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ambers-archive · 2 months

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who am i, darling to you? (iii)

you missed my heart

With a smile directed at your friends, you follow Hotch outside. Through the hallways, the two of you find an empty conference room. Shutting the door behind you, Hotch fixes his gaze onto you.

Taking a step closer, his arms crossed tightly against his rigid chest, he sighs. You notice the corners of his mouth forming a frown, realizing you've probably memorized every detail about him by now. His gaze flickers away from yours, his hands fidgeting with the cuffs of his sleeves.

You've noticed him doing that a lot around you.

"I need you to understand the severity of this situation, Agent," he says, still keeping his distance from you. You wonder what it would be like to be pressed against his chest, to have his lips pressed to your ear. To take his bigger hand in yours, put it over your heart, and let him hear the secrets you've kept close.

"Sir, I get it. I've never been undercover before, but I really believe I have a unique perspective on this."

"Resembling the victims? I know you want to help, but this unsub is sadistic, methodical, and the worst of all, he is patient. It's extremely difficult to predict his next move. You’re great with geo profiles, and it would also be really helpful to have extra hands." You tune out the rest of the words, already knowing all the alternatives.

You don’t miss the way his eyebrows quirk up after every suggestion he gives you, as if hopeful that you'll cave and agree to stay back.

"I appreciate your concern, I really do. But this is something I have to do. We can't let fear dictate our actions, especially when lives are at stake." You finish, and he's looking anywhere but your eyes.

Not knowing what overcame you, you suddenly cross the boundary he’d set in front of you, placing a hand on his shoulder. And just for a second, you feel him relaxing under your touch.

You call out his name, once more urging him to look at you, and everything else fades into the background as he meets your eyes. “I promise,” you say once again, reassuring him with your gaze.

He nods, sighing.

His eyes meet yours briefly as he allows himself to be comforted by the weight on his shoulder. The edge is razor-thin, right in the middle of something so insignificant and everything you’ve ever wanted.

Between being numb and feeling everything.

And just before you’re able to linger, before Hotch is able to lean into your touch, before the two of you are able to completely change the trajectory of everything, a knock interrupts you two. You quickly scramble apart, not knowing what to do with your hands.

A series of what-ifs hang around every time you find yourself alone with him.

Everything from hesitance to apprehension flickering in the depths of your conversations. You can feel his reluctance to let go, his crestfallen gaze fixed on the ground as if weighed down by the burden of his shattered expectations.

"Hotch, Captain and his team would like a briefing on the profile,” Rossi cuts through the tension in the room, and if he noticed, he doesn’t say anything.

Hotch nods, preparing to leave the office. You catch his eye, showing a profound amount of unease. His usually composed demeanor is slightly off-kilter, his movements hesitant and guarded. He walks out, the weight of your hand still lingering on his shoulder, and for a brief moment, he can pretend you're still holding onto him.

༺༻

“Everything okay?” Spencer asks as you sit down next to him. Hotch and Rossi were briefing the rest of the team on the profile. There wasn’t much yet, bits and pieces of his personality scattered around the board.

You nod, smiling at him. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“What did Hotch talk to you about?”

“Oh, you know, he wanted to make sure I didn’t feel pressured by Strauss to do this, and I feel like he’s a little scared but won’t admit it.”

“He tends to do that a lot. I’m just worried about you two,” Spencer offers a small smile, shaking his head. “I know you’re a strong person, Naina, but it’s okay if you’re scared.”

“I’m scared all the time,” you admit. It was true. Every day you looked over your shoulder, you’ve never said it, but you can’t picture anything past thirty. Spencer meets your eyes, opens his mouth, but quickly closes it, as if not knowing what to say.

He goes to squeeze your hand instead. “Me too. Just promise you’re going to be careful.” You know he’s not just talking about the case as he lifts his eyebrows near Hotch’s direction.

"Promise."

The weeks leading up to it go by in a blur as you and Hotch slowly get into character. Your team and the police department were having a briefing about the case before it was time to head to the resort. Only a few hours until you were near the calming waves and sunny skies, the only problem was putting yourself as bait for a serial killer.

Maya and James Astor met at a charity gala in New York City. Maya is an art curator, and it was easy for you to get into Maya's world as she seemed to mirror you.

Researching art, finding new books, and creating a vision or story for the art she collected were Maya's passions. She was an only child, her parents who died young, leaving her with her grandmother. You didn't know whether to be thankful you didn't have to memorize a completely different life than yours, or to be devastated having to relive the people you've lost.

But you push it down; your feelings just had to wait until this case was over.

Hotch passed the file towards you. James liked buying expensive art, traveled around the world, and ran his own business. Him and Maya met, fell in love, and got married within a year of dating.

"You wear a lot of gold, I thought you might like the gold touches," Hotch whispers, passing you an engagement ring along with a matching wedding band. Your ring was a simple cut Oval gold ring with pear and round diamonds surrounding it along either side. You never had a dream ring or thought much about it, but looking at the diamond and seeing it fit your finger so snug, you think this would have been your dream ring.

Something about the way Hotch's soft voice makes you want to pretend you two are actually a married couple.

A couple madly in love waiting to start their life together.

But all you can do is smile as you look over to your boss, "It's beautiful. If I had a dream ring, I think it would look like this." His eyes light up just a little under the dim lighting as he finds a smile overtaking him.

The meeting comes to an end, and soon it's just your team in the conference room getting ready. Morgan and Rossi were at the resort trying to get information about their security footage.

Emily and JJ hug you in turns, Garcia and Reid quietly going over the details while sparing you occasional glances across the room.

"Be safe, Naina. You're family, and we don't lose family," Emily mutters, tightening her arms around your shoulder. You sniffle just so lightly, emotions and feelings you didn't know possible overtaking you. For once since you lost your grandma, you had someone to lose, people waiting for you at the end of the day.

"Please don't worry about me, guys. I'm not going in alone. I have all of you watching over me."

JJ offers you a weak smile, squeezing your hand she had been holding onto. "You're going to do great. We're all rooting for you, honey."

taglist: @zaddyhotch @mrs-ssa-hotch

#criminal minds #my writing #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x you #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotch hotchner #writing #aaron hotchner

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ambers-archive · 3 months

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hmmm

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ambers-archive · 3 months

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who am i, darling to you (ii)

surrender to the sound

The low hum of the engine came to life as you found your seat on the plane.

"So, let's go over what we know. The unsub targets honeymooning couples, but the question is, how does he manage to catch them off guard?" Hotch asked

He was seated across from you, and you pretended not to notice his eyes occasionally drowning into yours.

You flipped around your case file, while your other hand was clutching onto your favorite book.

You know it inside out: it was your grandmother's favorite, and apparently your mother's as well.

Some of the pages still smell like the incense she used, and her hair oil.

It’s a relic, or time capsule you think. One of bedtime stories, sleepless nights, and memories just out of reach.

"Given the lack of signs of struggle at the crime scenes, it's possible that the unsub is either surprising them or has some form of control that keeps them compliant." Reid chimed in sitting next to you.

You two got along really well, he was the first one to strike a conversation with you since joining the team. Few days into your reassignment to the team he approached your desk.

You were reading: And then there were none.

He complimented your taste and went on to analyze it himself. "You know, one of the most intriguing aspects of the book is how it delves into the psychology of guilt and remorse. Each character in the story is haunted by their past actions, and their guilt ultimately becomes their downfall."

And just like that he became one of your best friends.

Emily offered you and Spencer some coffee as she took the seat across from you. You smiled at her; all of them were like family to you. Emily and Penelope, the sisters you never had.

And JJ like to the mother always wanted.

Sometimes you look around and can’t believe you have people around you, who love you, and want to spend time with you.

It was nice, everyone on the team was really welcoming.

Even Hotch, well as welcoming as he can be.

At first you would get a brief nod from him, and sometimes when you delivered a profile correctly, a slight raise of his eyebrows and some stolen glances which you kept close to your heart.

Recently though you’ve been getting occasional smiles, few compliments, and brief moments of laughter. But quick as they come, quicker they disappear.

Morgan leaned forward from his seat next to Hotch, "But how does he target his victims in the first place? I mean, we're talking about well-prepared honeymooners, not easy targets."

"He could be monitoring their activities before attacking. The unsub might be studying them, learning their routines, and finding the perfect moment without raising suspicion." You said, it felt almost scary to you, the way you're able to dissect their behaviors, putting yourself in the mind of a serial killer, profiling, and going over the most heartbreaking cases.

You hunt, just like they did.

And the patterns he left on the women are still stuck in the back of your head. He hates women.

(That much is clear)

"This type of power play, especially if it were done post-mortem, suggests a level of sadism." You continued. "These women most likely represent a source of his resentment."

“So we're dealing with an unsub who targets couples, targets the women specifically, and is able to go into their rooms undetected." Emily said, "Should be easy enough."

“Emily and I can go to the resort, ask for their security footage. There’s gotta be something we can find out.” Morgan said.

“Since you have experience with sexual assault cases you and Reid go see autopsy results. See if these marks were post-mortem." Hotch said, looking over at you and Reid.

You were relieved you weren't paired with him, you overthought every decision around him.

And you could barely look him in the eye, your words often died out at the tip of your throat: impossible to convey words of much intelligence.

The air in the coroner's office was thick.

Of course temperature wise it was cool, and airy. Detached and void of anything warm. the victims bodies told so many stories.

"These markings: they're deep stab wounds. They were also done post-mortem," Dr. Fields stated. "They are precise, not hesitation wounds—he knew what he was doing from the beginning."

"He seems to be targeting their femininity. This stems from a deep hatred for women," Spencer muttered.

"Or a woman," You interjected.

"You think these victims are surrogates for someone else in his life?"

"The time and effort it takes someone to inflict these wounds takes determination. This sort is indicative of someone affected by past trauma."

"What can we know about husbands?" Spencer asked, redirecting the focus to the examiner.

"Whereas the women died from strangulation, the men were drowned, and it's assumed they were drowned in their hotel bathtub," Dr. Fields responded

"So he takes his time with the women, gets it over with with the men?" Spencer asked.

"The time of death for the male victims was hours earlier than their wives. Maybe he wanted to eliminate the competition, wanted to enjoy his time alone with them?" You suggested.

ʚ ═══･୨ ꕤ ୧･═══ ɞ

"Strauss wants a briefing on this case." Hotch announced walking into the makeshift briefing room. It was a tiny station in a small town in Florida.

Emily snorted, "So she can question everything we have so far about the profile?"

"I'm not sure, but it sounded urgent that she wants to talk to the whole team." Hotch replied by opening the laptop and starting the call to Quantico.

"Hello agents." Strauss said as the call came to life, holding up the case files. "The director called, he wants to consider you going undercover. Due to the high popularity of this resort, and the timing in which these murders are being committed-"

"We might need to understand his patterns from within the environment he operates in." Hotch finished for her,

A collective pause filled the room, and their words hung in the air, an uneasy silence passed through the team.

The team hadn't gone undercover in years.

"Undercover?" Morgan broke the silence, "This team hasn't gone undercover for years, Hotch and I are the one of the only ones who's gone undercover, but never as a team."

"Going undercover as a honeymooning couple could give us an advantage. It might put us right where the unsub is likely to strike." Emily responded

"It could help us observe the surroundings, identify any potential patterns or anomalies that we might miss from an investigative standpoint." Reid said, agreeing with Emily.

"This only calls for a couple since the unsub is targeting couples. We need two agents to pose as husband and wife." Strauss said

You sucked in a breath, the thought of going undercover sent shivers down your spine, you've done stimulations before, but the real thing? You push the feeling down as soon as it bubbles up.

You only joined a year ago surely they would want someone more experienced, someone who's shown themselves proved themselves to the team more.

But before your mind could fall deeper into your thoughts the sound of Hotch's name coming from Strauss stopped you. "Based on your experience and being Unit Chief the director wants you at the forefront of it." Hotch nodded, looking at the rest of the team.

"I would like to take Agent Prentiss since she has experience with Doyle-“

"Actually Agent, I believe it would be better if someone else went in with you."

And suddenly you were the only one in the room, a pair of uneasy green eyes met yours, Hotch raising his eyebrows ever so slightly.

And if you were crazy enough you would think he looked worried.

"With all due respect Ma'am I don't think she had enough field experience for this."

"I am concerned about that, however it has been brought to my attention that our unsub has a type and they all have a resemblance to-“

"To me" You finished for her. trying to sit up straighter and slow the beatings of your heart as you meet hotch's eyes. "If we can use my cover as bait, I would know what to say and how to be careful around him-"

Hotch looked over at you, calling out your name. "This is very risky, and dangerous not to mention doing a covert mission like this won't be easy."

“I understand Sir, but-"

“I don’t want any of my agents going in a bait, the profile isn’t complete yet. We don’t know what we’re looking for.” Hotch responded, eyes still boring into yours.

“Agent Hotchner we can’t wait until there are more victims, I’m sorry but it's the director's orders.” Strauss said, “We’ll send over the alias needed and with the information you have now it should be a simple task." And with that Strauss signed off, leaving only you and the team looking uneasy.

"This could work, Aaron,” Rossi said, sitting off to the side scribbling absentmindedly on his notepad. “While you two are undercover we can gather more pieces to the profile with your insight."

"Let's go over the victims, affluent couples honeymooning, madly in love, never leaving each other's sides."

You only caught snippets of the rest of the conversation. You were too busy wondering why for the first time Hotch was avoiding you, his eyes were glued to the board not sparing you a second glance.

#criminal minds #my writing #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #criminal minds fanfic #x yn #writing #no proofreading we die like men #fanfic

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ambers-archive · 3 months

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my masterlist

criminal minds🌷

🕰️who am i, darling to you? (1) (2)(3)

you never believed in fate, you thought the idea was only a luxury to very few. but, there are moments when you find yourself reading some of your grandmother's stories because you miss her cooking and the way she would braid your hair. and clinging to the words she used to tell you. "An invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstance."

what if all i need is you? (spencer reid x fem!reader) 🌺

2 times the universe conspired against spencer, and the 1 time it didn't.

gold rush (spencer reid x fem!reader) 🌺

In which Spencer Reid believes meeting you could only be explained by something bigger under the works.

percy jackson 🌷

🕰️right where you left me (1/?)

Ink dries up as it clings to paper, writings on pages fade, and people you've held close to your heart become distant memories. Silhouettes of a person. But, no one really leaves; their remnants will always be there. Tiny fragments of them floating around. But never all of them, as nobody really leaves. What's more painful than that she thinks. You're never able to completely erase them from your life. The memories will still paralyze you, and you'll be left standing there, gasping for air, remembering every little detail.

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ambers-archive · 3 months

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who am i, darling to you?

Chapter I. chapter ii

Your grandmother always read folktales to you, and you vividly remember her oiling your hair as she recited stories which are now etched into your heart.

She was a big believer in fate and destiny.

Oftentimes you found yourselves late at night reading old Chinese folktales. They were nice stories, but you don't believe in such things you had told her.

Only in the quiet moments though, nestled in your shared room, you rediscovered the stories.

Hunched between her dresser, re-reading some of the stories.

You don't believe in fate, the idea was only a luxury to very few. But, there are moments when you find yourself reading some of your grandmother's stories because you miss her cooking and the way she would braid your hair. And clinging to the words she used to tell you.

"An invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstance."

You don’t know why this phrase surfaced now, amidst the memories of your grandmother's stories, as you absentmindedly played with the red strings of your bracelet in the room.

The conference room in the backdrop suddenly came to life, halting your memories to a stop.

“Carmichaels, Parkers, and Bennetts—all madly in love, all mercilessly taken from each other." Garcia’s voice took you out of your trance, “they were all found, dead inside their hotel rooms just weeks into their honeymoon.”

Images of crime scenes and the couples getaway flickered on the screens. Once people and smiles behind the pictures are now just empty vessels.

"Our unsub has a perverted romanticism. He goes through a careful selection process rather than just picking victims at random. These couples stand for something he wants but is unable to obtain. it's mainly honeymooners, but the Parkers were on their second honeymoon after five years of marriage.” Garcia explained.

They were all beautiful women, and you felt a shudder run down your spine.

Eyes boring back into yours, it wasn’t anything super obvious only visible when you stared too long. The dusted freckles, asymmetrical lips, and the similar almond eyes peering back into yours.

A disconcerting mirror

"Are you okay?” Hotch whispered next to you. His steady voice breaks the whispered noise in your head. Nodding you turn to face him, your eyes tracing the lines of his face—the sharp angles, the subtle furrow of his brow, and his beautiful eyes. And as quickly as those feelings came up, you pushed them down, burying them.

He’s your boss.

"I'm fine. It's just…”

"We'll catch this unsub, and we'll keep everyone safe.” He said, reaching over to shut your case file, and just for a minute you can feel his band brush against yours.

Just a ghost of affection but you feel it in your heart, hands, stomach, everywhere.

"Statistically, honeymoon periods are marked by increased serotonin levels, lower stress, and overall happiness. It's an emotionally charged time for couples. Maybe our unsub wanted to disrupt this happiness." Reid added.

"Garcia, what do we know about the killer's MO? Any specific weapons? Did he keep the victims hostage?" Hotch's voice louder cut through the unspoken tension between you two.

"Our unsub is methodical, almost surgical. No signs of struggle at the crime scenes, which suggests he's either catching them off guard or he has a significant physical advantage. As for weapons, no firearms used. It's more personal—strangulation in some cases, others show signs of asphyxiation, drowning perhaps." She offered.

"The absence of firearms indicates a desire for close contact, personal involvement in the act. It could be an attempt to exert dominance or control over the victims." Reid emphasized.

"Any signs of sexual assault? A crime of passion or something more sinister?" JJ, pondered.

The room fell silent, the images on the screen reflecting the collective gravity of the situation. Reid turned to you, "You specialize in this area. Were the women assaulted? Is there a signature type of killing here?"

You took a moment to gather your thoughts before responding, “We need to look for patterns—specific methods, post-mortem mutilation, or any consistent elements that could indicate a signature. One more thing I noticed. Take a closer look here," you directed, your finger tracing over the intricate marks etched into the victims' lower abdomen.

The marks were a series of precise cuts, forming patterns and odd shapes. "Each one of these victims has that mark.” Morgan added

"These symbols," you continued voice steady, "are strategically placed. They're not random, but deliberate. The lower abdomen is a vulnerable area, and the unsub is exploiting that vulnerability, asserting dominance in the most invasive way possible."

"What can we learn from this language?” Hotch asked

"It's a power play," you replied. "The unsub wants these women to know they're at his mercy, that he holds the reins of their fate. It's not just about the act of killing; it's about asserting dominance, ensuring his victims suffer every step of the way."

Hotch's expression hardened, cloud taking over his eyes. "We need to catch this guy before he can leave more marks. Continue the briefing on the plane. I want everyone fully informed. Wheels up in 30.” He finished, gathering his case files, but not without a glance at you.

Normally hidden, his eyes now had vulnerability.

The power he had over you, a fleeting glance made you shiver.

And even though it lasted only a split second, it felt endless.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch hotchner #reader fic #my writing #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner x you #slow burn #angst with a happy ending

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ambers-archive · 3 months

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my girlfriend btw

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ambers-archive · 3 months

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the thing that many writers, including myself, forget about first drafts is that they're the author's draft. every other draft can be for the readers, but the first is for you and your eyes only.

and use that advantage. don't know what to write? just leave a note and skip it. getting bored? write the scene sarcastically. want to try an idea but know it will cause plot holes? write it anyway! you can do anything. let your first draft be the most self-indulgent thing you have ever created. just let it exist.

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ambers-archive · 3 months

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what if all i need is you?

2 times the universe conspires against Spencer and the 1 time it doesn't. no use of y/n

"I think we’re lost," Spencer mumbled, stealing a glance at you, you’re in his passenger seat and you look like a dream he thinks.

He hates driving, usually avoids it, but watching you smile next to him and hearing you sing along to his favorite songs makes him think it’s not all bad.

"You think?" You laugh, meeting his eye.

He had the date perfectly planned in his head – a tour around the city since you just moved here. Showcasing his favorite bookstore, two tickets to his favorite museum's exhibit, the whole thing.

However, things were not going as planned. He found himself driving in circles, twists and turns multiplying at every corner.

The universe was taunting him.

"I swear, these street signs are conspiring against me," he muttered.

“In the meantime, we should enjoy this,” you suggested, pointing to a barely visible café on the corner, proposing an impromptu coffee stop.

With a slight smile tugging his lips, Spencer nodded.

“You’re in Med school?

Spencer asked, trying to hide his amazement.

It all makes sense now, he thinks. Rarely does he find someone who matches him intellectually, even rarer for him to enjoy conversations with them.

“I am! I know it’s a cliché saying, but I just want to help people, I want to make a difference in the world.”

“It’s not cliché at all, that’s really noble.” Spencer replied, a genuine smile forming on his face. The passion in your voice is like a breath of fresh air for him.

You blushed at the compliment, warmth spreading across your cheeks. "Thank you. It's not easy, but it's worth it if I can make a positive impact, even in a small way."

As if you took the words right out of Spencer’s mouth, hearing you made him realize the reason he started the BAU.

And oh how beautiful it is to have that passion.

For so long, his work had only consisted of repetition; the work that had brought him happiness was now draining him of it all. His thoughts are audible emanating from your lips.

To make a difference, and just for a little while, listening to you happily describe your passion, the horrors of his job, which once clutched his heart so deeply, slowly started to fade.

“Where to next, Doctor?”

“I hope you like museums, I was able to get us tickets to one of my favorite exhibits.”

“Lead the way.”

“I agree; the universe is not happy with you right now,” you laughed, both stranded in the middle of nowhere as his car broke down under the afternoon sun.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve this,” he sighed, opening your car door. Taking his hand you led him towards the field, there were worse places to be stranded in you thought.

“If we call for a cab right now, we can reach the museum in an hour, depending on traffic. We’ll miss the first half hour or so, but—”

“Spencer, look! The sun is setting.” You walked off into the distance, taking a seat near a tree.

“We’re going to miss the show.” He said disappointed. You looked up at him and the orange glow casted a beautiful hue over your face. Just when he thought you couldn't get prettier.

“No matter how much you try in life, you’re bound to miss something. Just take in the moment right now.” You say, patting the seat on the grass next to you.

To his own surprise, he obliges.

He doesn’t mean to profile you, but it’s a reflex, a defense mechanism. Being around serial killers and rapists, he needs to know their every move. But right now, being in your apartment as you give him a tour, he lets go.

Realizing he doesn’t have to know everything about you right away; he can take his time.

He expected your room to be something like a catalog magazine, but books, plants, and paintings you've made surrounded you.

Messy maximalist, you called it.

Spencer learns you hate minimalism, you hate gray white empty spaces that don't feel like home.

He is almost envious of how carefree you are, willing to wear your heart out on your sleeve. Your guard has been down the whole time, a luxury Spencer can’t afford.

“Can I offer you some tea? I recently perfected my mom’s recipe for chai,” You asked, already boiling the water and getting your tea bags together.

“Tea sounds amazing.”

He looks around, forming a profile in his brain.

You’re messy, but you somehow find beauty in it. It doesn’t bother you; it makes sense, he thinks.

Artistic people are commonly messy.

“What books do you like?” Spencer asks, watching you get two mismatched cups out.

“I love classic literature, Persuasion is one of my favorites. I love Jane Austen and the way she captures love in its most pure form."

“How would you define love?” It’s a question that has been nagging him, he wants to pick apart your brain and know every thought.

He can tell you’re a hopeless romantic, and he now wishes he had accepted Garcia’s movie night invitation to watch Jane Austen movies.

He already has a sense, knowing you love classic period pieces, but he just wants to hear your explanation for it.

“In Med school they teach us that love is a complex emotion, a bunch of hormones: dopamine, oxytocin, and serotonin in the brain. I can’t say much about hormones but love is life, and it's just peaceful like the slow water going down a stream. But an immediate phenomenon, much like life itself. It fills and empties you all at once, swirling like a river's water after a storm. Your hands, heart, stomach, and skin are just a few places on your body where you can feel it. And it overtakes you so intensely. You don’t even realize it until you’re in it. You can’t exist without it, love is like breathing.” You sigh, a shy smile overtaking your lips “Sorry i tend to rant a lot.”

Spencer meets your smile. It feels nice to be on the receiving end of someone rambling. “I don’t mind one bit. I knew you were an artist but I didn’t peg you for a writer.”

“Have you been profiling me, Doctor Reid?” you ask, he smiles avoiding your gaze.

“Most writers are artistic people; that is, they are imaginative, creative, and productive when working in an environment that promotes self-expression. Not to mention you mentioned journalism being your minor, also I saw you had a typewriter.”

“You're amazing, Spencer,” you say, taking the kettle off the stove, pouring two cups of chai.

Spencer whispers your name, and you look over, your name falls so easily through his lips. This is what was missing from your life, you think.

“I think you’re one of the most unique people I’ve ever met.”

He says, taking your hand, interlocking your fingers.

You graze your thumb over his knuckles squeezing his hand, meeting his brown eyes. And as if the universe was on his side for once you lean forward, your lips meeting his. Lips meddling into each other as if it was made just for you.

The morning sun is beating down on his small car, and there you are sitting in his passenger seat laughing at his horrible jokes.

Your favorite songs playing in the background. You smile at him, and Spencer is lost again, but not because of the street signs. He's just lost in your smile.

This is what was missing from his life Spencer thinks.

#criminal minds #writing #my writing #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader

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ambers-archive · 5 months

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Right where you left me

Modern AU. Percy can't open up, and Annabeth is patient until she isn't. Chapter 1

"His eyes were the first thing I noticed about him" Annabeth whispers "It was the first thing I fell in love with, and I held onto it until the end."

That night, he remained mostly silent, like he didn't know anything between tears and frustration, only his eyes reflecting a profound sense of betrayal. Her words hung in the air, the same phrase echoing in his ears like an annoying ringing sound that wouldn't go away.

"I don't think my goals align with yours anymore, Percy," she said. While it felt like the right decision, regret washed over her immediately. She shook her head, almost surprised by her own words.

Pleas of "I'm sorry" and promises to fix things reverberated in Percy's head. He couldn't understand why, what had gone wrong, and where this sudden change came from. The weight of the tiny box in his pocket pressed down on him, yet all he could do was watch her leave.

Shaking herself back to reality, she focused on the older woman before her, who offered a genuine smile, encouraging her to continue. Realizing it wasn't a good enough response she tried again.

"I used to avoid eye contact. People said I was bad at it. But with him, it was different. I loved it. Through a look, I could understand him. There was so much left unsaid in our relationship, and I was good at filling in the blanks, until I wasn't."

Curious, the older woman asked, "What do you mean by that?"

"He struggled to open up. Communication issues piled up, and there was only so much I could tolerate," she explained. When asked about the breaking point, she couldn't pinpoint a specific moment. It just accumulated over time, she was patient until she wasn't.

She thought she'd moved on, physically she had, changing numbers and emails, she left that life behind, or so she thought.

"I saw my neighbor's kid playing soccer in the yard recently. His parents looked at him like he was the center of the universe. It made me think of him. Imagining Percy's eyes on our kid, wanting that future, and realizing I can only picture Percy in it. It feels wrong to envision it with someone else."

Caught off guard, admitting it out loud surprised her a little as if her all efforts to move on were in vain. She would think she had moved on, only for the memory to sneak up and pull her out of her self-imposed delusion.

#percy jackson #percy jackson fanfiction #percy x annabeth #annabeth chase #fanfiction #writing #rick riordan #percy and annabeth

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ambers-archive · 5 months

Text

Gold Rush

In which Spencer Reid believes meeting you could only be explained by something bigger under the works. pairing: spencer reid x fem!eader

From the moment he met you Spencer just knew. He was suddenly overcome with a deep certainty that transcended his skepticism about love at first sight. For him, it was more than just a fleeting moment; it was an incandescent passionate resonance that developed when he first saw you. Dopamine, serotonin, and oxytocin can only explain so much of his feelings.

He can't sleep on plane ride, looking at the sunset as the clouds fold onto each other he finds himself reminiscing about you.

There was much said, yet so much unsaid.

"Do you believe in fate?" you had asked, looking up at him.

Just breathing and staring into each other's eyes, you two were curled up together in bed. Spencer likes making eye contact with you, even though he's never been good at it. Furthermore, he doesn't even enjoy shaking hands, so he's not sure how on earth he's managed to intertwine himself with you.

Spencer chuckled skeptically, "Fate? I'm inclined to attribute this meeting to statistical probability and our friends' matchmaking skills."

You smiled back at him, his skepticism didn't seem to bother you, instead you seemed to intertwine your emotions so easily with your beliefs.

He studies you and realizes you don't mind your different perspectives. "People just need something to anchor them Doctor Reid."

He's come to the realization that he needed more of what you called him, Doctor Reid.

You continue, "Since there is so much evil in the world, I find myself wanting to cling to something greater. I'm sure you see a lot of incomprehensible things."

He pauses for a second then says

"Randomness exists because it is impossible to foresee anything with 100% accuracy, at least not in the way we see the world. Yes, although there is randomness at the level of human cognition. I don't think there is any kind of "mover" or "fate." Have you heard of the theory absurdism? It's the idea held by philosophers that there is no purpose or reason in the universe. It claims that people go into conflict with the outside world when they search for significance."

You smile at him again, the same shy smile that has been making Spencer weak all day.

“I get what you mean, but I like to believe that the universe has a purpose for me. It's as though every moment unfolds with meaning. But, recently, I've found that it’s boring to attribute everything to fate. There's a certain beauty in meeting someone and deliberately choosing them with all your intention."

This time Spencer smiles back at you, it doesn't miss him that you don't interrupt his ramblings. You're so easy to talk to he thinks. He can just get lost in your conversations.

He pushes a piece of hair out of your face “Would you say our meeting was fate?"

You paused for a second.

Spencer can't seem to read you as much, but he can infer that you didn't know, he smiles to himself as you're the one speechless this time.

Spencer likes to think the universe is devoid of meaning he doesn't give much thought to the meaning behind things, but after meeting you he finds himself questioning things.

Despite the strangeness you feel familiar to him, and your perfume still lingers in his car on the way home. He's racking his brain trying to remember what your laugh sounds like.

He likes to be in the present, but with you, you linger like a tattoo kiss. He closes his eyes and there you are again with your smile.

The lines between fate and reason began to melt in his head, as there are very few moments he's found himself dumbfounded by the nature of things.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader

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