Spencer Reid X Reider One shots and imagines

Guilty

angst, again.

Word Count: 2,574

You were a call girl to put it nicely. Not so nice would be a high end prostitute. You lived in an apartment with your boyfriend, Spencer Reid, that one of your clients payed for.

Three of your clients had been murdered, throats slashed. One of which was paying for your apartment. You were packing up to move. Spencer was out, not helping.

You had heard the FBI was in town. You figured they might blame for you for what happened to your clients plus you were already planning on selling your client list and getting away from that life.

You were almost done packing when Spencer came back to the apartment. He had changed his clothes but this wasn't the first time he came back wearing different clothes so you didn't question it.

You told him,"Hey Spence, you know this packing would go a lot faster if you helped me"

"I know but I know where we should go. I have a plan" He wrapped his arms around you.

"And what is that plan?"

It was Spencer's idea to move, to start a new life, and to sell your list. You thought it was a good idea. You had saved up a lot of money. The only thing that wasn't planned was where you were going and what you do.

Spencer said, "Let's go to Vegas"

You questioned him,"Vegas? Why do you want to go back?"

"I can win lots of money playing poker, I know I can because I did that when I was a kid. And we can get married. You can get a better job if you want and we can happy. All I want to do is make you happy"

The way he said make you happy melted your heart.

"Did you just say get married?" you asked.

He responded,"Yes I did. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Y/n L/n will you marry me?"

You exclaimed, "Yes! Yes!"

"I don't have a ring yet but I can get one"

"I don't need a ring. I just need you"

"I love you so much"

"I love you too"

Agents Elizabeth Mills and Derek Morgan were checking out the latest crime scene, the parking lot of a hotel. Drew Johnson had been murdered on the way back to his car. His throat was slashed, very bloody. Whoever did this must've gotten blood all over him.

Morgan started, "So I'm the unsub"

"And I'm walking out to my car" finished Mills.

Morgan snuck up, "And then I cut his throat but I don't run immediately. I push him down, why?"

"Anger. Simply cutting his throat wasn't enough. He had to push him down as well. He need him to hurt more"

Prentiss and Hotch were working victimology. So far not much of a connection. All men in early thirties to late forties. Two of them were married, the other had a fiancée, and one of them even had an eleven year old girl. All of them had money, upper class, high risk victims. None of them worked together.

Drew Johnson, the latest victim, was murdered in the early morning. The unsub was getting bolder.

Prentiss said, "They were at hotels. They rented a room for one night. Drew's wife thought he was working late"

"They were having affairs" stated Hotch.

Hotch's phone rang with a call from Garcia.

"What did you find Garcia?" asked Hotch.