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spencersneed · 12 days ago

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As a girl with an angry father, you got me crying in the club rn

a permanent wound | s.r.

in which Spencer is the perfect father to your daughter and you're forced to wonder why you didn't deserve that as a child

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst (hurt/comfort) content warnings: daddy issues but in a traumatizing way not a silly the neighbourhood way, childhood trauma word count: 2.09k a/n: coming at you live from my personal hotspot because my internet is out and now i need to have a technician come look at it. i couldn't make this fic pretty bc of my wifi so we are going back in time before the colors and pictures. anyways hot girls have daddy issues and thanks for reading.

You stopped slightly in your tracks, hesitating to open the door to your daughter’s room and instead standing outside of the door, listening into the conversation she was having with her father. “Do you remember what we say?” He asked her, his voice calm and level, as if he calculated every word he said to her.

“Thank you for coming to my party!” She exclaimed excitedly, knowing her Bluey themed birthday party was waiting downstairs for her. The words came easily to her, and you knew Spencer had probably been trying to teach her about the important of manners.

He hummed softly, “Okay, I think you’re good to go, Princess Kathleen.” You imagined the two of them, him dressed for the party and her in her lilac princess dress.

Kathleen giggled at her designation for the day before quieting down, “Are we gonna do it now, daddy?”

“Yes,” Spencer said, and you knew exactly what he was doing. Standing her up on her stool, right in front of her full length mirror - at least, as full length as a four year old needed. “I am smart,” he started, giving her the first prompt of the day. He changed the order of them every day, but ever since he’d left the BAU, he’d made it a priority to do this with Kit every morning when getting ready and every night after her teeth were brushed.

She took a deep breath before repeating, “I am smart.”

You peeked through the slight crack of the door, watching the two of them perform their morning ritual. “I am kind,” Spencer cued her again.

“I am kind,” Kit echoed, a shy smile on her face, exhibiting her toothy grin.

Gently, Spencer reached to the top of her head, straightening the bedazzled tiara she had gotten specially for the special day. You’d placed it there earlier, after you’d done the princess hair that she had been begging for. “I am beautiful,” he told her.

Kathleen swayed gently on the stool, the shimmery fabric of her dress glistening in the daylight that peeked in from the windows. “I am beautiful,” she responded, patiently sounding out the word.

“My mommy and daddy love me very much,” Spencer said, kissing her cheek with a knowing smile.

Her grin broadened, “My mommy and daddy love me very much.” She bounced on the stool, and she would’ve fallen off if Spencer hadn’t been there to corral her back onto the platform.

Your chest ached while you watched the two of them, so focused on their interactions that you hadn’t noticed the tears that were beginning to sting your eyes. Spencer continued, “I’m four years old today!”

Kit cheered, “I’m four years old today!”

“Okay,” Spencer said, picking up your newly four year old daughter and holding her. “Are you excited for your party?”

She nodded, “Yes and cake.”

Spencer raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, “Really? Well, we have plenty of cake.”

“Can I have two pieces?” She asked, dishing out her puppy dog eyes that he’d never be able to resist.

He hummed and pretended to consider the option, “I think we can make that happen. Now, do you wanna go downstairs and watch Uncle Derek put up the bounce house?”

At the offer for her to go downstairs, you quickly got yourself out of the hallway, taking a few steps and turning into your bedroom. Forcing yourself to take a few deep breaths, you paced the length of the room, pulling your shirt off of your skin when the fabric started to suffocate you. You turned around to continue your pacing when you were met with familiar brown eyes, “I thought I heard you out in the hallway.”

The concern that dripped from his words only made you feel worse. With tears dangling from your lower lash line, you glanced at the floor around him, “Where’s…” Your voice trailed off, foregoing the name of your daughter and instead trusting Spencer to understand you.

“She’s with Garcia, telling Derek how he should be inflating the bounce house,” he explained, smiling softly at you.

You laughed despite yourself. The image of your daughter, dressed like a princess, instructing Derek Morgan on how to put up the nylon structure that you’d rented for her birthday was enough to diminish even the saddest of emotions. “Good,” you said, sniffling through your tears, “Someone has to keep him in line.”

He nodded with understanding, “What’s wrong, baby?” He asked, stepping toward you and guiding you until you were sitting on the bed, him taking the spot next to you.

“She’s four today,” you said miserably. You wished you could remember being four, but as Spencer already knew, you’d forgotten a majority of your childhood. You knew there was an abyss of unhappiness that was buried there. You remembered shouting and you remembered tears, but none of the details had stuck to you. Sometimes, you preferred it that way.

Without another word, Spencer put his arms tightly around you, letting your salty tears fall on his shirt uninhibited. “I know,” he murmured, holding you so tightly that your body was being dragged closer and closer to his until you were nearly in his lap.

Your chest ached. Instead of reciprocating Spencer’s hug, you pressed your hands to your chest to ease the pain of your broken heart, “You’re such a good dad.” Your words escaped from your swollen throat, remembering the grin on your daughter’s face when the two of them had done their affirmations earlier.

To that, he was silent, knowing there was nothing he could say that would make it any better - make it hurt any less. There were no words in any available language that would heal the wound left in you by your father. Your childhood stuck to your heart like a wound that would never heal, there were some days where the pain couldn’t get to you, blocked by a pain medication that came in the form of your husband and child, but sometimes the world felt too vast, and you became that little girl in a big house with an angry man.

There were some things that Spencer could understand, but while Spencer had felt the absence of his father, you’d felt the opposite. Like a poltergeist, your father lingered in every corner of your home, you’d learned to recognize the footsteps of everyone in your house. Sometimes, when someone's gait had just the right rhythm, your heart started to race and the hair on the back of your neck stood up. There were some things that were just your own.

“She has such a good dad,” you murmured, screwing your eyes shut as if that would prevent any other tears from forming. Your stomach roiled as the gears in your brain started to turn and you recognized the emotion that burned your skin - envy. You gasped back a sob, “Why didn’t I deserve that?” You considered it to be a cosmic joke, that you had, at the toddler stage of life, done something to deserve the father you had gotten. “What did I do wrong?”

This time, your husband cooed, dragging his fingertips up and down your back, outlining your spine. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he whispered. You knew it broke his heart to see you like this, reduced to nothing more than a puddle of tears by a man who was no longer there to haunt you, but you couldn’t get yourself to stop.

Your question echoed in your ears, every time you had asked yourself if you had done something wrong reverberated in your skull like a gong. Ranging from when you were a kid and banned from attending the school carnival to when you were an adult, and your final attempt at reaching out had ended in tears much like these. He’d never met Kathleen, and admittedly, you preferred it that way. There was no way he could weasel his way into your lives, flooding your daughter’s mind with the same muck that you spent years watering down. Hours of speeches about disappointment from before you were able to stand up for yourself, but even then, the only way out had been to leave.

It wasn’t until years later that it felt like a refuge, leaving behind the life you had spent so many years trying to fix. You hadn’t been that girl in so many years, but she was still in there. Behind a closed door, there was a little girl who just wanted to wear a princess dress and go to her father daughter dance. Some days you let her out, finding her again when you sat down to a tea party with Kathleen, but sometimes she snuck out, filling your chest with envy when you saw the care that Spencer put into his relationship with her, just as she had done today. You couldn’t blame her, because what you did remember was growing up and seeing girls with their dads, being pushed on the swing without being critiqued, being congratulated for their hard work without being asked why they hadn’t done better, and you’d felt the same jealousy then that you did now. She was just a girl. She didn’t know any better.

There had been a time when you assumed all fathers were like that. That the fathers in books and movies were dreams of other daughters that hadn’t been able to go to their daddy daughter dance, but as you got older, the absence of paternal love ostracized you from your peers.

“You did nothing wrong,” Spencer whispered to you again, softly dragging his knuckle across your cheek. Your head now rested comfortably in his head, and you were running out of time.

Sniffling, you pushed yourself up, looking at your husband with bleary eyes, “I love her so much, and I love that you love her so much.” It was the truth, too. You loved that Spencer was a good father, especially after growing up with a fear of angry men in your home.

He nodded understandingly, “I know you do, and she knows you do.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, afraid you had ruined what should’ve been a happy day with the gaping wound on your heart.

Dismissing your concern, your husband shook his head, “There’s nothing to be sorry for, sometimes we feel big emotions and they have to come out one way or another.”

A small smile bloomed on your face, recognizing the words you’d said to your daughter earlier that week. “That’s right, and we shouldn’t be ashamed of our emotions, no matter how big they are,” you finished your speech from that night. You had talked her down from what had been, as it turned out, her final toddler tantrum.

Gently, Spencer cupped your cheeks and kissed you. You closed your eyes, letting the last of your tears fall where he could easily swipe them away, “I am smart.”

A soft laugh escaped your lips when you recognized what he was doing with you, giving you the same affirmations that he had given to your daughter earlier. “I am smart,” you repeated, entertaining his methods.

“I am kind,” he said, reaching over to your nightstand for a tissue so he could better dry your tears.

You nodded in confirmation, “I am kind.” You closed your eyes while he wiped at them, smiling at the familiar giggles you heard coming from the backyard.

He smiled at you, though a thread of sympathy remained sewn in his irises, “I am beautiful.” He hooked his finger beneath your chin, lifting it so he could see you better.

“I am beautiful,” you echoed, your confidence waning ever so slightly.

Spencer noticed, you could tell by the way he took your hand in his. “My husband and daughter love me very much,” he told you, squeezing your hand comfortingly.

Taking a deep breath, you squeezed his hand back, “My husband and daughter love me very much.”

“And I am worthy,” he reminded you, an affirmation that was unique and directly pointed at you.

“And I am worthy,” you responded, setting your shoulders. “I love you,” you told him, grateful to have him by your side.

He nodded reassuringly, “I love you too.” Your eyes met one more time when a small voice started calling for you, knowing it was only a moment before tiny feet started running up the stairs, Spencer got up from the bed. “I’ll get her,” he promised, “Come down when you’re ready.”

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spencersneed · 17 days ago

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A Sign From God

T/W- show adjacent violence (mentions of murder, physical violence), mentions of pedophilia & mentions of SA.

five

"Your handwriting. The way you walk. Which china pattern you choose. It's all giving you away. Everything you do shows your hand. Everything is a self-portrait. Everything is a diary." -Chuck Palakniuk.

Juniper and Spencer sat beside one another, an empty metal chair on the opposite side of the table. The mid-morning sun was shining through the high-set windows, spilling warmth onto their skin, easing the harshness of fluorescent, overhead lights. Juniper checked her watch for a third time, their meeting already ten minutes behind schedule.

A buzzer sounded, the heavy, metal door opened a second later, revealing Oliver, who was being escorted in by two guards. He wasn't a burly man by any stretch of the imagination, but he was considered high-risk due to his mental instability; hence the need for two guards. His wrist shackles were attached to the ones around his ankles, causing him to walk in a shuffle. Oliver plopped into the vacant seat, looking at the guards for a moment before focusing his eyes on the agents opposite him. He inhaled through his nose, wiping it afterward with the back of his hand. The rattling of his chained wrists seemed to echo against the cinderblock walls.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with us. I'm Doctor Pierce, and this is my colleague, Doctor Reid," Juniper began, reaching for the tape recorder.

The action of her hitting the record button held Oliver's attention. He watched the blinking light for a few seconds, then inhaled sharply once more. "Aren't you the girl who ran into the woods after me?"

An awkward smile tugged at Juniper's lips, "that was me, yes."

His eyebrow cocked, amusment growing on his face, "pretty stupid if you ask me."

Spencer chuckled to himself, Oliver following suit. "I'm not an eight-year-old boy, so I figured the odds were stacked in my favour."

Oliver nodded a few times before leaning against the stiff back of the chair. "How's that boy doing? He must have been pretty scared."

"Do you care about how Nicholas is doing, or do you just want to know about how deeply you've affected him?" she wondered, placing her clasped hands on the table.

A smirk broke onto his lips, a glint in his eyes. "You got me there, Doctor. If we're not here to talk about him, then why are we here?"

Juniper used her knuckle to tap her nose before she opened her file and notebook with a deep inhale through her nose. "At the Behavioural Analysis Unit, we conduct interviews with a variety of inmates to see if we can find behavioral links to assist with building our profiles."

"So you want to know if I was touched as a boy?" his amusement growing.

"Not specifically. We already know your father severely abused you. What he would do to you. About your time in foster care. What I'm more interested in, however, is why the murders of Steven Branch, Michael Moore, and Christopher Byers affected you so much that you decided to recreate their murders."

Oliver screwed up his face slightly, waving his head from side to side, "eh, I was born in Arkansis and that shit sticks with you, you know? You already know I was eight when it happened. I grew up in Earle, I'd been to West Memphis a few times. I'm sure people who grew up in Boulder have a particular interest in JonBenét."

"That doesn't explain why you chose to replicate the murders, though." Juniper's tone was more serious as she stared directly at the man across from her.

Oliver shrugged, "what can I say, Doctor? I became obsessed, wondering if it could have just as easily happened to me. Sometimes, I wish it did, so then I wouldn't have had to continue living with the man who raised me."

Juniper's eyes narrowed slightly as she pondered his statement, "At eight years old, you had an obsession with the case?"

"Kept every newspaper article I could get my hands on. I had a shoebox in my closet filled with them. Other kids thought I was weird because I'd talk about it so much," his shrug was nonchalant, but his words conveyed otherwise. Pride, maybe.

"And no one around you found this to be abnormal?" her tone reflecting her disbelief.

"People just thought I was scared. Wanted to know everything, so I knew what to look out for, I suppose," he responded with another shrug.

"You didn't replicate the genital mutilation until you murdered Luca. Were you working up to that, or did the impulse just take over with him?" she wondered, scanning the paper file for a brief moment.

The left side of his face twitched, an uncomfortable shift in his chair following, "I worked up to it."

Juniper leaned forward, pressing her lips together as she studied his body language. Tilting her head, her eyebrows furrowed closer together. "We can't prove sexual assault. But I wanna know, do you have inappropriate feelings for young boys, Oliver?"

Oliver shifted again, his face twitching once more as he screwed up his expression, "no."

"I'm not very convinced. I understand the hesitation, seeing as how they treat guys like that in here, but this is purely for research purposes. No one out there will know," Juniper assured in a quiet, gentle tone.

He shook his head, more insistent, but both agents could see the edges starting to crack, "I killed them because I wanted to kill. I'm not a big guy, so it's not like I can overpower another adult. Kids, kids are easy. You lower their inhibitions, offer them something that interests them, and they'll do pretty much anything you say."

"So you wanted to be up close and personal when you killed someone?" Oliver nod, almost frantic. "So, why not little girls? Wouldn't they be the easiest to overpower?"

"Then it's not like West Memphis," he reminded. "I know every detail of that case; in and out. I wanted to kill, to be up close, and all my mind would allow was for me to replicate. Less personal."

"I just don't understand how it only took until your second set of murders to replicate the castration. For most sexual perpetrators, it takes three or more offences to get to a level like that. To me, if it were that important, I would have done it the first time," she pushed, sitting back as she spoke.

"They were too young. It wasn't right," Oliver's breathing was shaky as he suddenly removed his hands from the table and wiped his palms against his thighs.

Juniper took a moment, examining his demeanor, before she looked over at Spencer. Her colleague raised a brow, questioning her, as he returned the stare. Tapping her nose again, Juniper sighed quietly.

"It wasn't right because they didn't fit your preferred age group? Because they weren't as developed as you like them to be?" Oliver rubbed his palms over his thighs again, avoiding eye contact with the agent opposite him. "You knew you were attracted to other boys at eight, didn't you? That's when the abuse started. Your dad found out, and he'd try and beat the gay out of you. But as you got older, you realised you didn't just like other boys, it was specifically eight-year-old boys, right? Did you ever get caught with a younger boy, Oliver? Is that what caused you to be hospitalised at fourteen? He found out, and he tried to kill you?"

Oliver's face contorted at the accusation, guilt overtaking his features as he looked away. A sound, almost like a whine, escaped his throat as he shifted his shoulders. His chest was rising and falling at a rapid pace. He looked towards the door, almost like he was willing for it to open and the meeting to end.

"Did you get too excited with Luca? Does he fit your preferred type exactly?"

"I wasn't going to. The other boy, he cried a lot, so I killed him first. I made Luca watch. Like I'm sure the West Memphis boys had to watch. But he didn't cry like I expected him to. He reminded me of the boy, of how excited I got. I hadn't touched another boy since my father beat me; I was too scared to. But with Luca, I couldn't help myself. It's like I got to relive that day when I was fourteen. It's like I was watching myself from another person's eyes." A single tear rolled down his cheek, which he wiped away quickly. "I don't want to do this anymore."

Juniper nod, reaching over and stopping the tape recorder. Oliver continued to wipe each tear as they fell, releasing a sigh of relief when the door opened. As he was escorted out, he looked over his shoulder at the agents briefly, almost as if he was full of regret. But Juniper knew it wasn't regret. It was anxiety about what could come from the admission. She let a long sigh escape, rubbing her face with both hands before closing the case folder.

She and Spencer shared the silence as they exited the prison. The warm sun washed over her skin as a breeze swept through her hair. "Killing children to mix an obsession with pedophilic desires. Can't really say I saw that coming."

"I had my suspicions," Spencer responded, his voice flat as he walked to the passenger side of the SUV.

"Of course you did," she muttered to herself, opening the door. "Anyway, I don't think you'll need to worry about coming back with me. I doubt he's going to want to speak with me again."

Silence washed over the pair once more, but it only made Juniper feel more uncomfortable. She turned on the radio before backing out of the parking space. The drive felt tense, Juniper staring out the windscreen as Spencer focused on nothing in particular. He'd steal glances at his colleague every so often, his eyes never lingering for more than a few seconds. Finally, he got the nerve to speak.

"You did a good job, Pierce. I don't think any of us would have gotten something like that out of him so quickly," his compliment sincere as he offered a small, closed-mouth smile.

Juniper looked at him briefly, the admission taking her by surprise. Thank you."

#aaron hotchner #bau team #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #david rossi #derek morgan #doctor spencer reid #dr reid #dr spencer reid #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #penelope garcia #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #mgg #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic

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spencersneed · 22 days ago

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A Sign From God

AN- I had no idea how to end this chapter so I'm sorry if it's ass :/

four

"It's all romanticism, nonsense, rottenness, art." -Ivan Turgenev.

A rare Saturday with nothing to do caused Juniper to find herself inside an art gallery. Though she'd lived in the city for almost a year, she'd never explored what it had to offer in the way of experiences. Footsteps and hushed conversations filled the air as she aimlessly wandered around, but she found herself enjoying the almost silence. As her work days had become consumed with violence and noise, she began to find comfort in the opposite. It helped slow the racing thoughts she'd become so accustomed to. Stood in front of a piece titled Harlem Street with Church, her eyes studied the muted colours and took in every line.

Juniper heard footsteps approach, paying them no mind, even as she felt a presence by her side. "Did you know the Egyptians first used that relief printing to print fabric, circa five hundred BC? Chinese artists would also use stone to make seals for the purpose of signing their artworks. Only ethnic groups without access to wood, generally speaking, would use stone, however."

The voice was familiar. Looking to her left, Juniper saw Spencer standing beside her. Returning her gaze to the work displayed on the wall, she inhaled deeply, "are you stalking me, Reid?"

"Absolutely not. This exhibit is only open for a few more days, and I haven't had time to come until now; that is," amusement intertwined with his words.

Juniper moved on to another piece, Off to War, Spencer trailing not far behind her. "Screenprinting was found to have originated during the Song Dynasty era of China. Japan, however, was one of the first Asian countries to start making recognizable forms of screenprinting. They used stencils cut from paper and mesh woven from human hair to create imagery on fabric." His ramble was quiet, absent-minded as he studied the work alongside his colleague. Silence hung between the pair, making the male slightly uncomfortable. "Are you listening to me?"

"I'm listening," Juniper assured. "I'm just not paying attention."

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at Juniper, who kept her focus on the print in front of them. "Are you mad at me or something?"

Looking to her colleague for a moment, Juniper dropped him a questioning expression, "why would I be mad?"

"You're just being...hostile."

Juniper scoffed, amused by the irony. "Spencer, you've been nothing but combative with me since I first started. Why do you think I would be interested in spending one of my only free days listening to you tell me facts I already know? Especially when I can almost guarantee that as soon as we get to work on Monday, you'll go back to being antagonistic."

"I don't do well with change," he admitted, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"That's not my problem. I don't handle change well, either, but I don't make my coworkers feel less than because of it." Looking at him once more, Juniper could see the frustration on his features. "I want to be friends, but until you can treat me like an equal, there is no chance of us getting along. Ball's in your court."

With the conclusion of her statement, Juniper left the exhibition space and moved on to view some of the other art the gallery had to offer. Monday proved her assumption to be correct. Spencer paid her no mind as he got in for the day, blowing her off when she'd asked him a question about case files from the previous week. She got to work later than usual on Tuesday, struggling to carry the two cup trays; coffee threatening to burn her at any given moment. Every member of the BAU had a cup waiting for them, made to their liking. A perk of an eidetic memory.

"You even went to the good coffee place," Emily commented before taking a sip.

"I would have brought food, too, but carrying eight cups of coffee was a battle in of itself," Juniper laughed, sitting in her chair.

Spencer looked at his cup before looking over at the two women, "are you trying to win brownie points or something?"

"C'mon, Reid. Just say thank you," Emily said, giving her colleague a disappointed expression.

He rolled his eyes. "Thank you," his words coming out as a mutter as he turned to start his work.

The two women rolled their eyes in unison before laughing amongst themselves. Emily retreated to her desk, leaving Juniper to sit in the tension. She wanted to point out that Spencer had done exactly as she said he would, but decided it wasn't worth the argument.

Hotch called her into his office a while later. Juniper had previously discussed doing a case study on Oliver Green, wanting to learn more about how his proximity to the West Memphis murders manifested into the obsession that led to him becoming an unsub himself. "The Director has agreed that a case study could be useful. He's prepared to send you for an initial interview next week. Any follow-up interviews would need to be done between cases," Hotch explained, evidently happy at the initiative his subordinate had shown.

"I'll contact the prison and Green today," Juniper smiled. Excitement swelled in her chest as she stood to leave.

"You'll be taking Reid with you. I've noticed he hasn't taken a liking to you, so I think him observing your expertise in the field will help him understand that you are not his competition, but an ally to the team."

"No disrespect, Agent Hotchner, but I believe Doctor Reid is incapable of such a thing," Juniper advised, hands held behind her back.

Hotch nod before continuing, "maybe so. But that reflects on him, not on you. I need him to learn that he is not being replaced, which I fear is how he feels; that is why he was chosen. I'll be having you both conduct a peer review upon your return, and if he can't behave professionally, then I will send another agent with you for any follow-up interviews."

"I understand. Thank you for bringing this to the Director for me," Juniper's appreciation caused Hotch to crack a small smile.

"I wouldn't have chosen you if I didn't think you were of value, Pierce. So, go prove me right," his tone was tender as he responded.

A bright smile erupted onto Juniper's face as she nod. Leaving his office, she felt almost giddy, which she recognised was possibly insensitive, but she couldn't help the excitement of her achievement. Her phone call with the prison went well. They instructed her to submit a visitor request to Green, which he would have the right to refuse, but they seemed keen to have two agents come to their premises. Turning to Spencer, Juniper rolled closer to the divider.

"We're probably going to Minnesota next Friday," she advised.

Spencer cocked his brow as he stared back at his colleague, "what do you mean by "we"?"

"You know, we. Used by a speaker to refer to themselves and one or more other people in a collective context?" amusement present on her face.

"Yes, I'm aware of the meaning behind the word," Spencer responded with his arms crossed over his chest. "Why am I going to Minnesota with you?"

"Case study, I need someone with me. I assume it's because it's my first practical assessment. And Hotch has chosen you to be my lucky assistant," her joke seemed to annoy her colleague even more.

"Okay," Spencer said, concluding their conversation.

He turned back to his paperwork, causing Juniper to roll her eyes. She furrowed her brows, wanting to question his contempt, but knew she would never get an answer. They'd only been colleagues for a month, but she had already picked up a few of Spencer's behavioural patterns and tells. Like how he'd fiddle with his fingers when he was nervous or uncomfortable, and often pair the ill feelings with shifting to his mouth to one side. Or when he was challenged, his voice would rise a few octaves. He was a complicated man in many ways, but also so simple in the rest. She couldn't, however, figure out why he acted so negatively towards her.

#aaron hotchner #bau team #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #david rossi #derek morgan #doctor spencer reid #dr reid #dr spencer reid #emily prentiss #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #mgg #spencer reid fanfiction #jennifer jareau

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spencersneed · 27 days ago

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A Sign From God

T/W- show adjacent violence (mentions of murder, physical violence) & swearing.

three

"You won't ever find the answers to the actions of horrible people who only want to hurt others, and do you know why? Because you're not them." -K.B.

The air was silent as the pack of SUVs rolled up the the lone house, lights off as they approached. Trees lined the long, gravel driveway, protecting the shack from outside disturbances. Tension hung thick in the cab of the SUV as Juniper prepared herself for what lay ahead. They'd discovered the unsub, Oliver Green, due to his increasing paranoia and weaning impulse control. He'd drawn attention while luring another boy from a local park, forgetting people would take down his licence plate details. Which led the team to a house that he shared with his father, who was bedridden, riddled with bone cancer.

Everyone was given a position, a point of entry, or a space to search, still needing to find the boys and apprehend their suspect. Juniper had been instructed to enter through a side door. Once the signal to begin had been given, the blonde crept her way around the house; gun drawn. The rickety, torn mesh door squeaked lightly as she pulled it open, leading her into the laundry room. Her steps were slow, trying to avoid her boots making noise against the scuffed linoleum floor. Shoulders tense, she cocked her head to the side, cracking the stiffness that had formed. Swiftly, she rounded the corner into the short hallway. The passage was empty, however, the light from the kitchen spilled into the enclosed space.

To her left, Juniper heard a door close. Realising the implication, the blonde ran through the kitchen and out the same door. "He's gone out the back. Following on foot," she informed everyone over her walkie.

"Just be careful. We don't know if he's armed," Agent Hotchner warned her.

Following the unsub down a hill, Juniper was careful not to slip on the mud while trying not to compromise her speed. The tree line backed up onto the bottom of the hill, obstructing her view of exactly where Green had gone. Using her flashlight to navigate through the darkness, the blonde searched the gaps as best she could. "Oliver Green, I'm with the FBI's Behavioural Analysis Unit. If you give yourself up and tell us where Nicholas is, I'm sure we can work something out," calling into the quiet wilderness.

Hearing a twig snap, she turned around, shining her light in the direct line of her vision. She heard the shout before she felt his body slam into her side. Knocked into a tree, Juniper's brain lagged for a moment, the impact of the shove taking her by surprise. She watched him swing an axe, leveled at her neck, but ducked to a crouch. Using her stance to her advantage, she swept her leg into the male's; causing him to stumble to the side. With the blade of his axe lodged in the tree, Oliver had no choice but to throw a punch, his whole weight behind the blow as he his fist connected with Juniper's face. The strike was enough to cause the blonde to drop her gun, but not enough to put her down. A swift kick to the male's gut caused him to stumble once more. Rage filled his features as he raised his fist. The attempt at another punch, however, was blocked by the smaller woman's forearm. A spinhook kick to his shin followed, rendering the man to his knees. Multiple sets of footsteps sounded from the treeline, lights disturbing the surrounding darkness.

"You move, I shoot," Emily warned, having positioned herself to his side.

"Oliver Green, you're under arrest for the kidnappings and murders of Jacob Dawes, Owen Price, Luca Weldon, and Martin Cross," Agent Hotchner informed the man as he tightened the handcuffs onto his wrists.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Juniper reached down to retrieve her pistol from where it had landed. Her chest and throat burned with adrenolin mixed with the crip, cool air as she gegan her retreat from the wooded area. "Pierce, you're bleeding," Emily pointed out.

Using the back of her hand, she wiped blood from under her nose. "He got me good, I'll give him that," she half heartedly joked.

Reid was already watching the blonde as she approached his position at the back of the pack. Keeping her face neutral as she passed by him, their bodies almost brushed against one another. As she hiked back up the hill, she spat out some blood that had managed to pool in her mouth. As she strolled to the front of the house, she observed a brunet boy sitting in the back of the ambulance; the latest victim. He was dirty, but otherwise appeared unharmed. Rossi forced the young female to get assessed by an EMT to rule out any chance of a broken nose or concussion. Thankfully, everything was in the clear. Once everyone was clear to leave, Juniper rode back to the hotel with Emily and Reid. Every so often, she would catch Spencer looking at her, however, he'd look away as soon as he was caught.

Emily pulled into the motel parking lot and cut the engine. The three agents exited the vehicle before Emily split off to turn in for the night. Leaving Juniper and Spencer alone. Tension suffocated the cool, night air as it swept through the empty lot. Juniper had decided she was also going to go to her room, but as she started to walk away, Spencer grabbed hold of her bicep, "you haven't even been on the team for a week, and you're already putting yourself in unsafe situations."

"Would you have preferred I let him get away?" annoyance present on her face.

"We're a team, so if you want to stay on it, I suggest you be a team player," his face in his usual stone-cold expression.

Juniper rolled her eyes. "Sorry, Hotch. I'll wait for your permission to initiate a pursuit next time."

Spencer rolled his eyes in retaliation, "what if he'd managed to stab you? Or worse."

"Then I'd be in hospital with a stab wound, Reid. I know what I signed up for. But tonight, I did my job. We apprehended the unsub, and that's all that should matter," her words curt as she pulled her bicep from his grasp.

"Your impulsive decisions don't only affect you, they affect all of us. Just...be careful next time," Spencer advised as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Mirroring his stance, Juniper inhaled a sharp, exasperated inhale, "how about a 'good job, Pierce'? 'Are you okay'?"

The taller male went to speak but cut himself off, breathing deeply as his eyes closed, "are you okay?" he wondered as his eyes opened once more.

"Fine," Juniper retorted before abruptly ending the conversation.

The walk to her room was only a few feet from where Emily had parked. As she fumbled with the keys, she looked over to the brunet. He was still watching, his stance unchanged as he observed her movements. The blonde scoffed to herself as she managed to work the lock. The room was silent, light already on as she took solace inside the confines of the four walls. She wanted to be happy, proud of her achievement, but the events had been undermined by her colleague. Her appearance was confronting as she studied herself in the bathroom mirror. Blood had dried against her pale skin, causing the red to stand out even more, and a bruise had begun to appear. A trophy from her first case.

By the next morning, the bruise had peaked. Red, yellow, and purple discoloration spanned from her inner eyes to the outer corners, then down to just below the tops of her cheeks. "Oh my god, Pierce," Morgan chuckled in surprise as the blonde joined the team for breakfast.

"It hurts so bad," she commented, taking a seat beside Rossi. "I couldn't even put makeup on, it's so tender."

"While, typically, more severe business can last for around two weeks, with an injury such as yours, I'd be worried about a Septal Hematoma. If left untreated, a Septal Hematoma can cause tissue necrosis, life-threatening infections, or deformity," Spencer rambled as he stared directly at his colleague.

Rubbing her temples, Juniper responded, "And if you don't stop talking, you're going to give me a Subdural Hematoma."

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spencersneed · 1 month ago

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A Sign From God

T/W- show adjacent violence (mentions of murder, mentions of acts done to victims, mentions of real-life cases, physical violence) & swearing.

two

"Please don't expect me to always be good and kind and loving. There are times when I will be cold and thoughtless and hard to understand." - Sylvia Plath.

As Juniper watched the scenery race past, she couldn't help but ponder how surreal her life was. Not only had she been given the position she'd been working towards for years, but she was on the way to her first crime scene. As Derek drove, Spencer combed through his paper files from the passenger seat; leaving Juniper to examine the crime scene photos on her tablet from the back seat. The parallels between this case and the one from West Memphis couldn't be denied, but the blonde felt self-conscious about her theory.

"So, Pierce, what made you want to join the BAU?" Derek wondered aloud; ripping Juniper from her focus.

Shrugging, she answered, "there was a careers day when I started college, and Agent Gideon was there. We spoke about the correlation of childhood home lives to the predisposition of being an unsub, and after that, I just knew this is what I wanted to do."

"While it is present in most cases, there haven't been any scientific studies to prove a hypothesis like that," Spencer interjected.

"Have you ever heard the phrase, correlation doesn't equal causation, Reid?" frustration intertwined with her words.

Turning in his seat so her could face her better, Spencer furrowed his eyebrows together, "if you wanted to make that argument, you'd probably have more luck with evidence of frontal lobe trauma."

Juniper narrowed her eyes and stared at her colleague for a moment, "I actually wrote my dissertation on the MacDonald triad and how those behaviours are more indicative of dysfunctional home dynamics. But also that extreme abuse and frontal lobe trauma are way more prevalent and better indicators of antisocial behaviours like homicide and sex crimes. Since these things rewire the brain and aren't just behaviours that are exhibited by a vast net of children and adolescents."

The brunet didn't have a response, he just turned back in his seat and reengaged with his files. Juniper was unsure of what she had done to encourage the tension between the pair. Emily had briefly explained that the male didn't handle change the best, but he hadn't even known the blonde for six hours, so the animosity was perplexing. The youngest team member had a couple of theories, but none that she was able to pinpoint at that point in time. She'd already had a good rapport with everyone, but Spencer was proving to be harder to crack.

The rest of the drive was silent. Pulling up at the crime scene, police and other related professionals were swarming the area. Juniper's assessment of the scene was cut short when she noticed someone about to cut the bindings on one of the boys. "Hey! Don't cut that!" she shouted after jumping out of the car as fast as she could. "I need to look at those knots."

The person stepped back, allowing her to breathe a huge sigh of relief. Grabbing a pair of gloves from a pop-up table, the young woman put them on as she approached the victims. Morgan could be heard talking to the lead investigator while she got as close as she could to examine the hogties. The wrists to ankles were consistent, as were the knots used. Looking down at the boys, a sinking feeling washed over the young woman. She'd seen cadavers before, even her mother's body at her funeral, but these were children. Two lives full of new experiences taken in the blink of an eye. Their skin, which should have been showing signs of life, was pale with splotches of blue. Faces that should have been filled with childhood wonder looked as if both boys were cold, but sleeping. In that moment, as she watched over the boys, sorrow for their families crashed into her. The blonde crouched down next to Luca and gently, with two of her fingers, brushed the hair from his closed eyes. Standing abruptly, Juniper took a deep breath and swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat.

"Have any of the boys' belongings been recovered?" Juniper asked the lead investigator, who was standing with Morgan and Reid.

"Uh, yeah. They were stabbed to the bottom of the creek using sharpened sticks," he answered.

Approaching the men, she informed them, "it's not a complete replication, but there are enough similarities that I can confidently say our unsub is trying to replicate the West Memphis murders."

Juiper tore off her gloves as she made her way past the men and around to the opposite side of the SUV. Resting her hands on her hips, the blonde leant forward slightly and took a deep inhale. As she felt the tears sting her eyes, she looked towards the sky, forbidding them from falling. She'd been prepared, well aware of what the job entailed, but seeing it in person, kids, for the first time, still shocked the woman to the core. "Hey kid, you okay?" Derek asked quietly as she stood at the boot of the car.

Nodding, Juniper pressed her lips together, taking another deep breath before responding, "I'm okay. Just...confronting when you see it all. Ya know?"

With sympathy on his face, Derek placed a hand on the younger woman's shoulder, "take your time, okay? We've all been here once. Just remember, we're here to help those kids and to stop this from happening again."

Nodding once more, Juniper offered her colleague a weak smile. Derek smiled back, patting the blonde on the shoulder before returning to work. The trio was at the scene for a few hours, gathering evidence and notes for their profile, before they met the others at the station. When they arrived, an evidence board had already been started. Perfect.

"What did you find?" Agent Hotchner enquired.

"We could be dealing with a copycat," Morgan revealed.

Grabbing two of the close-up printouts of the knots, Juniper pinned them to the board, "Luca's knots were exactly the same as the four two half-hitches found on Christopher Byers. But the nail in the coffin for me was that Martin had two square knots, a four half-hitch, and a three half-hitch. The same knots found on Michael Moore."

"Their belongings had been anchored to the bottom of the creek with sharpened sticks that matched the surrounding trees. So our unsub either spent a lot of time at the crime scene before or after the murders to prepare the sticks," Spencer added as he sat in a chair at the table.

"If I were going to kill two young boys, and I knew where I was going to dump their bodies, I'd prepare that area ahead of time so I could do what I needed to do and get out of there," Juniper advised as she examined the board. "I wouldn't want to be caught with two deceased ten-year-olds."

Derek sat at the table and grabbed one of the files, "there was no blood at the scene, which means that this was strictly the disposal site."

"Which means he's organised," Hotch concluded.

The team spent the rest of the day reviewing the evidence and compiling the profile. They'd concluded the unsub was likely raised in or around West Memphis, possibly around ten when the murders took place, making him mid to late twenties. What they hadn't figured out, yet, was the motive and the stressor. And they had to figure that out quickly, or more boys would go missing.

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spencersneed · 1 month ago

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A/N-Hi everyone! This is my first Spencer Reid fic, so please be kind to me. Also, the first time I've posted my work in like 10 years. I do hope that you enjoy. I will also have the Wattpad linked at the end if you'd prefer to read there :)

T/W- show adjacent violence (mentions of murder, mentions of acts done to victims, mentions of real-life cases, physical violence) & swearing.

A Sign From God

one

"Ten years from now, make sure you can say that you chose your life, you didn't settle for it." - Mary Hale.

Today was a new day. Nervous, Juniper continued to primp and preen in the reflection staring back at her until she saw the time. Having accounted for the traffic, the blonde was still half an hour early. She was only lucky her ID badge had been made the week before, as no security officers had been around when she made her way up. Low, classical music played on the elevator speakers, which only made the ride more tense. With a deep breath as the bell dinged, Juniper prepared herself for what she was about to walk into. It was never easy to start a new job. Let alone a job catching serial killers, kidnappers, and just plain and simple, terrible people. But the office was relatively quiet; only a few bodies buzzing around doing work. No one paid attention to her as she made her way to Agent Hotchner's office.

His office light was on, and the door was open. Agent Hotchner was engrossed in whatever paperwork he was dealing with while he sat at his desk. Preparing to knock, Agent Hotchner took the chance from the blonde, raising his gaze, "Ah, Juniper, come in."

An, apparent, rare smile graced his face as the blonde nervously took a seat and placed her stationary box in the empty space of her lap, "I know I've said it before, but thank you so much for choosing me out of all the candidates. I've wanted to work for the BAU since I learned about the department in collage," nerves making her voice slightly shaky.

"That makes me feel old, but of course. We always need another resident genius to fill in the gaps," his words reassuring, never breaking eye contact. "The team will be meeting shortly as we have a case. Feel free to make yourself a coffee or start setting up your desk. Do you have your go bag?"

"Always," she smiled, then stood.

He nodded but didn't stand, "well, we showed you around last week. Do you think you can navigate your way around?"

Taking a moment to think, "I have an eidetic memory and an IQ of one hundred and seventy-five, I'm sure if I can't, I can ask someone," was all she came out with.

"I think you're going to get along very well with Doctor Reid," was all he advised before returning to his work.

Taking her time, Juniper ensured her coffee was exactly to her liking before deciding to unload the box into her desk. As she approached, she noticed a male sitting at the desk on the other side of her own and two women with him.

"So you saw her?" a lanky male asked as Juniper approached.

"Only briefly," a dark-haired woman answered.

"Yes! So pretty and I've heard she's like you," a blonde cut in.

The male looked confused, "like me?"

"I saw her file. Ph.D.s in Psychology, Sociology, and Philosophy, plus B.A.s in Criminal Justice and Mathematics. And she knows like four languages. Wicked smart. An IQ of one hundred and sixty-seven or something like that," her ramble coming to an end.

Juniper couldn't help but walk over, "judging by the information you just divulged, I'm going to assume you're talking about me." The three faced her, the blonde looking the most shocked, "I also have an IQ of one hundred and seventy-five...just so we're on the same page."

Her lips were pressed together while her eyes shuffled between them as she waited for a response, "I'm so sorry. I'm Penelope."

"Juniper," she replied and offered a small smile.

"I'm Emily," the dark-haired woman interjected. They looked to the male, but he stayed silent, "and this is Spencer. Our local boy genius."

"It's really nice to meet you," the space fell quiet after she was finished speaking.

Feeling the tension, Juniper decided to start unpacking her things. The three stayed silent until the two ladies excused themselves. While she sorted through her things, Juniper could feel eyes on her frame. Using the peripherals of her vision, she caught Spencer staring straight at her. "Were you aware that depending on the taxonomy, between fifty and sixty-five species of Juniperus are widely distributed throughout the Northern Hemisphere," he piped up suddenly.

"I was actually. The highest-known juniper forest occurs at an altitude of four thousand, nine hundred metres in southeastern Tibet and the northern Himalayas. But they can also be found throughout Asian, Central America, the Arctic, and south to tropic Africa," his face stayed neutral as the blonde rambled. "Juniper was my mom's favourite plant."

Silence continued. Worried she'd already managed to make a bad impression, Juniper racked her brain trying to think of something to say. Agent Hotchner suddenly called for the team; squashing any chance there was to try and find common ground with Spencer in that moment. Following Spencer and Emily into the conference room, the shortest blonde took a seat opposite Spencer. Their gazes met for a second before his redirected to the screen. A few more people filed in and took their seats before Agent Hotchner closed the door, "everyone, this is Juniper Pierce, our new addition to the team."

Derek, JJ, and Rossi introduced themselves before attention was rerouted to Penelope, "so, two hours ago, these two eight-year-old boys, Martin Cross and Luca Weldon, were abducted walking to their bus stop," she began.

"Why weren't we called to come in early this morning?" Derek wondered.

"Well, only an hour after they were abducted, their bodies were found next to Cascade Creek in Minnesota; wrists and ankles hog tied," Penelope switched the photo on the screen from one of the boys together to a picture of their bodies. Leaning forward, Juniper examined the photo, "Obviously, an autopsy hasn't been performed yet, but Luca appears to have been castrated."

Agent Hotchner picked up where Penelope left off, "initially, the Rochester police thought this was an isolated incident, but from what they have found, it seems to be connected to the abductions of two five-year-old boys almost a year ago. Both boys were abducted separately from different grocery stores in broad daylight; only twelve hours apart. When their bodies were found, they were hog-tied in the same way as our current victims."

He went to speak again, but Juniper cut in, "I'd have to see the bodies in person, but this is very reminiscent of the West Memphis Three murders. Christopher Byers was thought to have been castrated with a knife, but it was later revealed in court that the injuries were most likely caused by post-mortem animal predation. The hog ties also seem to be similar to how the boys were tied."

"If we're dealing with the same unsub, he could be on the move or possibly looking for his next victims. Wheels up in thirty," Agent Hotchner announced before standing.

As she went to leave the room, Juniper noticed Spencer discreetly looking at her again. She contemplated trying to talk to him again, but decided against it as she needed to prove herself to the rest of the team. And it was obvious he was already starting to form a somewhat negative opinion of his colleague. Retrieving the go bag from the boot of her car, Juniper took a second to take it all in. Everything that she had worked so hard for was finally coming to fruition.

It was so surreal stepping onto the jet for the first time. Taking a seat next to JJ, Juniper went over the case notes on the tablet she'd been issued. So many things raced through her mind as she examined all the evidence that was available at the time. Once everyone was aboard, the team started their flight to Rochester.

"Why this time of year? Is it just a coincidence, or is Spring significant to this unsub?" Derek asked; ripping Juniper from her thoughts.

"I know it's probably nothing," starting her train of thought. "But the West Memphis boys were murdered in May of ninety three. If the unsub wasn't directly linked to that case, they could be working up to recreating the case, but from what was portrayed in the media when the case first happened."

"The West Memphis victims were three boys, though," Spencer interrupted.

Kind of annoyed, Juniper looked him in the eyes directly, "that's why I said working up to. A theory from the original case was that it was committed by two unsubs. It would be hard to subdue three eight-year-old boys, even if they were already in the woods. The suspected first victims of this unsub were abducted separately. Easy enough for a first timer. They could have felt remorse after the first set of murders; that's why it took almost a year to perpetrate a second set of murders. Abducting two boys walking to their bus stop together is an escalation, but still not on the same level as imprisoning three boys in the woods."

The tall male seemed annoyed by Juniper's hypothesis, but said nothing in protest. What was his issue? The conversation bounced from person to person, who added their tidbits until Agent Hotchner began assigning tasks, "Pierce, I want you, Morgan, and Reid to go to the crime scene to see if you can identify any other parallels to the West Memphis murders. Rossi and Prentiss go to the suspected first crime scene to see if you can find anything. JJ, you and I will go to the precinct and set up interviews with the families."

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