#i need dawn to come back to the room and set up her tablet bc i dont wanna fuck smt up w her puter

[cimicherrychanga]

i wanna draaaaawwwwww

[secret-rendezvous1d]

omggggg imagine the reader comforting spencer during a migraine (season 6) and he’s so clingy and his hair is sooo fluffy and he just wants to cuddle all day omg i would literally die bc he’d be so cute and soft🥺🥺

ooh, i honestly felt so sad when he wanted answers from his doctor. season six spencer had my heart racing and i don’t know why... haha.

like, reblog and send in some feedback, please. it’s greatly appreciated and it helps me work out what you want to see and what you are after. if you want something specific then do let me know! i’d love to try and write something for you.

thank you for the request, lovely. enjoy.

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“I wish we could stay like this forever.” spencer reid x female reader (reader insert blurb) word count; 1.4k.

* if you haven’t watched criminal minds then this does contain some spoilers to the show that you may want to dodge if you are thinking of starting the series up. *

summary; spencer’s migraines have been getting worse and he just wants all the love he can get.

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It wasn’t like Spencer to wake up late.

For someone who liked an orderly fashion and had a strict routine to follow from morning till night and liked to be out of bed by six and out of the house by seven, just so he could get to work half an hour before he needed to show up, being late really wasn’t something YN thought he was capable of. Ever since she started with the Behavioural Analysis Unit, four years ago, YN had never known him to be late for anything; he was always the first one in the briefing room before a meeting and he was never the last one to enter, he was always the first one to board the jet before anyone else and he was always the first person to exit so he could get on with the orders Hotch had given him and he was always the first one at work in the morning (which he was proud to announce to anyone who came in after him) with a happy smile on his face, a brain ready to spew facts and a pile of case files tucked under his arm and ready to dish out to those on arrival.

So when her alarm went off and tore her from her deep sleep, signifying that seven in the morning on a dreary Monday had struck and it was time for her to wake up and get ready for work, she didn’t expect to see her boyfriend still snoozing beside her. The duvet pulled up to his chin like he was cold and found warmth in anything he could get his hands on, his forehead crinkled and his eyes squeezed shut like he was in a deep sleep and dreaming something, his mouth gaped open as gentle breaths left between his lips and filled the room with the softest of snores. YN wasn’t surprised he was sleeping in; he arrived home from a case rather late, the previous night, and he was almost knocked out as soon as his head hit the pillow. And, as much as YN wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, she knew it would knock him off his routine and have him muddled and off his game for the day.

“Spence, wakey wakey,” YN cooed, dragging a finger across his forehead to clear the mess of curls that covered his skin. She could feel a thin and sticky sheen cover his skin and, upon closer inspection, she noticed the tiniest of sweat beads forming by his temples. A bad dream, she assumed, although something in the back of her head didn't sit well with her. “Spencer, wake up. It’s seven. We need to get ready and leave for work.”

“I know. I know what time you set your alarm for in the mornings,” he grumbled, bringing an arm from beneath the duvet to pinch at the bridge of his nose, a sigh leaving his parted lips. He hadn’t been asleep, she felt silly for guessing he was, and he sounded as wide awake as he had been when he arrived home the night before. “I’ll get up in a minute. I just need a bit longer. Tired from yesterday.”

YN frowned in confusion - he had never once denied getting up so why had he now? -  his eyes barely opening as he spoke to her, his body staying flat upon the mattress as she clambered out from under the covers and had a moment where she stretched and cracked her bones. Her arms went above her head, legs bracing her movements, stretching her back out to remove the kinks in her spine before moving to the en-suite bathroom and closing the door behind her so she could start getting ready for the day.

She looked at herself in the mirror, hands holding the sides of the sink, as she took in her appearance and had a thought about how she wanted to style her hair and how minimal she wanted her make-up to be for the day. Left behind on the sink, next to her left hand, was a half-opened pack of headache tablets and a glass, almost filled to the brim with water, next to their toothbrush holder. Everything else was left in its place and she was left standing in confusion, using the mirror to look around the bathroom behind her, eyebrow raising on her brow-line. She was sure nothing else had been moved, touched or put out of place until it finally dawned on her.

“Spence?”

She opened the door back up, peeking her face into the bedroom and seeing his face covered by her pillow, with the duvet pulled up as far as it could go so his feet weren’t showing at the end of the bed. She wanted to laugh because he looked ridiculous, cute but ridiculous, but she had a hunch that she knew what was wrong with him - over the last few days, headaches and migraines had been the biggest problem he had to face during his days and they’d been taking a toll on his ability to complete a case fully. Sensitive to light, sensitive to sound and his focus split between his surroundings and the pain behind his eyes that didn’t seem to go away, regardless of how dark his sunglasses had been tinted.

“Spencer, are they back bothering you again?”

“It’s just a headache this morning, I know it is,” he grumbled, his words coming out muffled and almost inaudible from beneath the memory foam pillow keeping the light from hitting his orbs, “jump in the shower and I’ll be up in a minute to get dressed then we go together.”

“Spence-”

“YN, I’m fine,” he grasped the pillow into his fist and pulled it from his face, a disgruntled look pinching his features for a brief second before he sent her a warming smile, as if he was trying to persuade her fears that he was perfectly fine and he didn’t need looking out for because it simply was just a headache. Which didn’t really seem to please her and definitely didn’t stop her bare feet from walking across the bedroom to sit back down on the bed. A convering look on her face which only enticed a groan of annoyance from his throat. His eyes refusing to watch as she laid back beside him and laid her head against his shoulder, cheek pressed to the duvet cover. “Don’t baby me, please, I’m fine. I promise.”

She tutted and shook her head.

“You don’t feel well today and I know you when you don’t feel well, mister. You just want non-stop cuddles and,” she perched herself up on her elbow and looked at him, bringing a hand up to rest against his cheek and to allow her fingers to rake through his knotted hair and straighten out the curly wisps the tips of his hair had flicked into, “I know you still want to go to work so we’ll just have to have an extra long one now. You know what Hotch is like with romance in the workplace.”

He smiled warmly, letting his head tilt to her touch, eyes closing in contentment. He couldn’t resist her love, no matter how ill or frustrated or angry he was with her. He felt comfortable with her, comfortable showing a vulnerable side, comfortable being so delicate and fragile, and she was all he needed on a dark and gloomy day when he was feeling a little low about himself. Just a glimpse of her face, a smile on her lips, a quick and cheeky wink sent his way when no-one was looking or the blush on her cheeks when she was caught looking at him was enough for him to feel better and feel a glow of warmth inside his heart.

“Who needs headache meds when I’ve got you? I wish we could stay like this forever.” He hummed, his lips grazing her forehead, “will you sneak some cuddles in at work? Might really help me out today.”

“I can sweet talk Hotch to make sure we get to work together,” she looked at him and pressed a kiss to his forehead, letting his lips drag down to his right temple so she could press a gentle kiss to where she assumed the origin of his headache had begun, “just promise me that you’ll help me out and not keep coming for kisses or cuddles.”

“I can’t promise anything.”