” he whispers.

And then he’s kissing me.

#whumptober2019 #simon snow #baz pitch #snowbaz #beaten #numb #recovery #embrace #whumptober days 29-31 #my writiing

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carryonsimoncarryonbaz · 3 years ago

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It looks like a painting. The light and the shadows. Beautiful.

COC 02. wings

I posted this earlier, but the post mysteriously refused to show up on people’s dashboards??? Anyway. Tried a new colouring technique. Timelapse below the cut.

#the embrace of the wings #their tender faces #those touches #Simon’s chest #his belly!#baz’s hair!#Simon’s smile #I love the idea of the wings hugging him too and it being canon 😭🥰#simon snow #baz pitch #snowbaz #simon snow series #coc 2021 #krisrix #good art #wings

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namistrella · 3 years ago

Note

Hello! For the writing prompts.

F, 8, and ⛲️

Either SnowBaz or Drarry, and the rating can be your choice! 💜💜💜

Hello, friend! Thank you for the prompt! I went with a little angsty Drarry for this one :)

-----

Harry finds him at their spot, just where he knew he’d be.

No, not their spot.

Not anymore.

Not if he and Draco are no longer a them.

“Hey,” Harry says, before he’s close enough to see Draco’s face. He makes his footsteps heavier on purpose, audible even in the soft grass, so as not to startle him. Draco’s always been easy to spook.

“Don’t, Potter.” And it’s the use of his surname that tips Harry off—this time is different.

“Draco, I—”

“Don’t.”

Draco tosses a coin in the fountain. Harry wants to ask him what he wished for, but he knows he doesn’t have the right. Draco’s gone before the coin hits the water, the crack of Apparition reaching Harry’s ears a split second before the small splash.

-----

Weeks pass before Harry, in a fog of loneliness and sadness and regret, makes his way back to the park. For such a large, open space, it’s far too crowded with memories.

Like the bench where Draco’s fingers had tentatively brushed his, briefly, before he pulled away, pale cheeks dusted pink.

Or the tree where Draco’s body had melted, warm and soft and pliant against Harry, when they’d kissed, for real, the first time.

And the field where they’d spread out one of the old Black family tapestries in lieu of a picnic blanket, and taken turns eating from a bowl of cut watermelon, talking about anything and everything until late at night when they laid down and watched the stars appear.

And then there is the fountain, where they said all the important things. Where they said, “I like you,” then, “I love you,” and, “Will you marry me,” and then, “I can’t do this anymore.”

Harry pushes through those memories like they’re strangers in a crowd. He doesn’t have time to dwell on them. He’s only here for one thing.

It doesn’t take him long to find it—the lone golden Galleon in a fountain full of Muggle coins. It’s warm in Harry’s palm, heavy in his pocket as he takes the long way back home.

-----

Another year passes before Harry feels it, the familiar burning heat in his pocket. He pulls the coin out, watches the serial numbers shift and change. A date, a time. No coordinates—Harry doesn’t need them. He smiles.

Harry finds him at their spot, just where he knew he’d be.

Is it still their spot? Can he call it that?

He feels like it is. He wants it to be.

Maybe that can be enough.

“Hey,” Harry says, before he’s close enough to see Draco’s face.

“Harry,” Draco breathes, and runs, and it’s the way he wraps Harry in his arms, the way he huffs and sighs and melts into him, that tips Harry off. This time is different. This time, Draco is back for good. “Harry.”

“Draco,” Harry says. “It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know. Me, too.” Harry presses a kiss to the crown of his head, to his temple, to the tip of his nose, to the curve of his lip. “I missed you.”

“I had things I needed to do. I wasn’t ready, before. I’m sorry I left, and I’m sorry I didn’t explain—”

“You didn’t have to explain.” Harry kisses him again, full on the mouth this time. “I know you.” He buries his nose in Draco’s hair and breathes in deep. He still smells the same. “I know why you left.” Harry pushes Draco back far enough to look him in the eyes. “I’m just happy you came back.”

Draco closes the distance again, fisting his hands in the back of Harry’s shirt. “Will you give me a second chance?”

Harry laughs. “You’ve already had that. And your third, and your fourth, and—”

Draco frowns. “Stop making light. I’m serious, this time. I want a real second chance. One I promise I won’t fuck up.”

“Alright,” Harry says, and smooths the wrinkle between Draco's eyebrows with his thumb.

“I’m not going to leave again.” Draco's gaze is earnest.

“I believe you.” Harry pulls him closer, holds him tighter, and Draco sighs into the embrace. “But even if you do, you can always come home.”

#fic prompts #drarry

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angelsfalling16 · 3 years ago

Note

For the three sentence fic game: snowbaz + "cozy"!

Shadows from the flickering flames dance across Simon's face as he gazes up at me from where he lies on the floor, and his eyes seem to spark like the flames themselves. When he smiles at me, I lean down to kiss softly, a barely there brush of lips, and he wraps his arms around me, pulling me down into his warm embrace. It's so cozy here by the fire and in his arms that I never want to leave; I could keep the fire burning continuously, and we could stay here forever, gazing into each other's eyes, and just forget about the rest of the world.

Thanks for the prompt! <3

3 Sentence Fic Game - send me a prompt!

#asks #ask game #fic ask game #snowbaz #carry on #simon snow #baz pitch #rainbow rowell #the simon snow series #my writing #snowbaz fic #3 sentence fic

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pitchswift · 4 years ago

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ok we’re so close to awtwb so im gonna post here what i think is gonna happen and just wait to see how it goes

baz is gonna bite simon, simon is going to find out about lucy, snowbaz is going to break up for a little while, baz is going to fully embrace his vampirism and is either going to leave the world of mages or try to reform it, someone from baz’s family is going to die (pretty sure rr said someone’s gonna die and i think its one of the pitches??? maybe fiona, idk, i cant imagine anyone else dying, maybe mitali, or agathas father??mother??ok idk), simon wont get his magic back, baz and simon will move in together at the end, penny and shepard will kiss, agatha will accept herself as a magician but wont be an active part within the world of mages (i think she’s gonna go back to california), the problem at watford has something to do with dark creatures and the old families

#i’m gonna add more in the future probably #but anyways thats what i think is gonna happen #also baz will go to therapy at the end❤️#idc if he wont #he will❤️#text post #baz pitch #simon snow #snowbaz #penelope bunce #agatha wellbelove #shepard from omaha #carry on #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #wayward son #awtwb #co/ws

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ivelovedhimthroughworse · 3 years ago

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The emotion shown in every detail—look at the top hand. 🥺

I like having four arms to hold him.

#simon snow #baz pitch #snowbaz #embrace

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carynsilver · 5 years ago

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Favorite Fics: Drarry Edition

Like I mentioned last time, reading has been a big comfort to me with all this craziness and sheltering at home, so I want to pay it forward and send love to some of the writers whose work has been brightening my quarantine. Thanks, guys!

For this list, we’re leaving the MCU for a while and heading over to the Wizarding World. I liked Harry Potter when it came out, but I never really read much fanfic until I realized a couple of years ago how much a redeemed Draco fit into the redemption trope that I loved in Harringrove, LoVe, SnowBaz, and other fandoms and ships. Once I started perusing the fics out there, I realized that one of the strengths of this fandom is the length and quality of the stories. I love stories that are a meal, and Drarry provides so many!

As I’ve gotten into the ship (so many years late, lol), these are my top 10 favorites.

dirtynumbangelboy by @magpiefngrl

This is probably the Drarry fic that I most enjoy. I come back to it fairly often when I need just a good read in the HP world. Fake dating is one of my absolute favorite tropes, which made this one an automatic win for me, but it’s written with such heart. I really, really love Draco in this fic. His uni studies and his flat being so different from the diffident image he projects. This is also probably the best Astoria I’ve ever read. Also--Jam Today! Read it now!

Do It All Over Again by DracoWillHearAboutThis

I only discovered this series earlier this year, and I’ve already read it at least three times from beginning to end. It’s a re-telling of the original series starting from Book 1. Draco sends himself a letter from the future basically saying that his dad is wrong, and he needs to give up his pure blood ideals and befriend Harry, then--boom--the Golden Trio’s adventures all happen with Draco in tow (and eventual romance, of course). The plot is fairly similar to the actual series, but I am there for the angst and the character growth. Narcissa kicks ass in this ‘verse, and Draco/Hermionie as besties is a treat! Book 4 and Book 6 are both amazing. And her titles are hilarious. This is the only series on my list that is still a WIP, but there’s plenty to read. Books 1 - 6 are complete, and a new chapter for 7 comes out every two weeks. It’s a safe bet so far, and it’s so good--why wait?

A Secondary Education by Thunderbird587

In this fic, Draco takes a job as Potions Professor at Hogwarts after getting divorced under horrible circumstances and renews his acquaintance with Harry, who is the DADA Professor. It’s got a bisexual awakening, and manages to combine friends with benefits with some supreme pining. Like a whole pine forest. Thunderbird587′s Draco POV is so fleshed out, and yet it also lets us see how Harry is pining, even when Draco himself doesn’t. Plus, at over 200K, it is long enough to get lost in for ages, which is perfect right about now. And when you finish the main fic, there are three other ancillary fics, two in Harry’s POV that take place during the main one. The cufflinks one is my favorite, but the writing is so good that I even thoroughly enjoyed the third sub-fic that fleshed out an OC. So, so worth the read--all of it!

The Foundations!verse by Saras_Girl

All of the fics by Saras_Girl are great. You can’t go wrong with any of them. But Reparations, Foundations, and all the little one-shots after are my favorite. It honestly surprised me at first, because alcoholism is a trigger for me, but this fic actually helped me realize that it’s the addiction part, the fall to rock bottom that triggers me. Recovery stories are different. And, I guess, this one is a bit different in that, though it has plenty of characters recovering, Draco himself is actually in a healthy place and facilitating recovery without relapsing. Harry is a Healer in this one, which is not the usual, and I quite enjoy his other relationships in this ‘verse, as well. He, Ron, and Hermione’s friendship is great in this one (their pub nights crack me up), but I also really like Harry’s friends at St. Mungo’s. My second favorite Terry Boot ever, and two awesome OC chicks. And the process of Drarry going from can’t stand each other to in love is slow and prickly and yet really believable. Oh, and Harry and Narcissa’s relationship in this one is just fabulous.

Golden Age by zeitgeistic (faire_weather)

The Hufflepuff in me was bound to fall in love with this fic. I really enjoy Eighth Year fics, especially the ones that embrace inter-house unity (shouldn’t have taken them a war to see the need for that!). This one takes it to a new level when everyone in... I think it was 6th - 8th years were resorted at the welcome feast, and the whole 8th year dynamic is shaken up. Harry, Draco and Neville become Hufflepuffs; Hermione and Pansy become Ravenclaws; Ginny becomes a Slytherin; and somehow Ron and Blaise are the ones who stay in their houses because the hat thinks they are basically the uber Gryffindor and Slytherin. But with the rest of them, we get to see them embrace other facets of their personalities, which is super interesting. And then, after the resorting, we find out that Hufflepuffs have a whole different world going on that basically no one outside their house knows about, and that world is brilliant. Even Hufflepuff food in the Great Hall is different! Everyone would enjoy this story, I think, but if you are a ‘Puff, you really, truly should not miss it. And if you like this one, check out some of zeitgeistic’s other works. Her world building is fabulous.

Life skills outside the curriculum by Endrina

In this fic, Harry gets fed up with the Dursleys before his 11th birthday and runs away before he gets his Hogwarts letter. He ends up on the streets and somehow embraces this kind of instinctual magic that is really fascinating. A few years later, Draco runs away rather than get involved more closely with the Dark Lord, and of course they meet up. This whole fic is super compelling. Harry’s world view and the way people gravitate toward him even without chosen one status. Also, this fic has one of my favorite versions of Remus and Sirius ever. I really wish there was a part two that went in depth on everything that happened after the end of this one, but even on its own it is so worth the read. And everything is wrapped up. I’m just greedy and would’ve loved more. :-)

A Convenient Impracticality by @firethesound

This fic combines friends with benefits and fake dating into a really enjoyable story. Harry is so oblivious, but it all works out in the end. And Draco is a secret mastermind, but in a good way. So is Hermione. Unlike some of the other, angstier stories on my list, this one is so fun, and I love it. And if you like it, check out more of firethesound’s work, as well. It’s worth it!

you’ve got the antidote for me by kandakicksass

And then, back on the angst train, lol. Soulmates, red string of fate, rejected bond = terminal disease. Whew! There’s a lot to unpack in this one, but after I read it, I never forgot it. I read a lot of fic in a lot of fandoms, and I always know a story is going to become a favorite if it stands out so much that I remember it later and think about it. That surely happened here.

(We’ll Call This Fixer-Upper) Home by phdmama

This is one of the first fics I read on my first Drarry binge, and I’ve always remembered it. Just like I love Eighth Year and Hogwarts professor fics, I also love fics where they have really unexpected jobs--pretty much anything other than Aurors. In this one, Harry is an artist/photographer and Draco is an up-and-coming rock star. The music and art, the creativity is important in this fic, but it also really looks at Draco’s recovery after the war in ways I haven’t read since, and I’m also a sucker for our favorite characters actually addressing and recovering from their trauma.

Boom Clap (The Sound of My Heart) by @femmequixotic and noeon (noe)

This fic takes the Eighth Year trope to the next level. Draco, Harry, Hermione, and some other faves are teaching fellows at Hogwarts. Junior professors, kind of. It read like if the HP crew went to college. And, of course, Draco and Harry fall in love along the way, but not without much angst and obliviousness. I really enjoy the Draco POV in this. His worries and anxieties feel so real for that stage in his life, but amped up because of the past. This was one I read, never forgot, and then had to go back and find so i could read it again.

So, those are my top 10, but there is lots of other good Drarry out there--both from these authors and all the others in the ship and the fandom. Thanks for all the writing you guys do.

Oh, and tagging @virtual-insomnia, but only because she said she might want to make some quarantine fic lists of her own. :-)

#drarry #fanfic rec #fanfic #reading #highly recommend #harry x draco #draco malfoy #harry potter #quarantine reads #thanks for writing these fics

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jostens-pitch · 4 years ago

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Can u do 2 from the prompt list if ur still doing those?

of course ! not sure if u wanted a specific 2 so i hope the fluff one is fine, i think it fits snowbaz well <3

from this prompt list !

BAZ

simon is having another bad night.

hes been having more of those recently and while i may not understand why, i know i have to be there for him.

hes laying on my bed after insisting he come over rather than having me come to his and penelopes flat.

i walk over to him and gently tug at the cover hes under, silently asking if it’s okay to climb in, and simon nods at me and curls his wings in to make room.

simons on his side so i climb in behind him and wrap my arm around his waist. where there used to be muscle is now a layer of soft skin. hes changed over the last few months, both mentally and physically, but both versions of simon are perfect to me.

i want to tell him this, but i know he wont listen. he has never listened to me, even back when we were kids at watford arguing over whose turn it was to clean the room (i always lost that fight).

simons hand comes up to stroke my arm thats holding him and i can feel the breath of relief he lets out once i embrace him.

“thank you for choosing me,” he whispers.

i sit up enough so i can look at simon, its jarring to know that simon feels this way. he wont meet my eyes, but i know he hadnt meant to say that out loud.

“simon,” i say, but my words falter.

how can i tell him everything that he is to me if he doesnt want to believe it?

i sigh in defeat and lay back down. simon shuffles closer to me so that we’re pressed together leg to shoulder. ive always loved how we fit together so well.

i bury my face in the crook of his neck, careful to avoid his wings, and i try to soak in the heat simon has always provided me.

we lay like this together the whole night, and when im sure hes asleep i put my lips close to his ear and whisper, “it’s you, it always has been.”

and then i go to sleep.

SIMON

“it’s you, it always has been.” baz whispers into my ear.

i feel him go to sleep after he says this, and a part of me wants to turn over and snog him senseless and until this feeling in my chest lessens, but i dont.

instead i lay awake until morning comes, using bazs words as a blanket and for once allowing myself to believe what he has said.

it’s a nice feeling, being loved.

#snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #carry on #rainbow rowell #my writing #mine #drabble

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carryonsimoncarryonbaz · 3 years ago

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This is really lovely. The colors, the way they hold each other, those points of contact/embrace. The way the light falls. Simon’s wing shielding Baz.

But it's alright when I fall asleep next to you

We turn off the lights and look up at the stars

And a streetlight slightly flickers in the dark

As the morning creeps in softly

This song has major Any Way the Wind Blows vibes for me. Just two boys cuddling in bed against the world.

#carry on #any way the wind blows #snowbaz #the sword!#Baz’s wand!#the toast!#the use of light here is fantastic.#the way they embrace is 💚#Their hair!#simon snow #baz pitch #simon snow trilogy #carry on fanart #good art #cutestkilla

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nonbaznary · 4 years ago

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“top 5 things you've created in 2020”

thank u @carryonmylovelies for tagging me i had literally no idea what to include i hope this isn’t terrible oof i tried really hard to thinking about all my artworks

#5: Tiny™️ Alex Fierro doodle

All three versions because I’m queer and I love her ! I made these for my s/o because 1) I’m gay and 2) See “1”

#4: My “Golden” AU

I don’t know what EXACTLY to put here since I haven’t worked a lot into it but it’s one of my favorite fanfiction concepts so far and I’m SO excited to work on it next year !!! It’s a Snowbaz secret relationship Normal AU where they’re planning on getting engaged and having a handfasting BUT they need to come out to people and it’s gonna be MESSY . it’s very fluffy and domestic, I just love it so much ! Also: cat dad Simon (Baz too, but like . CAT DAD SIMON !!!!!)

#3: This fancam from my Twitter

(Don’t even know if I can include something like this !)

Might seem kind of stupid but this year I really embraced my “enjoy whatever you feel like enjoying however you want and don’t give a fuck about what anybody else has to say” vibes and if there’s a movie I love it’s Fantastic Mr Fox. Kristofferson is 100% my comfort character and it was really fun to make headcanons and pick scenes and listen to Kristofferson’s Theme over and over again !!

#2: Fiona doodles !

Literally all the Fionas I’ve doodled deserve TOP#1, but I’m gonna stick with these main

The third digital version (named “Fiona losing her shit”) was heavily influenced by what in my mind is Fiona reacting to Baz being chaotic gay, AKA this line:

“We should have dropped him in the Thames in a bag of stones. We should have left him out for the fairies”

So poetic. I love it. And her !!!!! I love her !!!!!

#1: Do you want me (dead)?

THIS !!!!! THIS AU !!!!!!! Gods gods GODS I love it SO MUCH !!!!!!!! I only wrote the basics for the scenes I have planned in portuguese so I’m not gonna share any quotes yet but GODSSS DYWMD literally my favorite thing EVER from all my fanfiction works SERIOUSLY I love it so much GODS !!!!! DYWMD is a snowbaz fake dating / pretend relationship Normal AU with a side of rivals to friends to fake boyfriends to lovers, happy aro lesbian Agatha, Baz & Penny’s friendship, Lucy & Simon’s mother/son relationship and many many other concepts I enjoy deeply. Ugh seriously I love it so much !!!!! I’m SO excited to actually write it and post it omgs

~~~

Also, shoutout to my Carry On Countdown Collection because I made a lot of cool stuff in a way that I hadn’t in a good GOOD while !

aaaand if anyone wants to hear me rant about any of my WIP AUs just let me know I love talking about them :D :D :D

Won’t really be tagging anyone so if you want to do this just consider yourself tagged !!! A happy New Year and everything 🌟

#2020 retrospective #tag game #fanfiction #fanart #AU #magnus chase and the gods of asgard #mcgoa #alex fierro #carry on #snowbaz #secret relationship AU #fantastic mr fox #fiona pitch #fake dating AU

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notlittleclare · 5 years ago

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Day 12#

#pridewithsheraships #repkylonnie

I finished painting 1:30 in the morning, so I figured it was already today, why not post it later? And then I went to sleep.

I honestly don't know what the official name of this ship, but it's really cute and pretty much canon. Someone asked Noelle if #repkyle was a thing, and she said yes but she sees #lonnie as a part of it too. So yay, #polyrights.

I actually kinda see her as the third wheel friend, that has to deal with the lovesick couple’s shit and it's probably the one on with a functioning brain cell (Kind of like Penny relationship with SnowBaz, from Carry On).

But if Noelle, God herself, said it, then I'm going to embrace it and love it.

I turned Rogélio into a human, cause drawing him was really hard and I didn't like it the result. I don't know if it's noticeable, but he is Latino. I kept his spike-like lizard head scales and his moles (?). I figured he would be mute, or maybe with some speech impairment.

Anyways, I really like how their relationship is developed throughout the show, I just wish we could have seen more of them out of the Horde. Like where have they been, how did they got out, how did they end up with a kid, this type of stuff, you know?

I just really love them and wanted to see them happy. And they have a child now, I wanted to see that.

#pridewithsheraships #pridemonth #shera #sheraspoilers #hordesquad #hordetrio #sheraseason5 #polyrelationship #polyreps #repmatters #thankyounoelle #ot3 #kyleshera #rogelioshera #lonnieshera #impshera #fanart #sherafanart #hugsandkisses #loveislove #cuddle s #myart #watercolor #drawingchallenge

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hannie-dul-set · 5 years ago

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came down from heaven

— each and every human on earth has their designated angel to keep them safe from harm's hands. sadly, yn's previous guardian had to resign from protecting her due to some circumstances. so now, yoon jeonghan's taking over.

50 // heaven

word count: 1,704

a/n: AAAAA omg i'm so sorry this took too long to get out but it's finally here!! tomorrow's gonna be the epilogue in im just??? aAAA pls enjoy this technically final part 💓💞

<<prev | next>>

masterlist

taglist:

@svtbitch @yangieyua @kwanismsworld @hansw0rld @infinitemilkshakee @woohoney @marvel-snowbaz @mingyuahjumma

---

there was a strong hurricane erupting in your head as your eyes gaped across the small shop.

confusion, happiness, denial, relief— all these emotions swirling together inside your mind in an overwhelming blend that was too overwhelming for you to contain. you felt your heart lodged inside your throat and you were trying so hard to blink away the rush of tears that were threatening to spill out. your grip on the bundle of daisies started to tighten and so did the constraint in your chest.

"...jeonghan?"

your voice and hands were shaking and the words came out more like a squeak than anything. seconds went after seconds, and keeping the dam from breaking was becoming near impossible.

the male stood from across the shop, back facing you as his attention was directed towards the few baskets of sweetheart roses. you haven't seen his face, but you just know that it's him.

his mere presence was magnifying you towards him. you wanted to run straight to him— to drown yourself in his arms. you wanted to make sure he was okay, to make sure that this was real. you wanted to cry, sob into his chest, tell him how much you missed him, how much you love him, how much it felt like absolute fucking hell without him here.

tell him how you wouldn't handle losing him once again.

but you were afraid.

what if he disappears again because of you? and what if he disappears for good?

the internal conflict in your head kept you from doing anything— you stood frozen the moment you had recognized him and only watched as his attention wandered from flower after flower. you were thankful that he hadn't noticed you yet, but at the same time you wanted him to turn around, to set your eyes on the face that you've been dying to see all this time.

your teeth sank down into your bottom lip, willing yourself to take a small step forward towards the male (and trying not to cry too much in the process). but the farthest you managed to go was just one step before the said male suddenly started to swivel around in your direction.

sirens went off in your head and you let out a tiny panicked shriek, catching a glimpse of his features before stumbling behind a wall that divided the shop. back leaned against the wall, you tried to catch your breath from the sudden rush.

"you dumb idiot, why the hell did you do that!"

hands covering your face, you slid down onto the dark wooden floor (luckily, there were only two other people in the store besides you and jeonghan). you sighed, giving yourself a few seconds to think about the pure and absolute stupidity that you have just done. it seems like you'll always manage to make a fool out of yourself whenever he's around.

you closed your eyes, your fingers padding around the ground looking for your bouquet of daisies, but you promptly snapped them open after your failure in finding them. brows furrowed, you tried scanning for the bunch of white blooms.

"what? where did they go? i swear—"

you froze, your vision landing on the flowers.

"oh, fuck me."

there, lying on where you were previously standing, were the daisies that you've been looking for. it seemed like you managed to drop them in the middle of the store during your frantic attempt of running away from jeonghan. letting out a long huff of air, you decided to quickly retrieve it and make a run for it outside the shop.

obviously, you wanted to bring things back to the way they were, but you weren't exactly in the best state at the moment to make good decisions (and you didn't have enough mental preparation to see him again).

you stood up and were about to move out from your hiding spot until you heard footsteps making their way towards the bouquet.

letting out a curse, you straightened your position. you pressed your back harder against the wall hoping that you would just disappear into the surface and never to be seen again. you could hear your breathing becoming rapid as the footsteps inched nearer. why in god's name you were so nervous, you had no clue. you spent weeks wallowing in your own puddle of sadness because you thought you'd never get to see him again, but how come you were so—

"excuse me,"

a soft and mellow voice broke through your mental screaming, causing you to jump and let out a yelp. you pressed your lips together, keeping your head down as you felt the tears threatening to spill. his voice alone was enough to bring you to the brink of a breakdown, you'd probably lose it if you saw his face.

"did you drop these?"

fuck fuck fuck— you wanted him so fucking bad, but your fears were keeping you from doing so. you were the reason why he broke so many laws and ended up getting punished, and it could happen again. you may not know what he went through up above, but you know it wasn't good— and you just couldn't live with that. you'd rather give him up than risk him getting a punishment again.

"y-yes, thank you—" head still down, you grabbed the bouquet from his grasp and swiftly went past him, heading directly towards the door.

the sense of familiarity of the situation made you want to crumble even more. you felt the wetness dripping down your cheeks as you continued to stride away from him. jeonghan didn't seem to go after you, and you didn't want to look behind to make sure. you kept on walking, rejecting every single thought that tried to break through inside your head.

your legs kept moving until the flower shop's exit was right in front of you

and then you stopped.

the daisies you were holding close to your chest had dots of tears that rolled down from your eyes. you tried to purge your mind from all your deliberations, but one managed to get through you.

what if everything turns out to be okay?

you remained in a halt in front of the door for a few more moments as your thoughts continued running.

the store was quiet, and the only sound you could hear was the intensity of your heartbeats. you let a long gust of breath slip past your lips, slowly turning around to face the male entirely.

he stood there in the middle of the shop as breathtaking as ever, and the moment your eyes landed his felt like a wave of emotions hitting you at once.

you couldn't take it.

small steps turned into a sprint and the last thing you knew you were in his embrace and sobbing loudly into his chest.

"you— you piece of shit, i thought you died!" you continued your muffled sobs, your hands clutching the back of his shirt tightly as if you thought he'd disappear in any moment. you felt his hand land at the back of your head as you buried yourself further and continued to speak in between your hiccups.

"did— did you know h—how terrified i was?! i thought— i thought i was never gonna see you again, i—i thought—"

"hey, hey. stop crying, love."

jeonghan let go of you, but your hands were still clutching his sleeves. you looked up at him, sniffling and eyes red from all the crying. both of his hands cupped your face, his thumbs wiping your endless stream of tears, and he gave you an assuring smile.

"i'm here."

he leaned in, pressing a chaste kiss on your forehead.

"i'm not going anywhere."

you two stared at each other for a good moment. but rather than making your crying stop completely, you just started to cry even harder. once more you wrapped yourself around him, and broke into another wave of tears. jeonghan let out a small chuckle then proceeded to embrace you as well.

for a couple of minutes, the both of you stayed in each others warmth (nobody in the store seemed to question you). your crying had finally ceased and you reluctantly removed yourself from jeonghan.

"w—wait a minute," lips formed in a pout, you wiped away your excess tears. "why— i mean, how come you're here? joshua told me everything. he said you were being sentenced for all the laws you broke."

your expression was inquisitive and you waited for his response. he gave you smile then placed his hand on your head, giving it a little pat.

"you're right, they did give me a punishment."

you narrowed your eyes, still clearly confused. "what— what kind of punishment?"

jeonghan could sense the concern laced in your voice. he pressed his lips together, trying to figure out how to explain it to you. his prolonged silence was starting to worry you, so you opened your mouth to assure him that he didn't have to tell but his words beat yours.

"i'm not an angel anymore, y/n."

there was a pause in the air.

"that's my 'punishment'— i'm officially just a regular human now."

you stared at him, waiting for him to say that it was a joke or some shit but nothing came after that.

"you're serious? this— this isn't just a joke, right? you are a normal person now?" he nodded, and your mouth gaped in disbelief.

"so this means—"

"yep," his arms landed around your waist and he pulled you closer to him. "we don't have to worry about demons or breaking any laws anymore."

you felt your heart melting with the way his face just lights up.

"it's just you and me, love."

you couldn't help yourself— you kissed him. all the days the both of you spent longing for each other, hoping to see each other once again was worth each and every second of this burning moment.

the both of you pulled away, slightly out of breath and smiles filled with nothing but love and content etched on your faces.

jeonghan might not be an angel anymore, but each moment you spend together feels like a moment spent in heaven.

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