Spencer Reid Imagines + One Shots

b.6

Blurry 

WARNING: Explicit Language 

I slowly advanced into the dark building, shining my flashlight on the dusty furniture. My gun was up and aiming at anything that moved. I felt Spencer moving in behind me, studying the strange house.

Garcia had alerted us when a victims cell phone had turned on. She had traced it too this exact building. Morgan and Prentiss were taking the back door, while the rest of the team waited outside in case the unsub tried too escape. 

The house didn't look like a hideout for a killer. It was big and full of furniture, but nothing that indicated that a person had even been here before. 

Once in the living room, I heard a scream. Shrill and pearling, but sounded so far away. I looked at Spencer, then gestured too where the scream had come from. The second floor. 

Suddenly, Spencer's eyes widened. I wasn't sure where he was looking at first, only too realized his gaze was fixated on something behind me. He aimed his gun above my head.

"Y / n-" He was cut off. I felt something smack me int he back of my head, a rock maybe. My line of vision became blurry as I tumbled onto the floor, my head pounding. I saw the outline of Spencer with his hands up, his gun on the floor. 

The person who had hit me grabbed me by the waist, his cold arms dragging me through the house. Why wasn't Spencer following? He was just standing there, his hands still up. 

Then, the person stopped. My body laid on the floor for a second before I felt something smack against my head again. I passed out, cold. 

                                       ———————————————————

I groaned, waking up from what seemed like a nightmare. My head was pounding, and I wanted too reach up and touch it, only too figure out that my hands were bound. 

My eyes opened slowly as I trie drop take in my surroundings. I was still in my clothes, but my gun was gone. I could feel it's absents at my holster. 

I was sprawled out in a corner of a dark, cold room. There was a single light, which was situated at the ceiling. The room was like a container, with metal walls and a hard floor. 

Then, I heard static. My radio. Someone was talking out of it, though it wasn't with me.

"Suspect had escaped. All units, search for a light blue Honda. I repeat, a light blue Honda,"

I looked up too see a man sitting in a chair, fiddling with my radio. He had dark black hair and a beard, he was skinnier than usual. My gun laid in his lap, fully loaded. 

He was staring at me.

"You're awake," he stated, matter of factly.

"Where am I?" I asked, trying too sit up. My hands and legs were bound tightly which made it much harder too do so.

The man didn't answer my question, just tilted his head, enjoying watching me struggle against the bonds. 

I realized soon enough that this was the unsub. I tried to dig through my memory, trying too remember his name. Philip Winston. 

I remembered from the profile that he was a narcissist. I could use this too my advantage.

"You're good," I crossed out. "You killed seven women before we could even start too understand you,"

A sly smile creeped up his face. He was amused.

"Yes, I am good," He said. Philip stood up from the chair, grabbing the gun with him.