reidologys - Tumblr blog

reidologys · 3 months ago

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The Tortured Poets Department

People put wedding rings on..

paring: spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: after a dinner at rossi's, you start to look back over the past few months with spencer, wondering if his actions were more than what you thought.

content warning: 4.1k words! i pictured season 6-7 reid when writing this but you're 100% up for interpretation!!, a man who yearns coded, spencer is truly a tortured poet, talks of marriage, tooth rotting fluff, spencer is better than matty healy i promise, linguistic! reader, weed, mention of going to a bar but canceling, reader gets her period and is emotional

a/n: if this flops i'm quitting (jkjk), also i need friends guys

TO SAY YOU were nervous about dinner at Rossi's was a complete and total understatement. You were apprehensive--this was your first time meeting Spencer's team. And that thought alone was nerve-wracking.

But here you were, all dressed up and clinging onto Spencer's forearm as his calloused, veiny hand knocked on Rossi's door with an echo that made your stomach twist snd turn.

You'd spent the past few hours getting ready and thinking about every way you could potentially embarrass yourself during this dinner. What if you dropped something or spilled something? What if this was all a ruse to give Spencer a reason to leave?

Spencer Reid was a profiler--- and a superb one at that. He saw the crease in your eyebrows and the tremors in your fingers while you curled your eyelashes. He made sure to reassure you of your worries. Spencer always had a way with words. He knew what to say to still your bouncing knee.

Rossi opened his front door with a tremendous smile pulling at the corners of his lips, showing off every smile line and wrinkle on his face. Showing his age.

"Boy Genius!" Rossi called out, bringing Spencer in for the most dad hug you'd ever seen. He patted Spencer's back before turning to you. "And you must be ━." He grabbed your hand with such ease. Such delicacy it made you wonder if he saw you as a porcelain doll that would shatter. He shook your hand with a practiced, firm grip.

"It's really nice to finally meet you, Dave. Spencer talks about you---all of you---frequently." You shook the older man's hand back, not wanting to be impolite. Spencer had informed you on the millions of pathogens---an estimated 5,209---passed during a handshake and you've never been able to stop thinking about it since.

Rossi led the two of you through his house and into the dining room. You looked around in awe, missing the pristine dining table the rest of Spencer's coworkers were sitting at. The room looked so elegant. Like a five star restaurant, except this was a wealthy man's mansion.

Spencer's hand that rested on the smallness of your back, gently patted your side to call back your focus. "Baby." He gently murmured, not wanting to speak too loud in hopes you weren't too embarrassed. You could feel your face heating up already.

You turned back to the slightly familiar faces sitting at the table, smiling at you and Spencer. You quietly cleared your throat while your fingers intertwined in front of you. "Hi, I'm ━." You introduced yourself, a mousy smile pulled at your lips.

A black haired woman couldn't hold back her giggle. Your eyes sheepishly looked from her to Spencer, eyes widening slightly as if you were scared you did the wrong thing.

Sensing your complexion, she spoke up. "Spencer, she's precious." The girl cooed. She pushed herself ip from the table, stalking over to you. Her arms wrapped loosely around your shoulders. You had to admit you were a little confused by this domestic feeling, but your hands eventually found their way to the girl's back, hugging her.

When she pulled away, she combed her fingers through her hair that looked to be blown out. "I'm Emily. Spencer talks about you all the time." When you giggled, brushing it off as just a little confidence booster, her face grew serious. "No, I'm not kidding. Spence always finds a way to beings you up in passing. It's honestly really--" "Okay, Emily. That's really unnecessary.."

Spencer's face flushed a shade of pink, his ears reddening and splotches starting to appear on his neck. He hadn't expected Emily to just expose him in front of his perfect girlfriend.

He pulled your chair out for you, allowing you to sit down before pushing it back in. His hands moved your hair from the chairs backing, not wanting it to tangle. While he was at it, he situated the necklace that sat around your neck so that the clasp was in the back.

Eventually, he sat down beside you, warm hand brushing up against your knee under the table. His fingers gently tapped in a pitter pattering motion against the flesh of your knee.

Rossi was quick to bring out dinner. The pasta he'd spent hours cooking looked filling as he dished out plates and poured expensive wine into glasses. When he sat down at the head of the table, he smiled at you.

"To Boy Geniuses girlfriend we've heard so much about." He lifted the glass up, the entire table mimicking his actions. You felt your face heat up for what felt like the millionth time tonight. All the attention on you was a little petrifying.

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The team had long finished dinner but no one dared to get up as the conversation flowed throughout The conversation that felt more like an interrogation.

Spencer's hand gripped tightly onto yours, delicate fingers softly rubbing against your cracking knuckles. The fall air outside had taken its toll on how soft your hands normally were. Spencer didn't mind, however. He never seemed to mind.

While Garcia was teasing JJ about her husband, Will, Spencer's fingers pulled the ring off of your middle finger. He romantically slid it onto your left ring finger. Wordlessly. The finger people put wedding rings on.

You could feel your heart exploding.

Hotch cleared his throat, sitting across from Spencer but looking at you. He waited expectantly for you to answer, thick eyebrows knitted together.

"I'm sorry. What did you say?" You felt embarrassed for asking Spencer's boss to repeat himself since you'd been occupied by Spencer's casualty about putting the shiny jewelry on your ring finger. But maybe it didn't mean anything. Maybe it was casual.

Hotch gave what looked like a smile but you could never be too sure. "I asked you what you and Reid did on your first date." His breath came out in what sounded like a slightly buzzed laugh. He seemed a lot less tense since the beginning of the dinner. Must have been the wine. Spencer told you that Hotch never loosened up.

You couldn't suppress the smile that pulled the corners of your mouth. "It was really cute, actually.."

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You and Spencer had been in the same poetry class. It was hardly even a class. It was an extra curricular that the Quantico library offered to all ages. Except it was mainly older people.

Spencer had been at your apartment, the two of you having been given homework to research poets from at least two centuries ago. It was a group project. You and Spencer had settled on Dylan Thomas.

A bulky typewriter sat on your dining room table. Spencer'd brought it over to write a poem inspired by the poet the two of you picked.

Hours later, when Spencer had long left, you noticed the hunk of metal still perched on your table. A breathy sigh left your lips as you hauled it down the stairs and into the back seat of your car.

When your shaking fist knocked on Spencer's apartment door, he opened immediately. "You--sorry I'm so cold. You left your typewriter at my apartment." Your cheeks were pink from the chill that blew around you outside on your dreadful decent up Spencer's twisty, windy, rickety staircase.

He gave you a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck. His ears grew red while spots showed up on his neck. This was when you first saw him blush, a soon to be familiar sight.

"Thank you for bringing it over. Uh--come in. You look like you could turn into a popsicle any second." His voice showed no signs of being shallow or rude. It was all teasing. You couldn't help but giggle softly, slipping into spencer's apartment.

You slipped your coat off, hanging it on his coat rack. He stalked into his kitchen, beginning to make two cups of tea. Peppermint flavored. How festive.

The two of you talked while the tea warmed up. He had a way with his words, constantly making you double over in laughter.

Once the tea was done brewing, the two of you found your way to his couch, sharing a throw blanket while Frosty the Snowman played in the background of your conversations.

It'd been hours you'd spent at Spencer's. Your head was leaned against his shoulder, body long being warmed up. Long having been defrosted.

It'd been comfortable silence of the two of you watching Christmas movies--The Santa Clause 3 now playing. Spencer cleared his throat, fingers rubbing small circles into your hip bone while your entire body leaned against him.

"I left it on purpose. I wanted to spend more time with you but I was too nervous to just..say it out loud." He confessed. You thought it was strange that the genius with an eidetic memory had forgotten such a hefty object on your table.

You couldn't help but snicker, curling your body closer to him. You thought something you'd never say: who uses typewriters anyway? You should've realized from the minute he walked in with that thing that he had a plan.

"You're a dork, Spencer." You hummed, eyes shut while you spoke. You felt his lips press against the top of your head before you eventually drifted off to sleep. He mumbled something about love that night. But you were too tired to hear it.

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"Who uses typewriters anyways?" Morgan was laughing at Spencer for how he'd gone about your first date. It was silly to him. But to you? That was the perfect first date.

Spencer shot Morgan a humorous glare, his brows pitched together. "I didn't know how else to ask." He huffed, a mouthiness to his words.

Morgan held his hands up in surrender. "Got me there, Pretty Boy." He chuckled, watching Spencer roll his eyes at his teasing.

"Wait, wait, wait. Spencer randomly texted me one night confessing his love for you--and Charlie Puth. What happened that night?" JJ couldn't stifle her giggles.

Your eyes went wide because you remembered exactly what had happened that night. It was hilarious.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

You and Spencer had gone put for a coffee shop date that day. He picked you up in his Volvo Amazon, driving the two of you to this cafe in downtown D.C.

His eyes had immediately picked up on your socks. Spencer had always worn mismatched socks with strange patterns because he believed it was good luck. His exact words were; "I've worn mismatched socks every day of my life and I haven't died." It was the least scientific thing you'd ever seen him do.

So when he saw you wearing these socks with a strange patterns-- t-rex's with Santa hats and and the words "Tree Rex" stitched onto them to be exact--he knew he was deeply in love.

The date was fine. Perfect even. Because every date you had with Spencer was amazing. The two of you went back to your apartment where you got ready for your works Christmas party.

You were a linguist, working for a newspaper company that often covered the cases the BAU solved. It made you feel like you were helping in a way, even if you weren't. Spencer often told you that you belonged somewhere else.

It wasn't meant to be belittling. It was far from that. Because Spencer believed you to be highly intellectual. He thought--no he knew that your abilities should be used somewhere that could actually skyrocket your career instead of a dingy news office.

But he supported your choice to stay close to home. Stay close to him. Though there was hardly a difference between home and Spencer Reid.

Upon arriving to the office's annual Christmas party, you and Spencer were completely oblivious to the fact that the brownies had pot in them. The two of you had eaten one each, and you weren't entirely sure what was happening.

You just knew that the two of you craved more. So you found out who had made the brownies--Charolette Avey--and she'd graciously given you a joint to share with Spencer.

So the two of you sat on the steps of the building, lighting the rolled paper. You took a decently sized inhale, feeling the warm sensation fill your lungs while your muscles loosened. Spencer took a deep breath, inhaling once the weed touched his lips.

Once the two of you had gotten the paper down to a small stub, you stepped on it with the heel of your Mary Janes, putting out the ember.

Going inside was difficult. The two of you sprayed yourselves with the perfume you kept in your glove box before going back inside.

Spencer, ever so lanky and scrawny, devoured seven whole bars of Santa shaped chocolate once inside.

When the party was over, the two of you sat in your car trying to sober up before driving off. Charlie Pith played on your car's radio.

Spencer's veiny hand turned the volume knob ip, Charlie Puth now playing at a decently high volume. "You know, I never hear about him anymore. And he's so good. I think Charlie Puth should be a bigger artist." Spencer declared, his voice rising an octave or two so you could hear him over how loud the music was.

You covered your mouth to giggle, knees pulled up against your chest. "He's actually not bad. You've got good taste, Doc." You clicked your fingers at him.

Once you were sober enough, you drove the two of you back to your apartment. You helped Spencer climb the steps and get himself through the door.

He was still high. And it was obvious. The two of you laid in your bed, his head plopping down into your lap. Your fingers traveled down to scratch his head. "I told JJ about you. I really love you, ━. Like.. I think I'm gonna marry you. I already thought about it in my brain. I want--don't tell him this--I want Morgan to be my best man."

You tried not to take any meaning to his words. He was stone off his ass. It meant nothing. Just mindless babbles.

"Go to sleep, Spence." You chuckled softly, scratching his head. He fell asleep in your lap like a golden retriever.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

Upon explaining that story to JJ, your face grew a little confused. Your face contoured in deep thought, voice trailing off at the end of the story.

Spencer rubbed your arm soothingly. "Somethin' on your mind, Angel?" He murmured, lips pressed close to your ear.

And there was something on your mind. Did he really mean what he said that night? He told you he planned to marry you. And then he put that stupid ring on your finger earlier. You couldn't let the action leave your mind and it bothered you to know end.

You shook your head slowly. "No. 'M okay, Baby." You reassured, forcing a smile back on your face so that maybe you'd stop overlooking everything.

But now it was impossible. It was infuriating that you couldn't let your mind wander anywhere else for the rest of the night. Your mind flickered back to a phone call you overheard between Spencer and Morgan from a few months ago.

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You laid in your and Spencer's shared bed. The two of you had moved in together three months into your relationship. He had his phone pressed to his ear, thinking you were still peacefully asleep.

But you'd woken up the second you felt the dip in his side of the bed recoil back to the normal shape.

"I don't know, Morgan. I think--I think she's the one. I don't know what i'd do without her." He murmured into the phone, just loud enough for Derek to hear, but not loud enough to wake you. If you were sleeping that is.

Your interest was immediately heightened upon hearing his words.

"I think I'd stop breathing if she left. I don't want her to feel stuck or anything. But she's like oxygen to me. I don't think I'd be able to go on with my life. I know that I lived twenty-seven years without knowing her, but I can't imagine spending another eternity without her. It feels like she's been the oxygen I used for my entire life. I love her with everything in me. I think the marrow of my bones deteriorates when I even imagine a life without ━."

You felt tears prickle your waterline hearing the way Spencer spoke so highly of you. He was so poetic. His voice cracked like he'd been tortured for years. Like he was a tortured poet coming straight from a metaphorical tortured poets department.

"It's like.. if I was Dylan Thomas and she was Patti Smith. Our apartments like the Chelsea Hotel and we belong here together. Just the two of us." He finished with a soft smile darting your way.

Spencer walked to the bed, sitting on the edge next to you. You felt his weight shift the bed to dip on your side while you squeezed your eyes shut so he wouldn't know you were awake.

A fragile hand moved the tangled hair out of your face. Spencer's chapped lips pressed against your temple and from how close he was to you, you could hear Morgan on the other line. "You're a bunch of modern idiots."

Spencer let out a hearty chuckle, standing up and walking into the kitchen. Leaving you to process everything he'd just said about you.

When he went into work that day, you called your friend, wanting to feel seen. Wanting her to understand why you'd suddenly decided you'd never leave Spencer Reid.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

Garcia walked into the kitchen to bring out the pies she'd baked for your special introductory dinner. But you were still deep in thought, not even noticing the sweet girl excusing herself from the table.

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You and Spencer were supposed to have gone out to the bar the previous night of this memory. But you had such a sharp pain digging into your side that the two of you canceled last minute You'd awoken with dread, a feeling of nails pounding into your skull causing you to groan.

There was a sharp pain in your back and stomach, causing you to clutch it with tears welling up. Spencer, ever so attentive, had tracked your cycle from the moment you started dating.

He wasn't in bed when you woke up. "Spence..?" Your hoarse, sleep induced raspy voice called out. He came in a few moments later, a hot water bottle in one hand and a warm cup of coffee in the other. He sat down on the bed beside you.

"Hey, sweet girl. You not feelin' good?" His voice was soft. He was so warm. He felt like a prayer. Like he was everything you'd asked for. You shook your head, a pained expression evident on your face.

Spencer frowned, brushing your hair away and setting the mug down on the bedside table. "Let's get you taken care of and then we can watch your show, yeah?" He didn't wait for you to answer before scooping you up and carrying you to the bathroom.

Once you'd cleaned yourself up and taken proper menstrual care of yourself, he carried you back into bed, wrapping a blanket around you and placing the bottle on your upper abdomen.

Spencer held a painkiller in his hand. "Open, Angel." He instructed before placing the medication on your tongue. You swallowed, making a sour face at the bitter after taste the pill left in your mouth. Spencer laughed a little at the face you made.

He held you while the two of you watched your show. You'd seen this episode over a hundred times. Spencer heard sniffling and his face grew concerned. He moved you so that he could see your face.

"What's wrong, Honey? Are you hurting?" He instantly grew careful, trying to figure that out what was wrong. But you just cried instead. "They just killed off Tyler!" You sobbed, face wetting the fabric of Spencer's shirt.

He looked at you with a puzzled expression. You wiped your eyes with the sleeves of spencer's your hoodie. "I've seen this episode and still love the show." You admitted, perfectly okay again.

Though he would never understand a period, Spencer learned to decode you eventually. It took a lot of time and patience but he had done it. He'd seen you come undone on multiple occasions and yet he still chose this cyclone with you.

Because who was gonna hold you like him? Who was going to know you like him?

Nobody.

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Leaving the dinner that night, Spencer's hand rested on your back, opening his passenger door for you and helping you in. When he climbed in, he started driving back to your shared apartment in a comfortable silence.

But the way you'd seemed a little off bothered him. Spencer placed a gentle hand on your thigh, rubbing the inside oh so carefully. "Baby. What's going through that pretty head of yours?" He quipped.

You knew it was impossible to hide the way you were feeling from an FBI profiler. You huffed, taking a deep breath to steady your quickening nerves.

"I'm curious, I guess. I keep overthinking, I think. I just looked back on a lot of the nights we had tonight and it had me wondering." You tried to be as bland as possible, not wanting to give away to anything you felt directly.

Spencer cocked an eyebrow at you, his eyes steady on the road. His rough unoccupied hand that always felt so gentle gripped the steering wheel loosely. "Tell me about it. Talk to me, Angel." He hummed softly l.

"I just--" You let out an annoyed huff of warm air. How did you word the fact that you can't figure out if your boyfriend wants to marry you or not?

"At dinner you took my ring off my middle finger and put it on the one people put wedding rings on and that's the closet I've come to my heart exploding. And I guess that just had me looking back on everything. Like you getting high and telling me you wanted to marry me. Telling me you wanted Morgan as your best man. But I just figured it was mindless babbling. But then there's that phone-call I overheard between you and Morgan where you were so poetic it made me cry. But maybe you only said that because you knew I was listening. And the way you treat me when I'm on my period is just so loving. I guess I'm just confused." You'd rambled.

Spencer's eyes went wide when he processed your rambling. He exhaled through his mouth, face not giving anything away.

Finally, he cleared his throat. "Woah, Baby. Those are some big feelings.." He admitted, parking the car when he pulled into your apartment complex.

When you two walked up the stairs, you knew this was it. This was the end of your relationship. You wanted to get married and he didn't. But when you pushed the front door open, you saw a bunch of papers scattered on the floor.

Your face dropped, looking at the mess. "Spence? What happened?" You asked. But he feigned obliviousness. "I dunno, Honey." He shrugged.

Spencer walked over to the kitchen counter. He grabbed a book that sat atop the counter. "I picked this book up for you on my way home today. Open it, see if it's something you'd be interested in." He pressed a kiss to your temple.

Your brows furrowed but you nodded, holding the book in your hands. When you opened it, your heart dropped and you immediately felt tears rolling down your cheeks.

The book had the pages hollowed out in the shape of a heart. Inside of the heart sat a shiny ring. Written in the margins was the question you'd been dying to hear for months. Will you marry me?

You turned to look at Spencer who had a shy smile on his face. "Are you serious?" You asked through tears. Spencer pulled you in for a hug, kissing the top of his head.

"Will you make me the happiest tortured poet and marry me, sweet girl?" He asked, his hands holding your face so he could see the beauty he admired every day.

You nodded your head rapidly, tears dripping down your cheeks. You pressed your lips against Spencer's, proud to call him your fiancée.

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You found out later that the dinner was just so Spencer's friend, Ethan, could set up the apartment. Spencer's coworkers were already in on it.

Everyone you knew understood why it was meant to be. You two were crazy for each other.

#spencer reid x reader #୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ reidologys #spencer reid #criminal minds fics!!#criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid criminal minds #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fanfiction

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reidologys · 4 months ago

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MEET THE PLASTICS • S. REID

the prettiest poison you've ever seen

summary: getting back from prison, spencer finds out about a certain girl taking over the bau. and this girl was the definition of mean girl. and now, she'd adopted jj and emily, and penelope into her little clique. pairing: spencer reid x fem! reader cw: intro to my mean girls musical series, post prison! reid, no use of y/n, reader has boobs, garcia is 100% gretchen wc: 1.2k

next ➢

WALKING INTO THE BULLPEN should've been normal for spencer. he'd done it everyday for twelve years. but after prison? it felt weird.

he felt like he didn't belong there. he often forgot that doors outside of prison weren't locked. that he could open them himself. spencer forgot he wasn't stuck.

but when he walked into the bullpen for the first time since the bau brought him home, his eyes focused on the desk next to his. it had been unoccupied since morgan left. even with the arrival of both dr. tara lewis and luke alvez. no one had occupied morgan's desk.

and that desk? it was pink. a little compact mirror sat open on the oak wood that wobbled to the left when too much pressure was on it. there were bubble gum pink sticky notes stuck to the computer sitting on top of it.

spencer's eyebrows knitted together while he walked closer to get a better look. a few picture frames rested in the corners of desks. they were pictures of emily, jj, and penelope all smiling. with a girl spencer didn't know at all.

laying beside the compact mirror was a beige claw clip. one of the smaller, rectangular ones. spencer picked it up, holding it in one hand. he couldn't help the compulsion he had to make it chomp the teeth. he set it back down, still observing.

there was a funky candle sitting in the far left corner. it was definitely for decoration because the wick was in perfect condition. it was baby blue. a cube of bubble shaped wax. nothing underneath it. obviously, whoever sat here never intended to light it.

and then he heard it. heels clicking behind him followed by loud giggles and chatter. one set turned into four sets. he turned his hair, the brown curls he'd managed to take care of after prison were pushed back.

you looked at him, stopping in place. jj, emily, and penelope stopped behind her in the points of triangle. your hands rested on your hips.

the smile that pulled the corners of your lips didn't seem genuine. you looked at spencer like he was fresh meat. like he hadn't worked at the bau for over a decade.

"you must be spencer." you stuck your hand out for him to shake. when he didn't grab your hand, the smile left you completely.

"my name is━." you introduced yourself, penelope immediately stepping in front of you to stand next to spencer. she stood on her tip toes to whisper in his ear. "and she is a massive deal, einstine." her voice wasn't quiet.

and it brought a smile back to your lips. but spencer felt a lot of things upon seeing you in real life and not just in a photo frame sitting on your desk.

spencer didn't know what to think about you. you just looked so.. hard to read.

he both feared you and loved you. he was just standing here staring at you. his sized you up, eyes lingering on the open top buttons of the blue and white stripped blouse you had on.

a snicker left your lips while you watched spencer blatantly stare at the top of your chest that the open buttons exposed. "these? these are real, dr. reid." you giggled when his face went red.

spencer attempted to stammer out an apology, but he knew it would only add fuel to your fire.

you had money and looks. completely power drunk. when luke came by and dropped off an iced coffee on your desk, setting it on the pink and white checkered coaster, one thing was obvious to spencer.

this whole bau humped your leg like a chihuahua.

you were the prettiest poison he'd ever seen. those instagram filters girls used to appear a different way? they looked just like you.

but before spencer could say anything to you at all, a different woman came into the bullpen with a stack of papers in her hands. she looked at you with a big smile.

spencer didn't miss the way you looked at the three girls behind you, a roll of your eyes and the cockiest smile on your face.

"agent! i'm valerie nguyen with empower-her press. we tried to contact you after you arrested that killer in memphis yesterday but you.. brushed us off.." the woman rubbed the back of her neck anxiously.

you raised an eyebrow at her. "so you found out where i worked and started to stalk me?" you folded your arms over your chest, a powerful look on your face.

the ginger woman stammered. "no.. i.. we.. can i just-- what's your name, agent?" valerie really was something. she had potential.

but not nearly enough for you to acknowledge.

"my name is━. and i am a massive deal." you repeated penelope's words, causing sweet garcia to fawn over you even more. it felt like unspoken praise. even if it was practically plagiarism. a win was a win to her.

valerie smiled gratefully, scratching that down on a notepad. "again, i'm valerie nguyen if you wanted to use my name in our interview," her cheeks grew pink. "i just feel--"

you cut her off, a sickeningly sweet smile on your face. "i don't care who you are. i don't care how you feel. valerie, if you ever bother me at my oh-so-important job again, i'll get a restraining order against you. a non-verbal yes, isn't consent to interview me, 'kay? buh-bye now." you wiggled your fingers at her while she paled.

"toodles." garcia added behind you, followed by jj and emily saying something as well.

you turned back to spencer, a smile back on your face. "we have a lot to learn about each other, huh, reid?" you grabbed his hand, dismissing your little minions.

while sitting next to you, spencer had learned one thing.

you were a total mean girl. cold, shiny, fake, and plastic.

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reidologys · 5 months ago

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CASSANDRA •S.REID

do you believe me now?

summary: you had tried so hard to convince the bau that there was something more to the disappearance of crazy women. and they didn't believe you until it was too late. paring: spencer reid x reader cw: reader is very elle greenaway coded, post prison! reid, emily is the unit cheif, misogyny, ableism (?), angst, implied situationship, mention of drugs, mention sa (not graphic), mention of dv ( not graphic), mention of stalking, gender neutral (i'm pretty sure) wc: 1.6k

a/n: i actually really don't like this and it didn't turn out the way i wanted so if she disappears after a while..

GETTING CALLED IN on your day off wasn't uncommon. what was uncommon, however, was the way everyone was treating this case.

nobody was taking it seriously at all. and that irritated you.

a woman named cassandra dyer had been reported missing. the bau didn't typically get calls like this. and maybe that's what intrigued you. what made you fight for them to take this seriously.

cassandra had a history of extreme paranoia. she had a large two story house to herself. it was the only victorian house remaining in a modernized, cookie cutter neighborhood.

she was young. and beautiful. her report said she was only twenty-seven. which stuck out to you. she was young. and here were your coworkers diagnosing her with all sorts of medical disorders.

it took you threatening to resign for emily to fly the team out to medford, oregon.

you and spencer had gone to the last place cassandra was seen while jj and and luke went to talk to family members. tara, and emily stayed at the station while matt and rossi went to cassandra's job.

you had a habit of putting yourself in people's shoes. but it normally worked out for you. while spencer looked around her home, you became cassandra.

"i was in my new house placing daydreams.." you spoke quietly. but the walls were so thin, spencer could still hear you. he let out an exasperated sigh, shaking his head while looking for any sign of struggle.

there was a bucket full of spackle sitting on the floor. on top rested a rusty putty knife. the ladder sat next to it, pressing up against the wall.

"patching up the crack along the wall.. i accidentally pass it and lose track of what i'm saying 'cause that's where i was when i got the call." you remembered garcia tracing an odd call from cassandra's phone.

spencer caught up to you while you ventured deeper into the old house. floorboards creaked under him. his hand reached out, gently grabbing your shoulder.

"you don't really believe she's missing, do you?" he had a small grin pulling at the corners of his lips. your eyebrows knitted together, unsure of what he found so amusing.

your lips parted slightly, a small, disbelieving scoff leaving from them. "you don't think she's missing?" your words came out harsh and spiteful. but the way the bau had been handling this case, made you realize one thing.

maybe the bau had changed for the worse. and maybe---just maybe---you needed to get out before it was too late.

you shook your head when he didn't answer. brushing past him, you walked to the back door. "i'm just saying. she's got... issues. the rossi said that people in the town say she's genuinely cra-"

a gasp escaped your lips when you saw the scuff marks on the back door. they didn't even look like scuffs. that was paint that had been chipped by nails. "what's that then, spencer?" you looked at him, a knowing look plastered all over your face.

"that, babe, is a sign of struggle." he admitted. "do you believe me now?" you had to ask.

reporting the only evidence besides cassandra being nowhere to be found to emily felt surreal. but it also felt.. off. like there was something emily wasn't telling you. that there was something the entire bau knew. except for you.

but regardless, you had leads. cassandra had enemies. matt and rossi had found that out by not telling her coworkers that cassandra was missing.

so here you and spencer were. in a dingy interrogation room where the overhead light flickered and hummed above.

spencer held your hand under the table, his veiny fingers rubbing against your knuckles while you stared at a man who had faced multiple sexual assault allegations against him. he had a violent past.

he had a history with drugs of all sorts. heroin, meth, you name it. not to mention his last two girlfriends had accused him of domestic violence. but he was a charming man. so obviously, the police didn't want to ruin his reputation.

you cleared your throat, opening the very slender file you had on cassandra's disappearance. "tristian, you have some very serious accusations against you. were you aware of that?"

and the sick creep smiled. your body tensed, eyes narrowing. spencer obviously noticed. he squeezed your hand, attempting to help settle your growing irritation.

"and those were all dropped, agent." he spoke your title like it was a slur. like it was an unimportant, displeasuring occupation.

chewing the inside of your mouth, biting down on the gummy flesh of your lip. "i have reports here that you had been stalking cassandra dyer up until september twenty-third. would you like to know what day she disappeared, mr. haplin?"

he sneered, his nose turning upward. even being thirty-two, he had braces. and he definitely needed them. his teeth were all crooked and stained with tabacco. "september twenty-fourth."

it was more of a statement than a question. spencer's phone buzzed while you had been talking to that sick man. yours didn't, so you assumed nothing of it.

but when spencer's face paled, you grew nervous. "spence..?" your voice was small. he brushed you off.

spencer stood up abruptly. he pushed his chair in before moving to pull yours out. "this interview is over." he told both tristian and you.

his calloused hands pushed you out of the room by your shoulders. "spencer, what's going on?" you demanded. you felt small and weak. unheard.

"nothing is wrong. we just don't have any time to waste." his eyes looked glanced over to emily before looking back at you. his nose twitched.

you found it odd then. and you would only realize what that nose twitch meant later.

it was only hours later when a hovel was found. body after body was piled up. they were all women. women who'd been burned.

you stood in the morgue with spencer by your side. you examined the charred skin of all five women. and then---

the forensics team brought in a sixth victim. that bright, almost white, blonde hair. you recognized that body. cassandra.

the woman who'd wheeled the body in looked at you with a sad expression. "she was the first to go." she'd informed you.

you turned to spencer, a frown on your face. "so they killed cassandra first 'cause she feared the worst." it wasn't even a question. spencer wasn't even sure it was a statement.

looking at security footage for the murders was hard. you watched from the recording of the parks grainy cameras as a dark figure---around 5'9, 196 lbs--- hung cassandra to the tree. he poured gasoline all over her body.

and right before he flicked the lighter on, he shouted something. "burn the bitch." it was more of a shriek than it was a shout.

when the first stone's thrown, there's screaming. he threw rock after rock at cassandra. it hurt your heart just to watch. made you feel nauseous and lightheaded.

but that voice. you recognized that voice. it was him.

tristain haplin.

and the other five women? the women who'd had reported to the authorities about him.

you stalked back into the police department, spencer trailing behind you. he looked like he was trying to.. stop you?

"tristian killed cassandra first because she feared the worst and tried to tell the town." you shouted, watching him sit smugly in a plastic chair.

prentiss looked guilty. everyone in there looked guilty. an officer unlocked tristian's handcuffs. with a flick of his wrists, tristian looked at you with a smile.

"thanks for letting me get out of here, gorgeous."

your heart dropped down to your stomach. you ran up to an officer. "you're letting him go? he's a serial rapist and a serial killer?" you were shouting.

the cop let out a dry laugh. "we already knew that, agent. that's why you shouldn't have come here. was a waste of your time."

when the truth came out, it was quiet.

they knew. they knew. they knew the whole time. that you were onto something.

the families in that town. they all said nothing. the bau said nothing.

spencer reached out to touch you but you shoved him off of you.

"you knew this whole time that i was looking for a dead woman." you pointed your finger at emily accusatory. emily looked at you, her lips parted like she was about to apologize.

but you didn't let her get a single word out. "you all knew. and yet you said nothing. you knew she was dead. bloods thick but nothing but a payroll, huh?" you let out a scoff.

tristian haplin was the senator's son. and he hadn't just bought the police's immunity. now he'd bought the fbi's.

"bab-" spencer started. but you held a hand to his face, not letting him say a single word.

"i was onto something. i was onto something. and this? this is pure greed. emily? i--- forget it. i quit. find my replacement and then find replacements for the rest of you. because i'm not going to let a serial rapist walk."

you made your exit despite the team begging you to think clearly. you couldn't help but feel guilty. guilty for lashing out. but especially guilty for not being able to save cassandra.

but then again, that whole team never spared a prayer for your soul.

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fics!!#୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ reidologys #criminal minds #spencer reid #jennifer jareau #aaron hotchner #david rossi #jason gideon #penelope garcia #matt simmons #tara lewis #luke alvez #emily prentiss #elle greenaway #kate callahan #alex blake #derek morgan

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reidologys · 5 months ago

Text

BUSY WOMAN • S.REID

maybe for you, though, i could accommodate..

summary: spencer reid's sweet girlfriend is truly the busiest woman he's ever met. and now he has to get on a metaphorical waiting list. paring: spencer reid x fem! reader cw: established relationship, boyband! reid, sweetheart! reader, garcia might be your biggest fan, reader curls her hair and wears makeup, she/her is not used however wc: 0.8k

SPENCER WAS ASTONISHED. he had never seen someone get up so early after staying up so late.

but every day you proved him wrong. those heatless curlers you swore by took hours to put in every night. and being spencer, he had suggested on multiple occasions that you just start the process earlier so you could have more hours of sleep.

but that was silly. you knew your routine. you had a schedule.

a very busy one at that.

spencer remembered the day the two of you started dating very vividly. even if he didn't have that sweet eidetic memory of his, he'd still remember.

you'd had those curlers in your hair the night before that specific date. and then you showed up, lipstick slightly smudged from the lid of your coffee cup.

you'd just looked so mature. so collected. so sensible. spencer knew he had to ask you out that date. except when you got hit with rejection. but he'd come to find that out only moments later.

he'd been thinking of the words to say while the two of you walked all over the town. it wasn't until a stray tabby cat began to rub in between your legs that his train of thought was completely lost.

obviously, you were excited. bending down to pet that sweet ball of fur with a smile on your face had to be the most precious thing spencer had ever seen.

until the cat hissed at you before running off. you had a displeased look on your face while you got off of your knees. "i didn't want your little bitch ass anyways!" you'd shouted after the cat.

spencer wasn't quite sure he heard you correctly. "what'd you say?" he asked you. and with a pout, you kept walking beside him. "to turn me down? well.. that's just.. so unethical!" your bottom lip was poked out, somehow fixing the lipstick smear.

he sputtered, stopping in his tracks. "be my girlfriend. please." sure it wasn't the most romantic way to get asked out. in fact it was straightforward and awkward.

but that's spencer. he's always been awkward. maybe not straightforward though..

and who were you to turn down such a pretty face? if he wanted your kisses, you swore you'd be his perfect mrs until the day one of you died.

but that was almost a year ago. and you had become quite busy. your openings were super tight. you had to make plans with people months in advance.

spencer had been begging and pleading with you to go see a foreign film with him. it was six hours long and his intention was to translate it for you. and while that sounded fun, you already had plans.

"spence.. i really can't tonight." you'd informed, shaving your legs while perched on top of the bathroom sink. the bubble gum pink razor cleared that warm scented shaving cream that was two dollars more than the normal scentless. but you insisted it was better.

his eyebrows knit together while he leaned against the counter, watching admiring you. his arms folded over his chest while one of his eyebrows raised. "what plans do you have tonight?" he was sure your schedule was completely clear.

there was just so much to shave and you still had to reapply your lipstick. you paused your ministrations to your legs, suddenly looking guilty.

"i don't wanna tell you.." you mumbled under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear. tonight was the bau's weekends off. no chasing after unsubs or working on cold cases. and you weren't spending it with him.

spencer made a face of pure displeasure at the sound of that. he watched you finish your last leg, rinsing your razor off in the sink. he helped you down, holding onto your hand even after so you couldn't go anywhere.

before he could ask you what you were doing, the doorbell rang. you fumbled trying to get your shoes on. but they weren't your normal heels. why were you wearing sneakers? spencer should've been able to figure it out. he was a profiler after all.

you ran to the door, letting garcia in to see spencer. he looked at the two of you, lips slightly parted and eyebrows furrowed together while he tried to figure out what was happening.

"i'm flexible next weekend so just tell me what you like." you told him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. the lipstick you had reapplied transferred over.

he looked at you, still trying to figure out where you and garcia were going.

realizing he still hadn't figured it out, you smiled. "tantric yoga!" a proud smile was pulling the corners of your mouth.

that was why you couldn't spend time with your lovely boyfriend. "baby.." he groaned. garcia, however, was not having it. the two of you were already running late.

"namaste!" garcia shouted before shoving you out the door and starting the small walk to the yoga studio down the road.

"you, my favorite girl in the world, look amazing, by the way." garcia smiled at you, holding the studio's door open.

spencer would forgive you for hanging out with his coworker instead of him. it'd just take a weeks worth of schedule clearing for him to stop milking it.

#୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ reidologys #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fics!!#criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #elle greenaway #emily prentiss #david rossi #jason gideon #jennifer jareau #alex blake #tara lewis #matt simmons #luke alvez #penelope garcia #kate callahan

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