pairing: spencer reid x f!reader
cw: talks of a mass shooting event, death, blood/guns/drugs, typical cm content, swearing, private-not-secret relationship, awkward!spencer reid/confident!reader, nosy coworkers, derek morgan being a natural flirt, a little bit of jealous!spencer, this is also 1000% early season spencer (there’s no other option), again proofread late at night
a/n: okay, so i woke up to a bunch of notifications to p1 of this! first off, thank you so much to everyone who liked, commented, and reblogged, it means so so much to me. and thank you to those who just read! now about the actual fic, i’m not from the DC/Virigina area so i’m googling all of this (along with random statistics) so please bear with me if something is incorrect! preemptively, so sorry about how i nerded out… I really love forensic psychology and chemistry
mastertag: #writtenbydoll
“There’s been another mass shooting in the DC-Metro area. This one in the Tyson Corner Center, 13 miles out of the city.” JJ says, pictures flash on the screen of bodies: the victims who were shot, broken glass on store fronts, the mall in disarray.
Spencer sits at the round table, case file splayed in front of him. Victim photos, details, and medical reports staring back at him.
Physically, he’s here, in the conference room, but his mind can’t help but linger on you. He feels like he can still smell your perfume from when you hugged him. He’s knows that it’s unlikely, you don’t wear a strong perfume and your contact would have had to been longer and more intense for a scent transfer, but he secretly hopes he smells like you.
Hotch stands behind the table, arms folded over his chest. Spencer feels the man’s eyes on the back of his head— your hug from earlier raising many questions.
“This is the third mass shooting event in the area in the past month. This one crossed jurisdictional lines, so we’ve been called in to help catch the bastard.” Hotch supplies.
“Only this one doubled the victim count. The first shooting at Capital One Arena had three deaths. The second at The Wharf, two deaths. Eight people died at the mall.” JJ says with a sad note in her voice. Garcia makes a sad noise at her words, always empathizing with others.
The victim’s photos all line up on the screen, thirteen people who lost their lives to a serial shooter.
And now the BAU was called to help stop it.
Spencer knows it’s his job— and he loves it, truly. Doing this, catching all these bad people, makes him feel like he has a purpose outside of academia.
But, right now, when it crushes his weekend plans with you, he hates it.
You both were supposed to have the weekend off, no cases, no planes, no tests to run. Just the two of you, in your apartment, watching Star Trek and shitty romcoms with takeout and board games. Together.
“I called Metro and told them to send all the evidence here. Our lab will handle it all and consult us if there’s anything suspicious.” JJ adds in a blasé manner, like it’s some small fact that doesn’t matter.
Spencer’s head snaps over to her, back straightening. “Here?” He squeaks out, “Do you know which lab is handling it all?”
Hotch, Morgan, and Prentiss all give him a look, all having seen different pieces of the earlier interaction.
“I don’t know…” JJ hums, giving him a strange glance, “I can call and check, but it’s probably the main lab. They cover ballistics, toxicology, and DNA analysis.”
“No, no, it’s okay.” Spencer mumbles, gaze dropping down to his fidgeting hands.
Morgan’s eyes linger on Spencer before he turns back to the screen, “How do we even know these shootings are connected? With the increase in gun violence across the country, these could completely separate unsubs.”
“Because of this,” JJ says, clicking again to reveal written notes.
‘They deserved this. You have to stop them.’
‘You didn’t help. I had to do this.’
‘Stop me them. They need to be stopped.’
“It’s the same handwriting.” Prentiss murmurs. “These are down in the forensics lab?”
JJ nods in agreement, “Yep. They’re being analyzed down there with the rest of the evidence. We should hear from them in a couple hours. In the meantime, we should start working on victimology.”
Spencer swallows thickly as he pictures you down there, surrounded by piles of evidence and giving it out orders. It’s your element, he knows you’re thriving.
By the time you got back downstairs to the lab, the evidence had already arrived. Boxes sat full with dozens of blood samples, stray bullets, and papers.
Thankfully you already had your lab coat still on, googles over your eyes, when you get back downstairs.
“I’ve already had them clear out the machines and start prepping. The police want results as quickly as they can.” Your assistant, Maggie, tells you as you walk in. She hands you the evidence log for you to sign.
Maggie has been working here before you came in. She knows the place and the people in and out. You two have grown close in your two years here, so much so that it feels like she can read your mind sometimes.
“Okay, let’s focus first on identifying how many individual blood samples there are. We know there’s at least eight, probably more when those injured are factored in.” You say, turning to the analysts under your command. “I know we’re held back by the pace of the machines, but let’s prep as much as we can and get ahead.”
The analysts easily listen to you, having warmed up to you nicely in the years you’ve been here. They respect and like you.
You disperse the samples out as evenly as possible, loosing count after the fifteenth. The busted bullets get put into magnifiers to identify the striation marks and the gun that fired them. The papers in the bin are handwritten notes.
“Alright, check these first for prints and then I want a handwriting expert to check these out. We need to confirm they’re written by the same person.” You order, handing it out.
Once things have settled and the hum of a dozen machines fill the quiet, you go back to Maggie for details.
“Metro got these here quick. The shooting was this morning.” You hum, flicking open the file.
She chuckles quietly, turning to you, “Yeah, because they called the BAU in to help them catch the guy.”
Your face falls at that, remembering Spencer having a case being presented just before she called.
“What?” You sputter, your brain instantly imagining him going after a mass shooter, someone clearly trigger happy by the extensive amount of bullets currently being processed. “Oh my god…”
“You didn’t know?” She murmurs, looking at you in shock. “I assumed your BAU boyfriend would’ve told you.”
You shake your head, running a gloved hand over your face. “No, he didn’t… I mean- he didn’t know. He was just getting called for a case consult.”
You were promptly freaking out. You knew Spencer handled cases worse than a mass shooter, but you never had to see the evidence build up. Being elbows deep in all the blood soaked scraps and bullets, seeing it all, it makes you scared for your boyfriend.
“Hey, you know he’ll be alright.” She hums, gently rubbing your arm. “Go take a sample, get yourself lost in the chemistry before the briefing.”
“Briefing?” You squeak, eyes widening.
Maggie shakes her head at you, “Yes, sweetheart. The briefing you’ll report to the BAU with our findings. The number of victims, type of gun, and the handwriting. I type it up, you speak it. You’re in charge of this place.”
You groan, making a faux-annoyed face before moving into the belly of the lab.
Taking Maggie’s advice, you let yourself get lost in the evidence. Prepping slides, test tubes, clearing out machines and refilling them takes up an hour and a half.
You get pulled away at one point when one of your analysts has trouble with a tainted blood sample. You take it over, working to isolate the issue, running it through tests. The result says that it was two different blood sample, mixed together and both showing high levels of drugs.
That small win is enough to take some of the stress away from you.
You move on to helping Maggie finish up the report so you can deliver it to the BAU.
This time, you remember to take your lab coat and googles off when you head to the elevator, file in hand. You fidget the whole way up, smoothing your hands over your hair, clothes, and face.
Part of you wonders if Spencer knows you’re coming up.
A blonde woman meets you outside the elevator, a kind, but tired smile on her face.
“Hi, I’m Agent Jennifer Jareau, but please call me JJ.” She says, shaking your hand. She guides you towards a conference room, talking along the way, “Thank you so much for clearing your day to handle this. We know how busy your lab can get and appreciate it.”
“Oh, of course. Anything to help.” You insist, smiling kindly. “We’ve managed to get through most of the evidence from the shooting this morning. There’s a couple more blood samples being finished up, but I’m not expecting anything we didn’t already find.”
She opens the door and guides you inside.
Six people sit at the table, all with their own case files in front of them. All looking professional, and borderline terrifying— except for one.
You recognize Spencer easily as you step in the room. He’s sitting back in the chair, fidgeting with a pen.
His eyes flick to you instantly, and that half-second of eye contact makes your heart race. He tears his gaze away, looking back down at his papers.
“Hello,” You say, introducing yourself as you walk up to the table. “I lead the main forensics lab downstairs.”
The serious looking man that called Spencer earlier stands and introduces himself, shaking your hand. “I’m Agent Hotchner. You’ve already met Agent Jareau. This is Agents Prentiss, Morgan, Gideon, Garcia, and… Dr. Reid.”
You notice the way he stalls on Spencer’s title, but do your best to ignore it.
“Nice to meet all of you, though I wish it was under better circumstances.” You say professionally, eyes looking to each of them briefly.
“What did you find?” The older man says— Gideon, Agent Hotchner said.
You delve into the details easily, reciting the findings.
“There’s eighteen individual blood samples, eight of which belong to the ones who died. We’ve already cross checked with the hospital, all but two are accounted for.” You say, “The two unaccounted for also gave some issue. Both have high levels of a synthetic drug, an amphetamine type, mephedrone. It causes a euphoria similar to one that cocaine gives, only with a whole host of other effects.”
“Effects?” Prentiss asks, perking up at the mention.
You nod, “It’s a N-Alkylated Cathinone. That family is known for causing the central nervous to speed up, paranoia, and… violent behavior. There’s two samples that have similar amounts, and further analyses said that they came from the same batch. The chemical compositions were identical.”
“Did you get an ID on those samples?” Morgan asks, looking hopeful.
“Negative, but, if it’s any help, mephedrone isn’t easy to get off the streets. No one will sell it to you as a one off, and it’s not exactly cheap.” You add, shrugging slightly.
As they’re taking in your words and jotting some notes down, your eyes can’t help but drift to Spencer, who’s staring at you.
He can get away with it while you’re presenting, he’s supposed to be looking at you while you talk! It’s weird for him to see you in his environment, in the conference room surrounded by his coworkers, but even so, it fills him with this warm feeling to see his favorite people all in the same room.
A small smirk pulls at the corner of his lips at he holds your eyes and he drops his gaze, making sure you see him checking you out since you can’t do anything in front of his coworkers.
You clear your throat abruptly, giving him one last fleeting look. “I had my handwriting expert examine the notes. They were definitely written by the same person, most likely a male. As for the ballistics, there was two individual guns of the same make: Beretta 92FS. Each gun holds 15 bullets.”
“Eighteen out of thirty bullets hit someone?” Spencer says, brows pulled together, “That would be incredibly hard to do once the shooting started unless the individuals have some type of training or experience with guns.”
“Yeah… and fingerprints weren’t discernible, given that it’s at one of the largest malls in the area.” You say with a disappointed sigh.
They thank you for the report and you offer yourself for any other questions they may have before wishing them good luck and taking your leave.
Once the door clicks shut behind you, Morgan gives Prentiss a mischievous look. He has a theory of who you are to Spencer based on what he saw earlier and the looks Spencer was comfortable enough to give you.
He whistles lowly, muttering, “She’s beautiful. Shame they keep her down in the basement.”
Morgan’s words have their desired effect on Spencer as his shoulders tense and he shoots the other man a sharp look, clearly holding something back.
“I don’t know what her looks have to do with the case.” Spencer bites out, tone unusually stiff.
Garcia and JJ toss him confused looks while Morgan grins, having gotten exactly what he wanted.
“What does it mean to you, pretty boy?” Morgan goads, hoping to get more out of him.
“Enough.” Hotch says, cutting the conversation off before Spencer can get riled up too much. He may not be as visibly muscular as Morgan, but he’s still an FBI agent, and a damn good one.
Luckily, mostly for Hotch, the rest of the case goes relatively smoothly.
With the information from your report, cameras, and witness statements, the team had no trouble coming up with a profile.
Two white men in their mid-to-late twenties, probably the social reject type who have never really fit in. They would’ve gotten into drugs during high school or college, if they went, and would have a record for possession.
The profile helped them catch the men, twin brothers, before they could get to their next target, another mall a couple days later.
You’re informed they caught the men by Maggie, who also lets you know when they’ve returned from the police precinct.
At the end of the work day, you make your way back up to the sixth floor to meet Spencer before you leave, excited for the weekend off and hoping he doesn’t have too much work left.
This time, though, he doesn’t see you immediately when you step off the elevator so you can walk to him.
You see him hunched over his desk, writing something down as he periodically glances at something next to him. A soft smile pulls your lips at the way his soft curls fall with his head down. He looks every bit the dorky man you love like that.
Again, you’re interrupted before you can make it too far into the bullpen. Morgan, you believe it’s him if you’re remembering correctly from a couple days ago, stops you with a sly smile.
“Well, hello again, beautiful. What brings you out of the basement and up to our fine floor?” He says, tilting his head to the side. His words are easy and it’s not hard to tell he’s a natural flirt.
“I just came to see how the case wrapped up.” You say, eyes darting to Spencer. “I heard you guys caught the men responsible for it.”
Spencer’s head shoots up as he hears your voice, like a dog hearing its owner come in the door after work. He looks between you and Morgan, assessing the situation.
Morgan grins at you, “Well, we wouldn’t have been able to do it without you. If we didn’t know they were doing drugs, we would’ve been clueless on where to start.”
Before you can even respond, Spencer is at your side.
“Hey,” You say softly, smiling up at him. It takes everything in you not to grab his hand or hug him, wanting that physical contact with him.
“Hi.” He mumbles, neck flushing under your gaze.
Morgan, watching you two, let’s out a small chuckles. “Alright, so what’s the deal between you two?”
Spencer sputters, the blush spreading up to his cheeks at the attention called to you two, “W-What? Why would there be anything going on between us?”
A soft laugh leaves you as you bite your bottom lip and look down to hide the rosiness on your own face.
“Reid, really?” Morgan deadpans, folding his arms over his chest, “I know you. This—“ he points between you two, “—isn’t normal for you, pretty boy.”
“It’s perfectly normal!” Spencer squeaks out, his voice going up an octave.
“Spencer,” You hum, putting your hand on his bicep, “I think he probably already knows…”
He looks at you like you’ve betrayed him, an offended noise leaving him. “No, he didn’t—“
“Yes, I did.” Morgan cuts in, “Why’d you keep her a secret? I’m happy for you, my man.”
Spencer raises a hand as he begins to speak, always one to talk as much with his hands as his mouth. "Actually, she's not a secret. You simply never ask me about the people I choose to associate with outside of work."
"I didn't know I needed to." Morgan says playfully, pulling Spencer into his side.
You smile easily at the interaction.
Spencer always talks about his coworkers and gave you a pretty clear idea of Morgan's personality, so much so you felt as if you knew him personally. But, seeing it in person? It's something different.
The bond between the two is as plain as day.
Spencer, always one to avoid unnecessary physical contact with pretty much everyone, doesn't immediately pull away. There's as ease in the way they act around each other, the brotherly dynamic long ago established.
It warms your heart to see, and to see this side of Spencer.
"Obviously, you do." Spencer says lightly, eyes flicking between you and Morgan, lingering for a second longer on you than the other man.
"Experts say that the separation between personal and professional lives actually reduces burnout and increases one's productivity. Focus is improved and it keeps from interfering with career goals." Spencer recites.
"Is that why none of us know about your special lady friend here?" Morgan jests.
Spencer lightly shoves him off, huffing, “She’s not my ‘special lady friend’…”
“I’m not?” You scoff, raising your brows at him. You’re always quick to tease him, showing your love and comfortability through it. “What am I then? A friend with benefits?”
Morgan tsks lowly and hums out a quiet ‘trouble in paradise, pretty boy’.
“No— don’t say that!” Spencer groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “You’re my girlfriend. Don’t encourage him. You know you’re my girlfriend.”
You grin at Spencer triumphantly, patting his arm, “I know. I just wanted to hear you say it.”
He grumbles and gives you a pouty look, “I’m eating your ice cream tonight.”
“You hate blue moon.” You say dryly.
Spencer wrinkles his nose and Morgan’s laugh echoes through the room, the man clearly deriving some joy from seeing his friend get teased by his girlfriend, the girlfriend no one knew about until now.
After a brief moment of pause, Morgan breaks the quiet and the caring look between you and Spencer
“I can’t believe none of us realized this was going on.” He murmurs, shaking his head, “Especially when you look at her like that.”
Spencer’s brows pull together and he sounds almost offended when he answers, “Like what?”
“Like a lovesick teenager, Reid.” Morgan answers, clapping him on the shoulder. “I never thought I’d see the day.”
“It’s actually been 404 days.” Spencer corrects shyly.
Prentiss, who was just walking by, throws you a slightly confused look at seeing you up here and cuts in, “What’s been 400 days?”
“Pretty boy’s relationship.” Morgan says.
Her eyebrows jump up and she look between you two, “You’re— so you two are dating.”
Spencer’s cheeks burn a bright red between the sudden attention called to him and the manner of your relationship being unexpectedly brought to light. He sends you a desperate look, looking like a frightened puppy.
“I didn’t mean to cause a whole intervention by coming up here.” You say. Your hand goes to Spencer’s arm, “I was just coming to see if you were almost ready to go?”
He nods quickly, ready to be done with the workday and the conversation. “Yes! Uh— I mean, yeah. I’ll just go grab my bag.”
Spencer doesn’t waste a second before he scurries back to his desk.
“Gosh, I am so happy for you guys.” Prentiss says, pulling your attention back to her. “I’ll be honest, I thought something may have been up the other day when you guys were up here talking, but I would’ve never guessed a year of dating! That’s amazing.”
“Ah, thank you. We keep it pretty lowkey, if I’m being totally honest.” You say with a small shrug, “Neither of us are into big displays.”
Morgan gives you a meaningful look, something protective of Spencer deep in his eyes. You know that look well; it was the same one you gave your overbearing family when they met him.
You send him a tight smile as Spencer hurries back.
“Ready?” He chimes, parking himself next to you. It takes everything in him not to drag you into the elevators and all the way back to your apartment.
“Mhm!” You hum before glancing back to Morgan and Prentiss, “It was so nice to see you guys again. Congrats again on the case!”
They each said a similar goodbye that you could barely catch as Spencer laced his fingers with yours as soon as you finished talking and led you to the elevator.
a/n: again, sorry for nerding out about the case stuff, i had the idea for the case first and made the fanfic around it :) i really like this reader and would be so open to writing more set in this universe if anyone has ideas! and sorry for the rushed ending, i had no idea where to take this without it being eight years longer.
taglist: @aureliacalista @aseafullofstars @moonz33 (please lmk if you would like to be added to my taglist, general or spencer reid!)
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