hey! i loved greek tragedy, and was just wondering whether vivian is an oc of yours? you’re an amazing writer💖
hi! thank u so much this rly means a lot<3 and yes, vivian is an oc of mine! most characters i write with that aren't like the usual criminal minds ones are my ocs, or their x readers:)
sorry i just re-read my reply and realised it made no sense lololol
sometimes, i don't know what haunts me more.. the memories of you... or the happy person i used to be.
--
two years and two months ago.
spencer came into the bullpen with a gleam in his eye. a shy kind of happiness. the kind that makes you blush, and makes you embarrassed. the kind that makes people feel like kids again.
vivian came in with the same smile. the same red on her cheeks, the same glint in her eyes.
they both felt like kids again. happy, and in love.
they held hands under the table in the conference room. everyone noticed. and everyone smiled a bit more, knowing that two happy people are now making each other happier.
the night before, vivian and spencer had kissed in the rain under the stars. after an eternity of falling for each other, they finally gave in.
when they came in the next day, vivian's blonde hair seemed a little more golden, her eyes a little more warm. spencer's face seemed softer, and relaxed.
they played in the park, and watched nineties movies, and ate thai on the roof while watching the stars. all with the biggest goofiest smiles on their faces.
because you're nothing if not crazy when you're in love.
two months ago
blonde hair stained brown.
pink lips turned red.
a realtionship gone sour.
they broke up last week. they stood in the rain once again. but this time the rain didn't bring hope, and a new start. this time the rain fell, tainting the blue sky gray.
the girls heart shattered onto the pavement. pieces on the sidewalk, pieces in the grass. pieces being washed away by the rain.
no one knows what they said to each other, how it ended.
all they know is that the cuts on vivian's wrist are fresh, and that the numbers on her scale have rapidly declined.
she came into work on monday, her golden blonde hair painted dark brown, her young pink lips stained blood red. everyone stared, except spencer. she stared at no-one, but spencer.
she was there for a day after the breakup. maybe two. long enough to know that someone else had already brought a gleam into spencer's eyes. that someone else was already making him happy.
no one saw her after that. she left quickly and quietly. one day, her desk was personalized and filled with framed pictures, the next it was empty and bare. you could say that her desk matched her heart.
now, she lies on the floor of her bathroom. head pounding, rivers of red seeping onto the tiled floor.
one month ago.
seven men stabbed twice in the heart, all dead, over the course of two weeks. all left with red carnations.
the bau accepts the invitation to take on the case.
vivian watches the news coverage announcing the bureaus involvement, a smirk dancing on her face as she applies a new coat of lipstick.
one week ago, at the bar.
the bar is full of bodies. bodies against bodies. dancing, sweating, living.
the tall brunette, with the red lipstick and cold eyes slips off her coat, revealing the small black dress underneath. the heartless predator.
a drunk mans eyes follow the woman's every move. analyzing her every curve, watching the way her lips part. he sets down his glass and walks over. the unsuspecting prey.
he makes his way through the crowd, licking his lips as he nears vivian. her blonde hair, now turned brown, and her blood red lips enchant him.
her finger plays with her straw, spinning it around in her drink as she makes eye contact with him. she tilts her head slyly, and smiles a bit. egging him on.
"jonathan," he says, standing over her.
"cleo," she responds, flipping her dark hair over her exposed shoulder. she stands up, hand on his tie, and leans forward to whisper seductively in his ear:
"let's get out of here, jonathan."
three days ago, at the bau.
"we have a new body," hotch announces as he walks into the room. he pins a few pictures to the board. the first, an image of a smiling man. dark brown hair, dark eyes, and a square jaw. the next few are the body. dumped carelessly in an alleyway. two stabs to the heart, and red carnations scattered onto the body.
"woah," emily says, concern lacing her voice. "that makes fourteen bodies now."
"she's devolving," morgan adds. "speeding up the kills. her last kill was only one day ago, she's getting more dangerous. but she's also more likely to slip up."
the team nods to this, each thinking their own separate thoughts. eventually, they will all come to the same conclusion. the same suspect. but they won't share their ideas until it's too late.
the teams profile:
the unsub is female.
she recently suffered heartbreak, and has a newfound prejudice against men.
she changes her appearance each time. wigs, makeup, etc.
she stabs each victim twice in the heart, which must mean something.
she leaves red carnations at each scene, which means "alas for my poor heart, my heart aches," in some cultures.
she is highly intelligent, driven, but also depressed and self-loathing.
she is likely to have self-inflicted wounds, and possibly try and kill herself.
one day ago, vivian's apartment.
vivian stares in the mirror, and the woman in the mirror stares back at her.
a blonde wig is tossed carelessly on the floor, and boxes of colored contacts join it.
these objects are supposed to be able to change who you are on the outside, but to vivian, they're crushing her even more on the inside.
she doesn't recognize the woman in the mirror. the dark straight hair, red lips, and hollow eyes. the woman in the tight dress and heels.
she looks down, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to spill over her face. this isn't the girl that spencer loved. she isn't the girl that spencer loved anymore.
and then she looks back up, and her heart stops. because there she is.
the girl in the mirror has long, wavy blonde hair and sparkling green eyes. her eyes are full of life, not hollow and lifeless. her lips are pink, her cheeks flushed, her face innocent. her sundress hangs perfectly around her frame, and underneath her bright converse her socks mismatch.
the girl that spencer loved. the girl vivian stopped being when spencer stopped loving here.
the image takes vivian's breath away for a second, and a tear slips down her face, but she doesn't stop staring at the reflection, hoping that if she stares hard enough the girl will die and leave vivian alone.
her stare turns into a smirk. smirking at the innocent, dumb, oblivious girl. laughing silently at her.
the girl was oblivious to the heartbreak that awaited her. the emptiness that would creep into her soul.
the girl that was so blindly in love with the man that didn't care for her, even though he acted like he did.
maybe she was still in love with him. just a bit. even after he broke her heart, she still loved him. but she also hated him.
fuck spencer.
a couple of hours ago, bau.
vivian's face is front and center on the tv. her blonde hair, green eyes, and large smile.
the team sits around the table, shocked at the conclusion they came to.
vivian, their ex-coworker who always seemed so perfect and happy, is the unsub? vivian killed fifteen men?
they may want to deny it, but they all know it makes sense.
she broke up with spencer and completely fell apart. she quit her job. spencer says she was angry and sad and completely broken, hence the hate towards men. and the killings started around the time her and spencer broke up. even the number of stabs on each body makes sense. two stabs for two years her and spencer were together.
they're all shocked, but most can still talk, and move, and discuss. spencer is just frozen.
how could vivian have killed someone?
forty-five minutes ago, vivian's apartment.
spencer looks around the apartment, flashlight held and gun drawn.
when he used to come over, the apartment was homey and life like. plants would hang from the ceilings, and would sit on shelves. books were scattered on tables, and the floor to ceiling bookshelf would be disorganized. she used to have pictures of her and the team, and of spencer everywhere. but now it's bare, and empty. if spencer knew any better he would think no one lived there at all.
the team does a quick search, clearing all the rooms before gathering again in the living room.
"she's obviously not here, but she knows that we know it's her. she's been wanting us to know." derek says, and glances at spencer. "spencer, is there anywhere she liked to go, anywhere close?" he asks, and spencer furrows his brow.
"the roof! she liked to watch the sky!" he says suddenly, and hotch nods. the team climbs up the flights of stairs to get to the roof, which at first glance appears to be empty, until spencer notices a woman sitting against the chimney.
"spencer no way, she's armed man," derek says as spencer moves forward, but spencer tells him it's ok. he knows her. she has no intention of hurting him.
vivian stares at him, a tears falling down her face. spencer sits down next to her, eyes widening when he notices the knife in her hands. pointed at her own heart.
"vivian..." he says cautiously, taking in her died hair and red lips, "this isn't you. put the knife down." at this, vivian collapses into a fit of sobs, trailing mascara down her cheeks.
"i'm so sorry spencer," her voice is shaky and she's crying, but she keeps the knife pointed upwards towards her heart.
"please vivian just put the knife down," spencer whispers, his voice cracking a bit.
"i can't spencer, i have to do this," she sobs. "i killed....i killed so many people and i can't stop myself and i still love you but i hate you and you broke my heart but i have to do this spencer."
the boys eyes are sad, because deep down he knows he can't stop her from doing this. but he'll still try,
"please vivian, i-i love you," he pleads, but vivian just shakes her head, and laughs through her tears.
"no you don't spencer," she whispers, smiling a bit. "but it's ok. you will never have to hurt the way you know that i do," she says, and spencer knows whats coming. her grip on the knife tightens, and in a flash she jams it into her heart, gasping a bit as it deepens.
"no!" spencer yells, as she slumps and collapses. blood trickles from her lips, and her tears spill from her eyes. but still, she smiles. because it's finally over.
her final breath isn't sad, it's relieved. because she doesn't have to suffer anymore. the sadness, pain, and anger is finally gone.
spencer is tearless. her death was shocking, sad, but it was truthful. maybe she deserved it, even wanted it, but spencer knew she was going somewhere where she was happier.
happier without him.
as spencer stares at her body, laid out on the concrete, he sees the girl he loved. the blonde hair, sea green eyes, and the innocent face.
innocence, purity.
and all he can think about as she's wheeled into the ambulance, covered by the blanket is who she used to be. who she really is.
the beautiful, happy girl.
maybe one day, in another life she'll find true love.
who knows?
all anyone knows is that the day that her heart poured a red river onto the concrete, she started over. she began anew.
description: reader is moving away, but realises her feelings her for spencer.
category: fluff, a bit angsty
tw: seperation, implied smut.
masterlist
gif credits to @toyboxboy :))
don't find love. let love find you. that's why it's called falling in love because you don't force yourself to fall, you just fall.
-----
today is the day.
after five years, seven months, and thirteen days you've reached the - inevitable - day.
the day where it's time to pack your possessions into boxes, and try not to cry as you hug your best friends goodbye.
the day where you leave your beautiful home of dc to go to new york city. the day where you leave to start the job and life of your dreams.
but you still feel crushed.
at first, dc was a placeholder for nyc. you joined the behavorial analysis unit as a temporary career at first, but as the months went by you find it harder and harder to leave.
and now you're going to new york city. to work in sex crimes, and fulfill the promise you made to yourself in college. the promise of being truly happy and living in new york city, working to make a change.
this is your destiny, what you're supposed to do, but you still can't shake the feelings of sadness, and emptiness. like you're forgetting something.
spencer drops you off at the train station. you wrap your arms around him, breathing in his scent and melting into the comforting, familiar hug for what may be the last time.
spencer's holding it together, but you can feel a few tears falling from your face. when you and spencer break apart, you quickly wipe them away, and force smile sadly.
"call me if you're ever in new york city," you whisper, and spencer nods.
"goodbye y/n," he says, and you feel your heart break. no one ever truly describes how painful goodbyes are.
"goodbye spencer," you say, a hint of melancholy in your voice. like you've already left.
a light drizzle begins as you walk into the train station with your suitcase. you can feel spencer watching you leave, and you want to desperately to look back, but you know that if you do you'll never be able to leave dc.
you hold your head up high, pushing back the final tears as you enter the station. the ceiling is beautiful, tall and arched, and the pillars and tiled-floor are gorgeous too. but it's hard to concentrate on the beauty right now.
it's late at night, probably around ten pm, but the train station is still packed with people. women and men in business attire, college aged students in sweats with messy hair, and the occasional lost kid.
you find your way to your train, and take a seat in the stiff chair. a woman, about your age sits next to you, and a family in front of you.
you take a minute to rest your eyes, realizing now how tired you really are.
but closing your eyes was a mistake, because now you have time to really think.
you think about your best friends. emily, jj, garcia, derek, even rossi and hotch. you think about the bar visits, girls nights, and team dinners. you're going to miss that.
you're going to miss garcia's unique way of expressing herself, derek's confidence, jj's motherly personality, how extremely badass emily is, rossi's devotion to helping people, and hotch's fatherly personality.
you're going to miss the early morning phone calls. the coffee shop visits.
you're going to miss spencer.
his smile, the way he rambles, how his tongue pokes into his cheek when he's concentrating, the way he knows the answer to everything but doens't brag about it. you're going to miss his messy brown hair, his hazel puppy-dog eyes, his sweater vests and cardigans.
and the reality hits you.
there won't be another spencer in new york. or another derek, garcia, jj, emily, rossi or hotch.
you'll never get to gossip in garcia's office again. you won't get to play-fight with derek. you won't get to hug jj, or emily.
you're leaving.
you're leaving dc and you're not coming back.
and spencer...
you promise never to forget spencer.
never to forget the first time you met, when he spilled coffee on your shirt.
never to forget the nights you would eat thai and watch the strangest documentarys.
never to forget the rush you felt when you would touch.
or when he would talk to you.
or do anything.
never to forget the way he watched you leave him. the way you never turned back, left him standing alone in the rain outside of a train station.
a tear runs down your cheek.
you have to fix this.
you can't go to new york city, because you weren't meant for new york city.
you were meant to exist here. you belong here.
you get up from your seat and start to exit the train.
the people around you give you strange glances, but then again you are running off a train and slightly crying.
but you don't care. because you're going to spencer.
you run out of the train station, bracing yourself for the cool rain. it dampens your clothing, and gets your hair wet but you don't care.
suddenly, you realise you have no idea what you're doing, and that this may be the dumbest idea of your life.
everything you own is most likely already in new york city. you just wasted one hundred dollars on a train ticket you never used, and you' have no idea where spencer is.
you slowly spin in a circle, your surroundings illuminated by moonlight.
where could spencer be right now?
you think until your almost thought out, and then it hits you. when spencer distressed, or needs to refresh his mind, he goes to the park. and looks at the pond.
it's a long shot for him to be there in the dead of night, but you decide to take your chances. if he's not there, you can just get a cab to take you to his apartment.
you run in the direction of the park, occasionally passing a junkie, or a couple on a nightly outing.
you run through the park, breathing hard and cluthing your stomach.
you're about to give up hope, because you haven't seen a living soul hair, but then you see him.
or what you presume to be him.
a tall, skinny figure. watching the pond.
"spencer!" you yell, running towards him.
the rain beats down on you, and your whole body is soaking wet but you don't care. all you want to do is get to him, the love of your life.
because you love spencer.
and you've been idiotic and silly and blind but know you know you love him.
all those glances, the smiles, small touches, that was love.
and love wasn't big, and flashy. love isn't what makes the world go round. love is what makes the ride worthwhile. love is the small things.
spencer turns around, and you can see his face illuminated by the moonlight.
his perfect, beautiful face.
you run into his arms, hair flowing, tears falling. you crash your lips into his and press your hands into his chest, what you've wanted to do for five years.
and he responds. his lips move against yours, and he holds your face in his hands.
"i love you, spencer" you say, when you finally break apart. and it feels so great. being able to finally say it after all the years of denial, and trying to shove the feelings away.
"i've always loved you, spencer and i tried to shove the feelings away, lock them in a box and keep them hidden forever but it didn't work. and i couldn't leave knowing that i would never be able to tell you, knowing that it would be to late. i loved you everyday spencer. you let me sleep on your shoulder, watch the worst sit-coms with you, and you hold my hand under the table, and i can't help but glance up every so often to look at you during work. and i choose you. for the looks and smiles and conversations. that's why it has to be you, that's why it's always been you and always will be you. and i know i don't make a lot of sense and i sound drunk and you probably-"
"y/n," spencer whispers, placing a finger to your lips. you didn't realise you had been rambling. "i love you too," he whispers, and you feel your heart melt.
spencer reid, boy genius, pretty boy, fbi agent, kicker of criminal ass, loves you.
he loves you right now. under the stars. in the rain. illuminated by the moonlight.
you stay silent, staying in his embrace as he softly kisses your forehead.
a/n: hi! so i have a gazillion story ideas. i'm just going to right them all here, and you guys can request something. so yeah. lol.
masterlist
you come back after leaving the bau for a year and a half. no one had heard from you in that time, and you had never said goodbye. spencer is upset with you about it.
criminal minds but its the office/parks and rec style.
stories inspired by songs: test drive, joji. more than a woman, bee gees. not allowed, tv girl. ribs, lorde. anyone else but you, moldy peaches. golden, harry styles. ykwim, yot club. greek tragedy, oliver nelson tiktok remix. runaway, aurora. heather, conan gray. deja vu, olivia rodrigo. mr brightside, the killers. you can also request any song you want.
some undercover dating thing
the team plays monopoly
karaoke anything.
you are moving to the west coast, and just as your about to board, you realise you're in love with spencer. he realises this just as he's starting to drive home.
unusual wedding proposal (gimme ideas pls)
“that’s why it has to be you. that’s why it’s always been you, and why it’ll always just be you.”
you force spencer to go skiing with you, but he's to scared to get off it, so you ride around in circles on the lift.
snowball fight.
you and spencer go on a road trip because the jet is being repaired, and get very very lost.
the team investigates a series of cruise-ship related murders. you and spencer act out titanic the whole time.
sharing secrets under the blanket during a storm.
you think something's going on between spencer and jj.
you and spencer fight about whether the toilet paper roll should be over or under (obviously over)
wiping away tears.
spencer and reader fight over halloween or thanksgiving.
you and spencer go to a high school prom to investigate a murder.
you make a mixtape for spencer.
you and spencer go to see a movie but you both talk too much, and get kicked out.
you see spencer for the first time after your breakup.
description: short little thing that i was too lazy too make into a story
category: fluff
tw: none
masterlist
ok but imagine spencer gets you coffee each morning, and then one day he starts making doodles on the cup. this goes on for a few months, and you spend all your mornings looking forward to seeing the drawings on your coffee cup. one day, persuaded by derek and emily, spencer draws a bunch of hearts. he refuses to write anything asking you out on it, because he thinks you'll be able to analyze your handwriting. after he gives it to you, he makes up an excuse and runs away really fast, scared you'll think the whole hearts thing is weird. but when he gets back, he see's something etched on his coffee cup. 'you could have just declared your undying love for me, doctor'. he looks up at you, and you just give him this innocent, fake confused look. when you get up, he writes on your coffee cup 'do you want to go to the park tonight?'. he knows derek would have criticized him for his awkward words, but he doesn't care. all he cares about is how you'll respond. a bit later, he gets up to talk to penelope about something. when he returns, theres a new message on his cup. 'its a date'. he's never been happier.
warnings: mention of wounds, blood, and sexual assault
masterlist
the cold breeze blows your already tangled hair. your vision blurs at the edges, and your long t-shirt provides little warmth.
you have been running for what feels like years. you know you lost him, but you have to keep going.
you have no idea where you are. the only visual recognition you have of the small, quiet town is a starbucks. but it’s closed, like everything else. and even if it was open, you wouldn’t be allowed to go in looking the way you do.
you wear nothing but your underclothes and a long t-shirt. your hair is a knotted mess, and your eyes are wild and large. cuts and bruises decorate you’re body, and blood covers any exposed skin. the only place where the blood isn’t present are your cheeks, where tears pushed the blood away.
you have no idea what time it is, only the understanding that it’s late. the sky’s dark, and everything’s closed. if you’re vision and head would stop spinning, you would have been able to guess that it was about 3am, based on the position of the moon in the sky.
your breath is ragged as you search for an open shop, anywhere to get help.
the night and fog seems to swallow you. you don’t have time to wait around for morning. you are about to give up, curl into a ball and wish for death because you should have died weeks ago, but then you see a red beacon of hope.
a telephone booth.
seven weeks and seven hours earlier.
the moonlight casts an eerie glow on the corn maze. you hold your gun out in front of you, your flashlight under it.
your breath creates small clouds, and the stalks of corn rustle as you prowl through them.
the unsub abducts women in their twenties, sexually abuses them, and tortures them in a variety of ways, all over a span of one to two weeks. and you and the team have tracked him to this small farmhouse. it’s not where he performs the murders, but it’s where he resides.
you lost spencer a few minutes when he took a different turn, but you’re confident in your ability to take down the unsub alone.
a rustling in the distance catches your attention. your body tenses, and you slowly and silently follow the sound. you hold your flashlight out, keeping your hand steady as you turn a corner, two fingers on the trigger of the gun.
but in the next few seconds, your gun will do you no good.
because as you turn the corner, your head collides with cold metal. and you collapse.
present day.
your shakily dial the number etched into your brain. it takes a few tries, because your hands are wobbly and stiff, but the phone eventually begins to ring.
and it rings.
and rings.
and then stops.
“hello, this is penelope garcia, technical analyst for the behavioral analysis unit of the fbi, how can i assist you?”
and the familiar voice clogs your throat. a tear spills from your eyes.
“hello, how can i assist you”
and for the first time in weeks your lips part and almost form a smile.
“hello, is anyone there?”
and you try and control your breathing, try and talk.
“p-p-penel...penelope.” you breathe, your voice hoarse and scratchy from the weeks of silence, and little water.
“oh my god! oh my god! y/n!” she gasps, and you can hear her voice break. but you know she’s happy.
“penel- penelope....please” you choke out, collapsing against the wall of the booth due to exhaustion.
“hold on y/n, i’m locating you.” you hear frantic typing, and penelope speaks again. “we were so worried, we thought you were... we’ve been trying to find you, i can’t believe it’s you!”
they thought i was dead. and the funny thing is, you think you were too. you felt dead. after weeks of laying in a small cell, being repeatedly violated and tortured, you started to feel dead.
“ok y/n, i have your location. we’ll be there as soon as we can. i’m going to hang up now, please be safe”
two-thousand, five-hundred eighty-five miles away.
the team, minus you, sits in the briefing room. sloppy outfits, eye bags, and a hopeless expression is one thing they all share. the common denominator.
everyone has dressed in dark tones, even garcia, like you’re already dead, and they’re attending one big, long funeral.
at first, garcia tried to keep up her usual quirky, colorful outfits, but after two weeks, it started to become hard.
in the past seven weeks, most of the teams time has been spent in the briefing room, looking over files and trying to find leads. the case was closed after a month of silence from the unsub, but the team is still desperately trying to find you.
emily is about to share an idea about where you could be (that is rather far-fetched) but garcia swiftly enters the room.
everyone knows what the wide smile on her face means.
back to y/n.
you’ve been on the phone with garcia for an hour. she says the team is coming. she says you’re in gabbs, nevada.
now she says they’ll be within 200 yards of you in 5 minutes.
the breath leaves your body.
seven weeks. seven weeks with seeing no one but your abuser.
and now your team is coming. your friends are coming to save you.
a few tears slip out of your eyes, and you look at the sky as a joyful sob leaves your body.
“you’re going to be ok, y/n” penelope says.
the sound of speeding vehicles fills your ears. the quiet that you’ve grown accustomed to is gone, replaced with the sounds of your saviors.
you drop the phone, leaving it dangling from the cord, and rush out of the telephone booth into the street. about two-hundred yards away, you see a black suv pull over, and a group of people get out.
your friends.
“i’m here....help!” you try to yell, but it comes out hoarsely, and quiet.
they don’t see you.
but then, someone turns.
a tall, skinny figure. with a mess of brown hair.
and he stands there, shocked.
you run toward him, limping slightly.
“spencer,” you cry, and he runs toward you.
you crash into him, and he pulls you into a hug, kissing your forehead. he’s calling the team on his radio, and he’s crying, and he’s blaming himself, and your tears are mixing, but you don’t feel dead anymore. you’re going to be ok.
you and spencer are silent. just embracing each other, and crying.
the rest of the team comes, followed by an ambulance. emily’s and jj’s and derek’s and hotch’s and rossi’s voices all mix, but the only voice you notice is spencer.
“i thought i lost you,” he says, resting his head on mine. i shake my head feebly, my tears blurring my vision.
“i love you,” he whispers into my head, and i feel my heart stop.
2 description: reader is tortured, spencer tries and save her.
category: definetly angst, maybe a teeny tiny bit of fluff?
tw: death, mentions of cuts, burns, kidnapping, words like ‘whore’, knives.
masterlist
spencer’s pov:
the team sits around the table, at the sacramento police department conference room. well, everyone but y/n. y/n is also the reason the team is in the conference room.
while the team was tracking down an unsub, y/n was kidnapped, drugged, and taken to who knows where.
at 27, she’s the youngest member of the team so everyone is protective of her. but it’s not just because of her age. it’s because she’s just herself. funny, sarcastic, bubbly, bold, gorgeous, and affectionate. even her flaws are lovable.
we all sit at the round table, discussing where she could be. the only thing we know, is that she was taken as leverage, or as a warning. all our other theories on where she could be are a bit too far-fetched.
our unsub is a woman named coleen robbins. she’s been kidnapping, torturing, and killing girls in their 20s who resemble the girl her boyfriend cheated on her with. y/n fit the description exactly. y/h/c hair, y/e/c eyes, and freckles. we didn’t notice until it was too late.
garcia's been on facetime with us for the past two hours, helping us trace pointless leads, or trying her best to track coleen. none of our efforts are working though. y/n’s phone is off, and coleen hasn’t used her credit card or anything. we’re at a loss.
hotch is pacing back and forth by the whiteboard, rossi is staring out the window, emily and jj are looking at every other victim’s file together, derek has his head in his hands, and I’m just sitting here. This is one of the only times where my brain is of no use to the team.
“hey guys?” Garcia’s voice is wobbly, somethings wrong. “i just got emailed a link. you’re gonna want to see this. i’m sending it to you now.” i’m racking my brain trying to think of what the link could be. i have nothing. that is, until a live feed pops up on the television. everyone gasps, and i feel all the blood rush from my face.
y/n is tied to a chair, in the middle of a dark room. there are burns, cuts and bruises all over her body. coleen stands behind her, twisting a knife in between her fingers.
“oh my god,” hotch mutters, and everyone else just stares at the television in stunned silence. “go on, you little whore. say your goodbyes,” coleen’s icy voice slips through the speakers in the room, and I hold back the urge to punch the tv screen.
y/n looks up, her face illuminated by a single light bulb. she smiles weakly. she’s the only person I know who would focus on others feelings in a situation like this.
“hey guys,” she says, her voice wobbling a bit. for some reason she’s smiling a bit. “i wish i could say bye in person, but this is the best i can do i guess,” she laughs weakly, and plays with her fingers; her nervous habit.
“rossi,” she starts, and he looks up at the screen, his eyes brimming with tears. “oh my god I’m going to miss you so much. you’re the only person I know who brings instant pasta in their suitcase, and you can always make me smile. just, keep being yourself, don’t change.”
“hotch, you’re like the strict, loving father I never had” her voice breaks, and she laughs a bit. no one else does. “you were always there for me, for my first dead body, my first case, everything. you’re the reason that i didn’t quit after my first case. you helped me get through it, and you can always keep me on track. i’ll miss you so much.” hotch tries to maintain a normal, serious expression but I can see the pain in his eyes.
“emily, you’re so funny and sarcastic and beautiful and amazing. i’m always wishing i knew more about you, you’re just so interesting! i still can’t tell if you were joking when you said you worked at a strip club or not,” a tear spills out of Emilys eye, and she mumbles something to the tv screen. “i love you endlessly, please please never change,” y/n says, and i see her blink away a tear or two through the screen.
“penelope, you’re probably one of the most unique, amazing people i’ve ever met. i remember on my first day i was so scared and nervous, and you just gave me a huge hug when i walked in, and I knew everything would be fine. i love your hair, and your outfits, and the way you greet the phone. i love you so much, never ever change or I will rise from the dead and perform some satanistic ritual on you” I hear penelope cry through the facetime video.
“derek. you’re just so great, and it will always amaze me how you always have a girl on your arm. i loved every second of getting drunk with you, even when you would force me to do karaoke. please do me a favor and marry penelope.” derek puts his hand on his head, and stays silent. i can see the emotion on his face.
“and jj, I don’t know how to thank you for being my first real best friend. i never really had people i could trust, but then i met you and i knew, i knew we would be friends until the end. you’re so gorgeous, i’ve spent hours wishing i was you. i’ll miss our saturday girl’s breakfasts, and our movie nights, and even you calling me at four am to say we have a case. love you forever.”
jj sobs, but everyone else is too upset to comfort her. i know it’s my turn for the goodbyes. but i can’t do it. i want to run out of the room, punch a wall, i can’t do this. i can’t watch her say bye to me, while i think about everything i never said, everything i should have said. i should have said it when we sat on the roof and watched the stars. i should have said it when we sat in the car and ate ice cream and listened to 90s music. i should have said it everytime we sat in the cafe and drank coffee with way too much sugar. i should have said it. but i didn’t. and now it’s too late.
“spencer.” y/n’s voice comes in through the tv, and i bring myself to look up. she has a sad smile on her face, and she’s holding back tears. “spencer, my best friend. not even my best friend. best friend was just too generic, you were so much more than a best friend. we were the type of people who would look at the stars together, and talk about constellations, and the theory of the universe together. we were the type of people who would come over to each others apartments at three am and watch movies or lay in bed and stare at each other and just talk. we were the type of people who would sit in the parked car, eating ice cream and forcing each other to listen to nineties music or beethoven. we would sit together in the police department for hours, drinking coffee to keep us awake while we tried to solve a case. we would laugh at each others jokes that no one else understood, and compare our opinions on classic novels. i remember the first day i met you, when i spilled coffee all over you in the elevator, and you told me this crazy fact about how meeting someone for the first time when you’re embarrassed strengthens a relationship. and then i remember i took you out for coffee because i felt bad, and then you accidentally spilled it on me. i remember getting home and laughing for hours. we were the type of people who were happier when we were with each other. and whatever star I was born under, you were born under it too. we’re not best friends spencer, we’re soulmates. and...and....I love you.” her voice breaks, and she looks at the camera with a nostalgic face, like she’s already gone.
i cry, i can’t help it. i just want to scream, ‘i love you too!’. i want her to hear me. but it’s too late. it will always be too late.
-------------------------------------------
we’re all in the suvs. coleen gave us her location. i know i should be rejoicing, but it was what she said after she gave it. ‘now you’ll be able to watch her die.’ I yell at morgan to go faster, even though deep down i know he’s doing everything he can.
‘now you’ll be able to watch her die.’
after what feels like an eternity, we pull up to a small shed. everyone jumps out of the van, vests on, guns and flashlights in their hands. morgan kicks down the door, and we all run in. i hear hotch yell that he has coleen, but i don’t care. i need to find y/n. i run from room to room, panicking, until I reach a small porch at the back of the house. and y/n’s there.
she always seemed so large in life, but now, nearing her death, she seems so small. like a little girl. i hold back tears, i have to be strong for her. she’s lightly breathing, and watching the sky. when I reach her, i sit down, and cradle her head in my lap.
“i wanted to see the stars,” she whispered, and i nod, watching her face.
“remember that day…. that day in the park?” she says, tilting her head to look up at me.
of course i do. we had just gotten back from a long case, and y/n had me come to the park with her, to watch the sunset. we laid down in the grass, and watched the sky. i was still struggling with the case, and i was telling her about how awful it was, when she grabbed my hand, and pointed at the sky. look at how beautiful the world is, she had said. without hard cases, and ugliness, we wouldn’t be able to appreciate this. we wouldn’t be able to appreciate the beauty of everything, she told me, and I remember I had just stayed silent, watching the angelic-looking girl.
“of course,” I say, and she smiles up at me, blood dripping down her face.
“remember how pretty the sunset was? how beautiful everything was? you have to remember the beauty of that day, spencer. the sky was glowing, and trees were rustling, and birds were singing. the earth is beautiful. that was the day I knew i loved you. when I held your hand, and we just looked at the sky.” she brings a hand up, and touches my face gently. of course she’s the one who’s comforting me when she’s dying. i stay silent, cradling her head, and stroking her hair. she looks at me again, and i see pain in her eyes. “i don’t want to die, spencer” y/n whispers, her voice breaking a bit, “i don’t want to die like this. i don’t want to die, spence” a tear slips down her cheek, and i notice i’m crying a bit. “hey, hey, shhhhh” i comfort, wiping the tear off her face. she stares back at the stars. this is my chance to tell her. i know she’s going to die, and it’s completely pointless because she already knows, but I have to.
“i love you, y/n. i love you so much. i’ve loved you, and i don’t want you to go”. the girl turns and looks at me, a sad smile on her face. “i know, spence. and i love you too. so much”. I stroke her hair, wishing I could kiss her but i can’t. she looks at my red eyes, and my tear stained cheeks, and starts humming. humming a song. our favorite song. my head fills the lyrics in.
you’re a part time lover, and a full time friend.
the monkey on your back is the latest trend,
i don’t see what anyone can see,
in anyone else.
i kiss you on the brain in the shadow of the train,
i kiss you all starry eyed my bodies swayin’ from side to side
i don’t see what anyone can see,
in anyone else, but you.
here is the church, and here is the steeple,
we sure are cute for two ugly people,
i don’t see what anyone can see, in anyone else.
suddenly, she stops and turns and looks at me, and suddenly i realize this is it. “i can see the stars in your eyes, spence” she whispers, and i watch as the breath leaves her body. the way she sadly smiled, before her eyes glazed over to look at the sky, the way her lips parted. and it’s kind of beautiful. but there was something sad and terrible about it too. because it was death.
