appledressing

[appledressing]

🥰😍

bimbo reader x aaron hotchner texts

You: good morning !!!! i made u a lil smoothie in the pink tumblr with hearts on it

You: don’t be grumpy it’s good 4 u

You: also i look sooooo cute today i wish u could see my outfit

You: also i miss u

You: also i think ur sexy ok byeeee

Hotch: Thank you for the smoothie.

Hotch: And I’m sure you do look cute.

Hotch: (You could have just shown me.)

You: u think i look cute?!?!

You: also u smiled at ur phone didn’t u i can feel it

You: ur soooo soft

You: ok ill come show u my outfit if u promise not to pretend ur busy when i walk in

Hotch: I’m always busy.

Hotch: But you can come show me.

[appledressing]

Oh. So sweet 💞

Okay aaron idea cause I love that man and need him to baby me.

It’s really late an Aaron is still at work, reader wakes up and is really sad he’s not there and is just needy for cuddles and all. So she drives to work and passes by JJ and all to Aaron’s office.

And when he sees her his face softens and he’s really worried cause it’s late and she was supposed to be asleep. Then she hugs him and doesn’t let go and it’s all cute and lovey and they settle on the couch and then she’s barely awake and he leaves work. ☺️☺️☺️☺️I need him

JJ's growing increasingly worried the longer and longer you spend in Hotch's office. She'd taken pity on your sluggish, exhausted form when you'd trudged in a quarter to midnight begging to see their unit chief, but you've been in there for thirty minutes now and Hotch hasn't said a word. She's already sent a message to the team to be ready for a call, but they're on standby asking for updates that she can't give them.

Finally, after Penelope's third, 'do I really have to get out of bed for this?' text JJ stands, tentatively making her way up the ramp towards her boss's office. She's one of the only people he'll let barge in, but she knocks anyways, straining to hear if conversation is taking place beyond the shut door.

She doesn't hear anything but the clicking of the lock, and she tries miserably to straighten up and make it seem like she wasn't eavesdropping. If Hotch notices the tail end of her movement, he graciously doesn't say anything.

"JJ?" He asks, because she doesn't really know what to say now that he's in front of her and hadn't just summoned her in. At least then she'd be able to see you, to read your body language, to figure out whether she needed to give her team the go-ahead. As it stands, Hotch's broad frame is blocking the view.

"Sir, I was just wondering," She starts, pulling herself together the way she has to do so often in the field, "Whether we needed to ship out for the night? I figured there was an emergency, um- you had a visitor."

Hotch's expression softens, and JJ notices it because she's only ever seen it happen around Jack. He's not frowning all of the time, contrary to what Morgan jokes about, but when all of his angled, neutral features shift into soft, velvet-lined ones, she knows he's thinking of something he loves.

"She's okay. She's- I'm... seeing her." He reluctantly admits, shifting awkwardly on his feet in a way JJ's never seen before.

At first she thinks, yeah, that's why I'm asking. But then she realizes he means seeing you, like late night visits and a loosened tie seeing you, not seeing you to get your witness statement. Her eyes drift downwards to clock that his tie is missing altogether, and one of the buttons on his shirt is undone. He's relaxed.

"Oh." JJ makes to step backwards, but really she's frozen in place, "I didn't mean to interrupt, uh-"

"No, we're not-" Hotch insists, and JJ realizes now that his voice is pitched low and smooth, "She's sleeping. I'm working. She just wanted to... be with me."

That's why his face had softened. That's why he'd looked the same as he does when Jack comes up- you love each other.

"Have a good night, sir." She nods, finally moving her stiff limbs, waiting until she's turned around to let her face break out into a smile. She's happy for him, she's really, painfully happy for him, and she hears his door shut behind her.

Her phone buzzes incessantly on her desk, 'Reid: I was up anyways. I'm dressed. Tell me when.', 'Prentiss: Sergio's going to be so mad at you', 'Rossi: I'm too old to be up past nine'. But JJ ignores them all, typing out a message she's sure Hotch will bemoan later.

'False alarm. She was a visitor, not a visitor. He lost his tie and his shirt collar is unbuttoned.'

[appledressing]

Oh this was so emotional her fear I feel so bad. I’m glad she was able to talk it out. That was really I tense but in a good way

Pls reader who’s always wanted a baby but is too scared to ask hotch to have one with her — he’s his usual understanding self and also whipped and nearly cries cos he gets all emotional?

—you and Aaron misunderstand one another. fem, 2k

You debate yourself for weeks, on and off, alone or with company, and aided by the internet. 

Is it okay to want a baby when you have a step kid? Does really wanting a baby mean I don’t like the first one? Your search engine spits out forums and web articles alike that say the same things —of course it’s okay. Wanting another kid doesn’t mean you don’t love your first; craving to be a mom to a baby doesn’t mean you don’t love Jack, even though he had his own mom when he was a youngster. 

You read a little about it. Books recommended by the articles, and stories from women who became step-moms to children with mothers who had heartbreakingly passed away. It’s a guilty thing to be the mom or stepmom to a child who’s natural mom has died. You might always feel cruel for stealing her moments, for loving her ex husband, and raising her baby. But Jack isn't just someone’s baby, he’s Jack, and you don’t think you could’ve helped yourself. You would’ve loved him no matter what. 

Once you’ve worked past two different types of guilt, you’re crushed by your reality. Jack is nearly nine years old. Your husband isn’t exactly spry. Like, there’s nothing wrong with him (besides a stomach full of scar tissue and partial deafness in one ear), but he’s not a spring chicken, either, and he seems content with your life. In what world would he want to change diapers again? 

The same world where he gets to kiss a little cheek, you think hopefully. Where you get to make it together. Maybe… he loves you enough to try, even if it’s not something he’s pictured. 

You settle, and you decide to be brave. You’ll ask Aaron to have a baby with you, and you won’t feel guilty. 

You realise you can’t face the answer, is all. If he says no it’s gonna break your heart. If you never ask you’ll never get one, unless it’s an accident, and that’s not a good idea, either, you’d never purposefully want a baby to find out later on that the dad doesn’t want them, even if you’d be enough. You know you’d be a good mom, and that you could deal with things alone. There’s an avenue you could take where you have your baby no matter what, it’s your life. 

If only you didn’t love Aaron as much as you do. The idea of being without him is a horror you don’t want to contend with. 

Aaron can sense your constant mental back-and-forth, though he hasn’t guessed what it’s about yet. If you give him time he might get there on his own. He watches you thinking and he wraps a hand around your leg. Weird thing to do, but he’s not normal. He’s a gentleman mostly. Rare moments like this betray his character, how he loves you, pulling your leg toward him and hugging it to his chest despite a strange angle.

“Honey,” he begins softly. 

“Not tonight, I have a headache.” 

“That’s not funny,” he says, smiling, “you know you don’t have to say anything else besides no.” 

“Can’t imagine being with someone who needs a reason,” you say, softly as he had as you lay back against a minky cushion, “‘m lucky my love’s such a gentleman.” 

“You can’t deflect all night.” 

“I was only kidding. Take my pants off and we’ll–” You gasp a laugh as he squeezes your thigh. “Shit, don’t do that!” 

“You don’t have to be so crass about everything,” he says, joking. And people would tell you he has no sense of humour. “I’m trying to ask if you’re okay. I know you’re dodging the question, but I was gonna persuade you.” 

“Oh, yeah?” you ask, letting your knees tip apart, punished by another awful squeeze. 

“Honey.” He kisses your knee. Your heart is pressed on from all sides. “I just want to know what’s upsetting you lately. I can tell it’s important, but I can’t work out what it is.” 

“It’s not. Not important, I mean.” 

“I’ve been putting my mind to it. There aren’t many things that could take up this much of your attention. I worried you might’ve been chafing with Jack, but you’re as sweet on him as usual. I worried you might be having second thoughts about us, but you’re not. You’re too careful with your wedding ring to have me think you don’t love me, and–” He rubs at your leg. “You’re as tactile as ever. You aren’t drawing away from us. I don’t want to think about it, but I’m worried you’re sick or something similar and you aren’t telling me.” 

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” you say, startling you both, “please don’t worry, I’m not sick.“ 

“You’re alright?” he asks. 

“I’m about as healthy as I usually am.” 

“But?” 

You can’t not tell him. You’re married. He loves you. While you’ve driven yourself crazy wondering how much, he’s been worrying you’re poorly. It’s unfair, and you can’t do it much longer. 

“I have been thinking about something for a while,” you confess. 

“And a lot.” 

“Yeah. I think about it every day.” 

Aaron turns your face to his. You’d have to change positions to kiss, your leg firmly locked in his grasp. He doesn’t lean in, holding your eye with a seriousness rarely given at home. He looks as though he’s had a long day. “I can’t think of anything you could say to me that I wouldn’t still love you by the end,” he says quietly. 

“It’s not about love.” 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” 

“Because there are things we won’t agree on.” 

“I can’t agree if you don’t tell me what you’re thinking,” he says. 

“I know. I’m not not telling you because you aren’t allowed to disagree with me, I’m just scared.” 

“Scared?” he asks, frowning now, that square wrinkle at his brow deeply carved. 

You have to build yourself up for a long time before you can say what you want to say out loud. He waits in the quiet, his expression impossible to read. 

“You know how much I love Jack.” 

Aaron’s hands are still on your leg. “Of course.”

“And how much I love you.” 

His lips part, but he doesn’t speak. There’s a dawning understanding on his face as he stops touching you, his hands falling to his lap resoundingly. “What’s going on?” he asks. 

You aren’t encouraged by his response. 

He doesn’t want a baby. Saying it is admitting to a difference between you both, one that might make him angry. You’ve never had him angry with you.

Usually, if he noticed your flicker of fear, he’d have rushed to correct it, but Aaron does nothing now. He simply waits. 

“I wanted to ask you to have a baby with me,” you say quietly, watching him for an emotion and finding him with a blankness he’s practised over years. You’ve no hope of discerning him. “But I don’t think you’ll say yes. I’m sorry. I just want it.” 

He swallows roughly. “Oh.” 

“I know it’s not something we’ve talked about much.” 

His hands return. His fingers slip up your calf until it’s trapped in the hinge of your knee, pulling your thigh to his chest. Hip to hip as you are, you’d think it would be uncomfortable, but he’s gentle. He leans down to rest his cheek against your knee. For a moment, you’re his to look at, squirming with nerves and depressed to have disappointed him. You fight the urge to run. 

“For a second I thought you were about to tell me you’d cheated on me,” he says under his breath. 

You startle. “What?” 

“You looked so sorry, my mind went straight to the worst. You looked like you knew you were about to hurt me.” 

His sincerity is aching. 

“I could never do that.”

“I know, I’m sorry for entertaining it…” He picks up his head. “I never thought you’d be scared to talk to me about anything. It was the only thing I could think of that you might’ve done wrong.” 

“I thought you were angry about the baby.” 

“Is there… a baby?” he asks tentatively. 

“No.” You rub the painful throb between your eyes. “No, there isn’t a baby. I just meant you’d be angry at me for asking. Disrupting our life.” 

“You think you’re disrupting us by expressing what you want?” 

“It’s a big thing.” 

“Can I put you out of your misery?” He turns to take your face into his hand. “I would never be angry with you for wanting something, especially a baby. And I can tell how much this has worried you, so while I can’t promise the answer is uncomplicated, I’m happy to say yes to you. If you want a baby and you want that with me, of course I’ll say yes.” 

“Jack–”

“Honey, you’re thinking too much about Jack. Children have siblings. It doesn’t mean you don’t love them. Is that why you brought him up first?” 

You look away, ashamed to be read. “Sometimes I wish you didn’t know everything.” 

“Honey, I don’t.” 

Your smile is unbidden and somehow deeply felt at the same time, chancing a happy look at him. He’s smiling too. “You’re serious? You’d have a baby with me?” 

He turns into you even more, raising his remaining hand to your opposite cheek, holding you sweetly, putting you nose to nose. “I wish you’d asked me before you worried yourself sick. I would love to have a baby with you, sweetheart. I didn’t realise it was something you wanted already.” 

“I want it with you,” you say, matching his low tone. 

“And I want it with you. How couldn’t I?” 

You fight the sudden heat of tears, your heart pounding in your ears. ”I figured Jack is growing up, you’re so busy, and things have only now calmed down–” 

“Who cares?” he asks, laughing. 

“I thought you might.” 

“I’m sure I will, but not right now. You want a baby?” He gives your head the gentlest squeeze between his hands. “Sweetheart. You want to have a baby?” 

“Yeah, I do.” 

“Then let’s have a baby.” Aaron’s shaking his head, pulling you in, his lips glancing off of your cheek as he hugs you tighter than he ever has. You lose all the breath in your lungs. 

“Don’t hurt me,” you tease, relaxing for the first time in weeks in his arms, “or I won’t be able to have one.” 

“I could never hurt you like that,” he says easily. “Oh, sweetheart.” He says your name. He says it again. 

All that fuss for nothing. You confess on a high, “I want one so bad I don’t know what to do with myself half the time, I– I went to the mall a few days ago to look at the baby stuff, just to look, and I wanted to ask you when I got home but I lost my nerve.” 

“You did?” 

“Yeah, I even picked up this little babygrow with flowers on the feet but–” You fluster at the memory. “Sorry, that’s so weird.” 

“It’s not weird.” He encourages you away with another rough swallow and scares you half to death —if he cries, you’re gonna sob. His eyes are definitely glassy. “We should go, you can show me.” 

“Really?” 

“We have to start preparing at some point, right?” 

You climb onto your knees and vault on top of him, arms around his neck, no chance he can get away. He takes it like a champ, returning your ecstatic laughter with a more content chuckle, a big hand spreading out protectively over your shoulder.

A baby, you think, unaware that Aaron’s thinking the exact same thing, with the same reverent warmth growing in his chest. A baby. 

[appledressing]

OHMYGOD OHMYGOD OHMYGOD!!! I didn’t know there was a Spencer sister reader fic UNIVERSE!?!? What!? I am absolutely DELIGHTED.

Please they’re too cute!!! I love them forever thisbas too lovely

Can we perhaps have more of Hotch and Spencer's Shy older sister???

hotch knows he shouldn’t flirt but he can’t really help himself! fem, 1.3k

Aaron’s used to rushing around. He has so little time and so much to do, he spends the majority of his life trying to cram it to capacity. But the half an hour of therapy he forced himself to sit through with the BAU psychologist did unfortunately shed some light on what this is doing to his head —he’s more prone to panicking now than he was ten years ago. He keeps his head at work because he has to, but the fact of the matter is that there will be moments where he can’t choose if he doesn’t look after himself better. 

So. Today Aaron is looking for clothes. Some for himself and some for Jack, and it’s alright if it takes him four hours. All he has to do is get them some summer shorts and get Jack some new underclothes now he’s growing again, and afterwards he’ll go to the butchers for some fresh beef to grind, so he and Jack can make burgers when he’s home from his Aunt Jess’. 

Unfortunately, Aaron is bored out of his mind. He has a basket full of all the things he’d needed, having found what he needed methodically, and now he’s remembered he’s supposed to be relaxing as he's perusing the aisles. There isn’t much relaxing about department stores. A baby cries in a stroller across the room, a clerk slides hangers over a squeaking rail, and an annoying gentleman flirts over loud somewhere to the right. 

“Let me take you out for coffee.” 

Aaron turns the price tag on a sweatshirt and glares at it. Why should a plain black sweatshirt cost forty seven dollars? Jack will only have it for the year. It has about twenty good wears in it. 

“What do you say, sweetheart? Can we go for coffee?” 

Aaron lifts his head before you’ve opened your mouth to speak. He’s surprised to see it’s you, a Reid, nervously disposed as your brother, shifting from one foot onto another. “It’s a nice offer–”

You’re spoken over. “What do you like, matcha? Ice coffee?” 

Your lips are turning down. “I’m sorry, I–” Aaron can feel your panic, poor shy girl. He’s met you a handful of times with your brother in company, and each time you’ve melted under the attention, flustered, and somehow Aaron can tell this is different. “I’m married.” 

It’s obvious that you’re not being truthful. Your tone is high-strung, and it doesn’t perturb the unnamed man one bit. “Are you sure?” he asks with a laugh. “You don’t sound sure.” 

Aaron can’t confess to liking that. 

If a woman doesn’t want you to flirt with her, you shouldn’t. If she says she has a boyfriend, whether that seems true or untrue, you leave her alone. These are basic rules, easily followed, and easier still not to laugh at you. No, you won’t be laughed at. 

Aaron clears his throat, cutting the man’s laugh short, and worsening your panic for the few seconds where you don’t know who he is. You tip your head to him and there, he can see the thread of recognition. There’s pleasure to be found in the relief in your eyes, but Aaron puts it out of his mind. “She’s sure,” he says simply. 

“Aaron,” you say. 

“Found it,” Aaron says, presenting you with the forty-seven dollar sweatshirt, proud when you take it. “He’ll grow out of it by Christmas, but Mrs. Lundy can finally leave us alone about him having clothes for soft play.”

You play your part, inspecting the sweatshirt with a narrowed brow. “It seems a bit short for Jack?” 

Aaron gives your flirting man a look. Sorry buddy, it says, though he isn’t sorry at all. You’re firmly taken. 

“Well, I tried,” he says. 

Aaron snorts. 

You wait for the man to leave before letting your shoulders drop, rubbing your forehead with the back of your hand. “Ah, I’m sorry,” you say. “I’m so bad at saying no.”

“Do you really think that’s too short for Jack?” he asks. 

You raise your gaze. “Well, when I last saw him he was at my hip. That looks like it’d fit him and all, but not when he raises his arms? I don’t know, though, I’m not a mom.” 

You could be, thinking about the arm raising. It’s something he should’ve thought about himself. “I didn’t want to pay for it, anyhow,” he says, sliding it onto a random rack with a small apology in mind for whoever has to put it back. “I hope my intrusion was warranted.” 

“You probably think I’m a bad person. I should’ve been honest.” 

“For lying? You can be married if you want. It’s not really his business.” 

You seem to remember then that you’re intimidated by him, no matter how hard Aaron might try to put you at ease (though, to be fair to you, the last time you’d met Aaron had been flirting) (only because you’d had a crush on him all those years ago when Spencer settled into his new job and you’d came into Virginia to make sure of it). Your hand drifts to your neck and you look pointedly away from the women’s underwear behind you. 

“Uh, so– so how are you?” you ask. 

“I’m good, honey,” he says, entrenched in a fondness for you that’s far more endeared than pitying. “I thought I better come and get Jack some summer clothes without him hanging off of my arm. How are you? How are you settling in?” 

You’d finally made the move to be with Spencer a few months ago. You have your own apartment near his in Washington D.C, and Aaron hasn’t had any opportunity to see you beyond a few lunchtime visits. “It’s good to see you,” he says, giving you little time to answer his questions. 

Your answer is quiet, but not without genuineness. “It’s good to see you too, Aaron.” 

“And you’re alright?” 

“I’m fine.” You offer a smile that melts him to the bone, has him thinking oh, maybe I’m in more trouble than I first thought. “I start my new job on Monday.”

“Really? Where are you working?” 

Before he’s realised, you and Aaron have spent a half an hour standing in one place. Not the kind of chatter you can’t get away from: he is delighting in making you smile, and then laugh. If you weren’t Spencer’s sister, if he hadn’t just saved you from an untimely suitor, Aaron believes he’s grown enough to ask you out, making his intentions and affections clear, because you’re very cute. But you are Spencer’s sister, and you’d already found yourself trapped today by somebody who couldn’t take a hint. 

“Sorry,” you’re saying, “I’ve kept you,” and you’re still flustered, but it’s more of a glow now than a frazzled halo, beaming delight at holding his attention. If you only knew. “I’ll leave you to finish your shopping.” 

“It’s alright, I kept you too.” 

“Do you have a busy day?” you ask. 

“Not really. I have to pick Jack up later… But nothing else.” 

You both seem to teeter on the edge of the question, the possibility of what he could ask you, or what you could ask him if you weren’t so shy. He knows you won’t be able to. 

You let the quiet settle for just long enough for Aaron to know what you want. Spencer’s sister and invented marriage included. You aren’t making conversation and neither is he, because… 

“Would you want to grab a coffee?” he asks, chipper, to mask his nerves. 

You smile shyly. Your eyes dart to his hands, reminding him suddenly of the you he’d met years ago, timid sweetheart just a few years older than her genius brother and used to hiding in his shadow regardless, Gideon’s reluctantly amused observation: She’s sweet on you?

You aren’t as all-consumingly timid now. Still shy. Still sweet on him, it seems. “Yes,” you say, meeting his eyes from under lashes he’d like to feel beneath his fingertip, “I want to.” 

[appledressing]

I just know that cake was near perfect even with all the flaws. I love when people do things out of purely the great love they have. So good?!!

FOR DAD!AARON

It could be Ellie’s birthday and for some reasons the cake order they made got canceled or something like this and Aaron stays up all night prior her birthday party to cook her a cake 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 Bonus point if he never did that before !!!!!!!!

no time to lose

that is adorable 😭 cw; dad!aaron, pregnant!reader, food mentions, playful loving banter and domestic fluff to the max💞 wc; 1.5k

Juggling multiple grocery bags in one hand so he could use the other to open the door wasn’t the easiest thing in the world, but it did allow Aaron to enter the house without making too much noise. If he entered too loudly, the sleeping children upstairs very well may not stay sleeping.

It wouldn’t be too much of an issue if Jack was awakened, but Ellie could not wake up tonight, plain and simple. Not only because birthday surprises were still to be put together, but she’d just recently and finally grown accustomed to sleeping, and remaining, in her own bed.

A bittersweet feeling overcame Aaron at the thought of her newfound independence - she really was growing up. He suddenly found himself missing waking up in the middle of the night to her little feet directly in his face.

You followed the sound of his return, a slight panicked expression on your face as you entered the kitchen. "Did you find an open store?"

"Thankfully," Aaron huffed softly, unloading the bags onto the table. He immediately started unpacking - a box of vanilla cake mix, a tub of white frosting, a few frosting tubes for decorating. "They didn't have pink frosting though, so I got food dye."

You nodded hurriedly. "Candles?"

"Wait, was I supposed to get candles too?" Your face fell back into a panic before his feigned, stunned expression changed to a smirk, "Of course I remembered the candles honey."

You playfully tapped his arm, causing a chuckle to escape him. "That's mean."

"But you still love me." You hmph'ed in response, but graciously accepted the kiss he leaned in close to give you, smiling as you pulled away.

"Hey I wasn't-"

"No," You raised your eyebrows, narrowing your eyes amusedly, "no distractions. This cake isn't going to bake itself."

His shoulders dropped defeatedly as he looked at you, his expression a bit pained. "How am I going to decorate a ballerina and bunnies cake?"

Your curly headed daughter had been very insistent that her birthday cake consisted of those two things and those two things only. Ballerinas in honor of her favorite activity, and bunnies to represent her special plush she refused to relieve from her grip.

You shrugged, "A bunny in a tutu?"

"I'm certified in quite a few things, but cake decorating is not one of them."

"Just be happy the bakery was nice enough to let us know." Your usual go-to had called just an hour before, the time quickly approaching ten. The cold weather had caused a pipe to burst, and flooded the establishment as a result. Therefore, Ellie's birthday cake was not ready and you were forced to utilize your own capabilities. Aaron had left in a frenzy while you kept your raging hormones at bay - you had dissolved into tears at the news. Her fifth birthday, absolutely ruined.

He hummed in agreement, opening the cabinet and pulling out the mixing bowl. "I can't argue with that."

"Do you need my help?" You neared close, wobbling only a bit.

"No, you go lay down." He pressed his hand to your protruding belly where your newest addition grew, giving you another kiss. "I can handle this, you've been on your feet all day."

A laugh erupted from you, "So have you."

"Yeah, well, I'm not with child." He quipped back, a warm glint in his eyes that only enhanced their gentle brown color.

"Have you even baked a cake before?"

"I've made brownies. How different can it be?"

Making the cake was fairly easy. Aka, Aaron could read and follow the instructions on the back of the box. You chimed in from your designated spot at the kitchen island - if you weren't going to lay down you were going to sit, he had insisted - offering the advice such as using the electric mixer rather than whisking by hand. The cake soon ventured into the oven, and once it’d been baked it was popped in the fridge to cool. Meanwhile, Aaron got started on the frosting.

"Is this pink enough?" His eyes shot to yours, slowing his spoon and tilting the bowl slightly so you could easily see.

"Hmm, add some more white? That's more Barbie pink than coquette pink." You suggested, wrapping one of Ellie's presents - a doll she's had her eyes on for months.

Aaron gave you a bewildered look, before obliging and spooning more into the bowl, "What?"

"It's too vibrant, it has to be much lighter."

His face didn't falter, immediately retrieving the tape your elbow had bumped to the floor. "Coquette? What the hell is that?"

"You do know that there's more than one shade of pink-"

He spoke over you, "yes I do but-"

"Just listen to me." You teased, topping Ellie's present with a bow. Aaron exhaled a breath in return, causing you to laugh lightly.

"God, I can't believe she's turning five." Aaron mumbled as his lips drew into a small pout, mixing the frosting rather grumpily - as if it had personally offended him. "Where did the time go?"

"I know," your hand found his back, rubbing it soothingly. "It seems like it was only yesterday we brought her home from the hospital, she was learning how to walk, refusing to sleep anywhere but our bed."

"Don't make me cry."

"Sorry," you giggled gently, kissing his cheek. "But just think, this year she'll start kindergarten, become a big sister, soccer in the spring. Five will be huge for her."

He nodded, a deep sigh leaving his chest. "Yeah, I suppose you're right."

"Haven't you learned by now? I always am." You bantered, but after a moment, you added, "I feel bad."

His head lifted in alarm, eyes wide as they searched your face before dropping to your belly. "You do?!"

"No, no. We're fine." You reassured, your words intertwining with your soft laugh. Resting your head against his shoulder, "I should be making you a cake. It's not only Ellie's birthday tomorrow."

You'd just entered your third trimester and your energy was dwindling - every day had been different. Energetic one, sluggish the next. All your time was spent catching up to your tireless daughter, ensuring Jack made it to his extra-circulars, and managing the normal household necessities.

Aaron helped in every way he could, but his schedule did dictate when - you were on your own when he was gone, abide some help from Jessica. But you managed while pregnant with Ellie, you could do so again.

And when Aaron was home, he made certain you didn't dare lift a finger. He took charge when it came to the house and both kids, and even devotedly massaged your swollen ankles every night without fail.

You'd gotten him a gift at least, and had already sneakily texted Penelope to ask the favor of stopping before the party tomorrow to pick up some cupcakes for Aaron. You’d both agreed: Ellie's birthday was top priority. But Aaron deserved to feel special too.

"Thank you, but I don't need anything more," He pressed a kiss to your temple, gazing at you lovingly. "I have everything I need. Three healthy kids and an amazing wife. I'm set."

After you'd gone to bed, Aaron completed the last minute preparations as he waited for the cake to chill. You'd already hung up the streamers (under Aaron's very watchful eye, a hand on your back spotting you even though you were merely on your tiptoes). He blew up the balloons, scattering them along the living room floor where Ellie's presents were laid. He smiled to himself, picturing her excitement when she woke up. As a five year old.

Next came the hard part, decorating. Lathering the cake in pink frosting had been easy, but it was the bunny in the tutu that - pun intended - would be the icing on the cake. He couldn't mess that up.

Before you settled down, you selected easy, cartoon bunny images for him to reference. He picked the simplest one - the one he felt most confident he could portray - and went for it.

With a steady hand, he started with the outline. Shaping the bunny, even adding a lopsided ear to contrast the one sticking straight up. He filled it in, added whiskers, eyes and a nose, other minor details to make it appear more life-like. He did utter a shit under his breath more than once; too much frosting oozing out of the tube, accidentally drawing one whisker longer than the others, quirks that could be noticeable.

It wasn't perfect, but in the end it resembled a bunny. And the tutu, more manageable than he'd anticipated, he even added small ballet slippers. Hopefully and most importantly, it was Ellie-approved.

Come tomorrow, approved didn't nearly cover it. Ellie was in absolute delight, and insisted that Aaron would make her a bunny cake every year: 'Every year Daddy,' she had pointed a finger at him, the signature Hotchner eyebrows drawn over her eyes.

And the team, equally as shocked. Penelope's surprised, high pitched Sir! nearly caused his (bad) ear to ring, while Morgan altogether refused to believe Aaron had done it, despite your reassurances that it had been all him: "Get outta here. Hotch did that? You serious?"

Maybe Aaron could add cake decorating to his list of credentials.

[appledressing]

Store Worker: Would a “Hotch” please come to the front desk?

Hotch, arriving at the desk: Hello, is there a problem?

Store Worker, pointing to Morgan and Reid: I believe they belong to you?

Morgan and Reid, simultaneously: We got lost.

Hotch: I didn’t even bring you guys here with me—

[appledressing]

Yes.

Bob Floyd has the cutest babies who have the chubbiest cheeks, I don't make the rules

[appledressing]

Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod

TOOO CUTEEEE

“For Science”

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer has a theory. A theory that, apparently, requires kissing you to confirm.

Warnings: Pure fluff, Spencer being an adorable overthinker, lots of nervous rambling, a very sweet and scientific first kiss.

♖⸻♖⸻♖⸻♖⸻♖⸻♖⸻♖

Spencer is staring at you.

Not just looking—staring. Like he’s running a full-scale analysis of your existence, his brows furrowed, his fingers twitching at his sides.

You glance up from your book, raising an eyebrow. “Spence?”

No response. Just more staring.

“Spencer.” You wave a hand in front of his face. “Earth to genius—are you okay?”

He blinks rapidly, like he’s just now realizing you can see him. “I—yes! Yes, I’m fine. I just—I need to test out a theory.”

You shut your book, intrigued. “Okay?”

“I require your help.”

You grin. “How so?”

Spencer swallows hard, shifts his weight, fidgets like crazy. Then, finally, he looks you dead in the eye and says, “You need to kiss me.”

…

Excuse me?

“I—what?” you stammer, sure you misheard.

Spencer immediately panics. “It’s not—It’s not what it sounds like! I mean—it is what it sounds like, but it’s not—it’s scientific.”

You fold your arms, fighting back a very amused grin. “Oh, really? Enlighten me.”

He exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Okay. So, there’s a theory that kissing someone you have romantic feelings for releases a surge of dopamine, oxytocin, and serotonin in the brain, reinforcing emotional bonds and—”

“Spencer.” You interrupt, gently placing a hand on his arm. “Are you saying you think you like me?”

Spencer freezes.

His ears turn pink.

His lips part slightly.

He looks like he just blue-screened.

“I—” He clears his throat. “I have reason to believe that I may… potentially… have romantic feelings for you, but I need empirical evidence to confirm.”

Oh. Oh.

You grin. “And you think kissing me will prove it?”

He nods, nervous. “Yes.”

“Spence,” you whisper, stepping closer. “You do like me.”

“I—” He exhales sharply, eyes flickering to your lips. “I think so.”

You shake your head, smiling. “You know so.”

And then, before he can overanalyze it, you kiss him.

It starts out soft, slow—like you’re giving him time to process. But then Spencer melts into it, his hands finding your waist, his breath hitching as he kisses you back like he’s been waiting for this his whole life.

When you finally pull away, he just stands there—dazed, breathless, utterly wrecked.

“So?” you murmur, brushing a curl from his forehead. “What’s the scientific verdict?”

Spencer exhales, grinning like an idiot.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “I really, really like you.”

[appledressing]

No literally an all time fav!!! I gotta read it over again now

Faking It

Fake dating your friend, Bradley Bradshaw - what could possibly go wrong? Your sister is getting married and you need a date. You enlist Bradley's help and the rest is history.

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

Part VII

Part VIII

[appledressing]

Screams!!!

I’m obsessed either way her already

SUITS AND SASS ; aaron hotchner

you’re the bau’s new medical examiner, oozing dark humour, sass, and a killer sense of style, ready to shake up the team. but when you butt heads with aaron hotchner on day one, sparks fly while the rest of the team bets on how long it’ll take for you to win him over.

YOU STRUT into the BAU like you own the damn place, and honestly? You should. The overhead fluorescents do their best to wash out your glow, but even the most soul-sucking government lighting can’t dim this.

The emerald green suit hugs you in all the right places, a sharp contrast against the deep red silk blouse that’s unbuttoned just enough to toe the line between ‘professional’ and ‘distracting.’ Your heels which are Louboutin, naturally - click against the floor with every confident step, the sound sharp, decisive, commanding attention even from the most sleep-deprived agents around you. And your jewellery? Impeccable.

Large emerald studs in your ears, a matching ring resting on your manicured fingers. Each piece a carefully curated display of wealth, taste, and an undeniable presence. You don’t just walk into a room; you arrive, and anyone with half a brain can feel it.

Today is your first day as the BAU’s new medical examiner, and if you’re being honest? You’re already unimpressed. Not with the job itself because you live for the thrill of carving open a fresh corpse before most people have had their morning coffee, but the aesthetic of this place is tragic.

Beige walls, government-issue desks, the faint, ever-present smell of burnt coffee and bad decisions hanging in the air. It’s the kind of environment that breeds stress wrinkles and caffeine addictions, and you’ve already decided that you will not be another victim.

No, you’re here for something new. Something interesting. The only reason you transferred was because your last job had become boring, and you refuse to let your skills stagnate among mundane cases and lackluster conversation.

The BAU, at least, promises a bit of excitement—new cases, new killers, new mysteries to unravel. And, if nothing else, the chance to shake up an office full of straight-laced federal agents with your dark humour and sharp tongue.

The bullpen is exactly what you expected. Agents in various states of exhaustion, stacks of paperwork threatening to topple, and the subtle hum of tense conversation punctuated by the occasional ringing phone. It’s an atmosphere of constant movement, of minds working overtime, and while you appreciate the energy, you can’t help but sigh dramatically as you glance around.

“This place is hideous,” you mutter to yourself, brushing a speck of imaginary dust off your sleeve. “Jesus, does the FBI have something against interior design?”

And then you see her ... Penelope Garcia, dressed in an explosion of colour, exuding the kind of confidence that comes from knowing exactly who she is and not giving a damn what anyone thinks about it. Finally, someone with taste.

The second her eyes land on you, she lets out a dramatic gasp, one hand clutching at her necklace like she’s just seen the Virgin Mary herself descend into the bullpen. “Oh my God,” she breathes. “Who are you?”

You smirk, tilting your head just slightly. “The new medical examiner. And, from the looks of things, the only other person in this building with a sense of style.”

Her eyes sparkle like she’s just found a long-lost soulmate. “Oh, honey, we are going to be best friends.”

“Obviously,” you reply smoothly. “Someone needs to help me cope with the tragedy that is this office décor. Do you think the Bureau would let me expense a new couch? Maybe some curtains? Anything to make this place feel less like a funeral home for the aesthetically challenged.”

“Oh, sweetie, they barely let me expense my glitter pens. You’re asking for a miracle.”

Before you can reply, a voice cuts through the air. Sharp, authoritative, and entirely unimpressed. “You’re late.”

You turn slowly, already knowing that this is going to be fun.

Aaron Hotchner stands before you, arms crossed, his expression unreadable but his eyes intense, scanning you like he’s already profiling your entire existence. And damn if he isn’t gorgeous. You hadn’t expected that. The way his suit fits just right, the sharp angles of his face, the sheer command he exudes—it’s almost enough to distract you from the fact that he’s clearly about to be a pain in your ass.

Almost.

You blink at him, deliberately slow, before glancing at the large digital clock on the wall. “It’s 8:59.”

His jaw tightens just slightly. “We start at eight.”

You sigh, placing a perfectly manicured hand over your heart as if this news has wounded you. “Oh, tragic. If only someone had told me that I was expected to conform to the outdated concept of ‘morning people.’” You let out a dramatic sigh. “Next thing you’ll tell me is that I’m expected to function without proper espresso. What kind of barbarism is this?”

There’s a pause, the kind that suggests Hotch is not used to being spoken to like this. Behind him, you catch the subtle exchange of money. Morgan handing Reid a few bills, Emily shaking her head with an amused smirk. Oh, they were betting on this. Good. At least someone in this building understands entertainment.

Hotch, to his credit, doesn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he exhales, slow and controlled, the only sign that you’re even remotely testing his patience. “Garcia, show her around the building.”

“Oh, I absolutely will,” she says, looping her arm through yours like this is the best thing to happen to her all day.

As you walk away, you can feel his eyes on you—calculating, assessing, already irritated. You turn your head just slightly, meeting his gaze with a slow smirk.

“He’ll recover,” you murmur to Garcia, low enough that only she hears.

She giggles, glancing back at him before whispering, “Oh, I hope not.”

Hotch watches you go, pressing his lips together as he forces himself to look away. You’re impossible. He already knows you’re going to be a problem, and the worst part? He can’t decide if that frustrates him… or intrigues him.

[appledressing]

Ohmygod!?!? Is he about to devolve into absolutely unhinged territory??? Criminal defence lawyer about to go down his own arc of criminality

🤣🤣

Anyway I love this first glimpses of the readers personality she’s so cute. We’ll see what her reasons are soon 🙃

All I Want Is You

(Terry richmond x Black Plus size reader, Lawyer/Law firm AU)

Summary - Terry’s had his eyes on you for a while, like predator to prey, watching, waiting to strike. The only problem was that you were slippery, hard to get a hold of, he was gonna have to work extra hard to catch you.

Warning: Mentions of murder, obsessive behavior, i think that’s it?

A/N - Be easy on ya girl this my first fic 😭 also this is a series lets gooo 🥳

He watched you intently as you shrank, minimizing yourself to occupy as little space as possible, your head down, nose deep in your paper work.

It was something you did often, stayed out of other’s way, kept your head down, avoided confrontation in order not to step on people’s toes, refrained from boasting about your success, opting to diminish your own achievements instead in order to not make others feel bad.

But you had every right to brag, you were the best lawyer in that entire fucking firm, you should be walking with your head held high, not cowering behind your cubicle, letting these people think they were above you when they were far beneath.

Terry couldn’t stand how others treated you, their condescending tones when they addressed you, nasty comments about you and your appearance disguised as jokes or poking fun.

If he had it his way all of these motherfuckers would be fired and probably six feet under.

But he couldn’t do that just yet, not until he made his way to the top as head, then you’d live a cushy life, start being respected, treated like you deserved.

That is if you’d let him.

Three years.

Three years he’s worked alongside you at the firm, three years he’s been trying to get you to go out with him, trying to convince you to be his.

At first he thought you were oblivious to his advances, your cluelessness leaving his head spinning but he quickly realized that you were just playing dumb. You knew very well that he was flirting, you just weren’t interested.

That kept him up for a few nights, trying to wrap his head around why you didn’t want him, why his feelings weren’t reciprocated.

He confronted you about it one day, cornering you in the break room.

“Morning” He greeted, large frame blocking the doorway.

“Oh goodmorning Mr. Richmond.” You shot him a small smile before turning back to the coffee pot, pouring yourself a cup full.

You added your fixings, a little sugar, a little cream, stirring it up with a spoon and bringing it to your mouth to taste.

Perfect.

You grabbed the cup beginning to make your exit but stopped in your tracks, surprised to see Terry still standing there with no sign of moving.

“Terry is everything alright?” You questioned, concern lacing your features.

He smiled a little at your use of his first name.

The first time you used it was about a year and a half ago when you worked on your very first joint case together.

It was a late night, the office was pretty much empty aside from the two of you still hard at work.

That particular case was a rough one, your client had mounds of evidence stacked against him but despite that he still stressed that he was innocent.

Terry didn’t know why but for some reason he believed the man, he just had a gut feeling and so did you.

Everyone else had no interest in defending a man who was obviously guilty so the case was left to the two of you.

That night you were hours in trying to find something, anything to point towards the man’s innocence, but attempt after attempt had failed, the two of you had gone over the case dozens of times but nothing stuck out and the frustration was starting to overflow for Terry.

“Maybe he’s not innocent, not like we thought he was. I mean this is pretty hard evidence, he was seen running out of the building shortly after gunshots went off inside, the gun is registered in his name, had his fingerprints all over it right next to the body at the scene, not only that but he was seen having a heated discussion with the victim outside of a bar just down the street 5 hours earlier there’s no way all of this is a coincidence, we’re in way over our heads.” He sighed running his hands down his face.

“I didn’t know you were one to give up so easily, you sure don’t seem like it.” You spoke.

“What?” He glanced up at you, tired eyes locking with yours.

You’re just as tired as him, your blazer falling lazily off your shoulders, glasses sliding down your nose, hair a little frizzy but despite all that you still had that look in your eyes, determination. You intended to see it through to the end.

“Look, we both had the same feeling about this, something isn’t right, our guts told us that and i don’t know about you but when my gut tells me something i listen, no matter how many doubts my mind may have.” You started.

He clenched his jaw, slightly agitated by your stubbornness but he kept his mouth shut as you continued.

“Maybe we missed something, maybe we just need to go home, get some rest and look at this again tomorrow with fresh eyes” You huffed.

“Y/n there’s nothing more to see, everything points to this guy being a killer, maybe just maybe our guts were wrong, it happens sometimes.” He sat up in his chair.

“Maybe he is but if there is even a slim chance that he isn’t and we didn’t do our best, our job, our duty to take a closer look at the details of this case to ensure that we have the right guy then we’ve failed not only him but his family, his daughters, his wife. I don’t know about you Terry but i don’t wanna be responsible for convicting an innocent man, for snatching a father away from his children, a husband away from his wife, it’d keep me up at night.” You sighed heavily, eyes pleading.

His gaze found yours again, your dark brown eyes begging, your small puffy lips tugged downward into a frown, the way his name rolled off of your tongue.

“Terry.”

He knew then and there he’d move mountains to keep you satisfied, to make you happy.

“Okay, we’ll try again tomorrow.” He nodded.

He chuckled as your face broke out into a grin.

“See you tomorrow Mr. Richmond.” You waved at him before exiting.

“Tomorrow.” He bit his lip.

“Why won’t you go out with me?” He glanced down at you.

“What? What are you talking about?” You raised a brow.

“Please Y/n enough with the games. Are you not attracted to me? Am i not your type? What is it?” He took a step forward.

“Terry…” You trailed off, eyes casting downward.

“It’s not that you’re unattractive, it’s nothing like that i’m just not… i’m not looking for anything serious right now, anything at all actually.” You whispered.

He deflated slightly, arms falling at his sides.

“I see, may i ask why?” His eyes searched yours.

“It’s too much to explain.” You bit your lip nervously.

He stepped back allowing you to pass.

You looked at him one last time, pity written all over your face.

He just smiled a tight lip smile at you and you wandered off, back toward your desk.

He clenched his jaw, eyes following you, burning holes into your back as you walked.

You said you didn’t peg him as the type to give up so easily and you were right, so you had to have known that this wasn’t over.

Right?

[appledressing]

May have read this before but they’re perfects I love them 😍

falling flat | s.r.

in which you call Spencer for help with a flat tire, and he comes to help with your car troubles - and then some

margovember

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: allusions to the reaper, car trouble, blood, tetanus vaccine, kindergarten teacher!reader, flirting, protective!spencer, takes place following 5x22 "the internet is forever", hastily edited word count: 1.87k a/n: rahhhh an old prompt from may 2024 that ended up working for a margovember request rahhh.

The absolute last place you wanted to be was on the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere Virginia, with a flat tire. You weren’t entirely helpless until your tire jack broke, sending metal flying everywhere and cutting your hand open.

You slumped down next to your car, pulling your phone from your pocket before calling the first people you could think of. Every single one of them ended up going to voicemail. Some of them didn’t even let it get past the first ring before declining your call—traitors.

With your thumb hovering over the call button, you thought of Spencer. He had a PhD in engineering, but you weren’t entirely sure that would come in handy in this instance. It was late, almost midnight, and you weren’t even sure he’d answer.

At this point, what choice did you have?

As the phone rang, part of you hoped he wouldn’t answer. When he asked you about it the next time you saw him, you’d wave it off as a butt dial and he’d be none the wiser.

“Hello,” he said through the phone, leaving your plans quashed.

This was awkward, you had been on four dates with the guy over the span of two months, and now you were calling him in the middle of the night. “This isn’t a booty call,” You blurted, cringing inwardly and banging your head back on the passenger door of your car.

Spencer laughed lightly, “I didn’t think it was, what’s going on?”

“I didn’t wake you up, did I?” You asked, his job had a lot of long hours, and you didn’t want to bother him if he was catching up on sleep. If he was even home, “Wait, where are you?”

There was a rustling on his end of the call, “No, I wasn’t asleep, I’m at work. We just got off of a case.”

You let out a sigh of relief, at least you weren’t being a total nuisance. “Sorry, I don’t mean to bother you. I just… my tire blew out on the highway and my jack broke and no one else is answering their phone,” you told him, verging on rambling.

“You’re kind of cutting out, where are you?” He asked, he sounded concerned, and if there was a moment where you weren’t sure you still had feelings for him, it was fleeting.

Looking to either side of you for a mile marker, you stood up, looking at the ground so you didn’t step on any metal, “I don’t really know. There aren’t any signs, I’m somewhere on 28, I think?”

Spencer cleared his throat, “Do you have your location on your phone?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think I have enough service to check it,” you said, all you could see were trees.

You could hear him talking to someone, holding the receiver away from his mouth, “That’s fine, I’ll have someone look, just stay on the phone.”

It would seem that dating someone in the FBI does have its perks, “Oh, cool.” You overheard Spencer explaining your situation to someone, hearing the other person in the room say something about Reid’s girlfriend and you couldn’t help but smile. The two of you were very unofficially official.

“Hey, I’ll be there in half an hour,” An elevator dinged in the background. “Is that alright?”

You hummed, leaning your hip against the front of your car. “I mean, I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

Another ding of the elevator, “Will you do me a favor?”

In exchange for this? You’d do just about anything within the realm of legality, “Name it.”

“Get in your car and lock the doors,” he responded. “Turn your hazards on because right now you’re a sitting duck. If someone doesn’t see your car, they could hit you.”

As a favor, he was asking you to make sure you’re safe, “Okay, I’m getting in now, should I leave the car running?”

You heard the sound of a car lock disengaging through the phone, “As long as the cooling system on your car is in good shape, it shouldn’t be a problem to leave it running while you wait. Just remember what I told you about the hazards.”

Nodding despite the fact that he can’t see you, you got in the car, turning the key in the ignition before pushing the button for your hazard lights, “Okay, I’m in the car.”

“I can’t drive and be on the phone at the same time, but I’ll be there soon. Don’t unlock the doors for anyone except for me,” he told you, and you thanked him for his help before hanging up and settling yourself in your driver’s seat.

You pulled the hoodie you kept stashed in your car over your head, your school mascot—a panther—proudly displayed in the front, and made sure your car doors were locked. If you said you weren’t a little unnerved, you’d be lying to yourself.

Spencer had a worrisome job; it was something you were aware of before he ever asked you on that first date. It became alarmingly obvious to you when he revealed that he’d been shot a few months prior, which was an appropriate second-date conversation with an FBI agent. It made sense to you that he’d be concerned about you, in your idle car, on the side of the road, but you wondered if there was a case that he was thinking of. Someone with a flat tire who had met an untimely demise.

Shuddering, you turned up the heat in your car, flipping through radio stations until someone knocked on your window. You jumped at the noise, hitting your head against the roof of the car before looking outside to see Spencer. Sighing in relief, you unlocked your car door, and he opened it for you, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Is your head alright?”

You peered up at him, casually leaning over your car door. “You cut your hair,” you observed. You’d seen him just last week, where his hair still touched his shoulders, and now it was considerably shorter.

Self-consciously, he reached up a hand and thumbed one of the tendrils, “Yeah, it just got too long—and heavy.”

Resisting the urge to ruffle his hair, your head bobbed, “I like it. Did you do it yourself?”

“You can tell?” He asked, following you around the back of your car to your busted tire. Spencer sets his tire jack down before looking back at you, putting his hands on his hips.

Grinning at him, you shrugged, “I teach kindergarten, I’m basically a professional at noticing DIY haircuts.”

On a towel that you had previously set out, the two of you sat along the side of your car, and you tried to ignore the fact that Spencer still had his weapon holstered. It made sense, he’d come straight from work, but you wondered if there was a reason he didn’t leave it in his car. “Where’s your lug wrench?”

“I can change it myself,” you insisted, “I just needed a different car jack.” You gestured to the pieces of yours that were now all over the side of the road.

Alarm flashed on Spencer’s face, “Nothing fell on you, right?”

You shook your head, “No, just a cut from the metal.”

Holding out your hand, you let Spencer take a look at the cut on your palm. “When was your last tetanus shot?”

Blinking rapidly, you frowned at him, “Uh, when I was in college?”

“That might need stitches,” he responded, letting you take your hand back. “I’ll change your tire, I don’t want you using that hand for anything,” he informed you, pushing the hydraulic jack beneath your car.

Butterflies swarmed in your stomach as you watched him take your old tire off, muttering under his breath about how your old jack was practically an artifact, seeing how it literally fell apart under pressure. “How was your case?” You asked softly, fully aware that you were likely opening a can of worms by asking about work.

Spencer’s movements faltered slightly at your question, “It’s closed. We were in Boise,” he answered tactfully, leaving out any case details and cluing you into the fact that he didn’t want to talk about it. “What are you doing out here?”

You sighed, leaning back on your hands and watching him work, “I had a meeting with the other schools in our conference. It’s annual, and this year they happened to pick the school furthest away from mine.”

“Well, I suppose it worked out well that your tire blew out so close to me, then,” Spencer said, swapping out the busted tire for the donut and looking over at you. There was something nervous in his eyes, and you didn’t know if it was related to work or you.

Humming, you tried to watch the tire rather than just watching him, “Is there something bothering you?”

He was tightening the lug nuts on the spare tire, “Are you driving home after this?”

You furrowed your brows, “Yeah, where else could I be going?”

“It’s almost a two-hour drive to your place from here,” he reminded you, his tone laced with concern. “You won’t get home until almost one in the morning,” the displeasure in his voice was plain, but you don’t have anywhere else to go. “Plus, you really shouldn’t travel that far on a spare tire, they’re not made to travel far distances.”

Crossing your arms in front of your stomach, you let your shoulders slump forward, “So, what do you suggest I do? Get a hotel?”

Spencer mumbled something inaudibly, trying to finish tightening the bolts on the tire before sighing, “You can stay with me,” he blushes, a swipe of pink across his cheeks.

Your lips parted in surprise, “Uh, I don’t… I’m not…” you faltered. Utterly failing to come up with a good enough reason to tell him no, “I don’t want you to feel inclined. This isn’t what I was looking for when I called you for help.”

He let the car down, staying quiet while the two of you cleaned up, and Spencer swatted your hand away when you tried to pick things up. “So, you can come back to my place tonight. My work-issued first-aid kit has your name all over it,” he told you, eyes flickering down to the cut on your hand.

“Okay,” you breathed, unable to conjure a reason to refuse his hospitality.

He was grinning at you, hair just barely brushing his eyebrows, “So tomorrow, maybe we can get coffee and drop your car off to get a new tire?”

You smiled back at him, “That sounds great, date number five.”

“You know where you’re going, right?”

“Yeah,” you’d been to his place once to pick him up, “Hey, Spence?”

He turned around, fishing his car keys from his pocket. He looked ready to respond to you, but you pressed your lips to his before he had a chance to speak.

You kissed him softly, whispering against his mouth, “Thank you for coming.”

He chuckled lightly, gently resting a hand on your waist, “Thank you for calling.” 

[appledressing]

Love the mental introspection youre havingahoit hitch and his relationships this is fun for me. The Jessica one too!? Perfection. 🤣🤣

Okay I get some people use it for plot reasons in their fics and that’s fine but I really don’t get the Haley hate. Don’t get me wrong I am a Hotch girl for life, he is so pretty and kind and solid. But I get where Haley is coming from.

She misses having her husband around. They were together from high school and he was a prosecutor. Lawyers have long hours too. So she knows how to deal with that. We see them happy together in season one. Either it wasn’t a problem or it wasn’t so bad. But a kid takes a lot out of you. Hotch is a great dad, he loves Jack with everything he is. And he loves Haley. They were great. But they’ve been together since highschool. Used to having regular schedules or at least consistent ones. Maybe at first when he was promoted to unit chief it wasn’t so bad. She had a job too and was an independent person. But over time it can wear on you.

I totally get him not wanting to leave the BAU and I support that. But when he started getting Morgan ready to take over his job it was revealed he’s been doing all their extra paperwork. That takes time. Add an hour to his day and it might not sound like that much but Hotch is doing it to let the others go home. In doing so he has to either stay later or still do work when he gets home. The team is also family for him, which puts them as a group in the same level with Haley. Jack will always come first but the team seems to be of equal consideration. That’s not a bad thing about Hotch, it’s wonderful. Blake and her husband put the job above them in the priority list. But that was a decision they made together. Haley not being able to deal with not being on that number one spot (aside from Jack) is not a character flaw. It’s just a realistic depiction of how sometimes when people grow and change, they don’t stay as good for each other. She needed to know she would be at the top of his list and she wasn’t, she was right under or tied with his family and with saving people.

I think overall it was a pretty civil divorce, with a lot of love between them. I think she still lived him, she just couldn’t be with him without being a top priority, as she probably had been in the past all the way since high school.

[appledressing]

Representation of Spencer and his girl seeing each other. Please they’re perfect !!!

cat's out the bag

spencer reid x fem!reader | masterlist

summary ༄ spencer reid x secret relationship!reader — in which members of the bau go out for dinner and see spencer with... a girl?

early seasons spencer, twilight & ariana grande references for some reason (i don't even listen to her), reader sits on spencer's lap, disgustingly cute but mostly disgusting

word count ༄ 2k

nora’s notes ༄ my first spencer reid fic + a new writing style. this may be a complete disaster 💖

Spencer’s in the middle of finishing up a reread of a Sherlock Holmes installment and packing up from work when the clomping of two pairs of shoes ruins his peace. 

“Morning, genius,” one of the voices says, bubbling with sweetness in just a way he knows exactly who it is without having to look at the two shadows that enter his vision, blocking the light. 

“It’s almost evening. In fact, it’s been six hours, thirty-four minutes, and eighteen seconds since morning,” he mutters, flicking the page over. “Now, move. I can’t see.” 

“No, you’ve been in a funk all week and we’re going to get you out of it,” Garcia sing-songs, taking his book hostage. She looks the opposite of how he has the past week–put together, with a perfect outfit, as always. “I don’t care why you’ve been a grump, only that you come out with us tonight, yeah? You don’t have to drink, just hang out.” 

He looks up, reluctance prodding his expression. Garcia and Derek are side-to-side, arms crossed, looking down at him. Yeah, nope. “I’m busy tonight.” 

“With?” Derek raises an eyebrow. “You got a date, pretty boy?” 

“I’m meeting with a friend who’s been out-of-town.” He responds, reaching out for his book. “Okay, Dad?” 

“Seriously, Reid?” JJ chimes in from behind the other two. “Come out with us.” 

“I’m busy. I would say I was sorry, but I’m not. 1 in 8 people apologize at least twenty times a day. 43% of people regularly apologize during a situation in which they are not at fault–” Spencer begins as he turns away from them to collect his things. 

“Yeah, that’s enough. Getting Hotch to come was hard enough, I’ll call it quits while I still can. See you tomorrow, Reid.” JJ turns on her heel and walks back towards her own desk.

“I’ll see you two tomorrow too.” He nods and passes them on his way out. “Bye.” 

Garcia looks at Derek, her eyebrows cocked. “Well, then.” 

“Guess it’ll just be you and me, baby girl,” he teases, heading to walk back to his desk. 

“Just the way I like it.” Her heels nip the back of his shoes as she chases after him. “Even though JJ and Hotch will be there too.” 

“They can watch.” 

— 

“When’s Hotch getting here?” JJ drums her fingers on the side of her glass, tilting her head up. The restaurant they’re in is loud and crowded, the three of them squished into a booth clearly meant for two, all having glasses of what the waitress described as “fun, flirty drinks” cradled in their hands. Garcia’s stirring some kind of electric pink concoction with an equally pink umbrella when a throat clears. 

“I’m here,” their boss says, sliding into the booth next to them. His eyebrows furrow–well, maybe that’s just his resting face, they can’t really tell–as he glances at the drink in Derek’s hands. “What exactly is it that you’re drinking?” 

He shrugs, taking a sip. “I think it’s called the Orange Surprise. Not that there’s anything surprising about it–or this place, at all, really. I mean, look around. And this just tastes like–” 

“Wait,” Garcia interrupts, eyes on something behind him. She whips off her glasses, rubbing them furiously on her shirt before her jaw drops and she begins to stand in her seat. “Is it just me or is that Reid over there with a girl? A gorgeous girl at that?” 

As soon as she finishes her sentence, three more heads whip around to her line of vision, shock pulling at their faces. Even Hotch looks mildly surprised. 

From their vantage point in the restaurant, they can see Spencer’s side profile as he stares at a girl across the table from him–you, looking magnificent, even in the dingy, uneven bar lighting. Your elbows are on the table, face cradled by your hands as you stare up at him. The love shining out of your face--lips parted with intrigue as you listen, eyes soft, cheeks relaxed--is sickeningly lovely. And even at first glance, a table full of profilers can tell just how much you care about him–enough to reach across the table and smooth down an untidy lapel, enough to listen raptly as the words begin spilling out of him in a ramble, to smile at him with a kind of learned tenderness you only get from knowing someone with incredible intimacy and just time. 

“Oh. My. God.” She tries to scooch past Derek, who catches her by the hips. 

“Wait, baby girl. I wanna see how this plays out before we interrupt. What if that’s a cousin? I don't know, a friend?” He says, stalling her. She reluctantly sits back in her seat, neck craned. 

“They’re touching,” JJ reports, a gasp falling from her lips. “Reid hates touch.” 

“We can see, JJ,” Derek quips, though his jaw is just as dropped. 

As soon as the boy started rambling, everyone at the table expected you to get up and walk away, or look as bored as they felt listening to him. But you stayed. Your eyes are on his, nodding every so often. They watch as one of your hands wanders to Spencer’s arm, rubbing a circle on the fabric of his button-down. He looks so relaxed in your presence, unlike they’ve ever seen him before. What the hell is happening?

“Please let me go over,” Penelope begs. “I need to know. I need to meet her!” 

“I second it,” JJ echoes. “They’re worse than the two of you, and I didn’t think that was possible with Genius over there.” 

“No, we still don’t know if they’re long-term or first date or what. What if we barge in and they’re just friends?” Derek almost sounds convincing. Almost.

“That is not friendly behavior,” Hotch chimes in. Their attention lasers in on the table in front of them, shock freezing their limbs. You’re pouting, saying something to Spencer–he’s melting in your hands, nodding so much it looks like his head could just screw off any moment now, and you stand. Are you going to leave? Break up? What’s happening? 

You wander to his side of the table, and, in the most disgusting display of PDA ever, you lower yourself onto his lap, hands knitting themselves together behind his neck. And Spencer is sickeningly okay with it, hands traveling to your hips, massaging your pelvic bones as you say something to him. A blush pinches his cheeks–no, it’s like a virus, spreading all over his face as he buries himself into your neck. 

Garcia thinks she heard Derek gag. A giggle escapes you, loud enough to hear from their booth. From across the restaurant.  

“Okay, we’re going over,” he announces, standing from the table. “Even just to break this up. I’m nauseous.” 

“Copy that,” JJ contorts her face, following the group towards them. 

Garcia’s practically skipping ahead, expression both accusatory and giddy as she reaches your table. Her hands slam onto the wood, eyes wide as Spencer rears back, immediately on alert. “Alright, Reid, explain yourself now.” 

“Less dramatic, princess,” Derek whispers to her, nudging her shoulder. 

You cock your head at the quartet. They can all tell you’re mentally scanning them, just as much as they’re doing to you. It takes you a couple moments–and Spencer’s groan as he returns to his previous position nestled on your shoulder–before it clicks who they are. 

You jump up, abandoning Spencer with an embellished gasp. “You must be the BAU!” 

“Minus a few members, yes.” Hotch nods at you, looking the exact picture of what your boyfriend had described. Anyone who didn’t know him wouldn’t be able to peer past the perfectly neutral, bordering on pleasant mask he’s pasted on his face. But that twitch of his lips gives it all away: he knew nothing about you, and mentally his jaw is on the floor. “Pleasure to meet you.” 

“You too…Aaron Hotchner?” You guess, biting your lip. You’re so purely adorable that half of the team is already in love with you. 

He nods, and you smile at all of them. The happiness you’re wearing is so genuine that JJ whispers to Derek, “I think I just got blinded.”

“And you’re Penelope Garcia?” You turn towards her, eyebrows raised. She reaches her hand to shake yours, but you bypass it entirely and go in to wrap your arms firmly around her. She hugs you back, eyes blown up at shock.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe you’ve been keeping her from me this whole time!” She accuses Spencer as you pull back, greeting the other members as well. You hear the surprise in JJ’s laugh as you do the same for her, hug firm and leaking with kindness. 

“I haven’t,” he responds matter-of-factly. He’s resisting the urge to pull you back into him, annoyed at all of his colleagues for stealing your time together. Instead, he shifts to the edge of the seat, legs opening wide in a manspread that would be absolutely disgusting on anyone else. But it fits him. Alarmingly well. “I talk about Y/N all the time.” 

“Y/N’s your girlfriend?” Garcia’s tone borders on a shriek, but in a restaurant as loud as this one, no one notices. “I thought she was your cousin!” 

“Ew, what?” you crinkle your nose just as Spencer echoes your words–“That’s disgusting. But scarily more common than you’d think.” 

“I-I mean, you do talk about her a lot. You’ve just never mentioned her in relation to you before.” She sputters out. Everyone can see the cogs turning in her brain, trying to piece the puzzle together. “I love you already.” 

“He said he wouldn’t talk about us at work,” you agree, letting his arm pull you between his legs, one hand falling to your thigh. “Do you guys want to sit down? Now that the cat’s out of the bag, we should catch up.” 

“Um, yes, absolutely!” Garcia throws her hands into the air, scooching the two of you over so she can fit into the booth. “Now, tell me absolutely everything.” 

You shrug, snug on your boyfriend’s lap while also leaning in to look at her. Both of you sparkle in a way he absolutely adores. “I saw him, I liked him, I wanted him, and I got him.” 

“In the wise words of Ariana Grande,” she nods, words wise and expression stoic.

“Are you an Arianator?” You gasp, hand collapsing onto her hand in excitement. She takes that cue to launch into something Spencer does not at all understand. The other members of the BAU shuffle into the other side of the booth, Derek closest to Spencer and JJ at the end. He almost lets out a laugh seeing Hotch sitting so uncomfortably between them, shoulders drawn up tight as to conserve room, face equally as scrunched.

He opens his mouth to comment, but your fingers interrupt, drumming on his shoulder in excitement. You recap your conversation in a voice no one else can quite hear but him. He nods as you ramble, the opposite of what you were doing for him a few minutes ago. In some ways, you're just like him, but you're also complete opposites in so many others. While he usually hates physical touch, you lean into it, fingers tracing patterns onto his broad back while the sun peeks out of the sky, showering him in a glow that makes him downright angelic. Your other hand creeps to his as you watch him brush his teeth–you love seeing his toothbrush next to yours, there’s something so incredibly romantic about it that you can't describe, something that intertwines the two of you. He’s yours, you’re his. 

He presses his lips to your hair, then behind your hair, inhaling you. You’re perfect for him. So, so perfect. 

“Wow, pretty boy.” Derek shakes his head. “Just when I thought I’d seen everything. I didn’t think you’d be so into PDA.” 

“She was away for a whole week. What do you expect me to do?” He huffs, arm wrapping around your waist. Yes, he still hates handshakes, but for you–well, he is absolutely pathetic. And after having you leave for work? Not seeing you for seven whole days? He would get down on his knees and beg you to hold his hand. To pay him an ounce of attention. God, he is unconditionally and irrevocably in love with you. 

“Greet her like a normal person. Or stay in your apartment,” Morgan advises, only half-joking. 

But Spencer’s no longer paying a shred of attention to anything his co-worker is saying. He’s too absorbed in you, laugh unabashed and tinkling as you discuss something animatedly with JJ and Garcia. You fit so well in his little family, he thinks. You might as well just stay with him forever. 

masterlist

tags @lydiasfalling @cowboylikemac - didn't tag anyone from my other list because it's a diff fandom!

[appledressing]

That’s sweet truly silent devotion or whatever yeah

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐝?

Summary: Dereck notices small gestures of affection from Hotch.

Aaron Hotchner × fem!reader

mention of s/n only once

You look at Morgan with an incredulous expression.

"You're exaggerating," you say as you shake your head.

Morgan smiles and clicks his tongue, pointing his index finger at you, "I'm not, and I think deep down you know that's true."

Morgan spent the whole morning teasing you, it all started when you got together to discuss a new case and Hotch sat next to you.

Which, by the way, was normal.

But Derek smiled at you in a way that made one of your eyebrows arch, you were confused, why the hell is he smiling like that when he has those files in front of him?

You decided not to think about it and focus on the case.

"We leave in 30 minutes," Hotch says as he stands up and puts the files in his bag, he turns to you and speaks in a lower voice, "This city is pretty cold, you should bring sweaters and some kind of nasal decongestant."

You blink in surprise at his suggestion "Um, sure… Thanks for letting me know", your nose was always stuffy and your hands were always cold, but how did he know that?

You watch as he gives a slight nod and walks away, as you turn to gather your things you can see the same annoying smile on Morgan.

"You know honey, I'm noticing a funny pattern here"

"Oh shut up" You say in a playful tone.

★━━━━━━━✩━━━━━━━━★

You listened to Hotch, but damn, you didn't think you were going to do pole dancing on Santa's lap, your nose is red, your hands are two degrees away from amputation and you can feel the gears in your brain stopping working.

Hotch is the first to notice your state, he watches you but doesn't say anything.

As soon as you step inside the local police station a sigh of relief leaves your lips, you were still cold but just the fact that the biting wind wasn't in your face was already a victory.

The team settles into a room, after getting rid of the layers of your sweater you sit next to Spencer to look for patterns in the victims.

He starts to ramble on about the meanings of each tulip color and how it possibly has something to do with the way the victims were discarded when a cup is discreetly placed in front of you, you look at the cup confused, raising your gaze only to see Hotch walk away without saying a single word.

You hear Morgan laugh, he lightly taps Emily's shoulder and whispers something in her ear, her eyes fall on the cup and then to you and then to Hotch, her mouth opens in a perfect O as she nods.

Whatever these two are up to, you choose to have peace.

You take a small sip of your coffee, sighing in relief that you're finally starting to warm up.

★━━━━━━━━✩━━━━━━━━★

Spencer's theory was right, in the end the tulips were even linked to the victims' choices.

The team is on the jet heading home when Spencer decides to play cards and forces you to participate.

You were next to Spencer and facing Hotch while Emily was next to you.

"Oh, I can't believe you did that," you protest indignantly

"What can I say? I'm just good, are you going to double the bet?" Hotch asks slightly amused

You smile defiantly at him "I'll double, I'd rather do that than let a man from Washington make my grandfather turn in his grave"

Hotch opened his mouth in complete shock before starting to laugh

Spencer exchanged a look with Emily before they looked at you, you shrugged going back to the game.

★━━━━━━━✩━━━━━━━━★

Now back to the beginning of the conversation.

"I don't know what you're talking about"

"Come on, admit it, if you asked him to move a mountain he'd put on your boots" Derek says with a smug smile.

"Derek, you're being ridiculous." You try to argue.

"I'll go further, if you asked him to stop a river from flowing, he'd build one- no, two dams." Spencer says as he leans against your desk.

"Even you, prettyboy?" You're starting to think everyone is hallucinating.

Spencer shrugs with a small smile.

"But they're right, honey, if you asked him to change his religion, he'd probably spend Sundays with you." Emily says as she approaches you, resting her hand on your shoulder.

Derek gave you the brightest smile you'd ever seen.

"Tell us, Y/N, how does it feel to be adored?"

★━━━━━━━━✩━━━━━━━━━★★━━━━━━━━━✩━━━━━━━━━★★━━━━━━━━━✩━━━━━━━━━★

I don't know/remember where Aaron was born but I know he graduated from Washington

sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language :)

[appledressing]

Oh it’s a misunderstanding fic. I love that and this got it!!

Blind Date

Summary: Rossi sets you up on a blind date with one of his coworkers

Warnings: Unclear how reader knows Rossi Its not about him this time. The case is not important, some swearing, mentions of Hailey and Jack

Tag List {Comment to be added} : @tgskitten

"Hey, so I have this friend..." Rossi trailed off, and Hotch felt his jaw tighten.

"No..." Hotch firmly said, looking down at the shorter man.

"Hey, hear me out!" Rossi chuckled, following Hotch into his office. “She's cute, and she's been through a rough breakup. What's not to love?"

"Is she okay with a single widow who is never home?" Hotch said, his voice betraying the pain he tried to hide, shifting through papers like his dead wife was just something that added character. It's not that it didn't hurt... because fuck- it did. There were nights when he mistook Jack for a home invader, grateful his son never saw the gun in his hand when he'd turn the corner. "You didn't tell her," Hotch said, his eyes shifting to his friend. 

"That's not my business," Rossi said, leaning back in the seat. "How about- go on the date and see if you like her..."

"I dont want to see if I like her-"

"Hotch," Rossi spoke in a stern voice. "At least give it a shot." 

Hotch let out a heavy sigh, shoulders slacking with the exhale of breath. "Fine"

_____________

Aaron had arrived at the bar... late. He remembered Hailey would chastise him for it all the time.

But it came with the job... he told himself.

He had thought you would've left by now, frustrated and upset at the fact that your blind date ghosted you, but there you were. Sitting alone at the bar, dressed in jeans and nursing some fruity drink. Little did he know, this was the beginning of an unexpected connection.

"Sorry, I'm late," Aaron said softly, pulling out the stool and sitting down while unbuttoning his suit jacket. "(Y/N) right? Rossi told me... well, nothing about you."

He anticipated you using his profession like a party trick, like most women your age did, but you just smiled sweetly.

"Likewise, I'm just as blind as you are." You said, giggling a bit at his nervousness.

"How's the Smirnoff?"

"Great, I had a few; I hope you don't mind."

"Of course not," he smiled. "I only mind that you had to drink alone."

"All will be forgiven once you pay for dinner." You teased.

"Oh?" He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Straightforward. I like that."

The night went smoothly. Aaron was the perfect gentleman and a sweetheart, but you noticed one tiny thing as dinner finished.

When you lead the conversation, Aaron couldn't stop checking his phone... was he... bored? There's no way he was bored.

You sat through him talking about his morning jog, car, and college, and you were boring him? How dare he. 

So much so you had to tell your best friend the next day at work. 

"I almost have half a mind to ask David what he was thinking!" You said, walking down the long, stretched-out hallway with your friend. 

"She was a child, Rossi. You sent me on a date with an actual child." Hotch groaned, smoothing his hand over his face as they walked down a similar hallway. 

"I—I mean, I told him I liked older men, and he set me up with the most bland guy. Who wears a tie to a dive bar?" you exclaimed. 

"She's closer to Jack's age than mine. Do you see where the problem lies?" Aaron said again, almost angry at David. 

"Hey, woah, I'm an adult." You said, finally making eye contact with Aaron in the light of day. 

"Oh, Rossi! Boring date Guy!" Your friend smiled like she didn't know they were coming.

"Boring?" Aaron commented. 

"Rossi?" Said the rest of the team. 

"Your coworker, Dan, was found dead in his apartment. We're here to look through his things. Did you know him?" Rossi asked. 

You shrugged. "no, not really. But I can take you to his office."

"I'll go," Aaron said, stepping up.

The walk to Dan's office was silent. When you reached his door, you grabbed the master key and unlocked it. “you think I'm boring?" Aaron finally said.

"I said you seemed bored." You clarified. Your friend wasn't listening very well.

"What gave you that indication?" He asked, opening drawers and rummaging through things. 

You scoffed. "Are you serious?" You said, crossing your arms over your chest. "You kept checking your phone."

Hotch felt his heart drop in his stomach, and he stopped searching for a moment. Then, he stood up straight to look at you.

"And, it seemed like you didn't care..." you sighed, realizing how hurt you felt.

Aaron watched you closely, his brows knitting together as he took in your body language. He let out a sigh. "Rossi told you I was a friend." He started, wetting his lips. "Yet you never once asked what I did for a living." He swallowed. "You didn't expect me to pay because you already had an open tab, which implies you had no idea what I did for a living. And that you're used to going out with worse men than me." He joked, letting out a dry chuckle. "You never once asked me to profile you, even now knowing what I do for a living. You know I have money, yet all you care about is how I treated you." He spoke with a warmth in his voice, and he stepped around the desk, coming closer to you.

"My wife..." he started, swallowing hard, his Adam's apple bobbing against the collar of his shirt. “I'm a widow, " he said with a dry, self-deprecating sigh. “And I have a son," he said again. 

You felt like the most enormous ass in the world. "That's why you kept checking your phone..." you looked up at him, feeling stupid.

"You're a good detective." He chuckled. "I didn't want to tell you at first because most women don't want anything to do with... my baggage." He simply said. 

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to form words. 

"I don’t care about your baggage." You said and watched his eyes glow in awe.

"I don't mind that you're a single dad or a widow. I'm actually relieved that I'm not a home wrecker," you joked dryly. “I don't care about the long hours or the never-being-home..." You looked down and then back up at him.

"I'm not dating to fool around. I want a life... a family," you muttered, tugging at your fingers. "You got a head start, that's all." She smiled softly.

Aaron felt warmth bloom in his chest, and he swallowed again.

"Do you believe in second chances?" You asked, shrugging slightly.

"I'm good enough at my job to know that you deserve one." Aaron smiled. "I'll take you to dinner..." he smiled. "And I'll keep my suit and tie,"

You chuckled softly at his words.

"I'll take you somewhere nice, and I'll pay." He said, his fingers brushing your hand as he stepped closer. "And I'll get the door for you, and give you my jacket, and walk you home... and I'll put my phone on silent." He said, looking into your eyes. "This time, I'll be the man you deserve."

"What about next time?" You smiled and felt his breath fan across your face as he let out a dry chuckle. 

"I'll be that man for you all the time. Because that's the kind of man I am, I just have to show you." He smiled softly.

"Don't silence your phone," you said softly, looking into his eyes. “What if the sitter needs to reach you?" You smiled.

If Aaron had been more reckless, he probably would have married you right then and there. 

"Face down on the table then, and you get my full attention," Aaron said like he was bartering. 

"Until your son needs it." You clarified, and he smiled at you.

"Yeah, until my son needs it." He said, his fingers ghosting your jawline.

"I can't wait." You smiled, pressing your face to his fingers so he could touch you. 

Aaron's hand settled on your jaw, his fingertips pushing into your hair as he looked into your eyes. "I'll pick you up at 8."

"I'll expect you to be late."

"Thank you.”

[appledressing]

spencer reid x brazilian!reader is super self indulgent but also super a cute thought...imagine him learning portuguese, getting all excited in the different brazilian accents, listening to bossa nova and mpb 😭😭

i swear my life was ruined the day i turned on the tv and criminal minds was playing...thats the day the obsession started and im afraid it'll never end