All I’m Good For Is Doodles Rn 😭

Hi 💜

I sent a request a while ago about Spencer x reader academic stress. It was absolutely perfect. Thank you so much 💗

I just read the james one about reader skipping meals (it was so sweet and lovely) and I tend to do that myself sometimes not eating anything between dinner one day to the next simply because i got busy with classes and forgot until i get a migrane or get a bit dizzy. So, I was wondering if you could do a similar prompt with Spencer and reader being busy all day with work or classes or whatever and simply forgetting to eat until a migrane / dizzy spell occurs and he finds out.

I just feel like he'd be so kind and give facts about importance of not skipping meals for brain function, while coddling, feeding and spoiling reader, maybe cooking or handfeeding too I don't know whatever works for you. Thank you 💕🌸

Sorry if i wrote too much😅

Thank you for requesting lovely (and no sorries necessary) <3

cw: mention of skipping meals, dizziness/nausea

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

Spencer finds you sitting down in the stairwell. You recognize him by the sound of his footsteps, lighter than Morgan’s but less clicky than JJ’s heels. Neither of you typically use the stairs, so you can only imagine that he’s come looking for you. 

“Hi,” you say to let him know you’re alive inside the tiny cavern you’ve made of your own body. You’re bent over to rest your forehead on your knees, one hand on each of your temples as you breathe slowly to steady yourself. Overall, it’s a pretty dramatic pose. And you’re definitely getting the butt of your slacks dirty on these stairs. 

Spencer’s footsteps pass you, and for half a second you think he really is just using the stairs. He stops a few steps below you. You can feel him scrutinizing the top of your head. 

“Are you okay?” he asks in that soft, careful voice of his. “You just disappeared.” 

You had sort of fled the scene. You still feel too new to the team to feel fully comfortable, and with Strauss here for the case everyone is on their best behavior, so when you’d all been walking in the hallway and a dizzy spell had nearly collapsed you into the wall, you’d dropped back from the group and stepped into the first door you saw rather than risk bringing attention to yourself. 

“I’m fine,” you say through an exhale, lifting your head from your knees. “Sorry, I just got dizzy and didn’t want to cause problems.” 

Spencer’s eyebrows bunch. He lowers into a crouch in front of you, looking up into your face. “Dizzy—do you know what caused it? Is this something that happens often?” He bypasses your rudeness in abandoning the team immediately, and the questions come almost too fast for your addled brain to keep up with. You think you need protein. Or carbs, or something. 

“Yeah—I mean no, it doesn’t happen all the time,” you say. “I just forgot to eat lunch.” 

The notch between Spencer’s brows digs in and he brushes a piece of hair behind his ear. “What happened?” 

You shrug, embarrassed. “I packed a lunch so I wouldn’t have to take a break, and then I just forgot about it. I’ve been…” you glance up at Spencer, but his eyes are too safe and open to even contemplate deceiving. “I haven’t been keeping up with my work like I should. I didn’t want to take a break, and I didn’t even remember my lunch until now.” 

“It’s on your desk?” he asks. 

You blink. “My work?”

“Your lunch.” 

“Yeah,” you say. It comes out curved like a question. 

“Okay.” He straightens, lithe limbs extending until you’re craning your neck to look up at him. “Wait here.” 

You turn, starting to protest, but Spencer sets a pacifying hand on your head as he passes. Objections acknowledged, but ignored. Following him is out of the question; just pivoting sitting down had sent your head swimming again. 

The door bangs shut after him, and a minute later he returns with your sad paper bag and a bottle of gatorade. 

“I saw you have water in here,” he says, sitting back in his place a couple steps below you, “but I thought electrolytes might help more.” He twists the cap off and hands it to you. Rather than passing you your lunch bag, he sets it in his own lap to dig through the contents. “You want your sandwich first?” 

You lower the gatorade from your mouth, wiping self-consciously under your lower lip. “Yes, please,” you say, and Spencer hands it to you. You set the gatorade down beside you. “Do we keep these in the fridge?” 

“Morgan does.” You must look as horrified as you feel, because Spencer goes on quickly, “He won’t even notice it’s gone. He likes the blue ones the least anyway.” 

You nod hesitantly, raising the bottle to your lips for another sip. “I’ll get him a replacement in case.” 

His smile is understanding, and you’re reminded that before you, Spencer was the youngest on the team. You imagine he knows how it feels to be constantly wary of getting on someone’s bad side. 

“You really don’t have to,” he says anyway. 

You take a bite of your sandwich, shrugging. “Thanks a lot for this, but you don’t have to stay here with me. Won’t we get in some kind of trouble?” 

“I think we’ll be okay here for a little while,” Spencer says. “Actually, I don’t think most people on the team even know where this door goes. None of us ever use the stairs. And they might not have noticed we’re gone yet.” 

You give him a deadpan look. “They’ll notice you’re gone.” 

He shrugs. It’s not a denial. “I don’t mind waiting with you.” 

It means more to you than it reasonably should. “Thanks,” you say quietly, and take another bite of your sandwich as an excuse to look away. 

You haven’t even polished it off yet, and Spencer’s already dipping into your bag for more. He takes the cap of a container of grapes. 

“Here, have some of these.” He holds it out, and you shove the last bite of sandwich into your mouth to take it from him. “You probably need some vitamin C,” he muses. His eyes fall to the nearly full bottle at your side. “Don’t forget to drink.” 

You almost grin, covering your full mouth with a hand as you speak. “I can’t actually do all this at once.” 

“Oh, sorry.” He looks abashed. “Take your time.” You do, swallowing before lowering your hand to give him a small smile. It’s returned. “You know, skipping meals is actually pretty dangerous.” 

Your smile fades, but Spencer holds your gaze. His eyes are gentle. 

“I know you just forgot, but low blood sugar impedes brain function. We need to be able to think clearly and quickly to do our job. So, being nourished is really important to that.” 

You nod, chastised. He taps the container of grapes, and you pop one into your mouth. 

“Are you going to tell Hotch?” you ask him quietly. 

Spencer blinks, brows twitching together. “No,” he says. “It’s not really that big of a deal, and anyway I think Hotch would just tell you the same thing. I just think it’s important for you to know.” 

You rub your lips together, bobbing your head again. “Okay, thanks.” You look at him seriously, dropping your voice into a terrible imitation of Hotch’s deep timbre. “I won’t let it happen again.” 

Spencer grins, surprised by you, and you mirror him. You’re a bit surprised by yourself too. 

“Are you feeling any better?” he asks. 

You nod automatically, not taking even the barest inventory yourself to see whether that might be true, but Spencer can obviously tell. His brown eyes search yours, scientifically probing, like they might tell him something you won’t. You’re well aware that Spencer’s a certifiable genius, and yet you’re still learning not to underestimate him. 

“We can probably go back now,” you tell him. 

His stare holds yours a minute longer. You feel pleasurably crushed under the weight of his attention. 

After a few seconds, Spencer’s expression settles into decision. “Let’s sit here for a minute,” he says. “You should finish your food. You’re owed a lunch hour anyway, no one’s ever stipulated when or where you have to take it.” 

You crack a smile. “What about you?” 

“I’m staying with you,” he says matter-of-factly. Like it’s the only option even worth considering. “I don’t want to leave you here by yourself, and it’s probably best if I take the gatorade bottle back up with us. If Morgan sees, it’ll be easier for me to take credit if I’m holding it.”

so if the dream smp is just a hamilton roleplay and wilburs washington (?), tommys hamilton, and tubbo has recently been kin assigned hercules mulligan, wouldn't that make techno lafayette ???

just reached wano and got blessed with this zoro

corazón stan account i love this idiot

Sabo 🔥

Trafalgar D. Water Law ~ Ep 1010 - Wano Kuni Arc (Part 2)

the hierophant

(created for the one piece tarot project a while back~)

cant believe they added marine bounties in the latest patch this is gonna change the meta

Stupid borat joke as an excuse to draw that luxurious pink coat I wish I owned

#212 “We could run away.” 😭😭😭

“Y’lookin at me like I'm already gone.”

Tears cloud over your vision as he sits on his cot in front of you, a shell of the man he used to be. His eyes are sunken, bloodshot. He’s grown out his beard to hide the gauntness of his cheeks.

You cannot help the escape of those tears down your cheeks, hiccuping a sob as you stare at the ground. He reaches over and takes your hand in his, pulling you closer to him, gently, slowly, like he was trying to calm a skittish horse.

“C’mere, darlin’.” He guides to sit upon his thigh, winding one arm behind your back as the other one clamps affectionally on your thigh, “There we go… ain't nothin’ to be cryin’ about.”

You frown and lean your forehead against his, a fresh outpouring of tears cascading down your cheeks, as your breathing hastens against his express wishes.

“You’re too pretty to be cryin’ like this.” Arthur swipes his thumb across the your cheek to stem the flow of tears, but you swat his hand away before steeling your nerves and leaning in to take his lips.

Arthur frowns, pulling your hips back to prevent you from kissing him.

“You know we can't.” He quietly pleads, his voice pained.

“Its like you're h-half gone already.” You whisper, hiccuping halfway through the sentence, angry and sad and drowning in reality at the same time.

“I’m right here, darlin’.”

“Let’s go - just, let’s leave-”

He frowns. You press onward, desperately.

“We - we could run away. Let me take you out west where it's dry and -”

“You know we can't do that, sweetheart.” Arthur cuts you off quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear affectionately.

The dimple in your chin forms again as your lip quivers, a long breath let out of your nose as he smiles sadly at you.

He draws you in, one hand on the back of your head, shushing you gently as your voice cracks into another sob.

“You’re gonna go on and keep livin’, sweet girl.”

“Not without y-you-”

“Without me. Yer gonna grow into a crotchety old woman and join me years from now.” You can feel his smile against your cheek, and as much as you try not to, you cannot help but laugh at the comment.

“I love you. How am I ever gonna go on without you?”

“You’re a strong girl. Smart. Much smarter than a ol’ dolt like me. You’ll be fine.” Arthur gently rocks you back and forth on his knee, comforting even now as he and you know his time is growing short.

You bury your face into his neck.

This wasn’t supposed to be happening. You were supposed to be doing jobs. Maybe breaking out on your own. Riding across the country. Maybe settling down somewhere hidden when this life finally paid out.

But now…

Your tears fall on the warm skin of his neck, and he gathers you into his embrace, murmuring sweet nothings in your ear, trying to comfort you.

You know you shouldn’t waste this time.

It’s all you have left.