a work by @vivsribbon | 💗ྀི | warnings - none! (intended wlw)
synopsis - Penelope Garcia and you share a secret romance full of stolen glances, hidden notes, and quiet office kisses.
smut fluff angst | side note - for all my chubby, bright, fun, colorful kinky chicks ! (it's me.. this is for me) . i'd also like it to be noted that i was drunk while making this and im still very proud of it.
It wasn’t that anyone on the BAU didn’t notice Garcia’s sudden brightness whenever you were around. It was more that everyone assumed it was just her usual over-the-top energy—glitter, colors, emojis, and an uncontainable enthusiasm that made the tech lab feel like a carnival.
No one realized how the way she smiled at you was different. The way her fingers lingered on the keyboard a second too long when you walked by. Or how she’d send you little coded messages in Slack that no one else could decipher.
You’d met Garcia a few months ago, officially through work, but unofficially through an odd series of shared coffee runs and late-night chats about crime scene puzzles and conspiracy theories.
“Stop staring at me like that,” she said one Thursday, spinning in her chair so her rainbow hair fanned out behind her.
She was perched on the edge of her desk like some kind of glorious, colorful crow. “Do you want the computer files or do you just want to look at my superior keyboard skills?”
You smirked, leaning against the doorway. “I could say the same thing, but I’m going to assume you want attention more than the files.”
Garcia batted her eyelashes dramatically. “Oh, you noticed! I knew my secret is out. My cleverest disguise has been seeing you and not screaming your name across the bullpen.”
You laughed. “I think your secret’s safe. No one suspects anything.”
“Safe? Honey, my love life is the most explosive thing since a server crash. If anyone finds out, the world will end. Do you know what a scandal it’d be?”
You shrugged. “Worth it.”
She gasped. “Ohhh! You’re one of those mysterious types, aren’t you? Playing it cool while my heart does jazz hands in my chest.”
You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway. “It’s not that dramatic.”
“You’re a liar,” she said, standing up and walking closer. Her perfume—or was it just her aura—hit you like a warm, cinnamon-sugar wave. “I can feel the drama radiating off of you.”
Her hands landed on your shoulders, thumbs brushing lightly. It was a small touch, but it made your chest tighten in a way you weren’t fully prepared for.
“Do you want to, you know… test that theory?” she asked, voice low, mischievous.
You couldn’t even answer before she leaned in, brushing her lips against yours in a quick, teasing kiss that was all spark and warmth. You caught her, holding the back of her neck, and the moment stretched just long enough that it almost felt impossible to let go.
Then, with a laugh, she pulled back. “See? Explosive! I told you.”
You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth betrayed you. “You’re impossible.”
“Impossibly in love, maybe.” She winked, then darted back to her chair, pretending nothing happened, typing furiously at her keyboard as if she hadn’t just kissed you in the middle of the BAU bullpen.
That was the thrill of it. The secrecy. The danger—well, “danger” in the sense that if anyone caught on, you’d both have a lot of explaining to do. It was like a game, and somehow, even through the teasing, you realized you liked the game more than the payoff.
⸻
Later that evening, the office was mostly empty. You were pretending to review case files when you noticed a little sticky note on your keyboard.
“Top secret: I’ve hacked your heart. Proceed with caution. 🩷 –G”
You laughed quietly, shaking your head. She’d been sitting in the corner, pretending to code, but the sparkle in her eye gave her away.
“Planning your next move?” you asked, leaning over her desk.
“Always,” she said, typing rapidly. “Every move I make is calculated to elicit a reaction. And judging by that smile… bingo.”
You couldn’t help it. You dropped your pen and leaned down to kiss her again. This time, there was no teasing—just a quiet, sweet pressure, a soft connection that made the office feel warmer than it should at 7 p.m.
“Do you ever think about… what happens if someone finds out?” you asked softly, resting your forehead against hers.
Garcia grinned, tilting her head. “Then they find out. But right now, I think the world can wait. Right now, it’s just us. Just this. And trust me… that’s more than enough.”
You smiled, the tension in your chest melting. “You’re something else, Garcia.”
“And you, my love, are secretly the best thing that’s ever happened to my chaotic little life.”
⸻
The next day, you had to navigate the bullpens, your hands brushing at the copier, leaning together by the coffee machine, exchanging little glances across the room while pretending to be totally professional.
You knew Morgan had started noticing how often you two disappeared for “coffee runs” or how Garcia had a tendency to laugh at things no one else understood.
“You’re teasing me,” she whispered under her breath as you passed her by.
“And you’re smiling,” you whispered back, brushing past her shoulder as if nothing had happened.
Her eyes sparkled in a way that made it impossible to focus on the report you were supposed to be reviewing. “We’re terrible at being subtle.”
“We’re not subtle at all,” you agreed.
And you weren’t. But you didn’t care.
Because when she leaned over your shoulder later, pressing her cheek against yours while pretending to check your computer screen, your heart jumped in that special, secretive way that only worked when nobody else knew.
This was your stolen time. Your hidden moments. And somehow, despite the danger of discovery, the thrill of being with Penelope Garcia in secret made every ordinary day feel electric.
⸻
By the time the week rolled around, you two had established a rhythm of secret messages, hidden notes, small touches, and quiet kisses in empty conference rooms.
The world outside the BAU could remain oblivious, but inside your little bubble, everything was intense, private, and perfect.
“You know,” Garcia said one evening, twirling a pencil through her fingers, “we’re ridiculous.”
You looked up from your laptop. “How so?”
“Because we’re sneaky, clandestine, mysterious… basically a crime-solving Bonnie and Clyde of romance.”
You laughed. “I’d follow you into any danger then, wouldn’t I?”
“Absolutely,” she said, smiling like she already knew.
Her hand found yours under the desk, fingers threading together in that casual intimacy you’d grown addicted to.
And in that little secret, hidden in plain sight among the chaos of the BAU, the world was perfect.
Because with Garcia, every stolen glance, every hidden note, every whispered joke was worth it.
Every heartbeat spent in secret was worth it.
And you knew you’d follow her anywhere.
Even into the chaos of the next case.
Even into the wild, glittery, chaotic, technicolor storm that was Penelope Garcia.
warnings: reader is mostly very shy, other than that, none, pure fluff
summary: As the weather grows colder and the mood becomes festive, you find yourself confronted by the overwhelming task of Christmas shopping with your beloved girlfriend for the party she's planned for you to officially meet her friends and coworkers from the BAU.
Author’s note: Requested here by a lovely anon, I hope you like it! I decided to meld your two ideas together because I absolutely loved the idea of a Penelope+Christmas fic. I loved writing this, in honour of December being upon us <3
The lights in the store are nothing short of blinding, the ambiance so different from the cozy, warm Christmas decor your girlfriend has constructed in your apartment: everything’s stark white, lights pulsating brightly around you, children screaming, adults complaining and a foul plastic smell floating in the air. You’d have left a long time ago if it wasn’t for the look of absolute joy Penelope was sporting as she wandered around the store, hand locked firmly in your grip, a growing stack of supplies balanced between your arms. She offered to carry it multiple times. You refused.
“Aw, look at that!” you hear her say, as you squeeze past a group of teenagers. You follow her gaze to a small ceramic statuette of a cat playing with a Christmas bauble. Admittedly, it is adorable.
“That’s cute, Pen, but don’t we already own… two of those?”
“Three, actually. But they’re different. This one has a bauble, see? The others have a garland, an elf’s hat and a sugarcookie between their paws.”
“Right.”
“So?..” she looks at you expectantly, cheeks adorably flushed from excitement. And you know that she knows you can’t say no to her when she looks at you like that.
“So… maybe they need a third sibling. Must get lonely on the mantel.”
Penelope smiles even brighter, if that’s possible, and picks up the statuette, gently cradling it in her hands.
“What are you gonna call this one, then?”
“I’m not sure yet. It’ll come to me eventually.”
“I’m sure it will.”
Though simply being around your sweetheart of a girlfriend never fails to ease the perpetual tension from your shoulders and back, the din around you, increasingly loud, is getting very hard to tolerate, and you feel yourself shrink slightly.
She notices it immediately, because of course she does. That’s just how Penelope is with you, and you love that. You love her.
“This should be enough for today, sweetie. We can go home now. I need to start preparing for dinner anyway,” she says, already leading you towards the cash register.
“I don’t want to interrupt—”
“Oh shut up,” she says, giggling softly, “you’re not interrupting. I needed to be stopped anyway.”
You laugh quietly as you weave your way through the store, her hand still firmly in yours, warm and tangible and your only tether, at the moment.
You pay for the few things she’d chosen without thinking twice and take the bags from her arms.
“You’re such a gentleman,” she teases, as she always does. It never fails to make your face grow hot, though, despite all the time you’ve gotten to get used to it.
The drive home is quiet, you watch her lean against the car window, humming softly to herself.
“Everything okay?” you ask, voice quiet, questions always left like suggestions and never like demands for answers.
“Hm? Oh sure, yeah,” she grins widely, turning to face you, “just thinking about tonight. There’s still a lot to do.”
You hum softly in agreement.
“You’ll help me, right?”
“What kind of question is that? Of course I’ll help you,” you retaliate quickly. You catch the small smile form on her face at the edge of your vision.
“Penelope?” Now, she’s frowning. Full name, must be serious.
“Yeah?”
“How… What kind of people are your coworkers?”
“Oh! Are you worried about meeting them? They’re sweethearts, don’t worry—”
“I’m not worried, just… nervous. I’m not the best at… meeting new people, you know that.”
“You’ll love them, I’m sure of it. And they’ll love you!”
“I just don’t want to mess up, Penny… I know how much they matter to you.”
“You matter to me too, y’know? So much more than you can imagine. So quit worrying, I’m 100% sure you’ll all get along really well, okay?”
“Okay… okay,” you smile meekly and turn your focus back to the road. You could do this. It wasn’t that hard. You trusted Penelope, and she liked her coworkers, and she loved you. You could only hope that you wouldn’t fuck up miserably.
When you emerge from the shower, fresh clothes and hair still dripping wet, steam clinging to your skin, Penelope is already elbow deep in flour, humming along to the music playing from the record player in the living room.
“What are you making?” you ask, leaning on the countertop beside her.
“Sugar cookies. Spencer loves them?”
“Spencer?”
“The total genius I work with… I’ve told you about him, right?”
“Sure, yeah… I remember,” you agree, wiping some stray flour from her nose, “What else is left to do?”
“Well, the turkey’s already in the oven, thanks to you,” she says, and you smile, feeling your face warm up, “and everything else is basically ready to go. I can’t start cooking it all now or it’ll go cold before anyone gets here.”
“Do we have spare time then?”
“You could say that. Why? D’you have something in mind?”
“I do, actually. But it’s a surprise.”
Penelope pauses, gaze drifting up to meet yours, something pretty glinting like a spark in her eyes.
“A surprise?”
“Uh… yeah. Do you mind? It won’t take long at all,” you reassure her, ready to back away from the idea if she doesn’t like it.
“Absolutely not! Let me just finish this and the kitchen’s all yours,” she replies excitedly. You move to help her and, in tandem, the sugar cookies are quickly molded and placed aside to bake later. She kisses you softly, and quick peck on the lips, before moving out of the kitchen to go get ready, which, from experience, you can say won’t be a short endeavour.
It takes about 30 minutes to make what you had in mind, following your mother’s recipe from memory, hastily shoving the tray at the back of the fridge when you hear soft, quiet steps emerge from the bedroom and make their way down the hall.
Penelope pokes her head around the corner, humid hair half pinned up, face clean and wrapped in a fluffy, lavender bathrobe. She steps closer to you, placing her chin on your shoulder.
“What’s the surprise?” she murmurs.
“Penny, if I told you, it would defeat the purpose of it being a surprise, no?”
“Yes, well… I’m allowed to try.”
“Go,” you urge, “go get ready.”
“Are you done already?” she asks, eyes darting around the pristine(-ish) kitchen.
“All done,” you confirm.
“Come on, then, don’t just stand there. You have to get ready too.”
“When are you friends supposed to get here?” you ask, glancing at the clock as you follow her to the bedroom.
“In an hour, more or less… But they’re gonna be early, I know them.”
“Alright then… One hour,” you say to yourself, mentally cheering yourself on, “One hour.”
You fumble with your tie one last time before giving up and chucking it on the bed. Fuck it, it’s only a friendly Christams dinner, nothing formal. You pull at the collar of your shirt and pull on a soft sweater, pacing around the room nervously, refusing to look at the clock. You only pause and suck in a deep breath when Penelope appears at the door, dressed in a pretty, plum-purple dress, a cardigan hanging loose and unbuttoned overtop. Her blond hair is pinned up in an elegant but casual updo, stray strands falling along her nape and around her face.
Her bare feet are soft on the hardwood floors, rendered slippery by the lavender nylon tights she’d decided on.
“You look lovely,” you manage to utter, at a genuine loss for words at the angelic sight.
“Oh! Thank you, sweetheart,” she says, and you melt a little, “you look handsome,” she retaliates, and you lose control of a part of your brain. You swear your legs turn to jelly.
“Thanks,” you mumble, “I gave up on the tie, though,” you confess, pointing at the offending object laying on the bed like a coiled snake.
“That’s alright. Whatever makes you feel comfortable,” Penelope says, sliding her hand inside your grasp and tugging you towards the door. “Now c’mon, they’ll be here any minute,’ she declares, and as if the universe had heard her, the doorbell rings, echoing in the quiet between songs that hangs heavy in the apartment. She rushes down the hall, pulling you along, but you stop in front of the living room.
“What’s wrong?” Penelope asks, turning to face you with a frown.
“Nothing!” you say, a little too loud, “nothing, I was just gonna put on another vinyl.”
“Oh, okay,” she says, detangling herself from your grip and hurrying down to the front door as you slip into the living room, pressing your shaking hands against your torso.
Sure, maybe the music thing was an excuse. But hey, the silence was weird, and you needed a minute to collect yourself.
You crouch in front of the record player, flicking through your extensive collection, fingers stuttering on Chris Isaak’s Heart Shaped World. You switch out the black vinyls quickly, and you’re just standing up when a flow of people starts to trickle into the living room. The rowdy voices you’ve been trying to ignore since the door opened are now loud and present and very much looking at you. You recognize all of them from picture: tall, lanky, nervous-looking Spencer Reid, twisting his fingers into the sleeves of his sweater; even taller, confident Derek Morgan, suave voice and intense gaze; Emily Prentiss and Jennifer Jareau, hand in hand, jet black and bright blond hair in stark contrast; David Rossi, playful gaze and jester-like smile, and right beside him, Aaron Hotchner, serious mask cracked by a small smile as Penelope tells him about something or other.
The entire team you’ve been dreading meeting, standing in your living room. Cool. Great. You could totally manage this… right?
“Hi,” you finally manage to utter, “merry christmas,” you add, though it comes out sounding more like a question than anything else. Someone stifles a laugh, you don’t look up until you feel a firm grip on your shoulder.
“You better be treating her right,” Derek says.
“I-I am,” you quickly say. Penelope sidles up to your side, tucking herself in the crook of your arm.
“He’s treating me perfectly,” she adds.
“Derek, leave the poor man alone. You just walked into his house, to assault him,” Rossi taunts as he walks closer to shake your hand firmly. You swear you feel a bone give in.
“We’ve all heard so much about you,” JJ tells you when she and Emily move closer, Hotch (as you’ve learned the team calls him) right behind them.
“I’ve heard a lot about you too…” you reply, unsure of what else to add.
“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Hotch says, and your hand gets crushed in a very firm handshake for the second time in 5 minutes. That’s gotta be a record.
Introductions are made fairly quickly by Penelope, though it only takes a few minutes as you all know each other from what your girlfriend has said in the past.
In a whirlwind of voices and unfamiliar bodies, everyone starts to help you prepare for dinner, until Penelope calls you aside. She’s tugged over a distraught looking Spencer, and neither of you look thrilled to be here.
“You guys are gonna get along so well, I can feel it,” she announces, “sweetheart, tell Spencer what you’ve just finished reading,” she coaxes you on, like a mother might with her child, and it makes you cringe internally. You’re not that socially inept.
“Uh… East of Eden?”
“Steinbeck?” Spencer asks.
“Yeah, obviously,” and you both smile a little.
“I usually like most books with heavy biblical themes… I don’t know what it is, I just find it fascinating,” you add.
“I can understand that… it’s something that’s so engrained in all our cultures, it’s normal to be curious about it.”
As you talk, you both end up wandering into the kitchen with everyone else, and you all fall into an effortless rhythm of conversation amidst the barely controlled chaos of dinner preparations. You don’t notice Penelope smile widely as she watches you slowly, but surely, open up to her friends.
When you all settle at the table, you feel overbearingly warm, but not in an unenjoyable fashion. It feels nice, to confront the thing you’ve been dreading and realizing it’s actually not so bad. It’s quite nice, actually. Spencer is proving to be an amazing intellectual companion, and JJ is an infinite well of questions.
You learn that Hotch has a son, that Morgan and Spencer are basically brothers in spirit, that Emily is probably the toughest person at the table currently, that Rossi hosts pasta dinners at his house and that you’re now officially invited to the next one; and the whole time, Penelope’s leg is pressed firmly against your own under the table, as means of comfort you’re slowly realizing you don’t need anymore.
The weight of anxiety has lifted itself from your shoulders.
Dinner is delicious, courtesy of you and Penelope, and when you retire to the living room, coffee table laden with tea, cookies and the such, you suddenly remember something.
“I’ll be right back!” you call out, and Penelope frowns as she watches you rush to the kitchen. You dig around the fridge for a little while and pull out the tray you’d tucked in earlier.
You carefully place the treats in a fancier plates, decorate with a few sprigs of rosemary, like your mother used to, and bring the tray over to the living room.
“What did you make us?” your girlfriend asks.
“Um… well, I figured since it’s Christmas, I’d try my mother’s old sugar plum recipe,” you announce as you put down the plate on the table, “I hope I didn’t fuck up,” you add, grimacing slightly.
“Sugar plums?” Penelope borderline cries out, “actual sugar plums? The thing that inspired the Sugar Plum fairy.”
“Uh… yeah, I suppose. Yes.”
“Oh wow,” she says, reaching for the plate, “may I?”
“Yeah, ‘course. Go ahead,” you reassure her, smiling warmly, “I hope you like them.”
Everyone grabs one of the purple-ish balls, and after admiring them for a few seconds, JJ is the first to take a bite. Her eyes widen, her hand comes up to cover her mouth.
“This is insane… you made this? Penelope, you’re a lucky girl.”
Your face heats up drastically as compliments continue to flow, and Penelope drags you down to sit beside her, resting her head on your shoulder.
“You know I love you, right?” she whispers.
“I love you too,” you mumble back.
“It wasn’t so bad, right? You had fun?”
“A lot… thanks. And I’m sorry if I stressed you out earlier.
“No, absolutely not… you were perfect. Blessed by the Sugar Plum fairy.”
You laugh softly, and she kisses your cheek.
“If you two lovebirds are done whispering secrets to one another, I’d like to have the recipe for these,” Rossi interrupts, and you sit up straighter, tugging at your shirt.
“Right, sorry, so, it’s really simple…”
You trail out the whole recipe, and the rest of the evening goes on tasting of brandy and sugar dusted cookies.
(painting on the right "watching the joust" by John Millar Watt)
Summary : A new agent arriving at the BAU has Garcia becoming the subject of the teasing she usually enables, and it's all annoyingly on point.
Word count : 1.4k
Notes : y/n reader she/her. I made a tumblr post a while ago complaining about the writers' cowardice regarding Morgan and Penelope's relationship, following by saying that my girl at the very least deserved a girlfriend.
As usual, very late night dabble, so blame my sleep deprivation for any incoherence. I, for one, am completely blameless and innocent and all that. Anyway, hope you enjoy this one, I think the fandom is lacking in Penelope fics, and I am here to fix some of that.
My masterlist
The same fic on ao3
Enjoy!!<33
The new agent had been here for a little over a month, and Garcia was already going insane. Despite being the outlier of the FBI, Penelope had never fallen victim to the team's friendly – albeit relentless – teasing. In fact, she was one of its main enablers most of the time, teasing Reid about his inability to talk to pretty people, Emily about her lovesick staring at JJ, Morgan on his chaotic love life, and so on.
Being the subject of it was something she'd never experienced before, and yet, here she was, being followed to her office by her three favorite victims, cheeks burning.
"C'mon babygirl, it's not like you to run away !" Morgan laughed as she attempted to close the door in his face.
"Hush ! Leave me be ! We all have work to do !" she attempted, pushing as best as she could, until her friend slipped a boot through the opening.
"You didn't look all that inclined on working just a few minutes ago when you gave y/n half of the cookies you'd made and stayed with her until she finished eating them all." Emily pointed out with a shit-eating grin.
Penelope scoffed, "I did not give her half."
"Are you kidding ?" Spencer frowned, making his coworkers snicker, "We got one each ! Before she got into the team, you'd give us at least three each, with various shapes and our respective favorite colors ! Why'd she get all the stars ?"
She huffed, rolling her eyes, "The shape doesn't change the taste, boy-genius," she said, like each shape was completely unintentional on her part, which they all knew to be untrue, "And you got two each. You're just being dramatic."
Morgan's laughter drew her attention back to his accusing finger, "Oh I know you ain't trynna gaslight us into believing any of that."
Another breath puffed out of her nose incredulously, and she decided she'd had just about enough. She dug her hand into the pocket of her jacket, throwing a handful of her "emergency confetti" through the opening, distracting them just enough to close the door and lock it quickly.
More laughter followed, then two defeated bumps against the wood, "You'll have to clean that !" called out an overly delighted Derek Morgan.
Slumping into her chair, Penelope sighed, palms coming up to cup her own cheeks, the heat she found there only exacerbating the embarrassment simmering in her gut. It hadn't been intentional. Not at first. She'd given Spencer his first, a purple heart-shaped cookie. Emily had emerged from the elevator sniffing the air like a bloodhound, and had happily accepted her red one, followed shortly by JJ, who got a blue flower shaped one, and Morgan, a green tree shaped one. Hotch and Rossi got theirs, regular cookie brown, but with M&M’s instead of dark chocolate.
Y/n had arrived just short of late, and had gotten her pink star one, humming a cheerful thanks as she sat down at the round table. After the meeting, when she'd looked up at Penelope with those sweet eyes, asking for another one, she just couldn't deny her. Unsurprisingly, she didn't deny her any of the others she asked for, each request peppered with soft praise on Garcia's cooking, on how perfect the texture of the cookies were.
Naturally, Garcia hadn't exactly kept count. So, when Dr. Spencer "Numbers" Reid approached her for his third cookie, his brows creased at the sight of the nearly empty tupperware.
"Already ?" he'd asked meekly, "Did a tornado pass by ?"
The tech analyst, unwilling to admit to her own crush-induced bias, had only shrugged, "Sorry pretty boy, guess I made less than usual."
At the sound of that, the new agent had turned around, eyes wide and sorry, "Oh my god ! I didn't even think about leaving some, I'm so sorry ! I assumed Pen would stop me," she hurried, "I was so late this morning, I didn't eat anything, I think my second brain just took over, I'm so so sorry Spence–"
Oblivious at first to the reason Penelope had even let her eat all of those cookies, Spencer jumped into the rambling opportunity, trailing off on the actual science between the saying "second brain" used to refer to the digestive system. Morgan and Prentiss hadn't been so forgiving, catching onto the shift on Garcia's face immediately.
And so the teasing had started. And from what she gathered, it wasn't stopping any time soon. A week later, the team had been sent to Ohio for a case, and her darling Derek Morgan had become her worse nightmare in the span of only a few days.
The case, much to her dismay considering her current predicament, required a lot of her skills, and so she spent most of the day cross referencing, hacking into private websites, and doing all the things she was paid to do. Over the last three days, she'd had most of the team on the phone, though the first to call whenever they found new intel was most often Morgan, gracing their coworkers with their usual flirty banter.
So, naturally, when her phone rang on the desk, she prepared one of her lines, expecting her very own chocolate thunder on the end of the line.
She picked up the phone, her voice jokingly sultry, "Our connection rivals force sensitivity, my knight, I was just thinking of you. Together we could overthrow the empire, or rule it."
A breath of silence ensued, an unusual thing, but before Garcia could question it, a soft voice replied.
"You're even giving him the choice ? I'm really beginning to be jealous of Morgan here."
Penelope was someone who expressed herself in a very visual manner. She remembered the first time she'd been on a video call, the life-altering invention immediately entering her all time top 100 inventions. Yet, for the first time, she was glad this interaction hadn't provided an image. She could feel blood rushing to her cheeks and up to the top of her ears, the very same thing she often teased Spencer about.
"Oh my god I'm sorry I didn't check who was calling," she apologized with a nervous chuckle, but the agent cut her off.
"I didn't mind actually, I was only half-joking on the jealousy. I think one of these days I'm going to have to throw a gauntlet at his feet."
Garcia let out a surprised giggle, "Aw, you'd duel for my attention sweet cheeks ?"
"With absolutely no hesitation. Plus, any excuse to humble that idiot is a good excuse." she replied, smile creeping into her voice, "And I mean that in the most respectful and affectionate way."
Another delighted laugh escaped her, cheeks still aflame and now strained from grinning, "Oh of course. Well, as long as I get to keep the both of you alive and well, be my guest. But I want to be there, like royalty at a jousting game."
"Of course, your highness," she hummed with sickly sweet reverence.
It took Garcia a moment to remember to breathe, let along recall the original goal of the call.
"I– Oh– You were calling about the case, right ?"
"Oh, right, yes," she chuckled, and the sound nearly undid her, "yes, I was calling to ask if you could cross reference–"
Penelope had to use all the strength whatever force had assigned her, scientific or otherwise, to focus on her new task. When the call ended, she huffed to herself, and shook her hands in the air wildly, a pathetic attempt at getting them to stop trembling. Grabbing her stickers covered water bottle, she pressed it to her cheek and sighed in relief at the cooling sensation.
This was bad.
This was very bad.
The last time Garcia remembered having had a crush of that intensity was in her teenage years, when she'd plastered the wall in front of her bed with George Michael posters. Or maybe it had been when she'd replaced those posters with Baby Vox ones. Regardless, none of those had been more than silly unavailable crushes, none real in a tangible way. The way y/n made her feel made her rethink her last few relationships, where she'd convinced herself that what she'd felt for them had been enough to become their girlfriend.
And y/n was real.
Which made her arrive to a conclusion that few words could truly capture, forcing her to use a vocabulary unlike herself in a way that perfectly reflected the state of despair she was in ;
She was fucked.
Hope you liked the fic ! Lmk, I might make this a series (comments and reblogs do the most on here, and I always love to know your opinion so don't hesitate !)
Warnings: not much! r is very unsure of herself, she does not believe that someone like Garcia could like her romantically. fem!bau!reader (it was not specified, i hope fem!reader is ok :), Spencer being a wonderful friend, a little bit of teasing from Morgan, case but no case details, reader is a little silly. this is mostly fluff! plus a little bit of angst i guess because r is not very confident in herself.
Description: r has a huge crush on Garcia, but she doesn't think she'll ever have her feelings reciprocated. Her own crush distracts her from Garcia's very obvious crush on her.
Word Count: 2,026
Request: "Hi! If you're doing penelope requests how about Pen and reader both having a crush on eachother, but reader thinks Penelope doesn't like them like *that* because she's always just nice to everyone."
A/n: ooouugghhh 😭😭😭 i need her so bad. reader is literally me.
The first thing you hear when you walk out of the elevator is, "Hello, gorgeous. You look amazing today!" Garcia's in her usual cheery mood, a lovely contrast to the darkness of your field of work. You can smell her citrusy perfume, a sweet, bright, scent. It covers the usual smell of stacks of old paper and burnt coffee that you've grown used to at the BAU.
You feel your face heat up a little as she compliments you. "Thank you!" You smile, "And so do you, I love your outfit!"
She's wearing a cream colored dress with vibrant lime green polka dots, as well as a long sleeved cardigan of the same green hue. Her glasses and heels match, of course. Green as well. She's also wearing earrings that resemble little lime slices, topping the entire outfit off with two green barrettes in her long blonde hair. She looks stunning. You wonder how she has the energy to put together such complicated, coordinated outfits.
Her expression brightens when you compliment her, "Thank you!" She gives you a little twirl to show off her outfit. You both grin at each other, silently admiring. Some would say for a few moments too long, before the ding of the elevator breaks the silence.
You both turn to see who's just arrived. Reid gives the both of you his signature smile and wave as he steps out, clutching the strap of his satchel with his other hand. He strides over to where you are.
"Good morning! How are you two?" He stops in front of you. The three of you stand in a little triangle.
"Morning, Reid! We're doing great! Well, I am, but I assume she is as well." Garcia gestures to you and you nod at her with a small huff of laughter.
"I am doing great, how are you?" You look over to Reid.
"I'm doing pretty well. I've been reading a lot about movie props and special effects recently. Did you know that fake glass used in films is often made out of melted down and hardened sugar? It's of course much safer, and more easily breakable than real glass." He rambles off excitedly, always eager to share.
You and Penelope both listen without interrupting him while he speaks. Unlike some others who might stop him in the middle of a sentence. He keeps talking for about a minute or so. You nod along, and so does Penelope. You like that a lot about her. She always listens to what everyone has to say, even if she may get a little distracted sometimes.
Later that day, you set some file folders down on the table in the briefing room. The rest of the room was empty, save for Garcia, who was prepping her detailed case presentation. She had asked you to grab some files from her tech room that she had forgotten. Of course, you got them for her. You then set them around the table, one for each member of the team. It was like setting a dinner table. Except with horrific crime scenes in manila folders instead of dishes and shiny silverware.
You weren't sure why she had asked you specifically to help her. Probably because your desk was closest on her way by. Maybe it was because you were the only person available at the time. Or because you knew your way around her office better than anyone else on the team. That isn't weird. You just tend to be in there a lot. You're overthinking this. She doesn't like you like that. But the slight blush on her face and occasional stumble over her words might lead one to think otherwise.
You realize you've been standing in one spot, staring blankly at the table for longer than any normal human being would. Unfortunately, your caring coworker notices as well. She glances up from her laptop and quirks an eyebrow at you.
"Everything okay, lovely?"
You break your intense eye contact with the table and look over to her. You nod. You realize you should probably say something instead of just staring at her.
"I'm fine. Just tired. And not looking forward to dealing with this case." Your eyes flicker down to the case file in front of you. You flip it open, revealing printed out photos of multiple gruesome crime scenes. A sigh escapes you and you close the file again. "I think serial killers should just take a break for a while."
"I agree one hundred percent. But sadly, that is not the case. I wish it was. But then we'd be out of a job."
You giggle slightly at her observation. "Yeah, I guess so."
You sit down in one of the chairs around the table, the rest of the team files in soon after. Once everyone is seated, Garcia gets up and heads up to the front of the room, her bright outfit easily shifts the attention to her.
While she presents the case, most of your focus is on her. It really should be on the screen beside her, or the case file in front of you. But it's hard when you have the biggest, most embarrassing crush on her. You realize you've been staring, and promptly glue your eyes back to the screen on the wall. You try your hardest to focus solely on the case for the next few minutes. What you don't notice is that Garcia has been sneaking glances at you quite often.
"Wheels up in thirty."
Did you just miss almost every word said around the table? Maybe. That's alright, you could read the case file on the jet.
***
The next day is when you finally get to communicate with Garcia again. You jump at the opportunity to whip out your phone when Prentiss asks someone to call her.
"Whisper sweet nothings into my ear, baby." She quips into the microphone.
You blush at her unique greeting and clear your throat. "Hey Pen, we need an address. And you’re on speaker, by the way." Morgan shoots you a teasing look.
"Of course, my love. Where am I leading you?” She replies happily.
My love. “Um, could you get us the last known address of Lewis Marks? He doesn't have anything on file here.” Your voice wavers slightly with nervousness.
“Mhmm.” You hear the clicking of her keyboard in the background, “Okay. 57 Beachwood Avenue, I’ve sent the directions to your phone.”
“Thank you, you’re the best!” You reply back.
“Catch this guy fast so I can see you soon! Good luck my lovelies!” She ends the call with the click of a button.
You can’t hold back a slight grin when you put your phone back into your pocket.
“What’s that face for, pretty girl?” Morgan teases.
“Shut up,” you bump him on the shoulder as you walk by, earning a chuckle. “Let’s find this guy.”
***
After catching the unsub, the team is back at the police station, gathering their things and packing the case details into boxes. You and Reid unpin maps from a bulletin board and fold them up.
“So… Morgan told me that you’ve been acting a little… weird around Garcia lately? And I couldn’t help but notice as well,” He starts carefully.
“Reid.” You warn him.
“Avoiding my comment only makes you seem more suspicious.” A slight smirk appears on his face.
“Well, I don’t know what you’re implying, so you’ll have to be more specific.” You lie.
“When you talk to her, you speak 1.6 times faster than normal. You avoid eye contact with her but still spend the most time with her out of all of us. When she presents a case it’s like she’s hypnotized you-”
You laugh in embarrassment, “Oh my god is it that obvious?” You drop your face into your hands.
He laughs with you, “A little bit, yeah.” He nods, sliding a map into a folder. “I think you two would be- you’d be nice together.” His tone is genuine.
You drag your hands down your quickly warming face, “Yeah?”
“Your personalities are very compatible, you share a lot of interests, you spend plenty of time together…” He goes on about all the scientific reasons why you two would be the cutest couple.
Butterflies flutter in your stomach just thinking about her. You sigh, returning to placing push pins into their container.
“What?” Spencer notices your shift in behaviour.
“Well, I don’t think- she really doesn’t like me like that, Spencer.” A familiar sinking feeling appears in your chest as you voice your thought.
“Are you kidding? She totally does! What- How do you not see it? Do you see how she acts around you?” The volume of his voice raises slightly.
You shush him, “Spencer! You’re talking too loud! And I really doubt she does. She acts just as friendly with anyone else.”
“Y/n. She started calling you baby two months ago. Before then, she only did that with Morgan.”
“But-”
He interrupts before you can continue, “Her answers to your phone calls are more often um- explicit than not.”
You take a few moments to think. All the times you had gotten flustered over Penelope’s words. Had she meant to do that to you? Was she flirting with you? Oh my god.
“I’m so dumb.”
“No, it’s actually perfectly normal. You were too focused on how you feel about her to notice how she feels about you.” Spencer places the last map into the box of files. “You should ask her out.”
“You say that like it’s so easy.”
***
When you get back to Quantico, all you feel like doing is going home and sleeping for the next 12 hours. But, you would like to see Penelope first. You knock on her office door, she responds with “Come in!” in a sing-songy voice.
You crack open the door but hesitate to fully enter the room. However, when she realizes her visitor is you, she immediately gets up from her seat.
“It’s you! You’re back!” She squeezes you in a tight hug. You happily hug her back. Her flowery perfume makes your head spin, or maybe it’s just her. You sigh, both relief and anxiety. She pulls away at this.
“What’s wrong? Did I squeeze you too hard? Oh, I’m so sorry!”
“No! No, Pen, It’s not that.” You shake your head, “You didn’t do anything wrong. I just- I want to ask you something.” Your voice quiets by the end of the sentence.
“Oh, of course! Ask away, my love! I have all the answers in the world right here.” She steps back over to her many screens.
“No, It’s not- It’s…” You can already feel your face heating up, your hands nearly shake out of nervousness.
She makes a confused face, quietly waiting for you to continue.
“Would you like to go out to dinner sometime? With me?” You stare down at your feet, bracing for rejection.
“Like… as a date?” She takes a step closer, you glance up at her and see the growing smile on her face.
You nod, “Yeah? If you’d like that?”
Happiness washes over you when she grins wider “Really? Like a date-date? As in romantic?”
“Mhm” You nod again, maybe you shouldn't have asked.
“I’d love to.”
You let out a nervous giggle, “Yeah?”
“Yes, absolutely.” She carefully takes your face in her hands, you feel like you might faint. You're stunned as she places a light peck onto your cheek, “Just let me know when and where. And I assume this wasn't a planned thing, so text me when you figure it out?” She smiles as she lets go of your overheating face, stepping back to give you some space.
You nod, standing there in silence. You pivot slightly on your heels, now feeling slightly awkward. “See you tomorrow.” You give her a small wave, she waves back.
You exit her office with a big grin on your face, you have to restrain yourself from giggling and skipping down the hall.
Walking into the bullpen, your coworkers notice your giddy demeanor.
spencer reid x bau!reader where they are married and it always confuses them the people they help at precincts/other offices because now there is a doctor reid and an agent reid. it leads to funny confusions and people cant seem to figure it out
a/n: hehehe omg yeeees! they eventually just give up and start only referring to them by their nicknames. now Spencer gets called pretty boy in serious meetings by more than just Morgan lol
∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽
masterlist | join my taglist
“Hey, Reid!” Anderson’s voice stopped your speedy stride as he passed you in the hallway, “Garcia wants you.”
“Oh, okay,” you redirected your steps to move in the direction of her lair, “thanks.”
Creaking the door open, you didn’t receive the cheerful greeting you might have hoped for from your sunny co-worker, “what are you doing here?”
“What do you mean what am I doing here?” you found a corner of her desk not cluttered with figurines and sat down, “you’re the one who just send Anderson to go get me.”
“Oh, not you!” the blonde exclaimed, clutching her pink feather-topped pen so tightly it might snap, “I told him to go get Reid!”
“Oh my god, Penelope,” you sighed, letting your eyes roll till they were completely shut, “this is the third time this week!”
this is about SFW agere/petre. dni if k¡nk. i’m a minor.
☆ first, she would be SO excited to cg!! she is practically built for it!!!!
★ i have a feeling that she would already know about age(d)re/pet(d)re, but if not, i feel like she would grasp the concept really easily!
☆ she would do extra research, just to make sure she completely understood. and to get ideas of things to do with/for you. (ofc she would ask about your fav things and what you would want/need from her.)
★ her fav activities would be watching tv, and reading you stories! she would LOVE to cuddle if you wanted <3
☆ she would love looking for and preparing snacks and meals for you! she would never shame you for what you wanted to eat, memorize all of your fav/safe foods, and keep a WIDE variety of foods at her apartment for you. everything you could ever possibly want!
★ of course, because it’s her, you best believe she has more plushies n toys than you could ever imagine.
☆ to continue that point, of course she would love spoiling you. buying you all the plushies, toys, and gear (if u want!) you want. and don’t want. she would go to a store and buy the whole dang inventory. i also feel like she would love ordering custom things from etsy. she’s such an etsy girl i just know it.
★ if you were comfortable with it, she would love to tell derek, jj, and spencer about all the funny and cute memories you two create together <3
☆ in addition, i can totally imagine her sending pictures of things she’d want to buy for you to them asking what they think. to which they would say things like: “didn’t you already buy them that?,” “you already bought them like a hundred plushies… are you sure they need more?” but show their support and encourage her to if they think you’d like the item and if it’s not breaking her bank. (she wouldn’t care. she’d have already bought it by the time they responded.)
★ finally, she would just love it so much. possibly even more than you! (which is impossible) she’d feel so honored that you trust her and feel so comfortable with her. she would encourage your headspace according to your needs, and be able to handle negative regressions really well.
☆ kinda unrelated, but i feel like she would be a flip!! would anyone want little!pg headcannons??
jus reader and penelope. brief encounter with unnamed florist. brief mention of kevin.
After not having been able to spend quality time with your girlfriend for two weeks, you plan something special to remind her of what she means to you.
Pure Fluff
Established relationship. Mentions of lust and arousal, hints of future smut. Vague mentions of insecurity. No use of Y/N.
2.1k WORDS
You haven't seen your girlfriend, Penelope, for two weeks. Not really. Sure, the two of you shared a bed, but you guys never got home around the same time. Especially not with both of your jobs being kind of hectic right now. When you got home sometimes, Penelope was already soundly asleep. When you woke, she was already gone. Then, there were times where that pattern was reversed, but it all just depended on what was going on at you guys' respective jobs. That said, you two had been in this share a bed only space for a little over a month now, and it was really starting to drive you both crazy.
Things had calmed down at your job a bit. You guys had wrapped up a big project a few days ago, and the post-project chaotic buzz was finally starting to wear off. Penelope had texted you today, informing you that her team had just wrapped their latest case, and that there was a chance she could be home by seven tonight. That was when the gears in your head begin to turn.
Able to leave work early, you had headed straight to the grocery store, bought all the ingredients for her favorite dinner. Now, you were at a flower shop. There was this surprise arrangement that she liked that you did for her. It always consisted of her favorite flower being dominating with other pretty, unfamiliar flowers sprinkled in. She liked to look up the meaning of the flowers later.
"Excuse me, I need flowers," you says and the woman gives you a smile that politely says obviously, and you continue for clarification, "My bad. What I mean is, I need a bouquet that tells a specific emotional story, conveys a message, really."
"Mkay," the woman nods, "And, what would you like your flowers to say?"
"I love you, I've missed you. It's an honor to be with you. I'm so proud of you and the work you do," you say with ease. Never is it hard to pinpoint of verbalize your feelings for your girlfriend. Maybe in the beginning, but after four years, you've gotten more attached to your own emotions and thus, more expressive. "Um, just a giant thank you for being who she is, and for choosing me, choosing us every day, and throw in a good chunk of daffodils because those are her favorites. I also want it to be as colorful as she is, really bright and beautiful."
"Love, longing, pride and admiration and gratitude," she murmurs to herself as she writes in a little notepad. She looks back up at you, "And, as bright, beautiful and colorful as she is, and who is the she in question, for reference?"
Your eyes light up as you pull out your phone. It's easy enough to find a photo of her. Penelope is both your lockscreen and your phone screen, and she happens to take up about 75% percent of your camera roll. You show her a slew of photos, finding yourself sharing the memories behind each. God, did you miss actually spending time with her.
"Beautiful smile," the worker compliments your girlfriend as you pull your phone away.
"I know, huh?" And, your smile is gleaming with pride. She finds it cute, how in love you are. She takes you around the store then. Showing you various flowers that fit all of your requirments. It's hard to choose, to narrow it down. Before you've realized it, your bouquet has turned into an arrangement. But, it's fine. More money than you had anticipated spending, but you want to make her melt when she gets home tonight, and money is but a small sacrifice.
You head straight home afterward. It's difficult, sometimes, to pinpoint when Penelope will be home. The romantic dinner set up has to be done before then, so there's no room in your time schedule to make any other stops. When you get home, you jump straight into the set up, wanting everything to be absolutely perfect for when Penelope comes home.
Which doesn't happen. You're only about a quarter of the way finished with your meal by the time she gets home, but you did set up. So, when she walks through the door of you guys' home, you hear a delighted squeal of awe at how beautiful everything looked. Turning the stove down, you dash out of the kitchen, shouting in a frantic dismay, pleading for her to close her eyes and cover them. When you reach her, her eyes are still open and she's got the most adorable confused expression on her face.
"My surprise," you say, covering her eyes for her as you begin to guide her to you guys' bedroom, "for you is incomplete, and I don't want you to see anything else until I am completely ready so you can't be up here," you inform her, nudging the bedroom door open with your foot. When you've guided her to the bed, you gently push her down. You grab a pin. "Look into the pen."
She giggles, "I'm looking." You click the pen, and playing along, she blinks, mimicking confusion rather well minus the smile in her eyes. "Where am I? How did I get here?" She asks, unable to stop her giggles from escaping her yet again. You smile, loving her a little bit more now for having played along with your mind wiping pen, Men in Black reference without so much as a second thought. You really didn't think it was possible for you to have a better girlfriend.
You lean down and kiss her before dashing out of the room. "I'll come back for you when everything is ready!"
She swoons, watching you sprint back to the front. You were quite possible the sweetest person she's ever known. If not that, you were definitely the sweetest, most kind person she had ever dated. If you were going to go out of your way to surprise her, she would do a little something to surprise you as well. While you work on your preparations, she pulls out your favorite dress of hers. She showers her day away before slipping into it and redoing her hair and make up, wearing your favorite piece of lingrie underneath. She didn't know what you had in store, but she wanted you to fall to your knees the next time you saw her.
After some time, you finished up cooking the meal. Taking your time, you were so careful how you set the table, about making sure you set out the forks and such the correct way. It was never something you personally remembered; you'd had to google. Penelope wouldn't be able to tell, either. If the placements were correct or not. but every time you guys had ever gone to one of those fancy restaraunts that care about placements like that, she always got excited about how nice everything was. She always commented on the silverware, and it was always so precious to you. So, yeah, you made sure to get it right. You were also extremely careful about the presentation of the food as you fix you guys' plates. She liked to take pictures so you wanted it to be picture perfect. When you were satisfied with your efforts, you make good on your promise to go back and get her.
Upon opening your bedroom door, you see Penelope, examining herself in the mirror, wearing that dress that makes your knees go weak. The one that's in your favorite color, the one that hugs her curves and highlights the beauty of her shape in the most heavenly of ways. The one that does absolute wonders for her cleavage. The one that makes you damn near drool, makes you want to drop to your knees and have a different kind of meal. As your eyes trail back upward to meet her eyes, you find her smirking at the unabashed lust in your eyes. You pull yourself together. You want tonight to be so much more than just about sexual intimacy, and you had put so much energy into preparing everything to give her a full experience. You've waited weeks. You could a bit longer. You clench your jaw and clear your throat.
Extending your arm for her to take, "M'lady, your dinner awaits."
Coming forward to you, she takes your hand and kisses your cheek. Continuing to hold her hand, you wrap free arm around her waist and start to guide her down the hall. Eyes uncovered this time, she gasps in wonderment at the bright, white Christmas lights you've hung in arches in the hall way. She loves the face that she's walking on rose petals, even if they are fake ones. She swoons at how you've turned the entire apartment into a romantic wonderland on a random weekday, for no reason at all. The more she takes it all in, the more anxious she finds herself to repay you later on tonight. Reaching the kitchen, the first thing she sees is the arrangement you had made acting as a centerpiece.
She squeezes your hand, "Oh my God," she gushes, "They're so lucious and so so beautiful!"
You feel your heart flutter in your chest at the sound of her joy. Buying her flowers and plants was a big thing for you. You always stressed over it so much because you knew how much she valued plant life and pretty things. You'd yet to gift her a plant, bouquet or flower arrangement that she didn't like, but a part of you still held your breath until she saw it every time.
"I have a card of the names of all the flowers in the arrangement on it." You tell her and she looks at you with the softest eyes. "I know how you like to look up the meanings for yourself later." You add, as the two of you get closer to the table. When you guys are close enough, you let her go so you can pull out her chair. as your doing this, she leans in to smell the arrangement. With her chair pulled out, you help her sit before pushing her chair back in, pouring her a glass of wine before doing the same for yourself at taking your seat.
"Ooh!" she exclaims, "How fancy!" And you smile, not even having to look at her to know she's referencing the silverware placements. "And, dinner smells amazing, baby, thank you."
You shrug, downplaying your efforts, "I just wanted to do a little somethin' for you."
"A little something?" She asks, eyebrows raised, giggling, "Baby, you've turned our home into a five star dining experience." She notes, squinting just a little, "What is all this?"
"Nothing really," you answer, "I've just missed you a lot, and I wanted to do something for you."
Penelope all but melts in her chair. She doesn't think she'll ever say it outloud, because she's ashamed of the thought, but for a while, she thought Kevin was as good as she was ever going to get. Even after they broke up. But, then, she met you, and sometimes, she still feels like you aren't really.
"Where did you come from?"
"I materialized from your sweetest dreams," is your answer with a grin.
She snorts, playfully, "I couldn't have imagined you if I tried. You, my love, are more magical than unicorns."
Your smile widens, "I think that might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me."
The two of you start in on your meal after that, and she moans at the first bite. You guys talk, really talk for the first time in two weeks, catching up on all things new. You talk about work, but not about any of the dark or boring parts, no. You two keep it light, tell each other about the new gossip updates in your respective offices. You've missed this more than you had realized. For a brief moment, your heartbreaks a little for people who don't get to experience what you two share.
"You know," she says with a light air of casualness, "I have a surprise for you of my own tonight." And, the implication is clear. It hangs heavy in the air as you resort to speechlessness in favor of sputtering your words. Penelope knew exactly what to do to make your brain melt out of your head, to take every bit of intellect in you and wash it away. That statement, in that dress, it takes all your effort to get through dinner. It's hard to focus on anything with your boxers becoming more increasingly soaked in anticipation of what she had in store for you later.
🧁🧁 Emmy!!!!🧁🧁
I would like to order a Leo Baby Birthday Cake for the event!
Character: Penelope
Prompt: "You bought me flowers?"
this took me freaking forever but i finally came up with a concept that i think turned out very cute so i hope you enjoy!
"Such A Lovely Bride" ~ P. Garcia
pairing: penelope garcia x gn!reader
summary: just a cute little blurb about matching halloween costumes with penelope 🫶🏻
word count: 454
content warning: not really a warning but reader does wear a suit. i tried to write this as gender neutral as possible so no pronouns are used. other than that, i don't think there are any warnings! this is mostly just fluff.
genre: fluff, spooky fluff 🎃
based on the prompt: "you bought me flowers?" + penelope garcia
extra notes: i watched corpse bride for the first time the other night so that's why i decided to write this lol! sorry this took so freaking long to come out, i have had zero inspiration lately but i hope you enjoy! also yes i did name this after a Taylor lyric, everyone can fight me. also also the dividers are by @anlian-aishang!
beta read by: @dungeons-are-too-cold (thank u, my dear)
birthday bash | masterlist | ask box
Everything about it felt off. From the button up that tugged at your neck to the loafers pinching your toes, everything felt unnatural. There was no way you were going to survive this all night, but when the beautiful woman that is Penelope Garcia opened the front door to her apartment, all those uncomfortable feelings floated right away, along with all the breath in your lungs.
Her hair was curled in loose ringlets, cascading down her back. It was like a luscious waterfall of blonde, the tips a frosty blue. What looked to be a vintage wedding dress hugged her in all the right places, detailed with blue lace and pearls that only complemented the rest of her appearance. Her beautiful smile and sparkling eyes were just the icing on the cake. The only thing she was missing was the bouquet of flowers, which you would be happy to provide… when you finally remembered how to speak.
"You look quite dashing yourself," she giggled at your stunned appearance.
You forced yourself up for air, suddenly remembering the bouquet behind your back. "I got you these," you managed, throat still dry. "Derek told me you liked gerbera daisies so I-"
Her face lit up like a child's on Christmas, promptly taking the bouquet from your shaky hands. "You bought me flowers?"
"You couldn't be the Corpse Bride without them," you stammered. With every word you spoke, you just felt like you were embarrassing yourself even more, so instead, you made a mental note to be as quiet as possible, only speaking when necessary.
Penelope shook her head, a blush creeping up her cheeks as she lifted the flowers to her nose. She took in the smell, her content expression and blushing smile finding a way to tug at your heart despite the anxiety coursing through you. "You bought me flowers," she reiterated, her voice raised nearly a whole octave in excitement. "No one has ever done that for me before."
A soft smile pulled at the corners of your mouth. You blew out a nervous breath, your anxiousness seemingly melting away. "Well, they should do it more often."
"Nonsense," she insisted, leaning over to leave a gentle kiss on your cheek. "With you around, I don't want anyone else to even think about giving me flowers."
Your lips brushed softly against her forehead, taking in that familiar aroma and aura of Penelope. She always knew exactly what to say to help calm your nerves and this was no exception. Your previous state of panic was long gone now, replaced by a sense of comfort that you seemed to feel only in her presence.
"You know what, my lovely corpse bride? I like that idea too."
