Spencer Reid Imagines

Nightmares

Opening my eyes, I see I'm in a room with white walls and no windows; it's so bright in here that it's practically blinding me. Moving my head to look in front of me, I see myself in a mirror with my wife, (Y/n), behind me, her delicate hand resting on my arm. Turning my head away from the mirror, I look over my shoulder to see (Y/n) there and- wait. She's not beside me. I look back at the mirror and see (Y/n) still standing there, although this time, her eyes are sunken in and she appears overall... dead. My eyes widen and I look back at my shoulder, hoping that she's there, but she's not. Glancing between my shoulder and the mirror, each time, she gets worse.

After a few seconds, I realize this is a figment of my imagination and it's not real. I'm having a nightmare. (Y/n) isn't dead. I have to get out of this. I have to wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up! WAKE UP!

Springing forward in the bed, I feel my chest heave as I take in heavy breaths while a cool sweat covers my entire body. Opening my eyes, I look around our bedroom, taking everything in to calm myself. The brown leather armchair is still in the corner of the room with the arcing floor lamp hanging above it. Our mahogany dresser is to the left of us beside the white bathroom and closet doors. Everything is in place; I'm back in our room.

Thinking of (Y/n), I quickly jerk my head to look over at her beside me, only to see her asleep on her side, her head tilted toward me as a hint of her beautiful smile graces her lips. As she lies there, she breathes peacefully with one of her arms beneath her head as her other drapes across her stomach. Despite doing nearly nothing, she's relieved any worry in my mind while calming me down at the same time.

Dragging a hand down my face, I try to slow my fast-paced breathing by watching her chest slowly rise and fall as it should. I do this for quite some time until my breathing returns to a safe and healthy pace. Still watching her form, I assure myself that she's still here. She's here with me, and she's alive. She's still her.

Moving closer to her, I lie back down with my head now resting on her chest as my arm gently lays across her waist so I don't disturb her. Instinctively, (Y/n)'s arms tenderly wrap around me in return, one of her hands moving up to comb through my disheveled hair as the other remains on my back. At her soft touch, a small smile comes to my face while I close my eyes without hesitation.

Once my eyes close, images of the nightmare quickly come to mind, but with the sensation of (Y/n)'s fingers in my hair and the warmth of her arms around me, I release a held in breath and push the reminder away, instead replacing it with an image of (Y/n) as she is. All I can see is her smiling face and sparkling (e/c) eyes. In fact, that's all I can think about: her face. God, it's perfect. Her lips are plump and soft and so kissable. They help me forget about everything wrong in my life and take me to my own Heaven.

And her eyes, oh God, her eyes. Her eyes are the perfect color of (e/c), and her lashes accentuate them to where they look like pure jewels. And when she looks at me with a twinge of rebellion or seduction... oh God.

Let's not forget her hair. It's just the right length and just the right color. Even if she didn't have hair, she'd be beautiful.

Now that I think of it, even if she didn't have her flawless lips and perfect eyes, she'd still be stunning. Her attitude, personality, and sense of humor make her who she is, and her looks merely top it all off. She has gorgeous looks for a beautiful spirit, and I don't think she sees herself the way I do - and in my opinion, she should.

As I lie here, thinking about everything, I know when we wake up, she'll get up and look at herself, pointing out every flaw she can find, when in all reality, she has none.

She is perfect and without fault.

Now, as I fall back into sleep, I make a silent promise to (Y/n). Once I wake up with her, I'll do anything I can to make sure she knows she's an amazing woman, inside and out. I'll make sure she sees herself as nothing less than perfect. But for right now, I hope and pray that the next dream I'll have is of her like the way she is: flawless and full of life.

What more could I ask?