garciasgirl

[garciasgirl]

i don’t know if i should sob or giggle and kick my feet this was so beautiful and precious oh my god

mariaaa!! i have another idea!! > 3 <

ok, so…

sleepy, needy, & clingy bimbo!reader with hotch

either before they together or when they first get together <3

Hot & Bothered (No, Like, Literally, You Have a Fever) - A.H.

summary: bimbo!assistant!reader is feverish, clingy & just a little delirious, except, not too delirious to shamelessly flirt with your very attractive, very exasperated boyfriend. pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader warnings: sick!reader, no use of y/n, established relationship, soft!hotch, flirty banter, suggestive-ish content, clingy!reader, hotch ignoring all cdc guidelines, reader is kinda being a baby about everything (just like me fr), theatre kid hotch. wc: 2.3k

You started off playing it cute. All little sighs, sending Aaron pouty texts filled with emojis, making sure he knew you missed him, but in a haha, just kidding (unless?) kind of way. Now you're way past that. The cute phase had dissolved into something far more desperate.

You were sick-sick. The terrible kind of sick where your limbs feel like they're made of granite, and your skin somehow manages to burn and freeze at the same time.

Worst of all, Aaron wasn't here.

And really, what was the point of having a boyfriend as stupidly gorgeous, painfully competent, and naturally overprotective as Aaron Hotchner if he wasn't going to be around when you need him most?

You knew you were being dramatic. You knew this was your own fault. Aaron had practically ordered you to let him come home with you, standing there in his office with his disapproving frown, telling you that you shouldn't be alone if you weren't feeling well.

But in your infinite wisdom, you had waved him off, told him to stay at work. Because at the time, you were fine. Or, more so, fine-adjacent. And because sometimes, your brain tricks you into thinking you are a capable, independent woman who does not, in fact, require Hotch-shaped supervision.

So now you're curled up in bed, drowning in the well-worn fabric of his FBI academy hoodie, the one that smells like him. And it helps. But not enough.

Because if he were here, he'd be so good at taking care of you. He'd probably be all bossy and stern about it, telling you to drink your water, go to sleep, and stop pouting. But then he'd turn around and betray himself completely by smoothing your hair back so, so softly, by tucking the blankets up to your chin like you're something delicate. Contrary to popular belief, he did have a soft side.

Maybe you should call him. Maybe you should be really, really pathetic about it and beg him to come home.

Maybe you're just a little too codependent. (Just a little.)

The second the front door opens, you think you must be imaging it. You convince yourself it's the fever, twisting reality into want instead of what actually is. Because Aaron shouldn't be home yet.

You squint at the clock, but it's just a bunch of blurry numbers, and math is already hard enough without feeling like your brain is actively melting.

But then there's the sound of leather against hardwood, and not just any leather.

You know those shoes. The custom Italian Oxfords you forced him to let you buy. He'd grumbled about the price, all exasperated and dramatic (as if he had any real concept of what good leather actually costs), but he still let you drag him to the store. Still let you lace them up for him. Still let you kiss him senseless in the parking lot because he looked too insanely sexy in them to be allowed to exist without immediate compensation.

You'd told him once that good shoes take you good places. And now look where they took him.

Straight home to you.

The relief is so instantaneous, it makes your head spin. And suddenly, he's there, shoulders broad against the door frame, arms crossed, eyes warm despite the unimpressed look he's attempting to pull off.

"My poor baby," he says, half-teasing, but mostly just achingly soft.

Your bottom lip wobbles. "It's not that bad."

Aaron sighs loudly, already loosening his tie as he strides over, assessing the damage, which, in this case, is you, buried under what is objectively a very reasonable amount of blankets.

"Uh-huh." Flat. Dry. But he's already reaching to fix them, like he can't help himself. "That why you're buried in every blanket we own?"

You burrow deeper into said blankets. Maybe if you commit hard enough, he'll stop looking so smug.

"They're comfy."

He crouches beside the bed, undoing the last button on his cuff before pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. His touch is cool, and you lean into it immediately, shameless at how much you enjoy his skin against your overheated own.

"You're hot."

You blink at him, dazed, and—without thinking—mumble, "So are you."

The moment the words leave your mouth, you regret them. Not because they're untrue, that's indisputable, but because of the sheer pathetic delivery of it, all scratchy and pitiful and nothing like the effortless flirtation you usually bring to the table.

You groan, squeezing your eyes shut like that might somehow reverse time.

Aaron, of course, is completely unbearable about it. His lips twitch, and you can see it happening in real time, his struggle not to laugh directly in your face.

"Flattered," he drawls, his thumb brushing over your temple, fingers carding through your hair in slow strokes. "Have you been drinking enough water?"

You wrinkle your nose. "Water is boring."

"You're boring."

You gasp, sniffling as you try to look offended, despite the congestion ruining your tone. "Boring? You weren't calling me boring last night when I—,"

"Okay."

Aaron cuts you off immediately, already leaning down, pressing kiss after kiss to your face—forehead, cheeks, anywhere he can reach. You squeal in protest (or, well, try to, your voice is too weak for it to be truly effective), but he just laughs against your skin, relentless.

"Okay, I take it back," he murmurs, kissing your nose like an apology. Like a bribe. "You're the most exciting person I know. Now be exciting and drink some water before I have to force it down your throat."

"Force it down my throat?" you rasp, a weak smirk pulling at your lips as your fingers prod into his dress shirt. "You promise?"

"So inappropriate." He lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head, but his hands are already cupping your face, his lips pressing to yours, like he loves kissing you too much to stop himself.

You barely have time to enjoy it before your brain remembers how sickness works.

"Wait, germs!"

Aaron just smirks, tilting your face up with a knuckle under your chin. "Since you brought up last night, that's an interesting concern, considering where your mouth was last night."

You should say something flirty in return. Something about how that was different because it was basically an act of public service (one you love providing). Because that's what you do. You throw him off, make him sigh like you're exhausting and adorable at the same time, watching his ears flush pink when he pretends he's not affected.

But the words never come, instead, your brain hands you a far worse visual. Aaron, like this, but worse. His face pale, head pressed against a pillow, forehead creased with discomfort he wouldn't acknowledge. You can see it clearly, the way he'd insist he's fine, the way he'd make it through a workday half-dead before even considering rest.

And suddenly nothing is funny.

Your fingers clutch at his shirt without thinking, like holding onto him will somehow fix the terrible, awful, no-good mental image you just had.

You're frowning, and you don't even realize it, not until Aaron does, his thumb pressing lightly against the center of your forehead, like he can smooth it away.

"I don't want you to get sick."

"My sweet girl," he murmurs, fingers threading through your hair once before he stands. "I can handle a cold. What I can't handle is you being miserable and dehydrated. Be good and let me take care of you."

Aaron disappears before you can argue and by the time he returns, a glass of water in hand, you've barely had a chance to process how much you missed him in those few seconds.

You watch as he puts it down on the nightstand beside you.

"There. Now drink."

"Yes, sir," you mumble, taking a few small sips just to prove that you're listening.

But if he really wanted you hydrated, he should've just kissed you again.

Aaron's eyes narrow, shooting you a pointed look.

You sigh, loud and put-upon, then take another sip, longer, just to appease him. You make a show out of it, before immediately reaching out, patting the empty space beside you with undeniable urgency.

Aaron snorts. "Didn't last long, did you?"

"I'm sick. I need warmth and love."

He exhales so dramatically, shaking his head. "If that's what my poor, suffering girl needs, then I suppose I have no choice."

Alright, theatre kid.

You bite your tongue, not because you're wrong, but because self-preservation is a skill, and you'd like to see another sunrise. And, fine. If he wanted to pretend like sitting still for five minutes was his own personal crucifixion, then who were you to deny him. It wasn't your fault, he ran himself into the ground, like he was trying to beat time himself, working to the bone until someone (you) had to physically drag him to bed.

You watch, maybe a little too intently, as he kicks off his shoes, undoes his belt, and swaps out his boring, stuffy work pants for the sweats. Your sweats. The ones you have a deeply personal attachment to.

You have history with those sweats.

"You know, you put those on and suddenly I start feeling a whole lot better." Call it divine intervention, maybe. "Do you think if you let me sit on your lap, I'd be at full strength again? Because I think we should at least try. For medical purposes."

Aaron settles in beside you, pressing one, two, three kisses to your lips, because he can, because he wants to. When he pulls back, he's smirking.

"Cheeky girl," he murmurs, thumb skimming your jaw. "And here I was, thinking you needed me to take care of you. Turns out you just wanted an excuse to climb all over me. How tragic. I've been completely fooled."

You brain-to-hand coordination is questionable at best, but that doesn't stop you from attempting to very subtly slip your fingers along the waistband of his sweats.

Aaron grabs your wrist instantly laughing—an actual, real, Hotchner laugh.

"Sweetheart," he muses, so damn amused, his thumb tripping over the pulse point of your wrist. "You can barely hold your head up, and you're trying to start something?"

"With a boyfriend like you, I'm like, legally required to start something."

Aaron lets out the longest, most suffering sigh known to man.

Like you said—theatre kid.

"Don't I know it. You're insatiable."

You open your mouth, fully prepared to launch into a passionate defense of you very reasonable levels of attraction to him, but a sneeze—tiny, weak, kind of embarrassing—ruins it.

Aaron's smirk evaporates. It happens fast, like a switch flipping, like he's just remembered, really remembered, that you're not at full strength, that beneath all your teasing, you're a little delicate, too easily worn down.

For a second, he just stares, jaw tight, brows furrowing ever so slightly, like the sight of you, flushed cheeks, fever-glazed eyes, pathetic sneezy, physically pains him.

And then you're moving, no he's moving, pulling you in, tucking you into his chest, as if you were something his hands were built to protect.

"And yet, here you are," he murmurs, kissing your temple, breathing against your hair, "disease-ridden and tragically adorable."

You sigh, shoving your face as close as humanly possibly, like some kind of human limpet. His heartbeat is strong beneath your ear, soothing, a constant thump thump thump that makes your eyelids droop.

"I really missed you today."

Aaron's arms tighten around you, but then you sniffle. Not the same pathetic little sound from earlier. This one's different. This one is softer, wetter.

He tenses just enough for you to feel it, enough to make you regret it, because now he knows.

You blink rapidly, tilting your face down, trying to breathe past the sudden, stupid sting behind your eyes, willing it go away before he—

Too late.

His arms loosen just enough to tilt his head down, scanning your face like he's already trying to figure out how to make it better.

You turn, burying your face in his chest. "I'm fine."

A lie. A bad one at that. So laughably transparent that even you wince a little.

Aaron doesn't call you on it, however, just pulls back slightly, just enough to cup your cheek, catching the tear before it falls.

"Oh baby," he breathes, voice a little rough, like he wants to pull the sadness out of you and keep it for himself.

He presses another kiss to your temple, then another, then another, like he needs to fix something unfixable, his fingers curling around the nape of your neck.

"You're killing me here."

You sniffle. Again.

"M'sorry," you mumble. "This is probably like... super unattractive."

Aaron shifts again, tilting your chin up as his thumb brushes against your cheek.

"Still the prettiest girl I've ever seen," he murmurs, but his jaw is tight, his fingers flexing against your skin. "I should've come home sooner."

"You wouldn't have lasted," you mumble, voice slowing, words dragging just a little.

Aaron raises an eyebrow. "And why's that?"

"Because you'd stress yourself out." You hum sleepily, tracing absent circles against his shirt. "You'd take my temperature every hour. Make me drink disgusting tea. Then, once you ran out of things to fuss over, you'd start deep-cleaning the grout just to feel useful."

He snorts, shaking his head. "You make me sound unbearable."

"You are unbearable," you murmur, but your grip tightens around him, contradicting yourself entirely. "But in a very sexy, very productive way."

He laughs and presses a kiss to your temple.

"You know what would make me feel better?"

Aaron's chest rises with a deep inhale, like he already knows. His arm tenses around you. "Sweetheart—,"

You grin against his shirt, weakly.

"A very hands on wellness check."

Aaron chokes out a laugh, tightening the blankets around you. "Christ."

He presses one last kiss to your forehead and you think you hear him mumble should've seen that one coming under his breath.

You hum in agreement, mentally ranking all the times he should've seen something coming.

This moment, obviously.

The time he let you fall asleep on him once and then acted surprised when it became a permanent thing.

The time he told you to be serious and then immediately realized that was the worst possible way to get you to stop joking.

The time he tried to fight it, tried to keep you at arm's length, tried to act like this thing between you wasn't inevitable.

You should tell him. You should. But then he tucks you closer, breath hot against your temple. And before you can launch into your incredibly important findings, you're already too far gone.

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[garciasgirl]

below the surface | spencer reid x reader

genre: gee I don’t know.. (fluff!!)

content: season 1 spencer, fake relationship trope, spencer is down bad, like really down bad, he’s also a sweetie pie, reader doesn’t like crowds, private but not a secret relationship?, confession, spencer is literally obsessed with reader, not spell checked sorry :(

content warnings: super minimal swearing

a/n: hi!! this is super random but I think it’s cute!! hope yall like it <33

word count: 1k

relationships, especially fake ones, weren’t meant to be easy. they were meant to be messy and full of undeniable chaos. but, spencer made it easy. at least, the easiest it could be. you and spencer had been “dating” for the past four months. it was random, spencer defending himself against morgan, claiming he had this girlfriend they just haven’t met yet. now, you were his “girlfriend”, well really, you were just his next door neighbor that he had convinced to enter into a fake relationship.

when you first moved into the the apartment complex you had met spencer by chance, walking out of your doors at the same time. immediately it was clear that he wasn’t the type to get close with his neighbors, he was shy and pretty closed off. or that’s what you thought. however, as time passed, when you started to see spencer every now and then, he became friendlier, more open. and eventually you found yourself developing a genuine friendship with him.

on one friday night you were over at spencers, the two of you watching movies and sharing chinese take out when out of the blue he offered a proposal. “what if..we date, pretend, but..you know?” he said it so casually, but you were completely taken back. he sighed, a small smile playing on his lips. “listen, uh, the team..they- they’ve been teasing me about not being in a relationship. and..i might’ve lied and said I was..” you laughed, “spencer reid, what a delinquent.” he nodded, then almost started to look serious, his gaze locked on yours. “listen..I know, it’s crazy, but you’re the only person I could do this with..and I really, really need to do this.” your eyes squinted, nodding slowly, “m’okay..” Spencer’s eyes grew wide and a big smile broke out on his face. and that, was the start.

you hadn’t met Spencer’s team, but they were aware of who you were. you would send him text messages, flirty and small things that they would read, he would talk about you, and you would post him on your social media. small things like a story of you two out on a date, or flowers that he picked up for you on the way home. you became the picture perfect girlfriend, that everyone knew about, but no one had met in person. and it worked for a bit..but eventually the team got curious.

spencer had been sitting at his desk, when all of a sudden emily, jj, penelope, and derek appeared. Penelope gushed about not being able to see his girlfriend other than stalking her instagram account. and then, they insisted that she come to rossi’s team get together he was having at his house this weekend. spencer, reluctantly agreed.

tonight, was the first time that you were meeting his coworkers, his team. it caused you and him both immense anxiety, but it was necessary. the team was dying to meet you. apparently it was at rossi’s house, an older man on the team. and when you and spencer finally arrived, your jaw was on the floor. it was a giant house. “god, spencer is this guy a billionaire?” you sputtered out. spencer low and familiar laugh rang out in the car, “something like that..” he replied. together, hand in hand, the two of you walked into the giant house. immediately, you were surrounded by unfamiliar faces, not an occurrence you particularly enjoyed. some man clapped spencer on the back, and a group of girls swarmed you, smiles on their faces while a million questions seemed to be thrown at you all at once.

you knew they were just interested, wanted to know more about the girl who had “stolen spencer’s heart”. but it was just simply to much for you. you didn’t do well with crowds, and you couldn’t bare the overwhelming feelings that this gathering had brought on. spencer, of course, noticed. you could feel his gentle eyes on you, scanning you entirely. he was a profiler after all. he said something to his team, but your hearing was to distorted, the anxiety almost paralyzing you. spencer put a grounding hand on your lower back, leading you back outside. the fresh air caused you to take a deep breath in.

“hey..hey, you alright, love?” spencer’s calming voice settled you. you nodded, taking slow and shallow breaths trying to calm yourself down, spencer’s hand never leaving you. “I’m sorry- I don’t, don’t know what got to me-“ you tried to explain yourself, but spencer just shook his head. “hey, no, none of that.” he looked at you, his eyes soft and comforting, “tell me what’s going on..something’s bothering you, and it’s not just nerves from meeting the team.” he said, already denying your excuse before you even mentioned it. you sighed, looking up at the sky. Spencer’s eyes never left you, his gaze focused solely on you, nothing else. his IQ was high but when he was with you..he couldn’t think about anything else.

you finally looked at him, your eyes glazed over and your face filled with emotion even spencer couldn’t quite understand. “spencer..I don’t think I can do this anymore..this.” you motioned in between you and him, then turning your gaze to the ground. “this fake dating this, I..” you shook your head, looking back at him. “I can’t do this anymore..because, I can’t stop myself from wishing it was real, from hoping that we are real.” you confessed, your voice breaking slightly. spencer was not expected that at all, you figured you were going to see rejected or disbelief radiate across his face, but all you could see was the same longing that you had reflected onto him.

“god..sweetheart, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted that..” he said, a small laugh parting his lips. “this started off fake..just an excuse for my team, but..somewhere along the way it became real. it became so fucking real, I’ve wanted this, wanted you for so long…” he said, closing the distance between the two of you, his lips crashing onto yours. his hands on either side of your face. your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to you. he only pulled away to look into your eyes for a second. almost immediately kissing you again, smiling against your lips.

spencer pulled back again, staring at you, his eyes look over you entirely, every inch of you he looked over, completely entranced by you. you laughed softly, “is..something the matter?” he quickly shook his head, his eyes finding you again, “no..god, you’re just so beautiful.”

[garciasgirl]

spectacular just wonderful holy oh my gosh yeah i didn’t know i needed this in my life until now

Invisible string | s.r

who: spencer reid x fem!reader

category: fluff (??)

summary: you've always loved reading at your spot in the park, getting lost in books and daydreams. what you didn't realize was that someone had been noticing you all along

lyric prompt: “green was the color of the grass where I used to read at Centennial Park, I used to think I would meet somebody there/ time, curious time, gave me no compass, gave me no signs. Were there clues I didn’t see? and isn’t it just so pretty to think, all along there was some invisible string tying you to me?” Invisible string, t.s

word count: 1.1k

a/n: my entry to @mggslover 1k event, congratulations once again darling

t.w: none

divider by @esote-rika

The park had always been your favorite place in the whole city—a patch of green and calm right in the middle of the metropolis' restless buzz. Exactly what you needed after a long day. Alone, but surrounded by people; that weird in-between your introverted personality had always loved.

Beneath your favorite tree, you'd lay out a towel, open a book, and let yourself slip away. Between the pages, you'd been a poet, a painter, an elderly woman reminiscing on her youth—someone's lover, even.

And sometimes, in the spaces between sentences, you'd let yourself dream. You'd imagine meeting someone, falling stupidly, hopelessly in love—just like in your favorite romances.

You knew it was silly, highly unlikely, but the thought alone was enough to make you smile. Enough to fill you with a quiet kind of hope.

And then, as if crafted by destiny, you did meet someone.

☆

Near-Miss #1: The Coffee Shop

The first time Spencer saw you, it wasn’t at the park. It was at a coffee shop, long before he ever noticed you beneath that tree. He hadn’t even been paying attention at first, too busy watching the barista prepare his drink. But then he saw you—leaning against the counter, absently tracing circles on its surface while periodically checking your watch. Something so ordinary, so insignificant, yet he couldn’t look away. He thought about getting closer, maybe striking up a conversation. But by the time he worked up the nerve, you were already walking out the door.

☆

Lucas was a lovely guy. You met on a rainy day—"Mind if I help?" he had said, noticing how you were struggling to juggle your things and an umbrella at the same time. He ended up with your number, and soon, the tree that used to be your spot became your shared spot.

☆

Near-Miss #2: the train ride

A familiar giggle caught Spencer’s attention. He looked up and saw you.

Curled up by the window, book in hand—as always. He watched as you absentmindedly twirled your hair, scribbled something in the margins of your book, let out the occasional quiet laugh. It was just like all the other times he’d seen you, and yet, he was still mesmerized.

The thought of approaching you crossed his mind. Maybe he could finally say something, maybe this time—

The train jolted to a stop. You stood, tucked your book under your arm, and stepped off the train before he could find the words.

☆

Picnics, reading sessions, coffee breaks, cloud-watching—beautiful moments. But now it was Valentine’s, and you were alone at your spot. Turns out Lucas wasn't the one after all.

For the first time, you sat under the tree alone, thinking about all the little moments that, maybe, had been clues.

The way he never understood your love for books. The fact that he never got your bakery order right—"It’s too complex, and you know that, babe." You’d chuckle, brush it off, but it unsettled you.

You knew it was dramatic. Of course, he wouldn’t be like the men in your books. He was good enough. But something was missing.

A sickly kind of romance filled the air—people of all ages showing their love for each other. You were sure you’d witnessed a failed proposal a few minutes ago. Amid all this love (and some heartbreak), you felt invisible.

But maybe you weren’t.

☆

Near-Miss #3: the collision (and almost first conversation)

Spencer had walked past you countless times. A hundred, maybe more. But one time, he almost spoke to you.

You were heading in opposite directions. You looked hurried, eyes glued to your book even as you walked. He was distracted too, skimming a page of his own. And for a moment, just a split second, you almost collided.

At the last second, both of you stepped aside. Hushed apologies, barely more than whispers, before you kept walking.

He took a few more steps before his brain finally caught up and registered who you were. He stopped in his tracks, only to turn around just in time to see you disappear into the crowd.

He cursed himself for losing another opportunity.

☆

Spencer loved the park, too.

He came to play chess, to read, to watch people—not in a creepy way, just something he enjoyed. You had always been one of his favorites to watch.

He loved how you’d giggle at a line in your book and then glance around to see if anyone had noticed. How you’d twirl your hair when you were deep in thought. How you looked so utterly lost in your stories, as if the world around you didn’t exist.

☆

But now, it was Valentine’s, and the young man who usually accompanied you was nowhere to be seen.

His chance.

"Can I sit here?" His voice startled you. You looked up to see a tall, slender man watching you.

"Uh... sure," you replied, still a little confused.

"Why are you alone?" Fuck. That probably sounded weird.

You huffed a small laugh. "Well, not anymore." He smiled at that, a little softer now.

"I'm Spencer, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Spencer. I guess now you're my partner for the day."

"I guess," he echoed, his smile was so wide it could seem fake

☆

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Spencer looked at your book and said "You were reading a book by the same author on the train a few months ago"

"Was I really?" you blinked

"You were," he affirmed "I was in the seat across from you. We sat across each other many times in fact"

"I guess we were bound to meet sometime then" you mused meeting his gaze

"Yeah," he mumbled with a smile"Something like that"

thank you for reading!

[garciasgirl]

penelope garcia would love valentine’s day no matter her relationship status and make little gifts for her friends (it’s me im penelope)

[garciasgirl]

happy valentine’s day babies!!

i hope you all have an amazing day !! you’re so loved <33

[garciasgirl]

hes so babygirl i cant do this

[garciasgirl]

im so bored someone save me this is depressing OH ALSO thank you all for the love on my new little short thing i wrote!!! :((( <333

[garciasgirl]

beside him | spencer reid

genre: fluff of course…

content: sick reader, spencer being a sweetheart and cutie patootie, spencer taking care of reader, no use of y/n, spencer and reader are in a relationship, cuddles, the amount of pet names in this will make you sick, just straight up fluff and cuteness, this is really short

content warnings: none!!

a/n: this is super self indulgent, im sick and this is my way of coping!! also im so sorry if this sucks bc i can barely think straight but yeah..

word count: 429

the sunshine comes through your curtains, highlighting your face and waking you. your eyes flutter open and you become painfully aware of the uncomfortable feeling present. your head was pounding, your throat sore, and you couldn’t tell if you were extremely cold or hot. you rolled around, your hair falling in front of your face, and sticking to your forehead. that’s when the door to your bedroom opens.

spencer. you were glad to see his face, especially when you were feeling sick. he came into your room, his eyebrows furrowed with concern “oh my love..” he said coming over next to you, he felt your forehead, gently rubbing your head. “you do feel a bit warm..” he said, a troubled expression flashing in his eyes. you looked up at him, your eyes hazy and skin pale, “ ‘m sorry, I know how much you hate germs.” he shook his head, kneeling down next to your head, gently holding the side of your face, “germs don’t matter when it comes to you, silly.”

“don’t move okay..gonna get you some water.” he mumbles, disappearing for a moment. again, you realize just how miserable you feel. when spencer, your comfort, is gone, all of the calmness disappears and you feel your sickness and irritation seep back into your skin. however, Spencer returns quickly, bringing some water to you. you sit up slowly, his hand rests gently on your lower back, helping you up and keeping you steady. you drink from the glass, cringing at the sting it leaves on your throat. his hand brushes hair off of your forehead, then trails down, massaging the back of your neck.

“mhm..thanks spence..” you mumble, managing to give him a weak smile. his eyes run over you with concern but he gives you a small smile back. He takes the glass of water from your hand, putting it on the bedside table. “lay back down okay?” he says, moving the pillows behind you to a more comfortable position, as you lay back and melt into them. his hand plays with your hair softly, your eyes fluttering shut. his hand leaves your hair, and just when you’re about to open you eyes back up warmth floods your back. Spencer lays next to you on the bed, pulling your back into his chest, his arms wrapping protectively around your waist.

you hum contently, drifting off to sleep, Spencer’s presence keeping you calm and centered. his hands on your waist lulls you into a deep sleep. it was these moments that you treasured most, the gentleness, beside him.

[garciasgirl]

being obsessed with spencer reid belongs to teenage girls

[garciasgirl]

aurora’s rants!!

hi babies

im super sick rn

and the urge to write a spencer x reader sick fic is clawing my insides

I just might !!

anyway rip me

xoxo,

aurora!!

[garciasgirl]

this is so precious i am sobbing

𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓- spencer reid x fem!reader

including: two sweethearts inlove + early relationship cuteness

a/n: happy Friday my loves! + next is someone also highly requested <33

The fluorescent lights of the BAU conference room hummed quietly, casting long shadows as the team huddled around the large table. A particularly gruesome case had them all on edge, the details of the victims’ disappearances and subsequent discoveries weighing heavily in the air.

Spencer, as always, was meticulously reviewing the case files, his brow furrowed in concentration, muttering to himself as he pieced together the fragmented puzzle.

You, his girlfriend and fellow agent, sat beside him, your hand resting gently on his arm, a silent offering of comfort and support.

You knew how these cases affected Spencer. His brilliant mind, while a gift, also made him deeply empathetic to the suffering of others. He carried the weight of each victim, each lost soul, within him. You admired his strength, his unwavering dedication to justice, but you also worried about the toll it took on his sensitive heart.

As the meeting adjourned, the team dispersing to follow up on leads and analyze evidence, you lingered behind, watching as Spencer remained engrossed in his work. He was so focused, so completely absorbed in the details of the case, that he didn't even notice the others leaving. You smiled softly, your heart swelling with affection for the brilliant, quirky genius you loved.

You leaned closer, gently placing a hand on his cheek, drawing his attention away from the files. He looked up, his hazel eyes, usually filled with a whirlwind of thoughts, softened as they met yours. A small, tired smile tugged at the corner of his lips. That sweet cute tired ass smile. God, Come hell or high water he still looks so handsome.

"Hey," he murmured, his voice rough from exhaustion.

"Hey yourself," you replied, your thumb gently caressing his cheekbone. You knew he was running on empty, both physically and emotionally. You wanted to offer him some comfort, some reassurance, a moment of peace amidst the chaos.

"You okay, sweetheart?" The words slipped out before you could even think, you both hadn’t talked about pet names or anything like that yet however, Spencer was aware of your nicknames for the others. (And was slightly jealous that you’d only call him Spence.) Well, until now.

Spencer blinked, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. He paused for a moment, a flicker of confusion crossing his face before being replaced by a soft, almost shy smile. He wasn't used to such terms of endearment, especially not in a professional setting.

Your heart skipped a beat. You hadn't planned on calling him that, not here, not now. But the word felt right, natural, a perfect reflection of the deep seated love you had for him. You held your breath, waiting for his reaction.

A blush crept up his neck, coloring his pale skin a delicate pink. He looked down at his hands, a small, almost bashful smile playing on his lips. He didn't say anything for a moment. but the gentle squeeze of your hand in his spoke volumes.

“Yeah, I’m..I’m fine.”

You watched him, your heart overflowing with love. You realized that he wasn't embarrassed or uncomfortable. He was simply surprised, pleasantly so.

He finally looked up, his eyes sparkling with warmth and affection. He still didn't say anything, but the look in his eyes, the gentle curve of his lips, told you everything you needed to know. He liked it. He liked being your sweetheart.

You smiled, relief washing over you. You leaned in and kissed him softly, a tender, reassuring kiss that spoke of love and understanding. Your heart fluttering as you felt him smile into the kiss, the faint smell of slight cologne and old books.

As you pulled away, you whispered, "I love you, Spencer."

He met your gaze, his eyes filled with a depth of emotion that mirrored your own. "I love you too, angel," he replied. His tone so soft and sugar sweet. A tone only ever used when talking to you.

It was your turn to swoon now <33

BONUS

still can’t used to you calling him sweetheart until like a week goes by

Derek over heard you calling him pretty boy after seeing him in glasses after a while, and after seeing Spencer’s flushed face he busted out laughing.

almost cried when you called him the most beautiful/prettiest guy you’ve ever seen.

Can’t go to sleep after this without hearing you say, “Love you g’night sweetheart.”

[garciasgirl]

aurora’s rants ⋆˚✿˖°

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

soooooo…im guessing we’ve all seen that STUPID tiktok from paramount the jeid edit…

oh oh NO.

listen like season 1 MAYBE season 2, but cmon…no..I cannot.

IF THEY ARE BRINGING SPENCER BACK TO PUT HIM WITH JJ IM GOING TO LOSE IT.

like..what about jemily…

plus like spencer..if we are gonna put him with anyone let’s bring back elle !!

this is me going crazy thank you for coming to my ted talk

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

xoxo,

aurora !! <3

[garciasgirl]

hihihihihi cuties yall should send me asks because im super bored and likeeeeeeee I don’t know LIKE YALL DONT HAVE TO BUT LIKE maybe 😇😇

anyway mwah mwah mwah!!!

xoxo,

aurora

[garciasgirl]

penelope garcia headcannons ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

୨ৎ penelope is a cat lover!! her favorite kind is a munchkin cat

୨ৎ she’s the type of person to pick up random hobbies and then eventually get bored and pick up another

୨ৎ her mbti is definitely enfp

୨ৎ she loves super cute trinkets specifically calico critters and sonny angels (has a large collection of each)

୨ৎ she loved school dances as a teenager and always went to prom and hoco (and was the best dressed duh!)

୨ৎ her favorite flowers are baby’s breath and lilies

୨ৎ everytime the team gets back from a hard case she always has a sweet treat she baked for them ready

୨ৎ she’s the one who schedules and comes up with team bonding activities

୨ৎ throughout the bau she’s the closest with spencer and jj

୨ৎ fun hair accessories are a common part of her everyday outfits (especially bows and fun hair clips!!)

୨ৎ she LOVES to paint her nails and they are always done!!

୨ৎ her favorite holidays are christmas and valentines day

୨ৎ she definitely plans everyone’s party

୨ৎ she also loves to make gift baskets/care baskets for the people she loves

୨ৎ she would be an avid listener of beabadoobee (if u disagree ur wrong!!)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨

should I do more??

and maybe some for the other members!!

i love these and i hope u do too!!

xoxo,

aurora

[garciasgirl]

take me to church by hozier (the bridge especially) is jemily’s combined crash out song because I said so and I love jemily and hozier !!

also im really bored like super bored like oh my gosh bored

anyway!! I HOPE YOU CUITES HAVE AN AMAZING DAY!! drink some water, eat some food, do something that makes you happy and remember you are so so so so loved and valued!!

xoxo,

aurora <33333

[garciasgirl]

THIS IS SO GOOD OH MY GOSH

because i liked a boy - spencer reid x fem!reader

somehow a reporter finds out about reader's relationship with none other than her coworker, dr spencer reid and shames her for it during a press conference

genre: flangst wc: 1355 warnings: medialiaison!reader established relationship, slut-shaming, feminism talk, upset spencer, morgan mention, mentioned case involving children

"This is a rough composite sketch of the UnSub. If anyone sees him, please call us using the number on the screen. Any questions?" you speak clearly, eyebrows raised and back straight.

It's a tough case this time, not that any are easy. The ones involving children–like this one–are the worst. You know that. It’s yet to hit you this hard, though. You're used to being in front of a camera all fake smiles and airbrushed to look porcelain but you're struggling to hold it together today. It’s never been easy to see grieving parents begging for their kid’s life on national television.

It also doesn't help that you haven't seen Spencer much these past two days. Ever since HR found out about you two, he’s been trying to keep his distance for professionalism’s sake. You appreciate it, of course, but you wish everything could be normal again. You miss working alongside him, sneaking tiny waist pinches every little while. Maybe you’re codependent.

One of the male reporters holding a microphone asks plainly, like it isn’t rude, “how do you expect this case to go to trial with your ongoing relationship within your team? Isn’t that some sort of conflict of interest?”

Now, how did they find out about that?

Luckily, Hotch steps in before you need to form a response. You’re left flushed and out of sorts, needing some water or something. It’s not like you’ve never had a bad press experience but nothing that came after you specifically. Why do they even care in the first place? Are you really that interesting? Is your love life really that interesting? His mustn’t be.

To Hotch, he spits, “it’s a valid question, Agent, you can’t expect no one to comment on one of your unit’s members sleeping her way to the top or… sleeping her way to getting a case dismissed.”

You want to stay, fight, cry, maybe even guilt him into apologizing, but, to your dismay, you’re pulled away by Morgan who looks just as upset as you do. If there weren’t a room full of people stopping him, you’re sure he would’ve hurt the guy. You don’t want to be dragged away by the action figure that is Derek Morgan so you try to pour your feelings into words. “The conference– the case–!”

Morgan stares at you in a way that very clearly says are you done? And, yes, you guess you are. You sigh, nodding reluctantly.

“Hotch will figure it out,” he assures softly but firmly.

You’re escorted to the break room where you watch the television only to see that very same reporter, spewing his nonsense again. Low and behold, he’s still stuck on the topic of you.

“An anonymous source discloses the identities of two FBI agents with the Behavioural Analysis Unit that are in a relationship of hidden rendezvous.”

The pitter-patter of your heart is louder than usual as he reads out your names along with the loving message, “I guess this proves that women really can’t be trained. What a shame, she’s certainly got–”

With that, you shut off the disgusting noises coming from someone claiming to be a man. You’ve never been good at taking insults but this was something else entirely. Your chest burns. You’re being perceived as a person you’re not. Everything you’ve tried so hard to build could all come crashing down at this very moment if you let it.

All because you liked a boy?

It feels ridiculous, like a step in the wrong direction for all womankind. That’s dramatic, you’re sure, but this is so twenty years ago. What happened to feminism, for fuck’s sakes? You wouldn’t give Spencer up for anything less than solving world hunger, but you wish this whole ordeal could’ve never happened. What if you lose your job? What if you lose this case because you’re too sensitive to male attention for your own good? Unfortunate circumstances led here and you wish it could be simple. It’s a tall order, but you wish UnSubs and all the people who enjoy pinning others down would simply cease to exist. You wish Spencer was here.

As if reading you all the way from canvassing the neighborhood, he’s suddenly visible, walking towards the doorway with quick Converse-sounding steps, Morgan’s hand on his shoulder. He looks worried. What worries you, though, is that he looks guilty. That hurts.

Familiar arms wrap around you as he kneels on the floor in front of the couch. “Hey, I heard what happened. Are you okay?” Spencer whispers, lips pressed into the fabric covering your shoulder.

You ponder the question for a moment before nodding. You’re not quite sure how you feel, if you’re being completely truthful. Criticism was never something you’ve taken well. Not ever. Maybe you deserve it, though. After all, you are sleeping with a coworker. You’re an agent, it’s not appropriate of you in the least. You should’ve kept to yourself, been the good girl the world wanted you to be. Female agents in the big bad FBI are already seen a certain way. You just happened to worsen it with wide-eyed affection.

How he always does, he mutters an explanation, “people like that don’t have anything going for them, you know. They report on others because their own life is insignificant.”

It’s wildly the wrong time to laugh but you do, flushed cheeks plumping from a happy smile. He pulls away and your hands find his face like they always seem to do. “I know.”

He nods. He pushes a strand of hair behind your ear.

He’s so unbelievably pretty that it almost makes you want to cry. Those same somber eyes that you’re sure mirror yours stare deep.

“It just sucks… you know?” you say so very quietly.

Nodding, he chews on his lip. “I know.”

“It’s like… I thought slut-shaming was over,” you laugh bitterly.

You can tell he feels bad. It’s not like this is his fault. You know he believes it is, anyways.

“It should be. It’s ridiculous. This isn’t your fault. That useless guy should be spending the night in a cell for harassing an agent not on the ten o’clock news airing out our personal matters.”

It’s really not often you see him like this, upset and wielding pain-filled threats. It never fails to amuse you. You’re not sure why. Something about the juxtaposition of his usual sweet demeanor and this annoyed ranting one, you suppose.

“It’s kind of funny.”

“Funny?”

You smile and nod, your thumb tracing his lower lip. “A little. We’re the most enthralling news in all of small-town-Colorado.”

While Spencer doesn’t find it quite as giggle-inducing, he mimics the pull of your mouth’s corners and shows his reluctant agreement with a bob of his head. “That is… silly, I guess.”

“We’re basically stars,” you shrug.

In honest disbelief and certainly awe for your ability to brush off the event with humour, he shakes his head, curls falling out of place. Your fingers rush to correct it. The golden eyes you love stay stubbornly put on your own. Breaths mix together in the close proximity despite you not recalling how you got so close. It’s proven difficult to care when his plush lips find yours. Carefully and with love, he kisses you. With no intent, no desire other than to make you feel better. It breaks stickily, the shimmer that once was on your lips now ghosting around his mouth. You grin.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Spencer tenderly mutters.

Gently, you answer, “I’m sure. I mean, we didn’t do anything wrong.”

You believe yourself. You’d never doubt your relationship with Spencer. It just sucks that they had to poke holes in your safe place. That safe place being Spencer. Your home. You know because of your profiler-by-association background that he was right about the reporter being not fulfilled enough in his own life that he had to insert himself into yours. That didn’t make it drastically better, anyway. Perhaps your personal life should be kept away from work.

But it’s not your fault that work happens to include Dr. Spencer Reid.

[garciasgirl]

hi my babies so.

penelope garcia + derek morgan + in between by gracie abrams = me sobbing on the floor

I TRULY TRULY need to see this kind of edit. because I had this idea bc I just truly think that song is SOOOOOO morcia (platonic tbh…) and it needs to happen and someone needs to do bc I can’t edit but my eyes will be blessed

anyway I hope everyone had a lovely day <333

xoxo,

aurora