The individual is a white, 44- to 55-year-old male of average build. He works in this area. He wears a suit and tie to work and left work very abruptly shortly after 2:00, immediately after watching our earlier statement about him. If anyone has any additional information, please call our anonymous tip line immediately.
A/N: Here’s me being me again. I needed a break from all of the requests to write something purely mine and this is what came from it. I hope you enjoy.
Warnings: mentions of domestic violence, ptsd
“I love you so much.”
They were the same words he spoke every night as he watched her fall asleep, curled into his arms like the frail girl she was. His hands traced the curve of her back lightly, scared to make a sudden move that would send her spiraling into hysterics again.
She was broken, a beautiful glass figure that had been shattered to pieces by a man who had carelessly held on too tightly. She’d never been quite the same again and all Spencer could do was watch as she tried to pick up the pieces and make herself whole again. But like any true glass piece, there were shards that were simply gone once shattered- vanishing into thin air, and they left empty holes in her body where the cold draft filled her with a sense of emptiness, a cruel reminder of how hollow she was.
Spencer felt useless as he held her in his arms. He should have seen the signs. He should have noticed the way she cowered whenever someone raised a hand. He should have realized what was happening before it had been too late.
His heart had filled with irrevocable sadness when he received the phone call from the hospital. She had listed him as her emergency contact, him, not the other man. She had trusted so much in him to save her and he had failed.
He cried when he saw her bruised face. How anyone could ever do something so cruel to something so lovely was beyond him. How someone so beautiful could allow themselves to be treated in such a way, that he understood. He knew her better than anyone. He knew that deep beneath her smile was a sad being looking for validation. Looking for love.
If only he would have confessed his love to her before. Before she met that despicable man who turned her into his personal ragdoll. Before she had fallen so deeply into her own self-hatred to allow such a thing.
And so she whimpered as she lay next to him in his bed, images of the man’s violence still flashing vividly in her mind. They haunted her for days, the constant fear of him returning enough to make her lose sleep. She knew she was being irrational. He wasn’t coming back. Spencer had made sure of that.
He had sent Morgan himself to arrest him, sending the man to jail on charges of domestic abuse that he had no choice but to plead guilty to due to his previous records involving similar incidents. Spencer had felt a repulsion to the man. An incredible anger that would have led him to do something he would have regretted if he himself had gone after him.
She lay with him every night, her own body craving the safety he provided. She cringed away from all other touch that didn’t originate from him. Not even JJ, who’s whole being exuded a matronly comfort, was able to come near. She clung onto Spencer as if he was her savior, her lifeline that had only just barely reached her.
He didn’t complain. He didn’t force her to talk, to speak aloud the worry she held on her face. Instead he would simply arrive home with her favorite foods, a spark of excitement in her eyes for a mere second before it dimmed once again. They would sit and eat in comfortable silence, an understanding between them that some things were better left unsaid. Sometimes she would ask how everyone else was and he would fill her in on the team’s shenanigans. Sometimes her eyes would sparkle with amusement, other times she’d simply nod.
She lived most of her days in a limbo, existing only enough to do what was required of her. She had not gone back to work yet but Hotch had been understanding. He had sent her a gift with Spencer once, a journal and a fancy pen. She’d opened it to find a note written down.
For the things you need to release but can’t bear to say.
That small journal had been her second salvation. Spencer constantly found her curled up on the couch, fast asleep with it open in her lap. She’d nearly filled all of its pages and he felt a wave of relief flush through him. She was venting somewhere and that was good. It was healthy. It would help her healing process.
Every night she’d curl into him without a word, although he understood that she cared. She cared that he was there. There were times when he would be woken by her tight grip in the middle of the night, tears streaming down her face as she struggled against the feelings her own body raged against her. He would simply hold her against him, his long fingers stroking her skin comfortingly as she cried. They never spoke of it but she was grateful.
Tonight was different. There was a sense of serenity in her as she curled up in his bed. She dared to throw a leg over him, earning a small raise of an eyebrow from Spencer. This time she looked at him and smiled, a small smile that belonged to a girl who was only just beginning to love herself once more. He felt his heart flutter as he realized that the warmth in her eyes had returned, a sign of the girl she used to be. He wrapped his arm around her as they settled into their usual positions, the sense of familiarity between them enough to bring a small spark of comfort to both. He pressed his lips against her forehead in a tender kiss, smiling as he heard her sweet voice fill the space between them.
You should do a story where the reader is kidnapped by an unsub and she knows Hotch so she calls him when the unsub isn’t paying attention and for like two days she’s just giving Hotch and the team information they need to nail the guy. Right when the team is about to barge in, reader gets all badass, beats the unsub up, and chills for the two minutes it takes for them to get in. Impressed they ask her to join the team. She also is fighting the internal fear of the situation and they don’t know.
Woo! You guys like your specific stories. Alright, I can try to stay with this to the best of my ability. Here is your one-shot, comin’ ‘atcha!
On the third dial, he picked up.
Hotch finally picked up his phone.
“Hello?” he asks, his voice muffled by your bra as you try to stay as inconspicuous as you can.
Hotch hadn’t realized that you had been taken by their unsub.
And you hadn’t realized that it was the same Hotch was looking for.
“Aaron. It’s me,” you breathe, your eyes darting around in the dark, “get Reid.”
“Y/N? What number are you-?”
“Damn it, Hotchner, come on! Speaker. Reid. Now.”
As Hotch scrambles on the other end of the line, you hear a click before Reid’s voice pops up in the background.
“Her name’s Y/N,” Hotch murmurs.
“Y/N? This is Special Agen-”
“I know, I know. Shut up and listen,” you whisper harshly.
“Oh-…kaaaay?” he asks as he furrows his brow.
“It’s a man. Six four. About 240 pounds. Massive biceps. No tri’s. He can carry me over his shoulder but not in his arms.”
As Spencer listens to you intently, recording your every word into his brain, Morgan starts to flail around a stack of papers as he finally grasps the picture he was looking for.
Handing the sketch to Hotch, he puts everything together as his face pales.
His neighbor has been taken by their untrackable unsub.
“Y/N?” Reid interrupts, “Do you have any idea where you are?”
“Gotta go,” you whisper, clicking the phone off before scurrying into the corner, curling up like you were when he last left you.
You knew you had a good reason for having two cell phones.
“Who was that, Hotch?” J.J. asks as Hotch runs his hand through his hair.
“J.J. Prentiss. Go to my house and question the neighbors. Ask if they’ve seen anything suspicious. Cars. Random people walking up and down the block. A-a-and make sure Jack is alright at school.”
“Hotch? What’s going on?” Emily asks as she crosses her hands across her chest, her brow furrowing with worry.
“That woman is my neighbor…and she’s been taken by our unsub.”
As Aaron drums his fingers on his desk, the sweat dripping down his neck gathering on the collar of his shirt, he sees the number he doesn’t recognize pop up again and he calls for the team, opening up the call and immediately putting on you speakerphone.
“I’m set to record,” Garcia says.
“Y/N?” Hotch asks.
But all he heard was your heavy breathing.
And it panicked Hotch thinking that the man had found your phone.
“Small hands,” you croak as Hotch swallows thickly.
“What else?” Reid beckons as he watches Aaron warily from the corner of his eye.
“In a dark room. When he shuts the door there’s nothing. Not even the hand in front of my face. Grabbed some of his hair. He uses-”
The team hears you sniff deeply before coughing fiercely.
“Lots of moisture. And also, apple. His scent is apple. Ironically small hands for a man his height. Jet black hair. Steely green eyes. Scar on his-”
But when the team heard your door slam open, the call cut off again.
“Add it to the profile,” Hotch murmur.
“Hotch, we don’t even know-”
“It is,” Hotch bites to Rossi as his friend dances his eyes across his face.
“It’s the same guy. No other people have been reported missing with the same MO, and I guarantee you when the women get back from their investigation they will say-”
“Hotch! You were right,” Prentiss interrupts as the men turn towards them, “rope on her pillow, all of her left shoes have been taken, and nothing else has been touched.”
“But he made a mistake,” J.J. grins as Hotch throws David an “I told you so” look.
“What?” Morgan asks.
“Y/N must be a fighter. She probably made him stumble, causing his hand to reach out and press up against the window beside her front door.”
“I’m still skeptical, though,” Prentiss murmurs, “I mean, the hand print is really small.”
And it was Reid who took to writing down the rest of the things you had said over the phone that evening.
The team was finally closing in. They had it narrowed down to a 25 mile radius, but even with the entire police force scouring the woods, it would take weeks to find you.
Hotch had to hear from you.
He had to know what you knew.
They had no shot otherwise.
And then, as if the heavens were praying in his favor…
Ring ring riiiiiiiing.
Fumbling with his phone as he picks it up, Garcia begins recording immediately as he hears you puking on the other end of the line.
“Y/N?” he asks, worry constricting his throat.
“Fast food,” is all you choke out in between vomits, “all he brings me is fast food. I’m sick of this damn grease.”
And little did you know it was the connecting dot Hotch needed.
The radius soon went from 25 miles to 5, and everyone was hopping into their squad cars and SUV’s, heading to the addresses that housed tunnels and basements.
Hotch wanted to keep you on the line as long as possible, until you heard the sirens echoing outside as well as over the phone line.
The wait seemed like an eternal damnation.
“I hear you!” you whisper desperately as you finally work the rope from around your wrists, your hands now darting to your legs as you curl your nose at the stench of your own filth.
“You’re getting closer. You’re close. You’re-”
But your door slammed open, and you cut the call…like all of the times you’d done before.
Except this time, Hotch was yelling your name well after the call had been dropped.
“Damn it!” he roars, throwing his phone against the dash before turning his head towards Rossi.
“She said we were getting closer,” he breathes.
“Then it can only be one place,” Rossi says as he diverts off of the road, catapulting along a divoted dirt road before a rickety shack comes into view.
And Hotch’s eyes flew to the cellar door.
Panting in the corner as you sit on top of the bloodied man’s unconscious body, you hear footsteps running down the corridor as someone finally flicks on the first shades of light you had seen in days.
It was about damn time he showed up.
As the man begins to groan, you jab the butt of your elbow into his side, causing him to start gasping for air as your head whips up towards the door.
“FBI! PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE-”
But the sight stopped Aaron in his tracks.
“FBI! PUT YOUR-”
And then, it stopped Morgan.
“Guys!?” you hear Reid yell, his footsteps rushing down the hallway as he peeks over Aaron’s shoulder, taking in your tired form, your pajamas tattered and your face dirty. You were sitting on top of the unsub who was moaning and groaning in pain underneath you, his shoulder dislocated, his eye black and blue, and his nose broken.
“Took you long enough,” you lull before standing to your feet as the man begins gasping for air yet again.
“Fat bitch,” he murmurs lowly.
“Better be glad I wasn’t sitting on your face,” you muse behind you, your eyes slowly grazing over the cool, dark floor before raising up to meet Aaron’s shocked stare.
But as you held Hotch’s gaze, he was well aware of your shaking hands as he slowly takes a step towards you.
“Are you alright?” he asks as he slowly reaches out for your arm.
“Uh huh,” you breathe, tears rolling down your face as you try to put on a strong facade.
“Did he hurt you?” he asks as he grasps your hand, your lip beginning to quiver as your breath begins to shorten.
It was then that Morgan and Reid slip behind you to handcuff the man on the floor and drag him out of the cellar.
“Oh, no. No no, I-I…uh…I’m fine,” you choke out, trying your best to stomach the fear and surprise hitting your system all at once.
“Come here,” Hotch coos as he offers his body to you, your form sinking deeply into his as you wrap your arms tightly around his back.
“Ho, my god,” you whisper into his chest, your entire body trembling as he slowly begins to walk you out of the room.
As he murmurs lowly in your ear, slowly escorting you from the cellar all the way out to the blinking cars, a thin, blonde woman hands you a bottle of water as you take it from her thankfully, smiling weakly at her as you twist the cap off and bring the bottle to your lips.
“Morgan said that she took him down?” Prentiss asks Hotch lightly as he watches you get checked out by medical personnel.
“She was sitting on his unconscious body when we got down there,” Hotch chuckles lightly.
“Aaaaand…what does she do for a living?” Prentiss asks him in shock.
“She’s a librarian,” Hotch muses as he raises his eyebrows, slowly panning his gaze over to Emily as the two of them read each other’s minds.
“Yeah. I’m sure you’ll find her a place on the team just fine,” Prentiss muses, patting Hotch on the shoulder before turning and making her way for the SUV in the background.
Spencer Reid was impressed. He had just seen you, a civilian, stand up to an
unsub. Quite successfully. And that was rightfully impressive. He was curious.
Curious as to how you knew exactly what to say, what to do and what not to
How did you know he wanted to know this?
Simple. The same way you knew what to say to the unsub. You heard his thoughts.
/There is a history of psychology classes,
but that wouldn’t quite explain this. Even if she might have heard our profile.
Attended some of our lectures. Read the books. But still…../ The resident genius of the BAU was
facing a puzzle he couldn’t simply solve. /I wish I could hear what Rossi is saying to this
Summary/Request: Imagine Spencer Reid taking care of you when are having a really bad period
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Warnings: period talk but that’s about it and im not going into that much detail….
A/N: GUESS WHO’S BACK?! I know I said I was working on a draco x reader fic as my come back imagine aunty flow has got me hormonal AF and I came up with this short fluffy little Spencer Reid imagine (what can I say my husband makes me happy ;) ) I love you guys so much and owe you all a big thank you for staying with me throughout my hiatus I do plan on sticking around but I don’t have a great routine yet cause I’ve just started college …. okay I’m gonna shut up and get on with it ~ Rae
@hogwarts-konoha , for you since you are the driving force for this ever getting up tonight… love you Leigh <3 P.S. Mother nature can suck it
You groaned loudly as you turned over and folded into a fetal position
God damn cramps.
Sure you were used to your period by now, pretty much got your cycle down to a T. Knowing how to control your pain and still have the ability to carry on as a normal human … or well so you thought. Until aunt flow decided to stab you in back and leaving you in the current state you were in now.
You loved you job at the BAU, a life’s hard work and determination got you there and you had never missed a day of work, Hotch practically had to blackmail you into taking holidays. But despite what your brain was saying, there was no way you were physically fit to be at work today, let alone the field.
You were so thankful when Spencer, whom you were down officially dating. Texted you to check up on you, informed you that you had in fact gotten off lucky and were only missing catching up on casework
You spent most of the day in the same position on the couch swarmed in a sea of blankets varying between sleeping, crying, eating and watching doctor who. You didn’t realise that the day had slipped away until two sharp knocks at your apartment door made you look towards the clock on your wall
It was late
You pondered on the thought of ignoring whoever was at the door until the knocks came again slightly louder and more sharper almost screaming urgency, groaning you got up and padded across the room, and looked through the peephole,
It was Spencer, and he looked kinda worried. Probably because you hadn’t answered your door. You slowly opened the door hiding behind it slightly.
“dude.. No you can’t be here I’m all gross and feel…” You whined slightly pulling a face to describe how you were feeling , his face softened at the sight of your, hair in a messy bun only in a tank top and shorts. But he loved you like this low key and adorable
“[y/n] .. you look beautiful .. you always look beautiful, plus I brought supplies!” He said with a grin holding up the plastic bag in his hand
“did.. You buy out a drugstore?” You smiled at his cute face and made with your hand to beckon him inside
He walked through to your kitchen “well I brought everything I could think of, and did a bit of research I have soup, chocolate, lots of chocolate, painkillers, tea….” He stopped rambling and poked his head back around the door to see you balled up on the couch
“[Y/N]?! Are you okay” he nearly ran towards you , leaning down rubbing your back but you could only respond with an inaudible groan, turning your head to face him you pouted slightly
“I hate being a woman” you mumbled he pushed the loose strands of hair out of your face and held his arms out for a hug, which you took gratefully, nothing beats a Spencer hug.
He gently pulled you back into the couch still holding you in his arms he proceeded to kick off his own shoes which revealed his mismatched socks and covered you both with the blankets left on the couch
“are you watching doctor who” he said finally glancing up to the TV
“mmh hmm” you said cuddling into his side
“god I love you” he chuckled kissing the top of your head
“I love you too” you blushed slightly it wasn’t the way you had imagined you first time dropping the L bomb but that made it even more perfect
You both stayed like this for the rest of the night continuing to watch doctor who until you both fell asleep, Spencer was a true gentleman the whole night, taking care you, fetching you things, making you soup… which really wasn’t necessary but he believed it was his job to take care of you. And it would be a lie to say you didn’t enjoy it a little bit … okay fact of the matter was you loved it but you had no plans on telling him that.
Maybe there was a silver-lining to your cramps being this bad