#penny with her hair floating: I have no clue what you’re talking about

[gods-favorite-autistic]

Ghost choir au where they can’t be seen or heard but they can move physical objects

Mischa’s favorite activity is to make paper airplanes and throw them at the teacher just to watch her get increasingly mad

Noel steals shit from people

Ricky draws on peoples papers when they’re not looking

Constance throws people’s litter back at them until they stop littering

Ocean kicks people in the ankles

Penny always either comes up with the best excuse ever or just says “idk man, must’ve been the wind”

Ezra is convinced his sister is haunted

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

Honest and Truly

Summary: Spencer has his prom 10 years late, but none of that matters when it's with the girl of his dreams.

Word Count: 4.8 k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female (She/Her)-- Fluff

CW: Minimal vulgar language (PG-13)

Author's Note: This just might be my most favorite thing I've written in a very long time :) Also listen to the song I linked, it makes the title and the ending make more sense! thank you to @spookydrreid and @writhingintheroses for helping me a particular scene!!

Add yourself to my taglist! It makes it much easier for me :)

Honest and Truly

“A prom?” Spencer asks, realizing that the conversation had entered uncharted territory, a territory in which he had not a single clue how to navigate. Spencer, being a preteen in high school, never attended prom.

“Yes, Reid. A prom,” Penelope says, staring at him over the many monitors and stuffed cats that littered her desk, “It’s going to be so much fun!” she says, excitedly.

“That sounds like, uh, I’ll have plans that night,” Spencer tells Penelope, spinning around in the swivel chair as he eats his turkey and cheese sandwich. He usually enjoys their lunches together, but when Penelope gets an idea in her head, there’s no stopping her.

@s“Now I don’t believe that for a second, Reid. The only time that you have plans is when you’re with Y/N. And Y/N is going to be at this prom,” Garcia says, her pink glasses sliding down her nose. She winks at Reid, almost like she enjoys watching him squirm.

“How do you know that she’s going? Did she say she’s going?” Spencer asks, unable to conceal his eagerness that Y/N could be attending. Spencer might hate dancing and those fancy shoes that are too tight on his toes, but all that can be talked away if Y/N is there.

“Yes, she’s going because you’re asking her. That and I’m making everyone go,” Penelope says matter of factly.

Spencer opens his mouth, attempting to talk away Penelope’s suggestion. But Spencer Reid is a smart man and he knows better than trying to argue his way out with Penelope. Especially when it comes to Y/N. He might have an excellent poker face, but Spencer can’t hide his love for Y/N.

“I’m not going to ask her. You know she’ll think it’s because-” Spencer says, prepping for a long winded rant before the door of Penelope’s office swings open.

Y/N, with two coffees in hand, floats into the room like she’s walking on air. Or maybe it’s Spencer’s mind that’s floating when Y/N walks in. He can never tell. Whenever he’s near her, it’s like everything is sweeter, lighter and airier. Wordlessly, she passes the coffee to Spencer. Feeling her fingertips graze his reminds him of how pathetic he must be. He nods, telling her thanks, knowing that he’s unable to fully articulate just how grateful he is for the littlest things.

“Who are you not going to ask and to where, Spence?” Y/N says, leaning against the filing cabinets and sipping her coffee. Penelope, never one to be quiet, silently watches as Spencer and Y/N converse. Spencer looks up at her, feeling that light and airy feeling again. He brushes his hair that falls against his forehead nervously thinking of an answer.

“I- uh, I was thinking of asking my mother to come stay with me for a couple of weeks. You know, she hasn’t seen DC in a couple of years. And I do have some personal days banked,” Spencer says, telling Y/N a small white lie.

“She’s in Vegas, right?” Y/N asks, interested in what Spencer is saying, which is something that he’s still not used to. Spencer nods, smiling awkwardly.

“Yeah, she says that she likes the heat,” Spencer says, hating how formal and cold the conversation sounds. It’s normally flowing with easy and familiarity, but something is wedged between them. Penelope, long forgotten by the pair, types rapidly on her keyboard.

“You know, Spence. If you’re up for it maybe we can have lunch or meet at Elmwood Park. I’d love to meet the woman that made my favorite person,” she says, staring directly into Spencer’s eyes. Her stare is so intense that it’s like she’s looking into his soul. He thinks that if she looks deep enough she’ll see her own reflection because his soul belongs to her.

“I-I uh,” Spencer says, immediately thinking that he should actually invite his mother out for a visit, “I think that’s a good idea. She likes the sites and all,” he tells her nervously, trying to ease his beating heart.

He’s her favorite person.

Out of all the people in this city, this world. He’s her favorite person. Spencer, a lover of math, is tempted to figure out the odds of being his favorite person’s favorite person. He knows it’s slim. He knows it’s rare. It’s something magical and Spencer is terrified he’s going to ruin it. He’s terrified he’s going to fuck something up that’s not even his.

“It’s a date,” Y/N says, turning to Penelope, who’s still long forgotten, “Oh, Penny, you need to yell at Morgan for me. He ate my leftovers,” she tells Penelope, who feigns horror, “And now I don’t have lunch”

“How dare he!” Penelope says, her exaggerated response inciting chuckles, “he can get away with murder because he’s pretty,” she says, shaking her head.

He knows that she’s pretending to be disappointed, but he still doesn’t like to see it. Spencer unwraps the other half of his turkey and cheese sandwich and hands it to Y/N. She looks surprised, as if Spencer just handed her a million bucks.

“Spence, you don’t have to,” Y/N says, softly, handing back the half of the sandwich, “It’s your sandwich, I don’t want you to feel-”

“Eat it, Y/N,” Spencer says firmly, looking straight at Y/N, “You need to eat something. We both live off coffee as it is,” he says, hoping that Y/N will take the sandwich.

He’s looking straight at her and she’s looking straight at him. Spencer wonders if he looks deep enough he’ll reach her soul. He dares to think that if he can find her soul, he’ll stare at his face. He’s her favorite person after all, that’s got to count for something.

“Thanks, Spence,” Y/N says, smiling softly, “You make the best sandwiches,” she tells him, taking a bite of the sandwich as Garcia’s eyes flit from Spencer to Y/N. Back and forth, she watches the pair engage in the world’s best miscommunication.

“Y/N, did you hear? I’m throwing a prom!” Garcia says excitedly, hoping that Y/N’s reaction will be more enthusiastic than Spencer’s.

“A prom?” Y/N asks, unconvincingly, “God, I hated my prom. I got punched spilled all over my dress and my date tried to sneak alcohol into the banquet hall. It was a shitshow,” Y/N says, remembering the less than happy memories from high school.

“I didn’t go to prom. You know, between being a 12 year old and a dork,” Spencer says, self deprecatingly, “It’s not the ideal scenario, but I am familiar with the cultural significance of proms in American high school,” Spencer says, speaking to no one in particular, yet looking at Y/N directly.

“Maybe we’ll both get the prom night we deserve, Spence,” Y/N offers, tossing out her wax paper wrapper. She walks past him and it’s like the air is sweeter. He believes in science, but loves magic. Y/N is magic.

“Maybe,” Spencer says, refusing to make eye contact with Penelope, “you know, sorry to uh, cut this short. I have some paperwork to finish. Hotch’s been on me all day about it. So, uh, see you later,” he says, walking out of Penelope's office like a bat out of hell.

He tries to ignore the knowing stares from Penelope and Y/N’s confusion as he ducks out and walks into the bullpen. Spencer doesn’t have paperwork. He finished all his paperwork by 11:12 am. But what Spencer does have is a flight from Vegas to Quantico to book.

And prom shopping.

___

As it turns out, Spencer doesn’t know much about teenage American culture. Sure he’s seen 90s movies that Y/N forced him to watch. But it was quite difficult to pay attention when all he could feel was Y/N’s fingers brushing up against his in their shared bucket of popcorn or her head laying against his shoulder when she got tired.

He doesn’t know much of anything when it comes to romance. But he knows that he loves Y/N— and hopefully that’s enough. He still hasn’t asked her if she’d go with him. Honestly, he’s not too sure why he even has to ask her in the first place. She’s going to be there already, but Garcia and Morgan convinced him that it’s part of the so-called “Prom Experience”

“Spence,” Y/N says, she’s perched on the tall bar stool and rests her elbows on her kitchen island, “did you find a suit yet? I was thinking that we can go to that vintage store on Rock Ave. They have a surprisingly good size selection, and I think that this whole vintage thing fits your aesthetic really well,”

“My aesthetic?” Spencer questions, again lost at sea.

“You know, you’re like nerdy chic. Equal parts dorky and equal parts handsome,” she tells him. He feels his cheeks burn at her words.

Handsome

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not,” Spencer says, eyeing Y/N over the rim of his hot coffee.

“It is,” Y/N says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like him being handsome is just as obvious as him being dorky, “And get your wallet. We’re going to the vintage store,”

Spencer has a hate-love relationship with weekends. He loves spending time with Y/N where it was so easy to pretend that she loves him as he loves her. He hates the weekends for the same reason he loves them. Spencer knows that it’s all fake. It’s a façade of the truth.

“Spence! You’d look great in this,” Y/N suggests, holding up a gray sports coat, “I think it will match your eyes perfectly,”

“If you think so, Y/N,” Spencer says, nodding his head in agreement. She continues eyeing him as if she’s imagining what he’d look like in the jacket. He has to admit, it’s a very nice jacket.

“Come on, Spence. There’s a mirror over in the corner. Try it on for me,” she requests and not even a second later Spencer finds himself being dragged by the hand to try on the suit jacket.

Y/N holds the jacket open for him as he slips it on through his arms. He’s surprised to realize that it fits perfectly. He looks into the mirror, staring at his face and Y/N, who tugs and smooths the jacket. Spencer can’t look too much longer because if he does the lines between reality and fantasy will be difficult to distinguish. As much as he wants to stare into the mirror all day long, pretending that this is real, he much rather it actually be real. But wishing and dreaming only ends up with battle wounds and broken hearts.

“You look very handsome, Spencer. Very handsome,” Y/N says, staring into the mirror too now. But she’s not looking at the jacket, she’s looking at him. The beat of silence lasts longer than what’s comfortable, “Um, I think, I saw some pants that would look good on you, with this jacket, I mean,” she says, stumbling over her words. She’s not looking in the mirror any more, her gaze is noticeably away from Spencer and the mirror.

“Okay, uh, whatever you think, Y/N,” Spencer says, “I’m not even sure why I agreed to this thing. I don’t dance,” he says, regretting his choice to go to Penelope’s prom, but feeling guilty for maybe disappointing Y/N all in one breath.

“Did you ask her yet?” Y/N asks, holding up a pair of similarly gray colored pants. She must notice his confusion, “You know Austin, the woman you heroically saved. Does any of it ring a bell, Spence?” Y/N teases. Spencer feels his cheeks burn and his heart tighten, that happens a lot around Y/N.

“Oh Austin, uh no. She wasn’t interested in me, after all,” Spencer says, shifting his weight and staring at his converse, “I mean, I should have seen it coming. It’s transference, that’s like Psych 101,” he says, feeling strange. It was odd when Austin broke up with him, even if you can consider it breaking up. He felt a strange sense of relief when it happened, like a weight was lifted off his shoulders.

Y/N clicks her tongue in annoyance as she walks over to Spencer. Tugging slightly on the sleeves of the jacket she says, “well she’s not as smart as I thought she was. You have to be a complete fool to let someone like you go,” she says quietly. She’s standing too close, looking too beautiful, and seeming too perfect for Spencer to not be completely enamoured.

Then it breaks, like shattered glass. The rosey glasses are lifted, leaving only cheeks that sting with nervousness and hearts the yearn for something a little more tangible.

“Stop staring at me and go try it on,” Y/N says, handing him the pair of pants, “Oh and I’m going to look for a vest and a tie to match. This store is unbelievable,” she tells him, pushing him into the makeshift dressing room.

Spencer puts on the pants, which fit, despite being maybe an inch or two loose in the waist. He looks into the tall mirror, which is noticeably empty without Y/N standing with him. A floating hand, belonging to Y/N appears. She holds a burgundy tie and a dark brown vest, both of which are very Spencer. He smiles slightly, strangely happy that Y/N has picked something out that’s perfect for him.

“Tell me when you’re decent,” she says, her voice muffled by the curtain that separates them. He sticks his head out of the curtain, his eyes immediately finding Y/N’s.

“Ohh, Spence, you look amazing. Very handsome,” she says, her hands clasped around the tie, tugging just like she did with his suit jacket before, “What do you think?” she asks, looking at him curiously.

“It’s nice,” Spencer offers, approaching this like he does everything: cautiously, “I do like the texture,” he says, running his hands up and down the sleeves of the jacket.

“You look more than nice, Spence. I know I’ve said it like 30 times, but you look very handsome,” she says. Spencer hopes that she means it. He needs something to be real. Sometimes besides what he feels, because what he feels is the realest thing in the world.

“It’s nice to hear,” Spencer says, “you know from someone who’s not my mother,” he jokes, shrugging off the jacket and grabbing the hanger from Y/N.

“You deserve to hear it,” Y/N says so softly Spencer wonders if she’s saying it all. That beat of silence, followed by the awkwardness is back.

“So, uh, I saw a dress that I’m going to try on,” Y/N tells him, her gaze shifting everywhere but Spencer’s eyes.

“I’ll go pay for this,” Spencer says, walking back into the dressing room and the mirror that lies to his face.

___

Back in Y/N’s car, Spencer shifts in the passenger seat trying to find a way to sit comfortably while holding his suit jacket, pants and vest. Y/N hangs up her dress, that’s wrapped in a gown bag. She wouldn’t let Spencer see the dress, despite her practically picking out his entire outfit.

“So what’s next,” Spencer asks, as Y/N gets into the car. She smiles over at him sheepishly, leading Spencer to think she’s got another trick up her sleeve.

“I’ve got a confession, Spence. And please don’t hate me for it,” Y/N says, her voice coming out a little nervous as she eyes Spencer.

“I don’t think I could ever hate you, even if I tried. And I’m certain I’ll never have to,” he says softly, resting his hand over hers on the console. He rubs the back of her hand gently, thinking about just how easy things are with her. If he could only be a little braver, maybe then the mirror wouldn’t be so empty.

“Okay. I knew that things didn’t work out with you and Austin. I overheard you telling Derek,” Y/N confesses, “And I know that it makes me a horrible friend or whatever, but I’m sorry that I eavesdropped,”

“Oh, uh how much did you hear?” Spencer asks, suddenly quite nervous. He can feel his heart drop, waiting for the moment when Y/N laughs at the thought of her loving him. He knows that it’s not fair to her, but then again all is fair is love and war.

“Enough to know that you’re still hung up or or someone else. I left once my conscience got the better of me. Once a Girl Scout, always a Girl Scout,” she says, making the three finger salute that’s common in scouting, “I just wanted to hear it from you, you know you’re my favorite person and all,” she says, a frown forming.

“I think, uh,” Spencer says, “That I was just a little embarrassed. You know how Derek and Penelope and Emily and JJ can get. It’s basically just you and Hotch who aren’t jumping down my throat about being, you know, alone,” he says, chuckling awkwardly.

“They just want to help you, Spence. In their own ways, but I’m always on Team Spencer. You never got to worry about that,” Y/N offers, squeezing his hand.

He considers what she says, not responding verbally, but nodding his head. He hasn’t ever had someone on his “team”, so it’s strange. But a good kind of strange.

“Spence, you okay? I wanted to give you something. To be truthful, I’ve been thinking about how I was going to do this for awhile,”

“Ask me what?” he questions, wondering what she has in store. He watches as Y/N rummages in his bag, clearly looking for something. He’s thoroughly confused when she pulls out a TI-84.

“What on earth?” Spencer says, as she places the calculator in his hands. Her sly grin, beaming up at him only further proves his point: his heart just beats faster around her.

“Just shut and press the on button. You’d think that a genius would know how to work a calculator,” she comments, rolling her eyes playfully.

“You know, I never used these. I can just do it in my head faster,” Spencer says, winking at Y/N when she pushes him teasingly.

“God, Spencer just turn it on!” she demands, very apparently getting more and more impatient.

He turns the calculator on and is brought to a green screen that has a picture of a graph. Spencer raises his eyebrow, as if to ask Y/N for the next direction.

“Press the graph button,” she says, getting quieter as Spencer looks at her.

He presses the button that she said to, waiting for whatever is supposed to happen. Spencer watches as the screen draws four black lines running parallel to each other. A curved line is drawn on the first two black lines, forming the letters “P” and “R”. The screen continues to draw, making an oval that looks like an “O” and the last two parallel lines are joined together with a “v” shape, forming the letter “M”. He takes a second glance, reading the 4 letter word slowly.

P-R-O-M

“Well?” she asks, waiting for his answer.

He’s speechless. Spencer blinks. It’s like his brain has stopped working. It’s a prom, a stupid prom that’s 10 years too late. But it’s the girl of dreams that’s asking him. And that’s the stuff those rom-coms he couldn’t pay attention to are made of.

“I mean, of course. Of course, Y/N,” Spencer says, dropping the calculator into the cup holder and leaning in to hug Y/N.

His heart stops again. Falling into that tricky habit of either speeding up or stopping when she’s around. He thinks he’s ready to implode when she pecks his cheek. Her lips don’t linger, hardly touching his skin for it to be considered a kiss.

“I don’t think I’d want to go with anyone else,” she says, mumbling into his skin. She seals his fate with her lips against his skin. Never again will Spencer imagine what it’s like to have her lips against his skin. Even though it’s a fraction of the time he’d want, it’s tattooed in his mind.

“I’m not much of a dancer, by the way,” Spencer says, reluctantly letting go and sitting back into the passenger’s seat, “so don’t expect too much,” he jokes.

“Oh you better watch it, Doctor Reid. I’m getting you on the dance floor, even if you hate it,” Y/N says, smiling as she backs out of the parking spot and turns into the street.

Spencer looks out the window, thinking to himself that there’s probably nothing he can hate if he’s doing it with Y/N.

--

Spencer didn’t go to prom in high school. He didn’t do a lot of the traditional things that most former high schoolers reminisce about at his age. He didn’t go to football games or have a best friend to make lifelong memories with.

He didn’t have any of that, until now.

But it’s prom night, 10 years late. His hands are sweaty and his mouth feels dry. Spencer wasn’t this nervous for even his first day at the BAU all those years ago. He tries to fix the burgundy tie that Y/N picked out at the vintage store. It looks crooked and twisted. Nothing like when Y/N tied perfectly in the store for him. He supposes that he can wait till she comes to pick him up.

The mirror, again, is noticeably empty without Y/N standing beside him. He can get lost in there, thinking about her standing with him. He does, because it feels like seconds later when he hears a rapid knocking on his apartment door.

Standing on the other side of the door is Y/N. She wears a sage green dress that looks like it’s made of softest silk. He smiles at her, not sure if he can trust his words. Spencer doesn’t think he’ll be able to do much thinking when all he can focus on is the tiny straps that rest on her shoulders or how the sage green compliments her skin tone.

“You look, god. You’re beautiful,” Spencer says, partly under his breath partly aloud to Y/N, “so beautiful,” he says again, focusing on her eyes.

“And you’re looking very dashing in that suit, Spence,” she says, pushing her way in, “do you need help with your tie?” she asks, looking at the tie he holds in his hand.

“Yes, please,” he says sheepishly. He holds out the burgundy colored tie, but takes his hand back as an idea crosses his mind, “oh wait here, I’ll be right back,” Spencer says, walking quickly to his bedroom.

“Alright,” Y/N says sceptically, “Don’t ditch me, Reid!” she calls out from the living room.

Spencer returns, hiding the new tie behind his back. He places an olive green tie with dusty blue and pink flowers in her hands. He notices her smile grow, realizing that he’s picking a new tie for a reason.

“I might not know much about prom, but I think that we’re supposed to match. You know, since we’re going together,” he offers, “but I need help putting it on,” he says.

“We’re going to match!” Y/N says excitedly. As she unbuttons the first button on Spencer’s cream colored shirt he holds his breath. He can’t breathe when she’s this close. Her fingers are quick and nimble as they feed the tie around his neck and elegantly create a knot. If Spencer wasn’t already in love, he knows that watching her eyes twinkle and her tongue poke out as she concentrates would make him declare it then and there.

“So handsome,” she says, using that quiet voice that makes it seem like she’s talking to herself rather than him, “I can’t wait to dance with you,” she tells him tugging the tie.

“I’m not going to be good, Y/N. I’m going to be a fool,” Spencer says, lamenting already about what an idiot he’s going to look like in front of Y/N.

“That’s nonsense, Spence,” Y/N says, waving him away with a toss of her hand, “You’re going to be the best dancer there,” she tells him rubbing her hand up and down his arm, like she did at the store.

“Would you believe it, if I told you I never danced with anyone?” Spencer says, being the most honest and true he’s ever been.

“We can change that,” Y/N says, stepping towards Spencer and linking her hand in his. She squeezes, restarting and stopping his heart all in one go, “oh wait we need music,” she says, feeling around for where her phone usually is.

“I got it,” Spencer says, stepping away from Y/N. He walks over to the small record player in the corner of his living room. He doesn’t play it too often, the records he has were once his mother’s and they’re too painful to play most days. But Spencer’s sure that he can make every exception to all his rules for Y/N. Maybe he’ll get some happy memories out of it.

“Going old school I see,” Y/N says, teasingly as Spencer walks over grabbing both his hands in hers, “everything about you is very charming, Doctor Reid,” she says, softly swaying to the jazzy tunes of Sarah Vaughan.

“I’m not too sure about that,” Spencer says, following Y/N’s lead as she floats around his living room, carrying him everywhere she goes. She rests her head against his chest and Spencer swears that she’s going to get a concussion from how hard his heart beats.

They’re alone, no audience to witness the moment that Spencer wonders if he can dare to call intimate. It’s intimate to him because every moment with Y/N is intimate. Maybe if someone had told Spencer that dancing like this could bring pure paradise all the way from your fingertips to your eyelashes, maybe he would have done it sooner.

“You’re quite the romantic, Spencer,” Y/N says as the song comes to a close. The record player stops, but they don’t stop swaying, “And you told me you couldn’t dance,” she scoffs lightly, with her head still resting against his chest.

“Is that okay with you?” He asks, “me being romantic,”

“I don’t think that I’d want it any other way, Spencer,” Y/N says, removing her head from his chest and her hand from his. She cups his face, touching him lightly. Y/N holds him like he aches to be held. It’s gentle and tender, yet leaves him desiring more.

“Honest?” Spencer asks, daring to be brave.

“Truly,” she responds.

Spencer shifted slightly, so he can also hold her face in his hands. Y/N drops her hands though, wrapping them around Spencer’s waist to pull them closer together. Spencer’s phantom fingers are like that dance around that dance around Y/N’s skin.

It’s Y/N that initiates the kiss. She moves in slowly and tenuously, looking just as nervous as Spencer is. He’s shaky slightly, the anticipation getting to his head when all he can see is Y/N’s eyes looking into his and all he can think about is how soft her skin is. It’s all he’s ever wanted to think about. Her lips are soft and pillowy.

But it’s more than that.

Kissing her is everything to Spencer. It’s the breathy sighs she lets out as he moves his hands and rests them securely behind her neck. It’s the peachy scent of her perfume that’s so sweet and strong it should be overwhelming when all it is, is intoxicating. Kissing her is dizzying and terrifying, but wonderful and sweet. He can’t tell where his lips start and where her’s end, but it doesn’t matter.

He doesn’t open his eyes because he knows he’s facing the mirror. But unlike before, he doesn’t need a mirror to know what he’s looking at. He can look into his soul for that.

“Very romantic,” Y/N says, smiling through the quick kisses she plants on his jawline, “I always thought you’d be a romantic,” he tells him.

Spencer brushes his thumb over Y/N’s bottom lip. It’s puffy and bitten from his kisses, but he thinks that it would be a shame to not bite and kiss it some more. He smiles so hard he knows that he’ll wake up in the morning and his mouth will hurt. But that’s the least of his worries if Y/N’s there to kiss it better.

“Honest?” Spencer says, calling back to the song, that’s now their song.

“Truly,”

---

TAGLIST (ADD YOURSELF HERE)

@shemarmooresfedora @willowrose99 @calm-and-doctor @spideygenius @measure-in-pain @nomajdetective @spencerreid9 @saspencereid @laurakirsten0502 @winifrede @muffin-cup @idonotexiste @pastelbabygirl19 @strawberryspence @g0lden-cth @spookydrreid

[bentforkent]

earth-shattering, red roses

penelope garcia x gender neutral!reader

a/n: here is my very hesitant, very obscure, and very late submission for @veraiconcos​ fic challenge. is there a market for penelope x reader fics? dunno, but there should be. penelope rights. 

tagging sweet @gaystevie​ 

content warnings: none - this is half fluff, half angst :) 

word count: 1842

in which you’re penelope’s online friend and she develops a crush on you. 

“and then i just,” penelope pauses to hold up a pair of campy earrings to the camera, “pick out some earrings, and i’m good to go!” after putting the jewelry on, she turns her face to model. her hair is pulled back into a bun, adorned with some fluffy hot pink hair accessory. 

“looks cute, pen,” you muse, watching her pose on your tiny phone screen. penelope looks at you with a wide smile. there’s a piece of your hair sticking up and out of place, and she desperately wants to reach out and smooth it out. her thumb twitches.

 “alright my sweet soulmate,” she starts with a smile. you know what’s coming.  “it’s time for me to head to work.” 

you pout at her pixelated face. “already?”

“unfortunately, dear,” she says, but despite feeling reluctant to hang up, her words come out as cheery as ever. 

“alright, penny. have fun at work,” you say, and as soon as she acknowledges your farewell and offers her own, the screen goes black with nothing but a tri-tone to signal the end of the call. 

 you and penelope met seven months ago on some new, groundbreaking virtual world game. penelope’s character was a fairy, with wings that glowed so much she had to have paid extra to have them. (she hadn’t. she just hacked into the fairly new and easy-to-bypass code and given her character the virtual wardrobe of her dreams.) she made a point to keep true to herself, even through her tiny computer alter-ego.

 the two of you often floated in the same circles as you played the game. you were funny, always typing something witty into the chat, and she quickly found herself very fond of you. she let her fingers hover over her keyboard before typing out her first message to you. after the whole “fisher king” fiasco, she respectfully refrained from contacting people on the internet, resigning herself to admiring from afar. but you were different. you had interacted with penelope already, exchanging compliments and working together to solve quests in the game. you knew her, and she knew you, but direct message felt like a new realm. it felt...intimate. 

when you replied to her first message, a simple “hi penelope!” with a butterfly emoji attached for good measure, penelope nearly flew out of her desk chair; she was so excited.  she quickly typed back to you, punctuating with approximately two million exclamation points and a link to her own personal social media. you smiled widely to yourself watching penelope’s chat appear on your computer screen. 

over the next months, you and penelope had become practically inseparable. well...virtually, at least. you lived much too far from penelope, and penelope much too far from you.  your distance spanned one timezone and a handful of states, but with how often you two talked, you always felt close. you learned her favorite color, her favorite movie, her favorite tv shows. she learned your guilty pleasure snack, your nighttime routine, and your favorite song to drive to. after 12am, you’d whisper into the phone receiver about your day, telling her about everything that bothered you or brought you joy. penelope revelled in these chats. listening to you was the best part of her day. this was your friendship, and it was good. 

 but recently things had been ever-so-slightly different. penelope lingers on a phone call even though she is exhausted, just to hear your voice. she proof-reads her text messages multiple times before sending them out--who does that? the red heart emoji is fast becoming her most used, taking the place of the pink one. the pink one is platonic, it’s always been platonic, and the red one is romantic. how is this happening? often, penelope lies in bed, imagining you’re laying against each other with your hands entangled. she reaches and rests her hand on the other side of the bed, where you would lie if you were there. sometimes, when she’s really tired, she believes she can feel you.

when thinking about this, penelope’s chest feels tight in the most exhilarating way. she’s confused, naturally. the last time she felt this way was when she thought she had real feelings for derek. (she’d buried whatever feeling that was way deep down in the depths of her brain.)

 could it be love if you had never touched? no. no, penelope is a romantic, but she’s also a realist. this can’t be love, not yet. but...a crush. the realization of the word seeps into her bloodstream, setting each cell in her body on fire. it’s a nice fire, a warm fire, a fire that flickers in pink flames. penelope spins around a few times in her work desk chair. 

gee, how lucky is she that she’s got her own little cave here? no one to interrupt her private moment of reckoning...although, now that she thinks of it, it’s not much of a “moment” from the outside. it’s not like her cheeks are stained red and there’s a sign on her forehead that reads “i have a crush!” any one of her coworkers could walk in right now and have no clue anything is any different. (penelope forgets that she’s terrible at hiding things and that she works with trained behavioral profilers.) she pauses a minute, staring at the door, half-expecting hotch to walk in and chew her out for not looking up white males in nebraska, or something. 

 penelope smoothly rolls her chair over to where her cell phone rests. she really shouldn’t be making a personal call at work, she thinks, but she also really shouldn’t have hacked into reid’s work computer and changed everything in english into tagalog last week. penelope can’t remember the last time she genuinely cared about the FBI’s rules. (in her defense, it took spencer like--half of a second to figure out what the unfamiliar language was, and a whole work day to understand it. she was teaching him!) 

 she picks up the phone, grinning as she swipes through recent text notifications of you updating penelope on your day. she finds the “call” button quickly, and waits as it begins to ring.

“penelope?” you question upon answering. “i’m at work, i can’t really talk right now.” you sound happy, despite the intrusion penelope knows she’s providing.

 “no, i know,” penelope replies, twirling a pen in her free hand. she taps her foot quickly. “which is why i’ll make this super quick.” she drags out the word ‘super’ like it tastes like candy.  “i have a crush on you. an earth-shattering, red roses, big crush on you.”

“oh,” you gasp, surprised. “oh! yeah!” you shake your head quickly, as if trying to wake yourself from a dream. all penelope can hear on the other line is the swooshing of air. “yeah, penny, me too. definitely me too. by that i mean, i have a crush on you too.” you’re stumbling, tripping over the words in your haste to get them out, but neither one of you seem to notice. all you can tell is the grin on your face is starting to hurt your cheeks, and all penelope can tell is that if she pulls her knees any closer to her chest she might squish herself. 

 “okay, cool,” penelope says through a smile. 

 you give a breathy laugh. “i really do have to go, though. i’ll definitely talk to you later, though. bye, penny,” you say, and hang up before giving penelope the chance to quip a witty goodbye. 

 you like her back, penelope thinks, the harps playing in her head making her feel like a juvenile pining after someone on the playground. her stomach flutters. the angelic voices in her head are singing, something that sounds like a warbled, choral version of “i wanna dance with somebody” by whitney houston. she closes her eyes, and relishes in it. 

after a second, the stark silence in penelope’s office startles her into reality. 

what is this?

what is she doing?

 oh, fuck, she thinks. tears well in her eyes. what is she doing? this is so unrealistic, penelope thinks, berating herself. you’re far away, only connected to her through a phone screen. it’s a great sentiment to have this sweet crush, yeah, but it’s not practical. not real. it’s not like penelope would ever be in a position to pack up and fly to you, and after hearing you gush about your job just the night prior, she knows you certainly feel the same.

 and then she feels like shit for even calling, for even telling you that she felt this way. it would cause nothing but problems. penelope pauses, in her brain. no, it wouldn’t even cause problems! being with you is so incredibly far-fetched that there isn’t even a “will they, won’t they” debate. any problem is solved with a simple “won’t they.” no, this wouldn’t cause problems, but it would cause heartache, and she should’ve known better. penelope thinks she’s feeling a bit of that heartache now. she sniffles, toying with a tiny plush pig she keeps perched on her desk. sometimes penelope just gets blinded by the butterflies. it’s her best trait and most fatal flaw.

 there’s a knock at her door. derek. 

 “hey babygirl,” he says, pushing open the door and leaning into the doorframe. “what are you doing for lunch?” 

 with her back turned to him, she rubs at her eyes delicately, trying very hard not to mess up her makeup. “uh, i brought my thermos. soup,” she says, clawing desperately at the bubbly personality she can feel slipping away from her for today. she’s just down in the dumps. 

 “hey, what’s wrong?” derek asks, instantly picking up on her sour mood. he steps into her office and closes the door behind him. 

 penelope turns to him, eyes rimmed in red, and gives him a half smile. derek, sweet derek, always so in tune with penelope, is looking at her intently, worry written in every crease of his face. penelope always feels lucky to have him, but especially in this moment. in a rush of emotion, she stands, flings her arms around his neck and pulls him in to a tight hug. 

 derek chuckles. “i love you too.” 

 penelope pulls away with a half-hearted chuckle, swatting the air as if to get rid of the negative emotions plaguing her office. “you come in here with your big muscles and your pretty face and somehow you’ve got me crying in your arms.” she laughs again, slightly more enthusiastic this time. 

 derek pulls her to his chest again, holding her there without words. penelope lets out a deep sigh, releasing every single emotion she just ran through. 

she could deal with those later. she could deal with her royal mess with you later. right now, it didn’t matter. what mattered now was her office, her lunch, and derek morgan.

“derek?” she asks, voice small. he turns to her, prompting her to speak again. “if i asked you to stay, would you?”

[crazy-little-cool-cat]

Gold Digger - Chapter 7 | Gwilym Lee x OFC

A/N: Enjoy, folks!

Warnings: The usual, you know. 

Word Count: ~2K

The Playlist (Updates Regularly)

Chapter List:  Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

Lizzie seemed to be floating on a cloud of bright pink cotton candy the next day. The tulips, stuffed bear, and expensive chocolates Gwilym got for her were a constant reminder of the night she shared with Gwilym. The night came to a gentlemanly end with a good night kiss at her doorstep. After the kiss, they promised to talk as soon as they're both up and about the next day. For the first time in a long time, Lizzie slept in until just before the clock struck noon. She stumbled out of her bedroom, rubbing groggily at her eyes. 

"Fancy chocs you got there," Shelly said with a knowing smirk. "I take it the date with Prince Charming went well?" 

"How did you know...?" Lizzie's brows knotted. "You were working! I was still in pajamas when you left!" 

"Expensive chocolates? Red tulips? The smell of exquisite cologne?" Shelly counted off clues. "This luxuriously soft fucking teddy bear?" 

"Ugh." Lizzie shook her head. "Yes. We went out on a date." 

"He still 'round?" Shelly asked as she popped a piece of sushi in her mouth and looked over Lizzie's shoulder.

"Nope," Lizzie popped the P, "kissed me at the door and left." 

"Gross." Shelly rolled her eyes. "God, what a gentleman!" 

"Most girls would be swooning at that." 

"Oh, I know." Shelly snorted. "You're definitely falling for the chivalrous spiel." 

"It's not a spiel, Shells," Lizzie crossed her arms over her chest, "it's just who he is." 

"He wants to fuck you just as much as the next guy," Shelly stated. "Might as well milk it for all it's worth." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

"I'm going to New York," Shelly announced out of the left field. "Joe's paying." 

"What?" Lizzie's eyes shot open. 

"Yeah." 

"Shells, that's..." 

"Awesome?" Shelly offered.

"Slaggish." 

"Meh." Shelly shrugged. "I'm just taking advantage of an opportunity. As should you." 

______

Gwilym exhaled a cloud of smoke and breathed in the herbal scent surrounding him. He leaned his head back and passed the spliff over to Ben, closing his eyes lazily.

"So it went well, overall?" Ben asked before sucking on the blunt and inhaling deeply. He held his breath for a few seconds before exhaling slowly. "Jamie and Clara scenario aside?"

"Splendid."

"Did you buy her flowers?" Ben's face broke in a lazy grin. "Man, this stuff is good."

"Only the best for my baby," Gwil cooed jokingly. "Yeah, and a bunch of other stuff."

"What?"

"You know... candy, a teddy. Nothing too fancy."

"Gwil, I know you. It was fancy, for a fact." Ben remarked and passed the spliff back to Gwilym.

"She deserves nice things." Gwilym shrugged. "She was very reluctant to receive my gifts, I'll give her that."

"Too reluctant, maybe?" Ben raised an eyebrow, his eyes getting squintier as the high took over him.

"She's not in it for the money and fame," Gwilym said before taking a hit.

"How would you know?" Ben asked.

"Where's this coming from?" Gwilym wondered. He blinked slowly at Ben. "Are you getting paranoid now?"

"No, mate," Ben shook his head quickly and took the spliff from his best friend, "I'm just wondering if maybe her intentions aren't as pure as you think they are. Remember how we all thought Clara was this sweet baby angel, and she's literally sleeping with Satan?"

"Satan? He was a witness at your original wedding!" Gwil laughed. "What's with the Clara hostility I'm sensing?"

"Not hostility. Clara's just a bit..."

"Cunty."

"Yeah," Ben snorted. "She's obviously jealous."

______

"She's in it for the money, you know," Clara said over Rory's head as they sat on the floor and played with stickers. "It's so obvious."

"What?" Annie looked away from Alfie, attached to her breast, at her best friend. "What are you on about?"

"Merrida."

"Stop calling her that!" Annie giggled. "You're evil."

"I'm a pure baby angel."

"You're a devil!" Annie countered and looked down at Alfie, stroking his chin softly. "What makes you think Lizzie's not into Gwil for Gwil?"

"She flirted with Jamie, right in front of his face, for starters," Clara muttered.

"You reckon?" Annie snorted. "Jamie must've flirted with her, first."

"Shut up."

"Are you jealous?" Annie taunted.

"No!" Clara reacted animatedly. "I have nothing to be jealous of. I'm with my soulmate now."

"Oh, God, don't call him that." Annie gagged mockingly. "You two are just mutual rebounds, remember?"

______

'You can't still be sleeping!'

Lizzie looked down at her phone and smiled brightly. She hadn't texted Gwilym since they parted ways the previous night. At first, it was because she slept in till noon, and then it was because she couldn't stop thinking about their date. Then, she went shopping with Shelly for her trip to New York. She didn't expect Gwilym to text her first.

'I'm up, don't worry.'

She was just about to put her phone down when it started ringing in her hand.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Sleeping Beauty," Gwilym drawled.

His voice made her feel like her bones are turning into liquid. She had to sit down as she giggled like a schoolgirl. "Hiya, Gwil."

"How did you sleep?"

"Splendid," Lizzie laid on her back, "and you?"

"With a smile on my face."

"Good. Did you enjoy our date?"

"Is that a trick question?" Lizzie twirled a curl around her finger. "Because you know I bloody did."

"Just making sure," Gwilym chuckled. "Is it too soon to ask for another one?"

"A bit, yeah," Lizzie smiled. "Plus, I don't know how you'll top that one."

"Oh, I have the resources to blow your mind, love," Gwilym said teasingly.

"I, uh..." Lizzie fumbled for words as she felt another flock of butterflies flapping their wings in her tummy.

"How about just a casual hang out, then?" Gwilym suggested.

"That sounds good."

"Great," Gwilym smiled triumphantly as he rounded a corner. "Are you free now?"

"Well, yes."

"Good, because I'm right here."

"What?" Lizzie sat up in a scramble and looked at her pajama-clad body and messy, unwashed hair. "What do you mean you're here? Here where?"

Her question was answered by the doorbell. She trotted over to the door and flung it open to reveal Gwilym standing there with a dopey smile, holding the phone to his ear.

"Hello," He looked down at her awestruck face and hung up the call.

"Hey," she breathed before his arms rounded her waist and pulled her to him for a searing kiss. "I thought we said this will be casual!"

"It was a casual kiss!" He winked and pecked her lips again, his beard tickling her. "Is that better?"

"Mhm," Lizzie nodded and started walking backward, leading him into her flat. "Shelly's home."

"Shelly!" Gwilym bellowed over Lizzie's head. "Show yourself!"

Shelly's bedroom door opened with a slam, and she came flying out, panting.

"Holy shit!" She gasped. He was even more handsome in person. "Holy shit!!!"

"Nice to meet you finally." Gwilym extended a hand for her to shake. "Joe sends his love."

"This is surreal," Lizzie noted and tucked a loose curl behind her ear. "Is it alright if I take a shower? I feel a bit... yucky."

"And leave me alone to be interrogated?" Gwilym feigned fear.

"And he's funny, too?!" Shelly squealed. "God!!!”

______

Gwilym's face was beet red. He wasn't sure at first if he saw things correctly. Shelly had left to run some errands, and he was alone in the living room when he saw movement from the corner of his eye. He glanced over and saw Lizzie bare backside - and bum - hurriedly receding down the corridor into her bedroom. Her towel had slipped. If he had blinked, he probably would have missed it - but he didn't blink. Nor did he lose it. He felt his mouth starting to water and an inconvenience in his trousers. Gulping, he took his phone out and opened up his WhatsApp.

'I just saw her bum.'

'Gwil, sweets, if you're having sex, we don't need a play-by-play.' Joe replied to the group chat.

'Fr, though!' Ben added.

Gwilym groaned and tossed his phone on the coffee table, sinking lower on the sofa and rubbing his thighs. He willed his erection to stop growing before Lizzie emerges from her bedroom. He tried to think of anything sad he could possibly come up with, and it seemed to have worked - until her voice broke him out of his trance.

"Penny for your thoughts?" She lilted as she rounded the sofa and sat on the other end of it, leaning down to take the telly's remote control. "Netflix?"

"Ehm..." Gwilym gulped when her bum was in full view again, this time covered up. He took a throw pillow and hugged it in his lap. "Sure."

"You alright?" Lizzie reached over and placed a hand on his forehead. "You look a bit flushed."

"No, no, I'm fine," Gwilym reassured. "Just..."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, yeah," Gwilym nodded and shifted in his seat. Lizzie's eyes darted down to the strategically placed throw pillow and felt her heart make a freefall right down to her knickers. "Netflix, please."

"Right." She sighed and shook her head slightly. They settled on a film, rather than a series, and got comfortable. Gwilym's arm rested on the back of the sofa and around Lizzie's shoulders. Lizzie leaned her head back on his bicep and tucked her feet under her. Her slightly damp hair felt cool on Gwilym's skin as the dampness seeped through his shirt.

_______

Gwilym and Lizzie woke up in the middle of the night, slightly disoriented. Her head rested in the dent between his shoulder and pec, her hand wrapped around his tummy. His hands were wrapped around Lizzie, his chin resting on the top of her head as the TV turned from the movie they recently played to Netflix's home screen. Blinking slowly, Lizzie looked up at Gwilym with a lazy smile.

"Hey, beautiful," Gwilym murmured and kissed the top of Lizzie's head.

"Hi," she whispered back, her hand traveling up to rest on Gwilym's chest. "Time's it?"

"Well," Gwilym unwrapped one arm to look at his watch, "it's just a quarter past one."

"Oh, no..." Lizzie whined and buried her face in Gwilym's chest. "God, I wish I didn't have to work tomorrow."

"Yeah?" Gwilym grinned.

"Yeah." Lizzie sighed. "If I could never work another day in my entire life again..."

They sat in silence as Gwilym let Lizzie's last comment sink in. That, combined with Ben and Clara's concerns that Lizzie's intention may be impure, made him slip into a pensive mood. He cracked his knuckles as his tired mind got lost in thought while Lizzie quietly traced circles and lines up and down his left pec. A big yawn brought him back out from his own head, and he looked down at Lizzie's sleepy face.

"Liz, I think I'll go..." he whispered and lifted her chin with his fingers. "It really is getting late."

"You could... I mean," Lizzie looked at him, wide-eyed, "you could maybe spend the night if you want to?"

"Maybe some other time?" He stroked her cheek and pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose.

_______

TAGLIST: @filmslutt @lose-you-to-find-me @sonic-volcano  @nosferatyou @rogertaylorin1976 @mrhoemazzello

[lins-fandom-hub]

Wish Come True (Barnaby X OC MC)

(This little short will be based off of the Celestial Ball, and will be written in Barnaby’s POV. Also there may be a little bit of fluff, just a fair warning.)

She wanted to see me.

I had never felt more nervous in my life. After all the decorating and mingling with friends, the last thing I expected was for Clara to say she wanted to meet me alone in the courtyard, and I couldn’t help but think that I messed something up. That’s sometimes what always happens when someone wanted to meet me--they wanted to see me because I botched up something.

Was it something important? I hoped not. I know I wasn’t the nicest to her in the beginning, and she had every right to hate me. What made her warm up to me, I wish I knew. Still, I’m glad she did. The image I had of her at the start greatly differed from the actual person she was--kind, smart, brave, and funny. Not at all like the troublemaker my dad thought she would be, or the mean nasty girl Merula said she was.

Her considerate disposition made me open up to her about my past, and soon I began to trust her. And the way she protected everyone while we were at the Vaults...

She had this light that made her shine so bright--maybe even brighter than the sun.

I barely had time to compose myself at the fountain before she arrived--dressed casually, but looking amazing as always. She was wearing a black cardigan over a white dress shirt, her red and gold Gryffindor tie done somewhat loosely on her neck. She even wore a black skirt with black stockings to match. Even her glasses were polished to a dazzling gleam.

“I botched things up, haven’t I?”

I didn’t even realize I said it aloud until the words were already out of my mouth, leaving her looking very confused on her part.

“Botched up what?” she asked.

Oops. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so quick to jump to conclusions.

“Oh. Usually when someone wanted to see me so quickly, it’s because I’ve botched up something,” I explained to her quickly, hoping that she didn’t see me as daft. “Or they need my help moving something heavy...”

But I could assume neither of those reasons made sense. She didn’t seem like the type to ask me to move something for her right now. And it seemed pretty clear from the get-go that I didn’t botch up anything...

“Well, I came to see you about the Celestial Ball,” Clara said, looking slightly worried. “I don’t have a date yet.”

“Me neither,” I responded thoughtfully. “And the dance begins soon!”

Honestly, though, I should be freaking out. After all, I was the one who asked Professor Dumbledore if it was okay for us to bring dates, and...I only asked him in the hopes that I could ask her. But I had no idea where she was going with this conversation. Did she want me to help her get a date? Maybe she wanted some advice? No, scratch that. I’m rotten at advice.

Still, there wasn’t enough time. What did she want me to do?

“I suppose there is a solution,” Clara chipped in with an expectant smile.

“Is there?” I scratched my head in apprehension. “Crikey, I haven’t a clue.”

For being the brightest person in my family, even I couldn’t see where this was going. Maybe she really wanted me to help her find a date.

“Um...well, you’re not going with anyone, and I’m not going with anyone,” she eventually realized. “So...”

And then it hit me. Of course I wouldn’t have botched anything up for her, and for her to come here to talk to me only meant that, with both of us in the same dateless situation, she wanted us to change that--and not by asking me to help her find a date, but to be her date.

“Blimey, I’ve got it!” I finally cried, jumping up in excitement at the thought that came to mind. “Clara, would you like to go to the Celestial Ball with me?”

I actually felt very honoured that she would come to me with the intentions of me being her date. It felt like a dream come true, and I could see she felt the same way too, the way her face suddenly lit up in genuine joy.

“Yes, I would love to, Barnaby!” she replied excitedly, nodding.

And I felt so relieved, I picked up her and spun her around in the air, earning a surprised yelp from her followed by peals of laughter. Her smile and laughs lifted my spirits so high, I felt like they would forever remain airborne. I eventually brought her down with a smile and hugged her tight.

“I’m so glad the idea of asking you came to me,” I eventually said.

Clara gave a short hum as she hugged me back too. “And I’m glad you asked. We’ll have a great time together!”

“You’ve always been my first choice as a date, Clara,” I confessed as I pulled back to look at her. “But I never really got the nerve to let you know it.”

Clara laughed again and nodded in understanding. “I’ve been really anxious about this dance as well,” she admitted too. “I have no idea what to expect tonight.”

For the rest of the afternoon, we talked a bit about the upcoming dance. I brought her to sit beside me on the fountain’s ledge, and we chatted and laughed the entire time. I couldn’t stop looking at her, though. Something about her really drew me to her--to me, she was like a star in the sky, the first star I would ever see in the early evening. And she was beautiful without even trying. Even without her robes on, she still looked radiant.

I felt like I was responsible now for keeping her light aglow. Even back in the Vault of Fear, I vowed that I would protect her no matter what--as long as I know she’d do the same for me too.

“I could talk about this all night!” Clara eventually said, her face still alight with joy in the setting sun. “But we really have to go get ready.”

I nodded as I walked her to the entrance of the castle, smiling at her. I already had an outfit picked out, but I had to give her time to pick hers. From what I heard, Andre was preparing her dress, and I would admit, I was very excited to see it.

“I even prepared a freshly picked ‘buccaneer’!” I told her with a grin. “But I can’t wait to see your outfit.”

“I’m sure Andre’s waiting for me in the Great Hall right now with my options,” Clara chirped. “I can’t wait to see them. And I can’t wait to see you tonight.”

She stood on slight tiptoe and left me a light kiss on the cheek before heading back into the castle, leaving me standing there in awe.

The party was already in full swing by the time I arrived, wearing a nice red coat with a rose ‘buccaneer’ to match. As I glanced around, I saw Tonks and Tulip socializing by one of the dinner tables, and Rowan and Ben looking rather at ease with themselves as they helped themselves to drinks. Penny was floating around the room like a fairy, with her light yellow skirt fluffing all around her as she looked at the dance and the success that came with her leading the Decorating Committee. I chuckled at the sight myself; I was happy I did a little bit to help with the decorations that hung around the Great Hall. Even Merula and Ismelda looked a bit less “scowly”.

“Wow, Barnaby. Nice outfit!” Andre complimented me as he waved me over. “The colour really suits you.”

“Hey, Andre. Thank you!” I beamed. “How did the outfit selection go for Clara, by the way?”

“Oh, she was stuck in a dress stall for quite a bit of time. I gave her 3 options, with different hairstyles and jewellery and shoes--but she was stuck between 2 of them. It was funny seeing her muttering to herself about which outfit she wanted,” Andre told me with a laugh. “But she eventually chose one, and it’s a stunner, I’ll tell you that.”

I laughed at the story as well. I never thought of Clara to be one of the extremely picky ones, but it was understandable; she wanted to remember this night as much as anyone. “Well, I can’t wait to see her in her dress,” I eventually said. “If only I know where she is.”

“She probably won’t be that late, but she’ll run a bit behind, I know that. For someone to look stunning, they do have to take some time--and believe me, I know,” Andre said. “At least you’re enjoying yourself, am I right?”

“That, I am,” I agreed with him with a nod.

Andre only had a bit of time to shoot me a quick grin before he was called away by Professor McGonagall, and I was left to wander around the Great Hall for a bit. As I eventually passed by Ismelda, who was standing by the corner of the dance floor with a contemplative look on her face, I heard her voice addressing Hagrid.

“I do have a date!” she was saying. “But finding and keeping track of a date in a room this size is harder than I thought.”

Just as Hagrid suggested he’d look for me, I eventually approached her, eyes widening at the sight of her dress.

She looked like she was wearing the entire evening sky. Her dress was sleek and elegant, and the stars twinkled and shone over the dark navy blue fabric showing constellations and shapes that could only be seen by few in the night. Her glasses were off, leaving a lot more room to see the twinkle in her dark brown eyes. Her black hair, normally either let down or tied in a ponytail, was carefully styled in a bun at the back of her head, secured with a purple headband with a star at the centre. 

She had never looked more radiant.

“Clara!” I addressed her. “I’ve been looking all over for you!”

She turned to me and grinned. “Barnaby, you look really handsome!” she said then. “Your ‘buccaneer’ is quite nice.”

“Thanks. I almost stabbed myself pinning it on,” I admitted with a laugh. “And look at your outfit! Brilliant!” I then took her hand and gave a little motion with my head. “Now let’s enjoy this dance together.”

Clara seemed to welcome this idea openly with a nod, and soon we made our way to the dance floor. All around us we could see everyone having fun, either grabbing food or socializing with the teachers. To my surprise, Bill was there too, chatting with Rowan now by the fireplace--I assume he came in while I was chatting with Andre. The music was very lighthearted and eventually got me swaying to the beat, and I could see Clara’s eyes wandering about the room, clearly soaking in all of its beauty.

“I didn’t know what to expect tonight,” she eventually said with a soft smile. “All of the planning, and prepping, and fretting...but tonight has been quite special.”

I agreed with her. It truly has been quite a night overall.

“And I think Tonks is right,” she also said. “Of our friends, we’re the only ones here who decided to bring a guest!”

“I take all the credit for it!” I said with a grin. “Remember I was the one who asked Dumbledore if we could bring dates?”

“When Dumbledore first announced the Ball? I remember,” Clara nodded.

“I asked because even then, I was hoping you’d be my date for tonight,” I eventually admitted.

Now that was enough for Clara’s cheeks to turn pink, and I felt a little shy all of a sudden too. Still, I felt the smile widen on my face as I looked at her, trying to read her expression. Was she happy? She definitely looked like it. I was just happy she was my date for the ball--and even happier I got the idea to ask her.

Eventually, before we knew it, students began to head to the dance floor, and soon we started to dance. The entire time, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of Clara. She was like the star of the dance floor, shining among the other students. As the music began to slow down, some of the students began to retire from the event, but there were still some others who stayed behind.

I looked at Clara and eventually pulled her into a hug as a slow song began to play. We swayed along to the music, and I could hear her hum again in happiness.

I smiled as I held her, and lightly kissed the top of her head. 

She was my wish come true, and I couldn’t be happier.

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

Part of Your World

Chapter 4: poor unfortunate simon

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Word count: 2432

Chapter 4/11 (All chapters)

Summary: Simon makes a life changing decision.

Read on AO3

AN: Well I finished my last exam yesterday, so in celebration, here's the next chapter early! Yay! Tbh I also felt the last chapter was too short/not enough happened so and I wanted to give y'all something new sooner. And from now on I'll be posting every Monday and Thursday! Double yay! Hope you like this :) PS: Creds to @carryonmylovelies for the incredible chapter title. She's a lot smarter than me, obviously.

———————————————-

“Simon? You in here?”

Penny stuck her head through the door, and her heart sank. It was worse than she thought. When she saw David come home alone fuming, she expected something bad. But this was just beyond terrible. Everything Simon had collected over the years, all the things he loved, were destroyed. The merman himself lay at the centre of the wreckage like the eye of the hurricane, face in his arms. Simon’s soft crying was the only sound in the room.

“Oh, Simon,” she sighed as she sat next to him. “I’m so sorry.”

He whimpered, burying his face further into the ground. Penny placed a hand on his upper back and rubbed soothing circles

“Why would he do this?” Simon whispered. “ I-I wasn’t hurting anyone. It was just stuff. Does he really hate humans that much?”

“I guess so.” She picked up a piece of debris next to her, half the prince statue’s face. She traced a finger over the sharp cheekbones, thin lips, and piercing eyes. “Destroyed your new one too, huh?”

His head snapped up and he snatched it from her. Penny backed away defensively. Simon looked at it mournfully, tracing a finger over the features. It was the last reminder he had of Baz. And his father had destroyed it. Out of spite.

“I hate him, Pen,” he muttered. “I really hate him.”

The ground shook slightly under Simon, his magic responding to his anger like usual. Penny was startled. This was the first time Simon had actually said he disliked David. Not an indistinct grunt or groan, but an actual statement against him.

“Yeah, I get it, Si. He did a really horrible thing. You can stay at my place for time being.”

Simon didn’t respond. He looked at the bedrock intensely. The thoughts were tumbling around his head like a hurricane. Sorting and choosing and rationalizing, all in what really was a few seconds. They filtered down to one conclusion. One stupid, reckless, amazing conclusion.

“I want to go to the surface.”

Penelope sighed. “Simon, that’s very risky. I know you want to replace this stuff, but what if a human spots us or-”

“No no no.” He shook his head rapidly. “I want to go there...to stay...”

She kept staring at him confused. He saw the revelation slowly hit her, eyes widening and mouth falling open.

“Oh my stars!” she yelled, jolting up off the rock and floating over Simon. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?!”

“Yes. Transformation spells are a thing, it’s possible”

Penelope rubbed her forehead, trying to smooth out her increasing number of worry lines. “You cannot be serious.”

“I am! Penny, I want to leave, so badly. And I...I want to see, him again.”

“Really, Si?!” She put her hands on her hips. “You want to become human and possibly leave your home forever for some pretty boy prince?!

Simon swam up to her level, throwing his arms skywards. “It’s not just that! I’ve never liked it down here, you know that. I’m a useless merman who can barely throw a spell. A-And Father is the worst. I can’t bear living for his stupid imaginary war anymore! I just-I just need to go there, to get away, and...to get to know Baz better.” His head and arms fell down. “I can’t get him out of my head, Pen. I want- I need to know if there’s a chance.”

Penny swam back and forth, running hands through her hair. “Simon this is totally insane! You’ll be giving up your tail, your magic, your life, just to go be with some human prince you’ve seen once. I mean, how can you not see the problems here?! I know your father’s an arse but that doesn’t mean running away forever! Why can’t you just stay here? Where you’ll be safe and...” Penny finally turned to look at Simon. Her heart sank at his wide eyes, at the way his slightly open mouth was curved in a desperate frown. “And...totally miserable.” She hung her head and groaned. “Fine. I’ll help you.”

Simon gasped, then promptly tackle hugged her, hurling them through the water. “Thank you Penny! Thank you thank you!”

“Don’t thank me yet, Si. I need to find and do a spell first.”

“You will, I know it. You’re the bestest spell caster ever!”

Penelope rolled her eyes with a smile, shoving him her. “Yeah yeah, no need to butter me up, I’m already helping you.”

Simon tugged her hand. “C’mon c’mon let’s go!”

Penny sighed. She always ended up doing the craziest things with Simon. But this would definitely top the list.

———————————————-

Penelope’s family spell collection was insane. There were hundreds of tablets with hundreds of different spells. That’s where all her family members were now, wandering around the ocean, finding and creating new incantations like the majority of merfolk so. Which gave the younger merfolk free reign of the spell room.

Simon and Penny sat with many pieces of stones surrounding them. Simon tried not to let his eyes glaze over but it was getting very difficult. He scanned over the words looking for a clue, any clue. But soon, his prayers were answered. He stopped at one spell. It was just what he wanted, created for a lovestruck mermaid to be with a human. Perfect.

“Pen! I found it!”

He raced over to her, shoving the tablet in her face. “Jeez Simon, let me actually read it.”

She looked the writing over, chewing on her lip nervously. Simon watched her intently as his heart beat so fast he feared it would burst. “So? Will it work?”

Penelope sighed and nodded slowly. “Yes. But...”

Simon’s face fell. “But what?”

“But it only lasts three days. For it to become permanent, he has to fall in love with you and prove it by kissing you before sunset on the third day. That’s a lot to do in so little time. I’d be surprised if this spell ever worked.” Simon made a sound far too close to a whine. She sighed. Why must he be so pathetic and adorable at the same time?

“I mean,” she said, scratching her chin. “I could push it to five days with some work. Give you more time. But you’d still need to get him to fall for you, and kiss you. That I can’t change. And...extending the days means you’ll have to give a sacrifice.”

“What, like for a power source?”

“Yes. It’s the only way to make it last longer. It needs to be an offering or show of faith. To do something this big you need to be willing to give up something big of your own.”

Simon had vague memories of his Father’s lessons. (He only ever half paid attention). Yeah, that seemed right. Spells that were strong, reality altering magic sometimes needed an extra push. And without aid from an outside power source, like David’s trident, you would have to relinquish a part of yourself. It was a quid pro quo.

“So what do I need to do?” Simon asked, determination in his blue eyes. “Cut off some hair? A finger? Let some blood? Give my soul? I hope it’s not that. I like my soul.”

Penelope rolled her eyes and shook her head, swishing her purple curls. “No, it’s not ever something so physical, Simon. Did you actually listen during your lessons?” Simon frowned, and Penny immediately felt terrible. He didn’t need to be put down any more today, or any more period. Which only reinforced why she had to do this. So she petted his hair, and felt relieved when she saw him smile.

“Well,” she said, “my Mum said a good sacrifice is usually a sense or ability. Like sight or hearing, or a skill you’re proficient at, like spellwork. The willingness to give up stuff that big is strong enough to enhance a spell. I’m not sure what you could do. I think-”

“What about my voice?”

Penny’s eyes went wide. She stared at Simon, looking at him blankly for a long time, before realising he wasn’t kidding. “What?!”

“What if I give up my voice? As the sacrifice?”

“Simon, that’s- I don’t know...”

He shrugged and looked down sheepishly. “I mean, I’m not good with words anyway. And of course I want to see and hear him. But he doesn’t need to hear me speak. I can use my other ways to talk, I guess. And-And it’s not like I’m good enough at spellwork for the sacrifice of it to be enough.”

“Si-”

“C’mon Pen, nothing else will work. We both know that.”

She rubbed her lips together, racking her brain for an alternative. But he was right. Taking anything else would be too much of a hindrance or not powerful enough. Penny sighed, then nodded. “Alright. Help me set up the ingredients.”

———————————————-

Penny tossed the entire glass bottle into David’s cauldron. The smoke within brewed and churned. Another beaker added and it turned green. Simon watched with absolute fascination. Only his father had ever done something like this and it was only once.

Penny held the sea cow tongue, the final ingredient, in her hand, just over the pot. But she was unmoving. Simon furrowed his brow.

“What’re you waiting for? Throw it in!”

“Simon,” Penny said. Her tone was sympathetic, that of a worried true friend. “Before I finish this, are you really sure? Do you remember how transformation spells work? Once it’s cast, I can’t turn you back, nothing can. You’ll be stuck unless the time runs out. You’ll...” She closed her eyes, biting back her more morose emotions. “You’ll lose everything you know, Si, possibly forever. So, are you are really, really sure?”

He took a minute, truly letting Penny’s question roll around in his head. Yes, he did know how transformation spells worked. He knew he’d be stuck as a human for at least five days, and yes, possibly forever if the spell was completed. He could permanently lose his magic and his tail. All for the world he’s wanted to learn more about since he was 11. As well as for a new person he couldn’t get out of his head.

There was only one answer.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

Penny tightened her mouth, nodded, and finally, she tossed the last ingredient into the stone pot. It exploded in a mushroom cloud of bright greens and blues and purples. It roared like thunder, swirling like a storm. Simon backed up. He couldn’t help but be frightened.

“You gotta say something, Simon,” Penny yelled over the noise.

“Like what?”

“Anything! Just needs to be continuous.”

One thing popped into Simon’s brain. It was a simple vocalisation constantly stuck in his subconscious. It always sounded like it was sung by a woman. Simon sometimes wondered if it was his mother. And even Simon, with his harpy screech of a voice, could copy it.

He sang.

A smoking green hand reached out from the pot. It was bony looking with long claws, twisting towards him. Simon had to stop himself from running, remembering he wanted this. Getting away from David, going to land, meeting Baz, it was all worth the fear. It had to be.

The hand reached down his throat. It was like he’d inhaled a whirlpool, pulling and sucking within his windpipe. He couldn’t think or breathe or do anything but wait. And then he felt it, when the magic took hold. In one second he was singing the remembered song, and in the next he simply no longer could. His own voice was yanked from him, a piece of himself literally ripped away like it was nothing. As if it was plucking a mere hair from his head. The hand left his throat and held his voice out front of him. It was now a tiny golden ball of light, held between two smokey green fingers. He meant to say “Neptune’s beard”.

But no words came out.

The hand turned fiery orange, charged with the power of Simon’s sacrifice. It pulled back into the smoke soup, leaving the tiny sun floating aimlessly. Penny gently took the the orb and shoved it into her shell necklace. A spell only needed an act of sacrifice. So she could save the voice itself. What could she do with it? Who knew. As far as she knew, no one had ever gotten a sacrificed returned to them. Maybe it couldn’t ever be given back, even if the spell timed out. Simon could be voiceless forever no matter what. But she’d save it, just in case, for her best friend.

The smoke roared louder, becoming nearly deafening. Bright light washed out everything else in the room. The room vanished around Simon. Everything happened too fast. An orange bubble snapped around his whole body. The sensation and texture of it reminded him a jellyfish. The pain came next. It felt like a something sharp slicing right through the middle of his tail, splitting the limb in two. It was beyond agonizing. Simon screamed and screamed, but only released more silence.

And just like that, it was all gone. The room was back to normal, with no zero multi-coloured light or thunder. Simon flapped his arms and kicked his feet. His feet, attached to his long human legs. He kicked them frantically, trying to keep himself afloat with their relatively weak power. And...

He couldn’t breathe.

Water filled his lungs instead of passing through them like usual. He clawed at his throat, his eyes bugging out at his friend. He tried to speak with only a look. “Penny I can’t breathe, I can’t fucking breathe!” Penelope gasped and rushed towards him.

Simon's vision started to fill with black spots, his limbs familiar and new becoming heavy. He could barely feel Penny grab him and swim them up out of a hole at the top of her coral house. She swam faster than she ever had before. The water rushed around them as they rocketed towards the light of land above. And soon they burst through the ocean surface.

Simon took a deep gasping breath and came back to life. He floated in the water, new legs treading weakly, still panting heavily. His head slumped onto Penny. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and gave it a squeeze, saying “thank you” with the simple gesture.

Penny patted his hand. “You’re welcome, Simon,” she said, her own breathing laboured. “Let’s get you to your prince.”

Simon nodded. Then he promptly passed out.

———————————————-

AN: Simon is human and voiceless! What will happen next? Well, I know what will happen, I wrote it. But all of you will find out next Monday :D