#snowbaz fluff

[my-snowbaz-shit-idk]

You're my HOME

It's the being of summer before his Eighth Year at Watford School of Magicks and 17-year-old Simon Snow is lost. He knows that the only one who can help him find his way is him so he decides to leave his care home and pave his own way. He casts the spell "Take Me Home" thinking it will take him to Agatha's house or at least Penny's. But what happens when he arrives at a certain mansion in Hampshire?

(768 words)

LOST - SIMON

It's another summer, this time I'm at The Laurel Boardinghouse for Boys. I've only been here for 6 hours but the depression is already sinking in. I don't know what to do. It's like I'm floating aimlessly around in an empty space of all-white. I'm lost. And the only one who can get me back home is me. But how?

I don't bother unpacking, I just lie down on the small bed and fall asleep whispering to somebody, anybody who may be listening: “Take Me Home”. As I fall asleep I feel magic seep into my words.

GOING HOME? - SIMON

Soon I'm jolted awake. I'm being pulled through a black space. My vision focuses and I see that it's not black just dark inky blue, with bright lights dotting it. It feels kind of cold but I don't mind there is grayish fluff all around. Clouds! I'm in the sky. The Humdrum must've summoned me again but I don't feel his dry itching sucking feeling. In fact it feels like the pull is coming from inside me, right from my heart.

I must've cast some teleportation spell in my sleep or something. I've never cast a spell in my sleep before. If that's going to become a thing with me is anyone ever going to be safe? What if I blow myself up? This is the first time I've really thought about something so much, it's tiring. 

I have no idea where I'm going, then it hits me. Home. I'm going home. But where is my home, I've never really had one. Ever. Even Watford I'm going to have to leave eventually. I "fly" over the roads, farms, lakes, and houses. This is the wrong direction for Penny's house, I think. Maybe Agatha's? She is my girlfriend after all, isn't she?

I'm back in the clouds now and I can't see anything. I try to drop lower but it doesn't work. Then I see it. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot it, something sparkling behind me. I turn my head. I have wings but not like the ones I used to fly Penny and me home a few days ago. These wings are iridescent, like a butterfly's wings, big like a parachute extending behind me only instead of weighing me down they carry me high.

I wanted to take control of my own life but I guess I can't even do that. I sigh and do what I always do. I don't think about it, I just go with it.

HOME? - SIMON

After about an hour I feel myself dropping lower. I look around but there are no houses, then I see it. A house, standing alone, but its presence fills the whole space. As I get closer I see that it's fucking massive. 

Is this it? The home of my long-lost parents, I wonder what they'll say when they see me. If they'll be overjoyed or just send me off packing again. Speaking of packing, I haven't bought anything with me. I don't want to think about what will happen now, I've never been good at thinking but I know I should.

I imagine it: my parents welcoming me with open arms and offering me nice warm home-cooked food. I imagine them sending me away because they left me in a care home for a reason.

I land at the end of a long driveway. Slowly I walk up to the door and knock three times. It opens and I can't help but gasp.

YOU!? - SIMON

Basilton Grimm-Pitch -the one person who should definitely not be at my home- stands in the doorway looking softer than I've ever seen him. And cuter than anyone has a right to be . . . wait what? Did I just refer to Baz as cute, willfully? The lack of oxygen up in the sky must've messed with my head.

He blinks and then regains his composure. "Snow". It sounds like he's trying to growl but can't manage. "What in Crowley's name are you doing here?" 

Baz is wearing those silky-looking pyjamas that I've always imagined rich people wearing and . . . fuzzy socks. I don't know why but I feel myself fuming.

"I'm just as confused as you are," I shout. I was supposed to meet my parents and instead, he's here.

He looks posh and smug as always but I swear it seems like he's actually having to put effort into it now. "If you're just going to yell, Snow, you should leave." He snarls, "Before I call security." He snarls again. 

"Baz, wait I-""You shouldn't be here"

(A/N: to be continued . . .)

[artsyunderstudy]

“‘Your magic reached out to me until we could, well,’ I swallow, sappy and foolish with my words, ‘we could reach each other. Bazzington did this for us.’ Alright, that’s a stretch, it’s just a plushie, but I can spin this softer than I would for anyone else but him. I’ve learned a little about being soft from the bloody thing. It means something to him. I want to be kind to it.”

Of Buttons & Beans by @stillmadaboutpetra

Carry on Countdown | Day Seventeen: Fluff

This year I decided I wanted to honor the incredibly talented fic writers of this fandom, so I chose one fic per prompt to do an illustration for. I didn’t double up on authors so that I could do this for as many people as possible. I realized while planning this that there are way too many fics and authors that I love, and even after having picked 30 of what I consider some of my very favorites, I could have easily kept going. Please check the fics out if you haven’t, they all come highly recommended.

@carryon-countdown

[rimeswithpurple]

Carry On Countdown Day 27 - Gift

[pacey-bunce-loves-joey]

this shit is the fluffiest fluff to ever fluff

[letraspal]

“This is what people do. They get close and try to stay there. They stay.”

COC 2022 | DAY 15: FLUFF | @carryon-countdown |

[lonleyhumanbeing]

Headcanon that Simon and Baz have a weekly date where they watch the newest episode of The Great British Bake Off. When they have the extra time and something looks really good, they try to recreate the dessert together.

[antisocial-cheesepuff]

it’s fluffy and cute and i am not your strongest soldier

[erzbethluna]

🐐✨ GOATOBER ✨🐐

Day 6: Yoga.

Die of fluffiness 💕 Yes is a kiss in the temple. You can go now and swoon 😭✨ also, the goat is not giving up!

I hope the pose make sense, Basil have a leg folded over his chest 🙈✨

[ic3-que3n]

Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: Carry On | Simon Snow Series - Rainbow Rowell Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow Characters: Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Fiona Pitch, Lucy Salisbury, The Mage (Simon Snow), Daphne Grimm (Simon Snow) Additional Tags: Fluff, no trauma to be found here, no beta we die like the mage may he rest in pain, Play Fighting, Simon being adorable, Baz being shy, One Shot, Not Canon Compliant, Kid Simon Snow, Kid Baz Pitch, if they met as kids AU, Most people live Summary:

What if you remove the trauma, the bad stuff, and the years from Simon and Baz and have them meet as carefree kids. A short oneshot.

SO i wrote a chapter 2 everyone

[sucrosette]

★— ⋆｡˚ [Simple Things]

For Day 29 of Carry on Countdown 23, Cherry @carryon-countdown

Basil and Simon share a picnic in the park

Rated T for language & vague reference to shit childhoods.

This is the final of the Nurse/Lawyer AU. Enjoy~ 🖤 [Part 1][Part 2][Part 3][Part 4]

⋆｡˚

“Why cherry scones?” Basil asks, his head on my lap, my spare hand running through his long, dark hair while the other reaches into our picnic basket and cracks off another bit of scone to feed him, and then myself.

I hum and press a kiss to the point of his widow’s peak. “It’s not that complicated, they’re just good.”

He reaches up to stroke a hand soft over the side of my neck and I lean into the touch instinctively. “No nostalgia?”

He doesn’t say it, but I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me that he’s noticed a bit how I’ll get just a tad bit weepy when I’m making them. I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me that he’s noticed how much it means to me that he always gets ingredients for more of them whenever he does the grocery shopping. “I suppose,” I admit, tugging at a stray strand of his hair, “There’s a little nostalgia.”

Baz’s hands are so soft against my neck, so gentle and soothing, he looks so soft like this. We don’t do this sort of thing often. I work too much, he works too much. Days spent in local parks having picnics and lingering just aren’t exactly in the cards for us, but we’ve been making more time for them. He’s taken me on a beach day recently too, but this one was my idea.

“Tell me about it?” Baz asks as I tug on that stray strand of hair again, soothing over it immediately after. “If you want to.”

I nod, still thinking about the sentiment of the park a little bit. It’s a park I used to frequent with Penny, back when she’d been living in the UK too. Baz knows that part, I’d told him that much when I’d planned our little date. When we’d first gotten here, we’d even snapped a couple of selfies that I could send over her way. Or well, really I’d done the snapping of selfies. Baz just sort of quirked his lips for them. He looked nice though. Baz always looked nice in our photos.

Baz also doesn’t send texts like “our old haunting grounds!! I miss you!!” to anyone, really.

He texts a bit like an old man. No emoji, proper punctuation, very little by way of abbreviations or shorthand. I think he mostly uses voice-to-text, which makes sense. His hands are always busy. I kind of think it’s cute.

“Simon?”

Right, we were talking.

“You know how Pen and I used to come here?” I start, and he nods, not really needing the reminder from just this morning. “We used to come here with stolen scones from the boarding school kitchens. I just used to shovel armfulls into my back and ditch and end up all over with them. It was sort of all I ate back then, but honestly… it was the first food I really liked in my childhood.”

Baz knows about my childhood, about how I bounced from foster to foster, from group home to group home. My non-existent concept of family, my struggle with deep relationships and trustworthy adults. Somehow I kept running into the problematic sort in my childhood. But Baz knows all that already. I don’t need to get into it.

He pokes at my chin gently before leaning up slightly to get his own bit of scone, feeding me another bite back. “Who taught you to make them?”

“Ahh…” I think I can feel myself flushing, “I sort of… shilled together the recipe a little bit at a time. I made a lot of mistakes. I may have destroyed at least three baking sheets in the process.”

“Simon,” Baz sounds utterly disbelieving. He looks it too. I have to laugh about it. He should know by know what a danger I can be to common household objects. “Simon Snow, you did not bullshit together a recipe when google exists.”

“I did,” I nod down at him, as disappointed as he is about it. “I did and I had access to google in the school library and I ignored it in favour of ruining Cook Pritchard’s life.”

“You’re terrible,” Baz snorts out. He also leans up to kiss me again, cupping my cheek soft. He’s so full of affection for me. He doesn’t have to say it when he kisses me like that. He says it anyway. “I love you, menace to society that you are.”

I love how he can say something like that, call me something like that, and sound so impossibly fond. “I know you do,” I answer, grinning back at him and leaning back on my elbows. He chases me down for another soft kiss and I lean back again, avoiding him, making him chase me more, making him chase me all the way down until I’m lying fully on the grass and he’s leaning above me and holding my hands and kissing me silly.

I’m laughing through all of it, twisting our hands together and squeezing my fingers over his. I lean up and chase him down for more kisses before he can pull back, before he can get us water or more sour cherry scones or anything else. I love catching him in fits of kissing like this, dragging him back for more and more until we both forget anything else.

I could live off his smile, I think, when he’s kissing me silly like this. He still makes me so bloody giddy and it’s been well over a year and I spend all my free time with him. Everyone says that’ll change, that I’ll get tired of him around all the time. Coworkers, old classmates, old foster siblings and people I knew from therapy and group homes, basically everyone but Pen, but I think they’re sodding insane. They probably think I’m insane for thinking it’s not going to change, but I know myself. I know all I need is that silly bloody smile, that gorgeous bloody laugh, those sweet, bloody tender kisses…

“Tell me more of your favourite foods,” Baz asks between my laughter and his kisses.

I’m a little caught off guard. I’d forgotten we were talking still again, but I just grin up at him. “Anything you make me is my favourite food.”

“That’s cheating, love,” Baz snorts out another laugh, “You have to give a real answer, or else I’m just going to cook for me forever.”

“I like whatever you cook for you,” I shrug under him, chasing down another soft, silly little kiss, a little giddy-drunk-stupid on his affections, “That’s plenty real enough, I think.”

He hums back at me, nipping soft over my lips. “You’ll have to give a real answer sooner or later, Simon, or else we’ll be serving basilla and fattah at our wedding.”

“Okay but I actually do love your fattah.” And I do. I love all his home cooking, but the casual wedding talk is new. Distracing. I can’t help but drift back to it. “You want to marry me?”

He laughs. Of course he bloody laughs. As if it were obvious.

“More than anything.”

He says it so bloody confidently, and I know one day he’s going to ask, and one day I’m going to say yes. I’m not even going to have time to figure out my own plan. He’s already got it all figured out, but I don’t mind. I like that he’s got our lives planned out like this, I like that I can trust him with me like this.

No, more than like it, I love it. “We’re going to have to have cherries in the cake then. That’s my only demand.”

“As if I wasn’t already planning on it.” Baz’s so bloody smug about it, smirking down at me.

I shove a scone in his mouth and shove him over just to wipe that look off his face. “You’re such a bloody prick.”

Unfortunately, he’s still just as smug. “You love this bloody prick.”

“Unfortunately,” I groan back. I can’t commit though. I’m already kissing him bloody stupid all over again. “Unfortunately, I’m going to marry this bloody prick.”

[my-snowbaz-shit-idk]

You Feel A Little Warm Love

Simon Snow gets a cold and a horrifying fever hallucination helps him realise that he doesn't hate Baz as much as he thought he did. Baz just wants his crush to feel better.

Fluff, but first some angst then fluff so much fluff. Alternating P.O.Vs Baz & Simon

(2,601 words)

BAZ

I get out of bed stretching my legs out. I don’t bother worrying about Simon; he's always down at breakfast by now. As I finally focus on my surroundings I hear someone’s breathing, but it’s all wrong, congested. I’m the only one in here, or I should be at least . . .

I turn to look at Simon, he's just where he should be, or not. He should be at breakfast scarfing down barbaric amounts of food but he’s not. For once I’m up earlier than him and I can’t ignore the stab of worry it sends through me. Not to mention he’s huddled in what has got to be every blanket not currently in use at Watford. His hair is matted (even more so than usual) (which is saying something) and sticks to his forehead with sweat. He shivers. It’s wrong to see him like this, I think about going over to shut the window but it’s already shut, he always sleeps with the window open. That isn’t good.

I want to help him somehow but he wouldn’t want that and he’d probably think I was crazy or trying to dispose of him while he’s weak. He’s such an idiot. Why can’t he just see that I’m so desperately in love with him? I do know that it’s much better for everyone involved if he doesn’t because if he ever found out that would be disastrous.

Now I’m staring, even like this he’s beautiful. He probably has a fever. I should probably take him to the nurse. No I couldn’t wake him, I should get the nurse to come here. He’s always warm. I bet he feels like a radiator now, I can imagine his gorgeous blue eyes, bright and sparkling with the fever. I shake my head. Allister Crowley! I’m so fucking disturbed. (Ask anyone)

I make myself leave our room and go down to breakfast but as I fill my plate I realise I’m reaching for everything Simon usually gets. I sigh and try to focus, I take some food for myself but I can’t focus on eating. I keep thinking about Simon lying there all huddled up, he looked adorable and sick. I have time before class so I could check on him and I may as well take him some food. That seems like a totally roommate-appropriate platonic thing to do, right?

SIMON

I wake up to a horrible burning sensation, not like when I’m about to go off, but an ache that spreads throughout my whole body, I groan. Something cold touches me, and I turn.

Basilton Grimm-Pitch

Simon is still asleep.

I should say something nasty to him like “Wake up Snow, an idiot like you can’t afford to miss any classes!” Or “You look like death, shame, I was hoping to end you myself.” or “You look pathetic and sound disgusting! Get out, before you fill the entire room with your germs.” but looking at him all I can say is his name.

Simon Snow

“Simon,” he says. Baz stands over me. I call for my sword and it appears, he steps back surprised.

I want to confront him, he was clearly watching me sleep and plotting to kill me but all that comes out is a cough and then another. I dissolve into a coughing fit that takes my breath away. My nose starts to run and I wait miserably for Baz to laugh at me or tell me I’m disgusting.

Instead, he hands me a handkerchief. I don’t reach for it, letting fall onto the bed and staring at him open-mouthed. I realize I’m probably spreading my germs and putting my elbow to my face. Why would he give me his handkerchief, or for that matter anything of his when I’m coughing all over the place? I’m only going to get it gross. I look at him, really look. He doesn’t look patronising, he looks . . . worried.

And wait … Simon? He-he called me by my name, he called me . . . Simon. What. The. Bloody. Hell is happening to me?

BAZ

He looks like he’s trying to glare at me. I panic. What should I tell him, I was obviously watching him sleep. Then he starts coughing, harsh wet hacking coughs that rumble from deep inside his chest.

It sounds awful, I’ve obviously seen sick people before but I’m pretty sure it shouldn’t sound like this. His nose starts running and I hate myself for thinking it but he looks cute all wrapped in blankets. I want to wipe his nose for him but instead, I just take my handkerchief from my nightstand and hold it out to him, he looks confused and lets it fall.

Tentatively he picks it up and holds it up to his face. He looks a mess and I encourage him.

“It’s okay, I don't mind.” He looks like he wants to be suspicious but doesn’t have the energy. I hide my wince when he blows his nose. The sound is thick. I'm surprised he can breathe.

“I’mb sowry, I’mb a bess.” He says he still looks confused and I don’t blame him. Me being nice all of a sudden he probably thinks it’s a fever dream.

SIMON

I’m not sure what to do but snot is getting all over my face so I press the handkerchief gently to it to try and stifle it. It’s soft and smells like Baz . . . it’s nice. I don’t know what to say and for a moment I feel guilty for dirtying the nice clean fabric but then I remember who it belongs to. Yet he’s being so nice I don't want to be a jerk.

“I’m sorry, I’m a mess” I say cringing at how bunged up I sound

“I don’t mind.” He says 

I don’t mind? What the hell Baz, did I hear that right?

“I brought you some breakfast.” He continues casually casting a Some like it hot on two plates of food. The food doesn’t start to smoke, I’m jealous once again of his ability. But more than that I’m confused. Baz. Baz Pitch. Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch brought me, his arch enemy, breakfast?

Did the Mage ask him to, he doesn’t look annoyed like he’s doing work he doesn’t want to in fact he’s focusing very hard on carrying a plate over. As he walks closer I can smell it even through my clogged-up nose.

All my favourite foods:

Beans

Toast

Eggs

Sausage

Bacon

And scones a pile of sour cherry scones.

Basilton Grimm-Pitch brought me scones, I feel a bit light headed then it goes black.

BAZ

He’s staring at me so I stare at the plates being very careful not to drop them, his gawking doesn’t help, and then he slumps over. I almost drop the plates as I run over. 

“Snow. Simon. Simon!”

He blinks and I’m so relieved that I say the first thing that comes to mind “Crowley Snow! I only brought you some scones. No need to be dramatic” I mean to sound annoyed but I’m laughing in panicked relief. He looks dazed and unfocused, feverish. I want to hug him, I want to put my arms around him and never let go, but I don’t. However, I am close enough to feel the heat coming off him. What have I gotten myself into?

SIMON

I open my eyes and see Baz’s face. This is closer than we’ve ever been before and for the first time, I can properly see his eyes. The colours in them, (yes colours plural) not one but many swirling together, mesmerising. 

I should move, I should get myself as far away from him as possible but I can’t stop watching his eyes. They’re filled with something I can’t define because I’ve never seen it on his face before. It doesn’t look like hatred . . . is it sadness? Fear?

I try to look closer and feel his grey irises pulling me in, I wonder what I’ll find there in the depths of Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch’s eyes. They’re beautiful, he’s beautiful. Well, now he’s blurry, everything is I feel heavy and sleep tugged at my aching body while the kaleidoscope of colours continues to swirl around me. It’s pretty at first but it soon becomes dizzying. 

It hurts. I scream. I call out for the one person here. I hope he can hear me, I hope listens. Maybe he doesn’t hear me, maybe he doesn’t care. Maybe he’ll let me die in the colourful world all alone.

The thought brings despair down like a heavy weight on me and soon it’s eating everything, the colours are disappearing. Being sucked away and I feel the sucking itching feeling too. The Humdrum, I feel him but he's nowhere else to be seen, nothing is anywhere to be seen actually. 

It’s all just black, black, black, black and more black. No colour or texture I can’t even feel my hands anymore but I feel heavy, so heavy. I feel like I’m getting heavier by the second and I just know that if I get too heavy I’ll fall, deep, deep, deep, down, down, down into the darkness. 

I think I liked the colours better. I don’t want to fall. I want to see him again, Baz, I mean, just one more time. I want to see him, to remind me that all of this is real, that Magick is real, that I’m real. I try to reach out but the crushing weight holds me back.

I suppose any mage could remind me, but I want it to be Baz. I need it to be Baz, actually. Because even when everything was shifting and changing and nothing was certain Baz was, Baz was certain. He’s been the one constant in my life since I was eleven. 

Even if The Mage was away, even if he went away and never came back and even if Penny gave up on putting up with me and stopped being my friend, even if Agatha broke up with me even if no one else was there by my side Baz would still be my roommate.

I want to hear his voice again, his footsteps around the room reminding me that someone is still here, his clean comforting scent like cedar and bergamot and Magick. I want to hear him play the violin again. I love his music. I think that if I could hear it now I could bring some of the colour back. I don’t want to die, I still have to save The World of Mages, but then again, would my death really matter? I’ve never been welcomed in the Normal world and I’ve only ever caused The World of Mages trouble but I don’t want to go without seeing Baz at least one more time. 

I stay there, in the blackness for what feels like hours—days and whenever I catch myself slipping away, deep down into the darkness I hold onto the one thing I’m always sure of:

Knowing that he’s still alive

Grey eyes

Black hair

The fact that Basilton Pitch is a vampire.

And I don’t know what I’d do without him.

It’s okay now though the black, as long as I keep Baz in my mind I can manage the crushing weight and the piercing all-consuming darkness. I imagine I hear him saying my name, my real name, not Snow but Simon. I’d do anything to hear him call me Simon again. I can hear him but it’s vague and muffled and just too faint to make out but it makes me happy anyway. If I have to be trapped here at least I have that memory.

Then I feel something cold, I look around but there’s still nothing. And then the blackness begins to crack. The colours come roaring back and I’m yanked up through the kaleidoscope back into our room. I’m face to face with Baz— literally.

BAZ

I place my hand against his forehead, he doesn’t seem to notice. Even with my cooler temperature, I know he’s burning up. I cast the first temperature-checking spell that comes to mind which is embarrassingly “You feel a little warm, love!”( it only works for parents/guardians casting it on children or on someone you love romantically.)

I push my thoughts aside and look at the number glowing over his sweaty forehead. 40, I panic! Then I remember that he runs higher than most people because of all the Magick. 

When we were sent to the infirmary after the Chimera the nurse checked us both over for injuries. She took both of our temperatures and declared us healthy. I remember glancing over and seeing that Simon’s was about 38 degrees.

But 40 is still high. I take a deep breath and shake his shoulders, he doesn’t move, he doesn't even blink, his eyes are fixed on the wall behind me. I need to get him to the nurse. I try to pull him off but he’s too heavy like he’s given himself extra weight. 

If we can’t go to the nurse then I’ll have to do something. Healing spells! I force myself to stop take another deep breath and recall all of the healing spells I know.

I cast “Get Well Soon!” and check his temperature again, but nothing changed. I try “Early To Bed And Early To Rise” but still it stays the same. Simon is sobbing now. He calls my name in a broken way reaching out but stiffly, like he’s being restrained.

“I’m here Simon” I say, “I’m right here”. I always have been. I cast “Right As Rain!” his temperature is down to 39.5 but that’s still too high. Desperate, I try “Good As New!” and it goes down to 39 almost there . . . “Fit As A Fiddle” 

I cast “You feel a little warm, love!” again and 38 glows above his forehead. I’m relieved but he’s still staring at the wall. I shake him again, call his name, practically shout it. He doesn’t respond. I whisper in his ear “Simon?” I dare to say the things I’ve always wanted to surely that will startle him awake. “Simon, love I’m right here, I’ve always been here.” He says nothing still staring at the wall.

“Come Out, Come Out, Wherever You Are!” I cast but there’s nothing but wall.

I stare at him for another long agonising moment and then I’m staring at him, his beautiful blue eyes, his lips I bet they’re so soft, I’ve always wondered what they would feel like. What it would feel like to kiss Simon Snow I’ve always wanted to, I bet it’s warm. I bet I could kiss him right now and he wouldn’t even notice. I could. No, that wouldn’t be fair, it would be like kissing a drunk person. It wouldn't mean anything and I would only feel worse afterwards. Knowing how good it feels and knowing I’d never get to experience it again.

But I feel awful now, don’t I? I feel absolutely terrible. What if he dies? And then I’ll never be able to kiss him and I’ll always be thinking about it, about him. It’s just one little kiss. Right? 

And so I do it. The one thing I’ve always wanted to do. It isn’t hard with him sitting up as he is. I kissed him. It isn’t as good as I imagined but then again that's probably because he’s edging on close to half-dead at this point. But either way, I’m kissing him, I’m kissing Simon Snow. 

And then he blinks.

(A/N: to be continued . . . )

[facewithoutheart]

There Will Be Cake

For @stitchyqueer ❤️

Simon is terrible at receiving gifts. Baz has it figured out.

[T, 1.3k, Complete, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hints of Simon’s Tragic Childhood]

Read the fic

[rimeswithpurple]

Snowbaz domestic fluff!

I had entirely too much fun with all of the details. Close up of the gallery wall:

[hushed-chorus]

Baz and Simon are spending two weeks at the Grimm lodge, babysitting Mordelia, Sophie and Petra while their parents go on a trip. Baz plans to teach his sisters the rudiments of Magickal Theory. Simon plans to watch Netflix. Then Simon meets three winged piglets and decides to teach them how to fly.

Come and join me in celebrating International @erzbethluna Appreciation Day with When Pigs Fly, on A03 now! (T, 10k, crack, fluff)

[lonleyhumanbeing]

This Is What People Do

Rated: General

Words: 2.4k

Summary: Baz has been planning to propose for weeks. Simon, however, wrecks his plans with one simple sentence.

I was incredibly sick when I decided to write this and the only thing my mind could keep up with was fanfiction. So I’m blaming this on that.

[prettygoododds]

Day 17 - Fluff

Simon reflects on his time spent at the Pitches