You See When You Did A Fic Abt Reader Getting A Lil Clingy When Shes Tired , Can We Pls Have It W Aaron

you see when you did a fic abt reader getting a lil clingy when she’s tired , can we pls have it w aaron instead. like they’re all on the jet and he just puts a hand on her knee or keeps on giving her forehead kisses every second, or even he gets so tired to the point he falls asleep w his head on her shoulder

sleep deprived

clingy aaron my beloved cw; bau!reader, fluff <3

After many years of practice, Aaron's rather proud of his resilience to remain awake and alert despite extreme fatigue.

Some cases called for either little or no sleep at all. Was it his favorite thing to do? No - it knocked his body completely off schedule, worsened with time spent on the West Coast. Had he been exhausted? Absolutely. But he could ignore the feeling well, working just as diligently as if he had gotten a full night's rest.

Frequent helpings of caffeine also assisted.

But when a case resolved and the urgency was dismissed - it was like a switch flipped in his brain. His mind and body knew before he could fully process it, and he felt it. Sleep deprived brain fog, a newly significant heaviness to his body, more irritable if certain buttons were pushed.

He couldn't wait to be home. He couldn't wait to be in the comfort of bed. He couldn't wait for you to be at his side, secure and close in sleep.

Each one of those thoughts correlated to each heavy step as he trudged up the jet's stairs, his eyes latching onto you immediately upon entry.

You were stationed at the kitchenette, head down as you prepared your favorite soothing, nighttime tea.

A wave of affection rippled through him; simply seeing you made him long for you desperately, although you were near and already his. The love he felt for you was unfathomable already, but in a sleep deprived state, it was enhanced greatly. He wanted - no, had to be as close as possible, to be entirely consumed by you.

After storing his go-bag, he swiftly (and slightly clumsily) moved behind you, hands finding your waist easily.

"Hey," you greeted, steeping your tea. Your voice was soft, and he could hear the faint smile in your voice.

"Hey," Aaron echoed in a mumble, his hands sliding forward from your hips to your abdomen. "How are you."

You hummed gently, leaning back to lightly touch your head to his, closing the tiny gap that separated the two of you. "Better now that we're going home."

With your back to his chest, you felt his agreeable chuckle shake through him.

"You want a cup?"

"No, I'm okay." Truthfully, he was certain he would fall asleep before the rim of the mug touched his lips. His head turned, pressing a long kiss to your temple, speaking into it, "Thank you though."

His lips lingered while you finished prepping your tea, adding light honey and lemon. With you in his arms, matching your evenly distributed breaths, Aaron's hold wasn't only to hold you, but to keep him standing upright. The lights on the jet had already been dimmed, as everyone settled down for the red eye flight, so that wasn't helping his tiredness either. He was just as comfortable as if he were in his bed at home.

You felt him nodding off. His arms - unknown to him, as he thought otherwise - were loosening, his figure even swaying the smallest amount. You hurried, knowing he probably wouldn't claim his seat without you at his side. And when you made your way over, Aaron followed like a lost puppy, his fingers grasping onto the back of your shirt.

Your blanket was already at your seat; after setting your tea aside, you draped it over your lap, offering half to Aaron. You even managed to pry him out of his suit jacket and tie.

His hand started out in yours, before finding home on your thigh - enjoying the comfort of contact. His fingers were splayed across the width, keeping you as close as the seats could awkwardly offer. Part of him considered persuading Reid from his usual spot, allowing the two of you a turn to lie down.

But it was Spencer's favorite spot, the rest of the team would never let him live down visibly 'cuddling', and he was too tired to move, so the regular seats would have to do.

His thumb began brushing against the fabric of your pants, the lull bringing him closer to sleep. He placed a kiss on your shoulder, then your jaw, before nestling his head on your shoulder.

A faint blush trickled onto your face, feeling warm from both the tea and the open tenderness. "Aaron?"

A very drowsy, "Hm?" came from below your ear.

You simply leaned your head against his, a contentful sigh leaving you. Under the blanket, your hand rest atop his, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze.

Aaron's eyes remained closed, but a sleepy smile made its way onto his face. In the smallest of whispers, "I love you too."

Couch Crasher

pairing: Daryl Dixon x (Fem!)reader

summary: Daryl carried you to bed, because you fell asleep on the couch... again. (SLIGHT! mention of Daryl's scars nothing big just reader thinking)

You obviously don't mean to fall asleep on the couch, just whenever you come home to the warm sanctuary that is your house in Alexandria the couch seems an inviting space to rest your feet... and maybe sometimes rest your eyes too.

Daryl comes home from the hunt, toeing off his boots in the hallway and strolling into the living room where he is confronted with the sight of you.

your curled up on the edge of the couch, in your sweatpants and stained worn hoodie. Your hair is covering part of your face as you sleep peacefully in the middle of the room, soft breaths leaving your parted lips.

Daryl falters for a second in the doorway, scanning over your sleeping form, allthough you look tranquil enough he wouldn't nessacarly describe the way your lying as comfortable in the long term.

He thinks for a momment, of the last few times he's found you like this, allways too tired to make the extra trek to your bed, he thinks of the way you've never got rid of the dark circles which took up stubborn residence below your sparkling eyes a few years ago.

He shakes his head, a little frown finds its way onto his lips as he stalks closer to your side while you sleep, trying not to wake you. As carefully as he possibly can he reaches out, grabbing your legs with one arm and using the other to support your torso, carrying you bridal style, close to his chest.

A small groan leaves your lips in protest as you turn hiding your face in his chest.

"yeah I know, I know..." Daryl muses, carrying you steadily towards your room, knocking the door open with his shoulder to avoid lessening his grip on you.

He gently lays you down on your bed, pulling the blanets over you and stroking your hair back from your face as you scrunch your nose in annoyance at being disturbed.

"don't give me tha' look" Daryl tilts his head to the side, amusement flickers in his face then he turns away, rummaging through his chest of drawers. He carefully shrugs out of his treasured leather vest, hanging it over the back of a chair before unbuttoning his flannel shirt.

You watch intently, blinking heavily from your place in the warm bed as he shrugs out of yet another layer, revealing his back to you. Your eyes scan over the long scars that litter his back, some thin and some thick and suddenly your ribcage is tightening around your lungs.

You wonder how in the face of all the awfull things against him, he still turned out good... so so truly good.

You take this thought, mulling it, turning it over in your head as you watch him slide into a worn grey t-shirt.

But then he's turning around and every worry, every concern and every bit of anxiety that riddles your worn and exhausted bones is washed away, painted instead in the warm, comforting glow of his little smile. The soft one he reserves for your eyes only in these quiet moments.

You adjust a little as the mattress sinks to his weight, pushing yourself closer to him slightly and wrapping one arm tightly around him, and the other arm across yourself. He holds you closely, running one of his large hands gently through your hair, soothing you softly.

"better than the couch huh?" Daryl jokes, his voice just as soft as his soothing hands are.

"mhm..." you mumble back a tired response, smiling at Daryl, who just shakes his head in fake dissaproval then places a small peck on your forhead.

"back to sleep hun'" he murmurs back, closing his own eyes slowly.

You both lay like that, curled up in one another's embrace, without a single care for the cruel world outside the door of your bedroom. The two of you find refuge in one another's arms, like a safe harbour to a sailor who had been lost in a storm.

Your very last thought before joining Daryl in the realm of peacefull sleep is that, yeah... this is WAY better than couch crashing.

A/N: hope you guys like it! been sitting in my drafts for fucking ages so I just thought I'd post it and see what ppls thoughts are, IF U SEE ANY SPELLING MISTAKES OR GRAMMAR ERRORS OR JUST ANY CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM ID LOVE TO HEAR IT!!! and if you have any prompts or ideas for little drabbles then my requests will be open, I'll try my best ❤️

touch starved rafe getting the hug he’s so desperately needed all his life <3 a rafe cameron x reader blurb <3 inspired by this bot by the one and only @pearlzier ! <3 cw: minimal swearing, mentions of blood, rafe being anxious, hurt/comfort, intentional use of lower case

“oh man…” rafe breathes out, his steps unstable with blood covering his hands and tear stains on his face as he practically stumbles inside your room.

“I’m… I’m so fucked man… so so fucked…” he mumbles, his words rushed and frantic. you rush to your feet after getting up from the bed, watching how he nervously paces in your room, his fingers slipping into his curtain bangs and pulling on the roots aggressively.

“somethin’s… somethin’s seriously wrong with me and…” he hiccups, his gaze fixed on the floor of your room as he continues to pace, and you watch him with bated breath, your hand gripping on the edge of your bed to keep yourself supported as you watched him with wide, nervous eyes, “and I don’t know what to fuckin’ do…”

you let out a shaky breath, a breath only audible to your ears as you continue to watch his nervous pacing. in your time of knowing rafe, you’ve never seen him so… fidget-y. you can see how he keeps on reaching for his nails to chew on them, his other hand nervously rolling a certain patch of the hem of his shirt over and over again between his index finger and his thumb.

almost suddenly, he quits with the pacing. he stands there still in the middle of your room, his back towards you. he quits with the fidgeting too, his both hands now resting on his sides, the blood on his knuckles now starting to dry up, and you can see how subtly he is flexing his fingers.

a moment of silence passes over you two. you take in a deep breath and it lodges in your throat as you start to take small, silent steps to him. you stand behind him, so close that with a soft nudge to the back of your head, your nose will press into his back. slowly, you bring your hand up, and as if he’s the most delicate porcelain doll on this planet, you place your hand on his back.

his back immediately flexes, and you hear him take a sharp intake of breath. your hand doesn’t move, your fingertips just gently pressing into the cotton of his shirt. a moment passes over you two in complete silence, and when rafe doesn’t say anything to you, you take it as a small sign and press your fingers firmer into his back.

you start to softly glide your fingertips over his back in an up and down periodic motion, and you hear rafe letting out a strangled exhale. your eyes flicker over his shoulders and you see them relax ever so subtly, the tense posture of them slowly withering away.

you continue with the soft motions of your fingers and rest your forehead against his shoulder blade, taking in a deep breath. your other hand curls around his fingers and you ever so carefully intertwine your fingers with his, not caring if any blood from his hand gets onto yours.

“rafe…” you whisper into the still air of your room. your voice reverberates in rafe’s ears, and he lets out a soft hum.

“turn around please…” you murmur, your thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of his hand. he obliges, slowly turning around and you lift your head up from his shoulder blade. he looks in your eyes through his own bloodshot ones, and at that moment you know you’ve never seen anything more heartbreaking than tears in rafe’s eyes.

you hook your arms around his neck and pull him into a warm embrace. for the first few seconds, rafe is stiff. really stiff. it’s almost like he doesn’t know what to do. but you know you’re supposed to give it time. you gave it time and he was okay with you softly rubbing his back, he’s going to be okay with this too.

and okay he is.

his arms wrap around your waist and his face buries into your neck. his grip tightens, as if he’s afraid he’ll let go and you will disappear into thin air. he lets out deep, shaky exhales against the skin of your neck, as if trying so desperately hard to keep himself in control.

“i’m here for you…” you whisper softly, your fingers playing gently with the soft hair on the nape of his neck.

those words… those simple words seem to set off something in him nothing ever has.

tears start streaming down his eyes, and this time, he doesn’t let them restrict in any way possible. he lets the tears fall, years and years of anxiety, the pain of not being enough, the tiredness of working too hard to prove himself all falling down to this exact moment; the moment where he lets his walls crumble down.

sobs erupt out from his dry throat and he slowly slides down on his knees in front of you, his arms wrapped tightly around your hips as he nuzzles his face into your stomach, crying his eyes out into the fabric of your shirt.

you feel your heart ache at the sight, him hanging onto you so desperately, and you try to comfort him by threading your fingers through the silky strands of his hair.

it’s as if you can see the remains of his crumbled walls around his knees. you can see how he’s completely let himself go, how he’s letting his most vulnerable state come out, how he’s trusting you deeply.

now it’s up to you and only you to help him clear the rubble of the old walls and build new ones, ones which allow him to trust and be trusted, ones which allow him to love and be loved, ones which allow him to appreciate and be appreciated.

— —

I’m trying my hardest to get back into a proper writing flow, so for now, I hope you enjoy this blurb <3 this is something I’ve been wanting to write for quite some time 💗

‎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀࣪𓏲ּ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃

being your boyfriend is rafe's favourite thing.

he does everything for you. whether it was buying you lunch or driving 5 hours just to get you the purse that you really wanted.. he will do it, no matter what.

he likes having you rely on him, depend on him for everything. in fact, he loves it. maybe a little too much. he likes being needed, especially when it came to you. you don't even have to lift a finger, not like rafe would let you anyway. he buys you expensive gifts, takes you on cute dates, gets you flowers, drives you everywhere, he treats you like a queen.

you sat in front of your vanity, looking at yourself in the mirror. rafe sat on the edge of your bed behind you. you were going to a party later tonight to celebrate one of your friend's birthday. running your fingers through your freshly curled hair, you sighed.

"rafe, do you think my hair looks good?", you had spent an hour doing it but it didn't turn out the way you wanted, as per usual.

he looked up from his phone, "of course baby, you could wear a trash bag and you'd still look beautiful."

he always knew what to say, didn't he?

staring at yourself in the mirror you stop worrying about your hair and focus on your outfit. it was supposed to be "casual" but in reality, everyone would be wearing clothes on the fancier side. you make your way to your closet and skim through the collection of dresses, all of which rafe bought you. you pick two out, the first one was a silky dark red dress and the second was a simpler black dress with an open back.

lifting them both up you ask, "which one would fit better for tonight?"

taking a moment to scan the dresses rafe lifts his finger and points to one, "the red dress. 'makes you look hot", he grins.

you walk over to place a kiss on his cheek and he puts his hands around your waist, pulling you in while planting kisses on your neck and making his way down your torso.

"rafe, we have to go soon and i still need to get dressed!" you try to pull away but he tightens his grip.

"tell them we're going to be late then", he says now gliding his hand up your thigh.

you pull out your phone and text your friend.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀིྀི my first fic/blurb (idk?) & def not proofread.. please give me feedback if any!!

𝓇.cameron. ┆ 4:24pm.

◟ ㅤᡣ𐭩ㅤㅤ ݁.﹒ finally introducing to y'all shy, bambi!reader (she's so me!) i hope y'all love her as much as i do .!!! 🧸♡ྀི

bambi!reader is a shy, precious, skittish little thing, with you always burying your nose in some romance novel, loves going antique shopping, obsessed with pearl jewelry, loves the color pastel pink (like most of your outfits), besides the occasional virginal white that your now boyfriend, rafe cameron, likes to see you wear for him, always all dolled up and so, so fucking pretty.

you're a painfully shy girl, which rafe finds cute, especially when he first introduced himself to you, but strangely, even though rafe was a little tipsy, barley even drunk, he couldn't help but walk up to you that night at the party he was hosting, never quite seeing you before, and try to start up a conversation with you, needing to be close to you—it was like an instant pull towards you, like he needed to be close to you.

it almost felt like his heartstrings were pulling and tugging him towards you, like you hypnotized him from across his large balcony at tannyhill—you stood alone, taking tiny sips of the fruity, alcoholic seltzer you've been drinking since you arrived barely an hour ago.

once rafe got you talking, all sweet and shy, and yes, it took some time, your answers were slightly short, timid and nervous, like you were scared of embarrassing yourself in front of him, which rafe thought was incredibly adorable, his obsession with you only growing more and more.

rafe continued making light conversation with you throughout the evening, with you giving him pretty, little demure smiles, and all rafe could think about was fucking you in the most nasty, downright animalistic of ways—however, he knew he would have to have patience, to be gentle, not wanting to frighten you in any way, shape, or form.

you'd make the most perfect little housewife, he was certain of it. rafe already knew you would be his—his dream girl, the girl that he would someday put a giant, sparking diamond on your pretty, dainty little ring finger, already freshly manicured with french tips.

rafe couldn't help but also begin to imagine you all full and plump with a kid of his inside of your womb, plenty of little cameron babies to come, he knows it, deep in his bones, that you're the girl for him.

meanwhile, as the conversation between you both continued, with rafe mostly doing most of the talking, he would start asking more personal questions, perhaps too personal, but rafe wasn't ever one to give a fuck—except now, but even still, he had this need to know every little thing about your sweet, beautiful self.

"soo..." rafe chuckled lightly, a lazy smirk on his lips, taking small sips of his beer occasionally, while cocking his head slightly to catch your pretty, doe-like eyes, decorated with long, fluffy mink lashes—so damn pretty, rafe thought to himself in that moment, and every single moment after that while spending time in your company.

"do you, uh... h-have a boyfriend?" he questioned casually, though he could already feel his blood boiling at the mere thought of some other man's hands on you, watching as you immediately became shy and bashful, and it made the oldest cameron sibling want to kiss you, to claim you, to mark you as his and his forever—luckily, he was able to refrain himself and control his temper, and his desire for you, surprisingly.

and then, once you shyly shook your head no, all pretty and doll-like and submissive, rafe was already thinking of multiple ways about making you his, his, his—permanently.

Warnings: Negan, slight innuendo, some angst in this one! You couldn't sleep. You sat awake by the low glow of your lantern, staring at the same page in your book. You rubbed your eyes and tried to refocus.

Tap tap.

You froze, straining your hearing. What the hell was th—

Tap tap tap.

It was slightly louder now. You reflexively turned and looked at the window and through the sheer curtains you could see the head and shoulders of a figure. "Jesus!" You jolted upright and groped for your knife.

Tap. "It's me. It's Negan."

"What the fuck?" you muttered, hurrying over to the window, throwing the curtains aside, and pulling the window open. You stared down at him, incredulous. "How the hell are you out?" you asked him in a harsh whisper.

"Good to see you too. Mind if I come in?" He didn't wait for an answer and heaved himself up on the window ledge and pulled himself through a bit awkwardly, spilling into your room.

You stumbled back, still staring at him, baffled.

He straightened up and smoothed his clothes. "That's better. How ya doin', doll?"

"Negan—"

"Wow," he said, looking around your bedroom with a smile on his face. "In your bedroom. It's like bein' in the Bat Cave," he joked. He wandered over to your dresser and grasped one of the pulls on the top drawer. "Dare I open?" he asked, his smirk growing. "Everyone keeps their naughty things in the top drawer right?"

"Negan—"

"Relax, doll, I'm only joking. Sort of..."

"I'll ask you again: how the fuck are you out of your cell?"

He slid his hands into his pockets. "Father Gabe is gettin' a little sloppy. He forgot to lock me in earlier when he stormed out—I guessed I pushed just the right button."

You swore under your breath and shut your eyes. "Well, c'mon. You're going back," you said, grabbing a sweater and pulling it on, then seizing the top drawer in your desk and grabbing a ring of keys. "Let's go," you demanded, looking at him seriously.

Negan didn't move and the smile on his face faded. "I have no intention of going back in that cell," he said. "Even for you."

Your heart was pounding. "I'll scream. Wake everyone up."

A small smile returned to his lips. "I don't think you will."

"I will..." But your voice wasn't convincing even to your own ears.

He paced over to you slowly. "I'm leaving. I just came here to tell you—actually to ask you... to come with me." Negan gently grabbed your hand and folded it between his, his thumb moving softly over the silkiness of the skin on the back of your hand.

You were frozen, looking up at him, unable to speak with your hand in his. You couldn't ignore the torrent of feelings and cascades of electricity crackling over your skin.

Negan looked down at your hand between his, an expression you'd never seen before on his face. "I don't deserve you, I know that," he said, "but I want you anyway." His gaze was unwavering.

Your breath caught in your throat, your eyes were wide as you met his hazel ones. You mind whirred. "I—I can't—" you said finally. You shook your head. "I can't leave Alexandria."

Negan's face fell, though he wasn't surprised by your answer. "Can't? Or won't?"

You gulped. "Both."

Negan gave you a sad smile and nodded. "Well—like I said, I know I don't deserve you." His eyes were suddenly glassy but he blinked it away and straightened up again after a moment, fixing that same smile on his face. "Take care of yourself, doll," he said. He clasped your face for a brief moment. Your lips parted slightly of their own accord. For a moment, you were sure he was going to kiss you, but he only pulled his hand away and ducked his head, turning to leave.

And you wondered if you'd ever see him again, and to your surprise, that thought left a hollow emptiness between your lungs...

Prompt: "I don't deserve you but I want you anyway."