insvmniac

[insvmniac]

stay awhile (joel miller x f!reader)

summary: you & joel are travelling to jackson, and make the most of a well-needed rest stop along the way.

warnings: age gap (29/56 — if this isn’t for you, that’s fine! you don’t have to read it), canon typical violence, no ellie, cursing, food, alcohol, mention of parent death, unprotected piv (don’t do that), smut, kissing, shower sex, joel miller being in love and not knowing how to say it, soft!joel, anxiety, weapons, insecurity, panic attack, fluff & comfort, 18+ mdni.

notes: my first foray back into fic writing! yay! nothing much really happens in this one: i just wanted some soft, comforting vibes from joel <3 enjoy 🫶🏻

this is a gift for @ovaryacted 🤍 thank you for inspiring me to write again, babe, by being horny about slick-back joel. i love you. as ever, a huge big gorgeous shoutout to my @macfrog, without whom this fic wouldn’t be seeing the light of day. love you forever.

Dirt clings to your shoes, dry and heavy like sun-baked concrete. Shoulders twinging as you shift your pack across your back, your stomach rumbles. Loudly. Joel looks over his shoulder at the sound, ahead on the path as always.

“Not much further now.”

Your sigh of relief is muted, not wanting to show your struggle. You don’t want him to ever think you’re a burden, that you’re just a girl out of her depth. You want to prove you’re worthy out here past the walls you were raised in.

Time has become meaningless since you left the Boston QZ; a rinse-and-repeat cycle of waking up with the dawn, chewing rabbit, walking ‘til your feet bleed, and Joel fucking you under the stars every night.

You can’t recall the last uninterrupted sleep you had; the last night he wasn’t inside of you. It marks the end of another day you’ve both survived, helps you to forget the shit you’ve seen — and undoubtedly will again, the next time the sun raises her weary head over the scorched Earth.

Some nights, it’s Joel who’s works you up: touches you all day, innocently at first, until it isn’t. Most of the time, however, you’re the one pulling at the zipper of his sleeping bag, finding your way underneath his shirt, toying with the buckle of his belt. He’d lit a fire in your belly only he can put out.

You’re always pinned beneath him, rifle next to his hand as it drives into the dirt beside your head. His thick fingers wrapped round your throat, your back arching off the thin material beneath you as he pushes you over the edge, telling you to take it.

Just like Joel takes what he needs, over and over, and gives you more than you’ll ever be able to tell him. Namely, a tiny, jagged piece of his heart: pulled unwillingly from his chest and dumped into your fragile grasp for safekeeping.

You wondered, at first, if it was purely physical. If you were just a body for him to pour his frustrations into, a tight space for his pleasure only. You wouldn’t resent him for it: crossing your ankles over his back to feel him deeper, scratches from your nails adorning his shoulders.

But then, one morning, he held your hand.

His huge, warm palm over yours, his lips at your temple as he thanked you for taking the overnight watch. Joel’s eyes had twinkled, and you knew from that point on you meant something to him. Something undefined, lingering on the tip of his tongue — something he can only convey with the way he takes care of you.

Joel stops, now, and waits for you to catch up. He offers to take your pack, slinging it over his thick forearm and kissing your sweaty forehead; allaying your earlier fears. “It’s just past this clearin’,” he tells you, squeezing your hip lightly. Your throat is parched as you carry on, the township coming into view past the trees.

The street must’ve been nice, back then. It’s obvious someone’s tried to spruce it up here and there; white picket fences and a vegetable patch seemingly out of place with the barbed wire surroundings. Must’ve been Frank, you muse, remembering what Joel had told you this morning.

They’re decent people. Well, Frank is. Stay out of Bill’s way, ‘f you can. They’ll house us for the night — feed us, let us shower, all the good stuff. Then we make tracks for Wyoming.

Jackson, Wyoming. The place Joel’s taking you to.

He’s had word from his brother that they’ve set up a community, which is thriving by all accounts. There’s a place for both of you there, if you could make it. Free of FEDRA, rations and rats. It sounds like a pipe dream — you’ve told Joel as much. He’d responded with a wry smile, and little else.

Whether it’s real or not, you know you��ll follow Joel to the ends of the Earth. You’d rather be pulled apart by a pack of clickers than left behind in Boston to rot without him.

Joel stops at a gate, indicates for you to go on ahead. The house is beautiful: littered with thriving plants and flowers you’d forgotten existed, besides illustrations in old books. The front door opens, and two men emerge: one wearing a wide smile, the other seemingly chewing a wasp.

Joel introduces them both: Frank and Bill, respectively. The latter eyes you both with suspicion; something you’ve already been warned to expect. Frank’s kindness is a strange but welcoming contrast, adding to the absurdity of their picture-perfect home in a town time forgot.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us, Joel?” Frank grins, and Joel clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. Your eyes remain rooted to the lush grass bordering the pathway, unsure of how to aid him. You hadn’t discussed this, hadn’t found a reason to. Until now.

“She’s — uh, she’s my —”

“Your daughter, or something?” Bill’s eyebrow lifts towards his hairline disapprovingly.

Joel’s lip curls. “Partner.”

Bill’s face screws up incredulously, Frank intervening with a hand over his chest. “It doesn’t matter who she is,” he smiles, mostly at you. “Any friend of Joel’s is a friend of ours.”

///

Dinner is an experience you’ll never forget.

A smooth wooden table, elegant candlesticks, polished cutlery. Succulent meat, fresh vegetables, red wine — a night of firsts for you, your eyes widening to take it all in. Life before, with treats and trinkets like these, is hazy to you: nine-years-old when the fungus took over, the next twenty years of your life clouded by trauma and violence.

Joel checks in with you throughout, pressing his lips to the inside of your wrist when the two of you are alone, Bill and Frank bickering in the kitchen.

“Feelin’ any better?”

You hum contentedly, belly full and warm. “Can’t fucking wait for a shower.”

He smiles; small and lop-sided, the one you think might be reserved just for you. Your hosts return, and small talk resumes. Joel empties his pockets, the medications you know are paying for your stay lined up on the table. Bill examines them closely, rattling pill bottles and poring over labels.

Frank takes your hand in his. “The guest bathroom is stocked for you — well, as much as it can be. Use whatever you’d like, and take it with you if you want.”

A lump rises in your throat unexpectedly, tears sprouting to the corners of your eyes. They don’t have to provide anything for you — you’re imposing on them, really. Your parents have been gone for so long, and Frank’s soft voice and quiet kindness makes you ache for them.

“Thank you,” you mutter, squeezing his hand. “I really appreciate it.”

///

As soon as the plates are cleared, your eyelids are drooping. Frank ushers you upstairs, Bill having shut himself away in the garage. “Joel can show you how to work the shower,” he tells you, both of you following his lead up the stairs.

“Any clothing you don’t want anymore — just leave it in a pile. We’ll use them to make cleaning rags,” he grins. “There are boxes in your room, marked with sizes. Take what you want.”

You wring your hands, returning his smile shyly. “Like shopping?”

“Exactly,” he chuckles. “And tips for the staff are always welcome.”

Joel is quiet, lingering behind you both for a while. You sense his eyes on you, though. You always can.

“If you need anything else, just ask. Joel knows his way around,” Frank tips his head towards him, squeezing your shoulder lightly. Joel thanks him, and he leaves you both in the semi-darkness, footsteps echoing down the stairs.

“C’mon,” he sighs, holding out his hand. “Shower.”

///

The water is heavenly. Hot and burning across your skin, dirt and sweat disappearing down the drain. Eyes closed, you tip your head back and submerge yourself fully, losing yourself in the sensation, blood rushing in your ears.

A pair of hands on your hips bring you back: Joel’s close behind you, his lips against your shoulder. Stripping off in front of him felt different on this occasion: you’re not dipping yourself in a freezing river, and he doesn’t have a gun close to hand. You took your time, his gaze dark and watchful.

You turn to face him, his cock hard and insistent against your belly. He bends to kiss you, hands sliding across your slippery skin, finding purchase on your ass. Your whole body is relaxed, fluid — the luxury of time meaning you can enjoy the sensation of Joel’s tongue in your mouth, focus on nothing else but the way he’s touching you.

There are no threats here, just the two of you indulging in one another over the clean white tiles. Every movement is languid, determined to stretch the minutes into hours. At some point, Joel lifts you into his arms, pressing you against the wall as your legs wrap round his waist instinctively. He winces in pain as you move, brows drawn together.

You’re not the only one with back problems.

You kiss his nose, droplets clinging to his lashes. “Put me down, old man.”

“Take no notice of Bill,” he smirks, both of you remembering his earlier comment. “He’s never liked me all that much.”

You hum, eyebrows raised, fingers in the grey streaks of his hair. “Well, I like you. A lot.”

You’re not sure what’s made you so bold, if it was Joel’s constant, reassuring touches along your thighs beneath the table all night, or the fact you’ve just washed the soap from his body like you’ve done it your whole life. Like it’s routine for you both to be here: naked and content in somebody else’s shower.

Joel’s lips drag a path of fire down the column of your throat, and you’re whimpering like he’s touching you for the very first time, like he’s mapping every contour and curve of your body and committing it to memory.

“Wanna fuck you like this, baby,” he groans, nosing at your pulse point. “Make you feel it for days.”

You think you could come already just from his words; the way his thick forearms support you, broad chest pressed into yours. Joel lets you beg for a moment, but soon enough, he’s filling you up deliciously, stretching you at a torturous pace to have you feeling every last inch of him.

“Good girl,” he groans, damp forehead against your own as you grind down on him eagerly, his thrusts meeting yours in a rhythm you’d established long ago. Joel’s big — sometimes overwhelmingly so. The sensation of him splitting you open has you clawing at his shoulders, moans caught in your throat. “So perfect f’me,” he reminds you, breathing short and laboured as you both reach the point of no return — your favourite place to be.

///

Joel flicks the light switch, boxes stacked high around the room. You don’t even know where to start; sleepy eyes bewildered by the sheer amount of choice.

“We’ll make this quick.” His hands find your hips again, kiss pressed below your ear. You nod, tugging at the first box you can reach.

A pile of items begins to grow — new jeans, socks, sneakers, and sweaters. Joel finds himself a flannel and packs it away, pulls on a plain black t-shirt and fresh underwear. You sneak glimpses at him as you continue rifling through the clothes; tanned biceps pushing against the fabric, thighs dusted with the same dark hair that spreads across his belly.

Arousal claws at your insides, white-hot and agonising. You’re still reeling from the orgasms Joel had pulled from you half an hour ago; watching his release paint your tummy, washing it away as his chest heaved with the aftershocks. Thinking about it has your thighs clenching, and you busy yourself with your task as a distraction.

The next box in your search is full of pajamas: plaid pants and graphic tees, camisole vests and matching shorts. Dropping your towel, you pull the silk vest over your head, shimmy the shorts along your thighs. “What d’you think?” you ask, adjusting the straps over your shoulders. Joel’s on his knees, distracted by a pair of boots.

“Hm?”

“Do you like this?”

He looks up, eyes wide. You watch his throat bobbing as he swallows, taking in your bare legs, the lace trim. You’ve never worn anything like this before, never had cause to. You like the way it feels against your skin, how it makes you feel in front of Joel, who’s still struggling for words below you.

You approach him slowly, cradling his chin in your hands. You feel powerful; his pupils dilated as his calloused palms drift along the back of your thighs. His hair is combed back from his face, silver waves flat against his head. Your fingertip runs along the curve of his nose and comes to rest on his full bottom lip.

You pull Joel to his feet, his thick thumb sneaking underneath the camisole strap. He plays with it absentmindedly; eyes heavy with tiredness. “You need to sleep,” you murmur, running your hands along his biceps. His brows raise, grin tugging at his lips. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m serious, Joel.”

“I, uh, don’t mind takin’ the couch, ‘f you…” he trails off, chest slumping as he exhales. “Oh,” you mutter, taken aback slightly. “I mean, I could take the couch, if you didn’t want to — y’know, share.”

Something akin to hope lingers on his features, eyes flitting between you and the bed.

He takes your hands in his, rubbing over your thumbs.

“There’s no way you’re doin’ that with your back.”

///

You’ve never slept on anything this soft.

Back in Boston, your bed was propped up on pallets; blankets scavenged and traded for, pillowcases stuffed with clothing past repair. On the road, the forest floor sufficed. You don’t remember your bedroom from before, although you know it must’ve been nice — soft shades of pink, a story to lull you to sleep, your mom kissing you goodnight.

Joel’s arm circles round your waist, anchoring you to the present. His warm palm against your tummy, you feel his soft exhales of breath over your ear. The moonlight throws shadows across the room: both your packs ready to go in the morning, an assortment of weapons and stores of food, a reminder that this safe haven was only ever temporary.

Tears prick suddenly at your eyes, and soon enough you’re sobbing quietly; tears soaking the mattress beneath you. Joel stirs, looming over you in an instant. “Hey, don’t cry,” he hushes, gathering you into his arms. You go into them gladly, Joel tracing his fingertips along your spine to soothe you.

“Long day,” he murmurs after a beat.

“But a good one.”

Joel kisses your damp cheek, pulls back to check in on you. “You wanna talk about it?”

Wiping your eyes, you curl into his chest: greying hair tickling your face, his steady heartbeat thrumming in your ears. You feel your own begin to regulate as a result, encouraged by his presence. Now you can’t see his face, your tongue loosens.

“I just — I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to go back out there. Infected, raiders, God only knows what else.. I want us to stay here, with our nice bedroom and hot water and proper fucking food.”

Joel is silent for a moment, digesting your confession. Your earlier fears begin to surface — he’ll think he’s made a mistake. That you’re a burden. He’ll take you back, leave you on the road. Leave you to die.

You’ve fucked up everything for him.

“Breathe for me,” his voice pulls you from the depths of your despair; not even realising your heart rate had spiked again, fists curled into the floral coverlet. You inhale deeply as per his instructions, breathing out as he sits upright, pulling you into his lap.

“I wish we could stay too, baby. But that’s never been the arrangement — n’ trust me, Bill can be meaner’n any clicker when he wants to be.”

You laugh shakily, Joel’s lips at your temple.

“Sorry for being pathetic.”

“Got nothin’ to apologise for. I should be the one sayin’ sorry; I didn’t think about how overwhelmin’ this might’ve been for you.”

Fingers brushing against his chest hair, you sigh heavily. “Do you think Jackson will be like this?”

“Maybe. Not sure about fancy plates ‘n all that, but Tommy’s sure been talkin’ it up.” Joel scratches at his chin, shifting you a little across his thighs. “Been meanin’ to ask you somethin’.”

You loop your arms round his neck, nose to nose in the silvery white light. His hands move to your waist, flex across your ribs. “Go ahead.”

“When we get there —” you notice there’s no if. Joel has no doubt; certain you’ll make it through whatever horrors lie ahead, “— I wanted to know.. ‘f you planned on stayin’ with me. Livin’ together, wherever they put us.”

You swallow, feeling tears threaten once more. The comparison clutches at your heart: the risks and perils that lie in wait on your journey don’t trouble him, but asking you if you’ll remain in his company has Joel averting his eyes, lip caught between his teeth.

“If you’ll have me,” you whisper, kissing him softly. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

The kiss that follows is long, both of you breathless when you break apart. Joel’s hand drifts under your camisole, squeezing your breast as he hardens underneath you. The smile he saves for you is back: half obscured by the darkness, but you trace along his lips anyway, feeling it for yourself.

“You got room to pack this?” he asks, voice deep and guttural, tugging gently at the silk.

You push him back into the sheets, pin his wrists above his head. “For you, Joel Miller, I’ll make room.”

[insvmniac]

i wish he was real

I saw you were taking requests for Randall “Pink” Floyd. Can you do one where they’re lying out on the football field after a party and he tells her that basically all he sees doing with his life is being with her?

Whole Lotta Love

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Randall “Pink” Floyd x reader

-> Warnings: make outs,

-> summary: Pink is worried about a future without you in it.

<—————————————————————>

The summer of 76’ was more than just a summer. It was sweltering days stretched out under the endless heat of Texas and a hum in the air that always sung a tune you knew and loved so. It was nights full of beer and laughs surrounded by people you never knew you could enjoy being around until school was let out.

You hated school as much the next person. But you loved the freedom of it all. The thrill of running around and secretly boozing every weekend. You love the music and people’s true colors when they’re not under the stress of fitting in. Most importantly, you loved Pink.

Parties were always held on the weekends. You loved them so much that you couldn’t even remember half the time what happened. It was another Saturday night after the last 8 you spent away from home. The party was held all night long until the kegs ran out of beer and the yard was full of joint roaches. Nobody had any more of anything on them anymore.

Soon the lights were shut off and every couch was full of passed out teenagers. You jumped into the passenger seat of Pink’s El Camino and started to ride out your buzz. The music of the party slowly became distant as you rode off.

He shoved a tape into the player of his car. It whistled its song as the cool wind blew in your hair. You sat in a comfortable silence with your legs pressed against Pink’s side. His hands danced around your thighs drawing shapes.

Soon enough he pulled into a familiar spot. The school, which was weird because he made his hatred of school very clear. “Why’d you take me here?” You asked with a smile as he turned the engine of his car off. He pulled the keys out and tucked them into his pocket.

“Just follow me.” He opened his car door and grabbed your hand as you scooted out. You tangled your fingers into his hands cherishing the small touch that he provided you.

He directed you towards the entrance of the tall fence that guarded the football field. The same field that he’s played his many football games on. He opens the locked gate just enough for you to squeeze through.

“After you.” You squeeze through the tight space and he follows you taking the lead once again. “What are we doing?” You whisper quietly as he repeats his answer the first time you asked. “You’ll see.”

You trail behind him before he stops in the middle of the green turf and falls on the ground lying on his back. You fall on top of him careful not to hurt him. His runs his fingers through your hair and you press a kiss to his pink lips.

You giggle slightly as holds you tight and grabs your waist. He takes in the way you look. How your hair dangles down and how well your clothes fit you. He mentally takes a picture that he hopes he won’t forget. You lean back staring into his brown eyes. “Are you going to tell me?” He gives you a cheeky smile.

“It’s a great view.” You turn over and lay on your back next to him and he points into the night sky. He’s right. The stars shine brighter than you’ve seen. Thinking about it you’ve never seen the football stadium so empty and lightless. But tonight the stars are shining brighter than ever giving you a show.

“It is. Where’d you get the idea to come here?” He wraps his arm around you. “The first day of summer a few of us smoked on the 50 yard line before getting caught.” He lets out a low laugh while reminiscing about the night.

“And where was I?” You press a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Probably drunk with your shoes off trying to walk upstairs at your house without waking your parents.” You playfully punch his side and pull away.

“God, well when you put it like that it.” He stays quiet staring in the sky. You press your body back to his taking in the warmth that radiates from him. For the few moments you stare into the sky knowing that life is good but the summer is coming to an end and soon your adolescence is too.

You glance back to Pink but he doesn’t meet your gaze. He continues staring in the sparkling sky. “What’s wrong?” He closes his eyes and thinks for a moment. It’s impulsively that he decides to share his fearful thoughts with you but he just feels so comfortable with you to.

“What do you thinks gonna happen when we graduate. I mean- school sucks and that’s all we know. You know?” He sighs and runs his hand through his brown curls.

“Where is this coming from?” You ask concerned for his sudden fear of the future. “I’ve just been thinkin’ that’s all. Just nevermind it.” He shuts it down hoping that he didn’t worry you too much. The atmosphere turns quiet once again as you conjure up the words that stir together in your brain.

“No Pink, why’s it bothering you so much?” You push yourself up to look him in the eyes. “I don’t know what will happen in a year from now. Hell, I don’t even know what will happen tomorrow. But.. I need you there with me.” He admits as he finally meets your stare. Even though the two of you started dating around June he feels like a future is incomplete without you. He can’t imagine not being with you. The thought of it makes his heart jump and break.

It clicks in your beer buzzed mind. He’s scared of losing you. He’s scared of a future without you. You want to cast away all his worries in any possible way but the only thing you can offer are words. You wish you could set his mind at ease and make him enjoy the last years of being a teenager but it seems like he’s too set on the future.

“Oh, Pink.” You lean in close pressing slow kisses his cheek. “I’m with you here, tomorrow, even years in the future if you want me to be.” You whisper close to his ear. His eyes half lit as he pulls your face close to him. It seems to calm him a little. Your promise is like a lullaby that puts his nerves at rest. “Good.. that’s all I need.” He connects your lips to his and slowly kisses you.

-> A/N: little short but hope ya enjoy :)

[insvmniac]

Fred Weasley kisses exactly like this, you can’t change my mind.

He has a specific chuckle that you only ever hear just before his lips touch yours, a boyish sound that’s deep and breathy and makes your heart race.

His long, slender fingers tuck your hair back from your face- those little pesky strands that fall into your face no matter how hard you try to tame them. His fingers lodge into your hair and cup the side of your face, your head or your jaw whilst his other hand reaches for your hip, holding your body close to his.

It’s often teasing and drawn out but sometimes soft and sweet- and always a surprise as to which kind of kiss you’ll get.

His big nose presses into your cheek and you can always hear the sound of his chuckle echoing in your mind as you kiss, your thoughts entirely consumed by him.

The way he looks at you before his lips touch yours and just after he pulls away makes you feel like you’re the only person in the room, especially when he smiles and winks at you afterwards.

[insvmniac]

"spence?"

"hm?"

"when did you get home?"

a more awake you would be squealing, thoroughly excited he came home early from his trip, but the early hours have hardly begun to bring light and you're struggling to even open your eyes to look at him. your cheeks still widen into a pleased smile though, turning into his warmth and humming, confused, when your hands find the rough fabric of his coat.

"a few hours ago," he says, voice rough, eyes still shut. one arm across his eyes, blocking the minuscule light, the other a vice around your waist. his voice is slow, deep in his chest, caught on the sleep he obviously wishes to keep. but he still turns his face toward the sound of your voice, smile creeping up at the corners of his lips, willing to entertain you despite his fatigue.

"are you still wearing your shoes?" you ask, voice teasing, scooting up in his arm to nudge your nose against the curve of his jaw. you press a kiss there, the point where his bone hits a right angle, lips tingling from the stubble you find.

"no," he says, voice honest, "i know better than that."

"no shoes, but your belt is still on?" you tease, fingers dragging across the leather. you don't care, not beyond a genuine concern for his comfort, but you enjoy teasing him in this way, skimming your lips across the rough skin of his chin in not-quite kisses.

"i took my gun off," he complains in a half-hearted groan, lifting his arm to peek at you out of the corner of one eye. "hi," he says, voice still soft, somehow deeper with affection, dimples the star of the show on his cheeks.

"hi," you say, tilting your head back and lifting your arm to cart your fingers through his mess of hair. "welcome home."

he smiles, reaching around with his other arm to gather you up and drag you across his chest in a bear hug, chuckling at the squeal you let out, sighing against your hair. he presses a firm kiss there, right above your ear.

"we will have to wash the sheets, though. it was really gross for me to not change, i was just exhausted, sorry."

[insvmniac]

creaming

cherry wine - firefighter!rafe pt. 2

* ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ₊˚ ⋅

summary: Rafe’s job gets in the way of your first date, but you’re not mad about it.

warnings: teacher!reader x firefighter!rafe, fluff, mutual pining, flirting, sexy rafe, SMUT, fingering, fem rec oral, fem!reader, inaccurate descriptions of firefighter duties, alcohol, cursing

an: I have no idea how a fire fighters schedule works so I made it up bc it’s fiction. oh & do we like the long fics?? oh & it’s my birthday yay to 24

part one

* ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ₊˚ ⋅

The night at the bar Rafe made sure you were sober to drive. He had you drink lots of water and even ordered you a plate of fries. His mind wandering off when you would lick the salt off your fingers. He was gone for you from the start and he didn’t mind one bit.

After walking you to your car he asked for your number and promised to see you the next day. Leaving you with a kiss on the cheek and permanent butterflies. The whole drive home you belted out the lyrics to your favorite pop music, feeling like a high school girl with a crush.

Rafe drove him in silence with a grin on his face. When he got home and texted you that he had a great time and couldn’t wait to see you again that grin never vanished. It only widened when you replied reciprocating the same feelings.

The next day came and a couple hours before picking you up Rafe got called into the station. Instead of texting he called you wanting to make sure you knew he wasn’t flaking. You believed him of course. Yet you couldn’t help the natural feeling of disappointment that flowed through your bones.

That feeling was soothed when he texted you late that night that he had finally gotten back to the station. Along with that he sent a picture of the station dog Max on his lap. You couldn’t help the way your mouth watered at the sight of his veiny big hand that was resting in the golden retrievers fur. In return you sent back a picture of your steaming mug of tea and a horror movie playing on the tv in the back.

It sparked a conversation about movies which led to you and Rafe talking non stop the following week. Besides the times you were teaching and he was out training or helping people.

Rafe promised you a proper date that upcoming Friday. Making sure to let you know that he would do anything to make it work out this time. You reassured him it was okay if something came up again. That made his heart burst, it wasn’t often that someone was willing to work with his hectic schedule.

-

The outfit you had planned for the previous weekend still sat on your vanity chair waiting to be worn. And hopefully waiting to be taken off. You had finished your hair and makeup all done to perfection. As it neared closer to the time he was picking you up your anxiety spiked. He hadn’t called to reschedule so it was really happening.

Rafe had gotten worked up all week with the pictures you’d occasionally send of what you were doing. The one that really got him was when you had gotten out of the shower and sent him a picture of you in a fuzzy robe with wet hair and your skin glistening. Most likely due to a skincare routine you had mentioned to him.

Rafe thought you looked like a goddess, he wished he could have gotten down on his knees and untied that robe with his teeth before worshiping you. His kind had been in the gutter all week.

He was making sure this date was going to go perfect. He bought a bouquet of flowers from a street vendor and worn his best date outfit. As he rang the doorbell to your small cottage he started to get a bit nervous. He hadn’t put this much effort into a date since high school. Even then how much effort could a teenage boy put in. He didn’t actually remember the last time he went on a date.

Rafe’s runaway thoughts were interrupted as you opened the door. Standing in front of him in a short black skirt and black top. A jacket hanging over your arm and your glossy lips turning up into a smile. The boots you were accentuated your legs making them look even longer. Rafe wanted to lick every inch of you. Especially after the smell of your perfume hit him, he wanted to kiss your neck.

“Hi,” You said with a teasing tone.

He didn’t realize he hadn’t said anything, “You look beautiful.” He made it a point to look her up and down.

She laughed as heat creeped up her neck, “Thank you Rafe.”

He loved how you said his name, “These are for you.” He handed you the flowers.

“Come in while I put them in water,” You nodded towards the inside of the house, “They’re beautiful Rafe. You really do know how to treat me good.”

He closed the door behind him as you began filling a vase with water, “Oh this is nothing.”

“If there’s more than this I might start to like you a little too much,” You joked hoping the weight of those words don’t send him running. You didn’t mean to say something so forward so soon. Literally on the first date, but you decided to stick by your words. You didn’t want to hide that you liked him.

“Perfect, because I already like you a little too much.”

You froze with the kitchen towel in your hands as you dries them. As you looked at him his smile was sincere, no hint of teasing or lying. You finished drying your hands as you laughed softly. The crush you had on Rafe was growing by the minute.

“Ready?” You asked.

He nodded opening the front door for you. He even opened the passenger door of his truck for you. Of course you knew these were bare minimum things but you couldn’t help how giddy it made you feel. Especially when it was him doing it for you.

-

Everything couldn’t have been going more perfect. Rafe was almost grateful he had to postpone the date because in the week the two of you talked he learned a lot. With the knowledge of you he had he planned the perfect date.

He took you to a record shop that you hadn’t been to before. You had told him about your extensive collection you had started building in high school. He even remembered a few of the bands you liked when he came across them. Of course he insisted on buying you a couple which you repeatedly told him not to. Obviously he didn’t listen and bought you them.

Next door was the Italian restaurant Rafe had been raving about all week. Promising you it’d be the best pasta of your life.

But as you looked over the menu, a ghost of a grin hasn’t left your mouth all evening, his phone started ringing. Rafe took his phone out of his pocket beginning to apologize for not silencing it. He was going to ignore the call but the name across the screen had his brows furrowing in worry.

“Everything okay?”

He looked up briefly, “Uh yeah it’s my captain. I’m so sorry I need to answer this.” You nodded understanding as he gave you a regretful smile as he slid out the booth to take the call. You continued to look over the cocktail menu.

Rafe sighed as he sat down across from you again, “Everything okay?” You asked

He shook his head, “I hate to do this but I got called in. I wasn’t supposed to work today but there’s a hug pile up downtown where there’s a big concert and they need all the help they can get.”

You tried not to show the disappointment you felt because it was his job after all. Rafe could still see how your eyes lost a bit of their shine and your smile wasn’t as bright anymore. He really hated this. In his career so far he had never been called in so much. But now when he meets the hottest woman he’s ever seen work is taking over his life. He was not about to have you slip through his fingers.

“Oh yeah I understand. You can just drop m-“ You began saying before he interrupted.

“Come with me.”

“Huh?”

He shook his head with a laugh, “Not to the wreck to the station. Wait for me there.”

He didn’t even wait for you to reply because for one he needed to leave now or Captain Matthews would chew his head off. And two if you decided you didn’t want to and wanted nothing to do with him anymore he’s take you home, but the sound of your laugh as he pulled you through the restaurant was enough of an answer. Your hands stayed locked together until you got back into his truck.

The station wasn’t too far from where you already were so the drive was short. Rafe rushed out to open your door and grab your hand once again. As you trailed behind him you saw a few of the guys from career day and some new faces as they all stood by an engine in the garage. A couple were checking equipment and a few others were already getting on the truck.

“Sorry to interrupt your date but we need your help here Cameron,” An older guy said as the two of you approached. You assumed this was his captain.

You smiled, “Duty calls right?”

He laughed, “It sure does.”

“I’ll be right out,” Rafe said leading you into the station. He walked you into a room that was like a big living room with couches and a tv. Max was laying on the couch and when he saw Rafe he immediately got up and walked over to the pair.

“This is Max. Say hi Maxie bug,” He pet the dogs head who then sniffed your leg. You bent down petting his fluffy head.

“Hi Maxie.”

“Make yourself at home and feel free to anything in the kitchen. I’ll be back hopefully in a couple hours. If you get bored and uber home I won’t be offended I promise,” Rafe said placing a hand on your shoulder.

You nodded, “Got it. Be safe and good luck.”

He leaned in with a grin and kissed your cheek gingerly. Even that small touch had your head spinning. You and Max watched as he jogged back outside and only a couple minutes later you heard the truck leave.

-

It had been almost two hours now and Rafe was still out. You had watched a fe episodes of your favorite sitcom and played with Max a bit. You even explored the station finding the kitchen and a few of the rooms used for sleeping where you stole a blanket from to lay over yourself on the couch. The only issue you were having was that you were starving.

Since you two had to leave dinner you hadn’t eaten since lunch and that meesley turkey sandwich was not cutting it.

That’s when you wandered into the kitchen and that habit of wanting to take care of people kicked in. You looked through to see what the guys had almost expecting to find the bare minimum. You were so wrong. The fridge and pantry were filled with groceries. You thought these guys must really eat a lot.

You started brain storming and decided on making lasagna and garlic bread. You figured they’d all be hungry when they got back and you were also starving. As the garlic bread finished in the oven and the lasagna cooled down you heard the rumbling of the fire truck. Perfect timing. You hoped you didn’t overstep but he did say make yourself at home. You even baked some chocolate chip cookie dough they had in the fridge. Even also tossing a salad to have on the side.

As Rafe opened the door that led to the station the smell of garlic bread and fresh baked cookies hit him. He thought he must be hallucinating until he walked into the kitchen and saw you getting plates out from the cupboard. A few of the guys walked in behind Rafe.

“Hey we’re back,” Rafe said stepping towards you, “Did you make dinner?”

You nodded a bit of embarrassment creeping up your spine, “Yeah hope you guys don’t mind. I was hungry and I figured you were too so I made food for you all.”

Josh stepped forward looking at the pan of lasagna, “Rafe keep her please, this looks amazing.”

“Seriously thank you this looks so good,” Captiain Matthews said as he stepped in.

“No problem please help yourselves,” You motioned towards the counter of food.

Rafe couldn’t look away from you. The way you stood so comfortably in the station kitchen talking to his coworkers. He walked closer towards you as the guys served themselves.

“You are just too sweet huh?” He teased.

“Well we missed our italian dinner so I made it myself,” You shrugged with a grin.

“That just means next time I��m cooking for you,” He said. The thought of there being a next time brough butterflies to your stomach.

“I’ll hold you to it,” You nodded.

Rafe grabbed a plate and began to serve you food. Handing over the plate before serving himself. All the guys thanked you as Rafe led you to the living room area. He also grabbed a bottle from one of the tall cabinets along with two glasses.

“Now I know this isn’t what I promised you but next time will be better,” He promised as he opened the bottle of wine.

“There’s no complaints from me about this date,” You shrugged, “Since when are you allowed to have alcohol in here?”

He smirked, “Well miss I’m technically off the clock again and this is from the christmas party we had a few months ago. Cherry wine?”

Your eyes lit up, “It’s like you know me already, I love cherry wine.”

-

After your stomachs were full of good food and a bit of wine that made your head feel a bit floaty you both settled on the couch. This was the best date you’d ever been on. Rafe was sweet and flirty never hiding his desire for you. Not even in a sexual way but in a way where he constantly asked questions about everything wanting to know more about you. He talked about his life as well which only made you like him more. Hearing about his troubled privileged childhood that led him to where he is now. It was admirable to hear him talk about it with no shame since it made him who he is.

As it got later Rafe drove you home. You were disappointed the night was ending but it was nearing one in the morning and you still had lesson plans to create.

He walked you up to your door with an arm wrapped around your shoulders.

“I had a really great time with you tonight. I’m sorry again for the interruption.”

You shook your head, “Don’t worry about it Rafe. I still had a great time.”

“The guys are going to want you around all the time now,” He laughed.

“Oops,” You shrugged with a smirk.

He stepped closer, “Be careful now I might get jealous.”

“Maybe I’ll keep going then,” You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, “I know it’s late but uh do you want to come in?”

Rafe didn’t hesitate, “Yeah sure.”

You unlocked your door leading him in, “I can make you a cup of tea if you’d like or something else.” You asked as you set your things down on the entryway table.

“hmmm something else?” He asks as he steps closer to you.

You look through your cupboards, “I have tea, coffee, some random-“ your words caught in your throat as you turned around to look at him only to find Rafe behind you.

“That all sounds good but I think I want something sweet,” He said as he inched closer. Your hands rested behind you against the counter. Eyes wide with anticipation and curiosity as to what his next move would be.

“Like sweat tea?” You asked knowing exactly what he means but not wanting to jump to conclusions.

His smirk turned into a lopsided grin. He rubbed his hand over his mustache and shook his head stepping closer, “No that cherry wine was pretty sweet right?”

You nodded in agreement not taking your eyes off him.

“I think I want a bit more of that,” He was now practically caging you in against the counter. You felt like you were suffocating in him in the best way possible.

“Oh I don-“ He interrupted you by leaning forward and brushing his nose against yours. It shut you up immediately and then he broke the rest of the distance and pressed his lips to yours. You reciprocated moved your hands from the counter to pull at the blonde hair at the back of his head. His hands went to your hips pulling you closer to him then sliding up to your waist.

His thumbs going under your shirt the skin on skin contact made you shiver in the best way. Your mouths moved in sync as the kiss deepened.

Rafe could taste the sweetness but he wasn’t sure if it was the cherry wine or just you. He knew he was addicted to you now. He loved the way your hands felt in his hair and on his biceps and shoulders. He slotted his leg in between yours making you feel even closer to him. The small noises you were making made him sigh into the kiss.

He pulled away before kissing you a few more times and murmuring, “So sweet.”

You whined and tugged at his shirt to pull him back in. He smirked and gave you what you wanted. He’d give you anything you wanted.

This time you pulled away feeling a bit bold and the feeling of his thigh pressing against the place where you needed him the most helped you say, “You wanna see my room?”

He laughed softly kissing your nose, “You inviting me to your room?”

You scoffed a laugh, “Nooo I’m asking if you want to see my room. There’s a difference.”

“I’d love to see your room.” He said with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes playfully and shoved him. Grabbing his hand and leading him down the hallway to your room. You turned on the lamp on your nightstand which illuminated the room with a soft glow. Rafe had decidedly that he loved seeing you in that light. You looked like a real like angel.

“So this is it,” You said motioning to your surroundings.

He threw his head back with a hearty laugh, “Oh I really like you sweetheart. Come here,” He motioned with his fingers for you to come closer. A motion that had your mind in the gutter.

“Why do you say that?” You question as you walk forward to where he stood at the end of your bed.

“Because you’re all cute and sweet like you didn’t almost make me come just by making out.”

“Rafe!” You said with a surprised laugh.

He shrugged, “What? It’s the truth.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck still feeling bold. There was something about how unabashedly he admitted his feelings towards you that had you feeling confident. It felt good to be wanted. It felt good to be wanted by Rafe.

“You’re ridiculous,” You said as he wrapped his arms around your waist. His eyes moving down to your still swollen lips.

“Mhmm,” He hummed and nodded. He leaned in just like he did earlier in the kitchen. Kissing the air out of your lungs. His hands moved all over you gripping and holding anything he could.

His hand slipped down your back and over your butt, giving a squeeze as he past it, down to the end of your skirt, His fingers trailed up the back of your thigh and up your skirt. Hands gripping your ass under your skirt. You couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips which allowed him more access into your mouth.

There was a small part of your brain that hadn’t quite turned off yet. Rafe’s lips began to trail down to your neck leaving open mouthed kisses that had you arching into him. The feeling of his mustache against your smooth skin had you shivering.That’s when that part of your brain decided to speak up.

“Oh Rafe,” You said breathily eyes fluttering shut, “are you sure, it’s late and don’t you have work?” Rafe groaned as he kissed the spot behind your ear. He couldn’t help but get more turned on at the sound of her caring about him, but work and sleep were far from his mind. Right now he just wanted to bury his head between your thighs and have you moaning and withering underneath him.

“Baby I could care less about that right now,” He walked you back until you were sat on the bed. The bed wasn’t very tall so when he stood in between your legs you had to look up at him. The way he towered over you had your flimsy underwear feeling soaked. You had never been so turned on by a man.

Rafe reached forward to cup your jaw. Thumb stroking your cheek gently. Now that part of your brain was completely silent. All you could think about was him.

“You’re so beautiful,” He mumbled almost to himself.

A soft smile appeared on your face and he practically groaned again. Your doe eyes looking up at him with an innocent smile had his cock hardening even more if that’s possible. He bit his lip and watched as your eyes moved to his mouth. He knew you wanted him as bad as he wanted you and that made this all the more exciting.

He slowly trailed his thumb to his mouth, pulling at her bottom lip teasingly. Almost like a habit your mouth opened slightly. He took this as a sign to gently push it into your mouth. You wrapped your lips around it sucking and licking.

“Fuck,” He muttered as he felt your warm tongue. Where had you been all his life. He was never going to let you go. He pulled it out and leaned down kissing you again.

“You’re so hot,” He mumbled as he got on his knees in front of you. He removed your boots that you were still wearing and kissed up both legs. The intimacy of it all had your chest rising rapidly. The anticipation of just how good you know this man is going to treat you was enough to make your toes curl.

“I’ve been thinking about these thighs since I first picked you up,” He said as he kissed your inner thighs. He had placed your legs over his shoulders, hands gripping the outside of them. You sighed as your body ignited in pleasure.

You let out a small yelp as he pulled your center closer to his face causing you to fall back, “And fuuuck I’ve been thinking about pushing this little skirt up all night.” He hummed in appreciation as he pushed the black material up. Your feet now resting on the end of the bed. Your barely clothed pussy on display. Leaning back on your elbows you watched with hazy eyes as Rafe admired you.

He looked up at you through hooded eyes and a smirk, “Can I please taste you?” He knew you wouldn’t say no but he wanted to be a gentleman anyways.

“Please,” You whispered slightly bucking your hips up.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lace covered clit. The black lacy panties you had on barely doing anything to cover your slick cunt. He took a mental picture for the next time he was in the shower.

You moaned softly as he continued to kiss over panties, eventually pulling them to the side. He murmured curse words as he lifted his thumb to run through your folds. Gently slipping the tip of it inside you to gather your wetness. He trailed it up to your clot beginning to rub soft circles. The motion had your head falling back with a sigh.

Rafe turned his head and peppered kisses on your inner thigh. He pressed down a little harder as he watched you get wetter. After a few strokes he tentatively dipped his head down and licked your clit.

That was enough for him to know this is what he wanted to taste forever. He roughly pulled off the lacey matterial throwing it somewhere in the room.

He groaned as he fully dived in. Licking, sucking, and kissing just where you needed him to. He listened to your moans and soft whines to see what you liked the most. He was so painfully hard but he didn’t even care. Rafe just wanted you to come.

“Oh god Rafe,” You moaned as his tongue dipped into you. Your hands gripped his hair tugging when something felt extra good.

He moaned and the sound sent even more pleasure through you, “You taste so fucking good.”

“Rafe I’m close,” You panted, “you’re so good don’t stop please.”

He shook his head with his mouth still on you, “Never baby, you’re gonna have to pry me away from this pussy.”

The dirty words sending you even closer to the edge. You had never been talked to like this and you loved it. You liked how he ravaged you and actually paid attention to what you liked.

You felt his finger nudge your entrance before he slipped it in. Your walls tightening around his thick finger. You arched you back as he reached one hand up to press flat against your stomach to lay you down more. Then he added a second finger and you couldn’t help the cry that escaped your lips. It felt so good the way he moved them in and out. Fingers curled up hitting that spot you so desperately needed.

The lewd sounds of his fingers fucking you and his mouth on your clit filled the room. Along with your loud moans and his occasional groans. The roughness of his mustache felt so good on the sensitive bud.

“Rafey I’m-I’m gonna,”

“Mhmmm let go for me pretty girl,” He encouraged as his fingers moved faster and mouthed hungrily at your clit.

You became a shaking moaning mess as he continues his ministrations. Your orgasm taking over your body. His hand gripped your thigh roughly as he kept going until your high was over. Once your back was flar on the mattress he slowly pulled out and pressed one last kiss on your puffy clit.

He made his way up your body kissing your stomach over your shirt and then you exposed cleavage. He kissed you fully and you could feel his mustache damp with your arousal. You could also taste yourself on his tongue which had you moaning again. Rafe lifted you to be farther up the bed so he can comfortably lay on top.

“You taste so fucking good I already wanna do it again,” He said smirking as he pulled away.

You smiled in a daze, “You’re gonna be the death of me.” As you reached your hand down to the front of his pants. Your hand cupped him through the material and he groaned, eyes rolling back in pleasure.

“Fuck I really really want to do more but I actually do have work in a couple hours,” He groaned. He wishes he could just call off and spend the whole night rolling around in bed with you.

You looked at him with slight disappointment but understanding, “You sure?”

He leaned down and bit your neck playfully, “Don’t look at me like that. I’ll be easily convinced.”

You giggled, “I understand Rafe.”

“I’m seeing you again though. I never lied about that. Especially after you let me have a taste of you,” He groaned dramatically, “So fucking delicious I’m addicted.”

[insvmniac]

★ showering with farmhand!rafe after he's had a hard day

warning: sickly sweet fluff, reader taking care of a tired rafe :)

looking at rafe from your window, you could tell was something was wrong. fatigue twisted his face like never before as he moved his body like a beaten dog. he almost looked like he was about to cry tears of exhaustion. at this stage in your relationship, you two never really shared your emotions. sure, you expressed your love for each other physically, him fucking the life out of you in the barn with a few kisses and sweet words here and there, but it was never that deep. before he left the farm, you walked down to him, inviting his worn out figure to sleep over in your room. he smiled softly to himself at your welcoming offer. anything sounded better than driving home and spending the night by himself, alone with his thoughts. his plan when he got home was collapsing on the floor of his living room, passing out until he had the energy to get up again. rafe wiped a tear away, nodding at your warm suggestion. you smiled in excitement, taking his hand and leading him to your house. the moon shined through the willow trees as you escaped the darkness of the night, finding shelter in your cozy, warm-lit home.

you brought rafe up the stairs quietly, holding his hand as his weight made the floorboards creak. once you got to your room, you stripped him slowly, undoing articles of clothing one by one. first his hat, followed by his jacket and jeans, then finally his t-shirt and boxers. he sighed under your delicate touch, letting your fingers work the material off his sore body. you kissed the salty flesh of his chest tenderly before walking to the bathroom, starting the shower. the bathroom fan humming along with the trickling sounds of water soothed rafe from his earlier mood, instantly feeling relaxed in your sacred space.

you reached your hand under the water until it was the perfect warmth, the both of you trickling into the tiled space. you positioned yourself behind him, letting the water hit his towering figure first. rafe groaned under the sensation, closing his eyes as the water flowed through his blonde hair, sweat and dirt sliding off his body. he took a deep breath before looking back at you, pulling you under the water with him. he stared at your sweet face as his strong hands kneaded your soft body. you never could fully comprehend how huge rafe's body really was. his muscles and curves looked like they were carved from greek gods themselves, a wonderful mix of muscle and fat that gave him a solid, strong build on a lanky body. he leaned down before giving you another chaste kiss, his hand reaching for the shampoo bottle.

"wait-" you said, grabbing it yourself. you squeezed the sweet smelling liquid into your palm, instructing him to turn around. he complied, his wide back facing you. you reached up your hands to his hair, lathering his scalp and massaging his head.

"ohhh, y/n...." rafe breathed out, your fingers relaxing him into a puddle. you spent minutes upon minutes washing and rinsing his hair, kissing his muscular back and shoulders in the process. rafe was like putty in your hands, eyes closed in ecstasy as you rubbed him lovingly. reaching for the soap, you lathered that in your hands before sudsing him up. you used your hands and body to spread the vanilla scented bubbles all over him, the peaks of your breast and the bump of your stomach rubbing against him deliciously as you held him close to you. your hands kneaded his strong, tense muscles, working your fingers through his biceps and shoulders, lats and back. the tension in his muscles melted at your applied pressure. rafe couldn't help but mewl at the relaxing sensation, the warmness of your flesh against his made him purr into your touch. rafe let out kitten groans, his body ultimately surrendering to you.

"....there's my good boy, relax..." you hummed as you hugged him from behind, splashing him with water to rinse him off completely. dirt and soap slid down his body and circled down the drain.

rafe felt so incredibly loved in that moment. tears pricked from being so happy, he thought he was glowing. he never had someone be so gentle with him and make him feel like this. he wasn't used to the warmth and intimacy of something as simple as getting cleaned off, and it felt incredible.

after drowning rafe in kisses and gropes, you grabbed two towels, drying off with him before retiring to your bedroom. he sat on your bed, a towel wrapped around his waist as he watched you search for pajamas.

"y/n?" he asked, softness in his deep voice.

"yes baby" you responded, still rifling through the drawer. he walked up to you, stopping your actions.

"...i want to feel you, throughout the night..." you stared up at him, realizing what he was indicating. you nodded, closing the drawer. he kissed you before taking his towel off, crawling into your bed with his bare body. you followed him, making yourselves comfortable under your sweet smelling pink comforter, surrounded by soft pillows. rafe's large body almost didn't fit on your bed, but he didnt care. his muscular arms pulled you on top of him, your hearts beating against each others. you caressed rafe's hair, kissing him deeply. he pulled back, caressing your face with his thumb.

"thank you... y/n" he breathed. words couldn't even express how much you meant to him, and how it felt to be cared so lovingly by you. you smiled at his words, kissing his cheek before burying your face in the crook of his neck, your eyes lulling shut.

rafe felt so cozy with you in this moment, his guard completely down as he nuzzled into your body, inhaling the candied fragrance of your skin. he vibrated from your affection. he felt so at home... so completely loved. rafe wouldnt have traded anything in the world for this feeling.

"goodnight rafey" you purred, half asleep already, finding comfort on his broad chest.

"goodnight...." he whispered back, mouthing an 'I love you y/n' against the curve of your neck as he drifted off to sleep.

[insvmniac]

i need him so bad

✭ 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.

✭ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you and tyler keep meeting in unexpected places.

✭ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: erm tyler may be a lil ooc. 😗

✭ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: ~3k.

✭ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: cc!reader. i literally love this little freak, so i had to get more out for him. this fic is very silly, but tyler is a silly guy, so it works out. enjoy! 💚

Roblox. Everyone and their mothers were playing it nowadays, and all of your social media, your text chat, your comment section were chock full of your fans pleading for you to finally start playing it yourself.

You’d seen a ton of videos of your friends playing it — specifically the Koury sisters — and it had always looked so fun. You reached out to Kalynn and Weston to see what servers they’d recommend, and they’d given you a list of all their favorites and what performed well, which was equally as important as you having fun since you were starting to get big.

You sat down at your desk, booting up Roblox. Once you created your account, you were immediately launched into the avatar customization. For a while, you debated picking the silliest options you could find, but you ended up creating an avatar that looked like a mini version of you with a cute little outfit that you’d wear irl.

You hopped into a couple different games, just getting a feel for the controls and how different servers work. After you decided you’d figured it out well enough, you started to film.

“Okay guys, you finally wore me down — today, we’re playing Roblox, and I’m about to find me a man.” You grinned mischievously at the camera, before clicking on a server called Neighbors, a 17+ server where you get paired up with strangers to chat in a little house.

You opened every conversation in the same way, saying, “I’m looking for a man. Tell me why you think it should be you.”

You found a couple people who made you laugh, bantering with them for a few minutes before moving on. All of it was going to make for really good content. You realized why everyone was playing Roblox. Shit was fun.

Your video was starting to push an hour without editing, probably about forty minutes with editing, so you decided to do one more round before calling it quits.

“Alright, y’all. It’s my last chance to find a man. Wish me luck.” You said, clicking ‘skip’ to move onto the next person.

You were matched with a user named Dr_Poop50. Their avatar was the standard Roblox avatar.

“Oh, this guy is giving me nothing to work with.” You told the camera.

“Okay, well, that’s rude.” A deep voice came from the user, and you covered your mouth as you realized you weren’t muted.

“Look, Dr. Poop, I’m trying to find me a man, and I’m sorry, but I’ve got nothing to go off of here.”

“Oh, damn! Okay!” He let out a little chuckle.

“Tell me why you think it should be you.”

“Well, I’m 6’7, for starters.”

“Meh.” You shrugged, sounding disinterested, but giggling at the offended sound he made at that.

“I’m really good at ping pong. How ‘bout that?”

“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. I can’t be seen with someone who’s bad at ping pong.”

“I’m also rich, just by the way.”

“And you couldn’t even spare a couple bucks to customize your avatar? I’m supposed to believe you have money, looking like that?”

“Keep bullying me and I’m gonna fall in love with you.”

You muted your mic for just a moment. “Chat, we got him.” You grinned, before unmuting, “Do you wanna get Roblox married?”

“Fuck yeah. Can’t believe I have a new Roblox wife.”

“We’re gonna have soooo many Roblox babies.”

“I draw the line at babies. You’re gonna have to get a Roblox abortion.”

You clicked your tongue at that. “You can’t Roblox police Roblox women’s Roblox bodies.”

“Fine. Then I’m gonna get a Roblox lawyer and serve you Roblox divorce papers.”

“Good luck with that. How are you gonna get a Roblox lawyer with no Roblox money?”

“Shiiit.”

“You’re stuck with me forever, babe.”

“At least let me sign a Roblox pre-nup. Can’t let you take me for all I’m Roblox worth.”

“…Which, again, doesn’t seem to be a lot.”

He let out another laugh, the sound honestly kind of giving you butterflies. He had a nice voice. “Ouch, dude.”

Truthfully, this guy matched your energy so well that you didn’t really want to stop bantering with him, but your video was already too long.

“I can’t Roblox take this anymore. I’m taking the Roblox kids and moving to Roblox Montana and you’ll never Roblox see me again.”

“Nooooo!” The guy yelled quietly, and you left the game, giggling to yourself.

About two days later, you finally finished editing the video and uploaded it to your channel.

I Met My Ex-Husband on Roblox!

When you checked back in on it after a few hours, you realized the comments were flooded with several different versions of the same thing.

> writingsbyzuzu: (Y/N) AND HANSUMFELLA? my worlds are colliding

> bobthebuildersimp: no way you just met hansumfella and had no idea

> drfreaky: (y/n) met hansumfella and married him in a matter of minutes… what’s it like to live my Dream

Who is Hansumfella? You thought to yourself, your eyebrows furrowing, And why is everyone freaking out?

You had to figure this out, so as soon as you had some free time, you sat down and looked up Hansumfella on Youtube. Your eyebrows shot up as you noticed he had just uploaded a video, just moments before yours had gone up.

I Got Married AND Divorced in Roblox…

In the thumbnail was a screenshot of your avatar surrounded by hearts, with what you could only assume was Hansumfella’s face on the left. Christ. He was handsome as fuck. You supposed that’s why his username was what it was.

You clicked on the video, watching it all the way through. He’d met almost all the same people you had, including someone who lamented how they’d missed their chance with “some girl running this place like an episode of the Bachelor” to him.

Hansumfella commiserated with them, before addressing his audience. “We’re gonna find this girl and we’re gonna fuckin’ win the Bachelor.”

And find you, he did. It was kind of endearing to watch his perspective of the silly conversation the two of you had. He looked like he was genuinely having a good time, which made you feel even better about the whole interaction.

You scrolled down to his comments and they looked almost identical to yours.

> drfreaky: can’t believe you let (Y/N) go like that, man

> writingsbyzuzu: this is CRAZY how do you meet (Y/N) and not realize it’s (Y/N)!!!

> bobthebuildersimp: (Y/N) scored the bachelor of all bachelors

You wondered if Hansumfella read his comments, if maybe he was doing the same thing you were right now.

As if on cue, you received a notification from Twitter.

@HansumFellaLIVE has followed you!

You didn’t waste a second before following him back. Shortly after, another notification came in, this time letting you know that Hansumfella had tweeted at you.

@HansumFellaLIVE: @yourusername miss you wifey 😔

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you, immediately feeling the butterflies return to you. You sat for a second, wondering how to respond. Your viewers knew you to be pretty flirty (hence the Roblox Bachelor video), so you decided to play it up for your mutual audience.

@yourusername: @HansumFellaLIVE your kids miss their daddy… and so do i 😏

A week came and went, and you hadn’t heard anything else from Hansumfella — or Tyler, as you learned from his twitter account. It didn’t bother you, really. He was a stranger, just as much as you were. Meeting for five seconds on Roblox didn’t mean anything in the grand scheme of things.

Anyway, you needed to film your next video. With the news of Omegle potentially shutting down for good, you decided to return to it one final time for your viewers.

“Alright, guys, since my last relationship didn’t work out — RIP my marriage to Hansumfella — I’m on Omegle to give it one last shot.” You told your viewers.

As Omegle loaded up, you stared at the bar where you were meant to type in your interests. “What should I put? …TikTok, maybe?”

You did exactly that, and met only a handful of normal people, trying to flirt with people clearly of age, and asking for relationship advice from people who clearly weren’t. It was going really well, and you were just about to bring the video to a close, but realized you had time for one more interaction.

You couldn’t believe your eyes as the next person appeared on your screen.

Tyler was staring at you, his mouth agape, but he looked delighted. He pointed at you, and you mimicked his expression, pointing back at him.

“No fuckin’ way,” Tyler laughed, leaning back in his chair, “It’s my wife! How are you? How are the kids?”

“Oh, they’re just perfect,” You answered him sarcastically, playing into the bit, “They keep asking me when daddy’s coming back home from the store. I keep telling them there’s a milk shortage so it’s taking you a long ass time to find some.”

“Don’t blame this on me,” Tyler smiled at you, chuckling, “You’re the one that ran off to Roblox Montana. I was just trying to do right by y’all.”

“All I’m saying is that you should have fought for us.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“You’re right, you’re right.” Tyler held his hands up in surrender. “What can I do to fix this?”

“Come home to us.”

Tyler clapped his hands together, nodding his head. “Daddy’s comin’ home.”

You couldn’t help it — you broke at that, letting out a cackle, which made Tyler start laughing too.

“This is fuckin’ nuts,” You shook your head in disbelief as your laughter died down. “No way I’m running into you randomly again. What are the odds?”

“I don’t know, but they seem to be in my favor.” Tyler grinned at you. You felt your cheeks heat up at his flirtatious statement, though you couldn’t be sure if he actually meant it or if he was just playing it up for the camera.

“My viewers are gonna eat this shit up.” You told him, letting out another laugh as you spoke.

“No, for real,” Tyler nodded, “Literally everyone has been all up in my shit asking if we were gonna start collabing.”

“Dude, same! My comment section, my twitch chat, my fuckin’ twitter mentions. It’s, like, all I see.”

“Maybe this’ll hold ‘em over until the next time we run into each other.” Tyler said, sitting up a little straighter, “If you do actually want to collab, I mean.”

“You wanna collab?” You asked, a little surprised. You weren’t expecting him to actually want to work with you past the silly bit between the two of you.

“Yeah, dude,” Tyler chuckled at your surprised expression. “You’re funny as fuck, and obviously we share an audience. Could be fun.”

“And good for your channel,” You teased, “You just wanna use me for my numbers,”

“Fuck, you got me.” Tyler released a heavy sigh, throwing his hands up in mock frustration.

“All good,” A mischievous grin spread across your face, “I just wanna use you for your numbers too.”

“I knew you were a gold digger, before I even Roblox married you, I knew it!” Tyler immediately got back into character, almost whisper yelling as he pointed an accusatory finger at his camera.

“Yeah, and what good did that do me?” You mimicked his actions, scowling at your camera, “Not a single cent in Roblox child support!”

You and Tyler dissolved into giggles again at your stupid bit. Once you’d calmed down again, you were about to tell him you needed to move on for the sake of your video, but he started asking you questions about yourself, so you indulged him. Every time there was a lull in the conversation — which wasn’t really all that often — he would start up another one, almost like he didn’t want to stop talking to you.

“Tyler,” You finally said, feigning disappointment at him, “You’ve completely ruined my video. I can’t put any of this out.”

“I know, I know,” Tyler held his hands up, smiling softly, “Guess I just like talking to you or whatever.” He made a big show of rolling his eyes, but that sweet smile stayed on his face.

Heat rose up in your cheeks again, and you shook your head, laughing a little. “We can keep talking, I’d just rather do it somewhere that isn’t Omegle.”

“That’s fair.” Tyler chuckled, nodding slowly. “Give me your phone number.”

Okay, direct. You liked that.

“Why, so you can post it and dox me?”

“Oh my Goddd,” Tyler groaned playfully, throwing his head back. He told you his number instead, and you put it in your phone.

“Tell the kids I miss them.” Tyler said wistfully as you geared up to end your recording and get off of Omegle.

“Tell ‘em yourself.” You spit out, disconnecting with a giggle.

You and Tyler ended up texting at almost all hours of the day for the next week or so. The two of you made a plan to post your Omegle videos at the same time, to maximize your joint slay, as Tyler had said.

Your video goes up with the title I Saw My Ex On Omegle?!

When you got the notification that he had posted his version, your eyes went wide at the title.

I Interviewed My Celebrity Crush on Omegle…

The thumbnail was a screenshot of you with all of your features blurred, but your room was clearly visible behind you, giving you away to anyone who was familiar with you.

You decided to sit down and watch his version, curious to see what he kept in and what he didn’t. Of course, the original bit made the cut, and you couldn’t help but laugh as you watched it back.

Tyler had kept a lot more in the video than you were expecting. A good portion of the conversation you’d had made it in, but it was mostly just questions he had asked you and answers you’d given him. It definitely played out like an interview, hence the title of his video.

You scrolled down to the comments, blushing as you read all of his viewers squealing over him calling you his celebrity crush. Obviously he was just playing it up for his audience, there was no way he had a crush on you for real, right?

The comments of your video looked almost exactly the same, asking you if you’d seen the title of his video or all caps statements about how much they loved the two of you together.

It wasn’t long before you got a text from Tyler to discuss the reception of your videos.

> from: tyler

>> Hey wifey

>> Looks like people are really fuckin with the new vid

>> Where should we bump into each other next?

You felt yourself grinning at the message, excited to potentially work with him again — strictly professionally, of course.

“Alright, y’all, we’ve got a real good stream lined up tonight.” You grinned, putting your headphones on. “I snagged an invite to the SDMP. Let’s go annoy all of your favorite creators.”

As soon as you spawned in to the SDMP, your chat erupted with demands to find different creators — though most of them were just demands to find Tyler — and you giggled at the scrolling text.

“Guys, calm down! I literally just got here. Let me get settled in!” You told your chat, as you wandered through the server, marveling at all the nice houses and builds.

As you wandered into the residential area, a familiar voice drifted into your ears.

“There she is!” Tyler said as he made his way over to you, “There’s my wife!”

You turned to look at him, eyeing your camera with fake annoyance before looking back at your screen. “Babe, where are the kids? It’s your weekend.”

“They’re fine.” Tyler answered, “They’re with the nanny.”

“I didn’t think you could afford a nanny.” You teased.

“I shelled out a little extra so I had someone to watch ‘em while I make things right with mommy.” Tyler replied, chuckling quietly. “Please, take me back. Let’s build a house together and live happily ever after.”

You muted your mic for just a second to say, “Chat, what do you think? Should I take him back?”

Hundreds of variations of YES! flooded your chat.

“I wanna live in a mansion.” You told Tyler, and his skin started to jump up and down in excitement.

“Fuck yeah,” Tyler laughed, “I’ll give you anything you want, wifey.”

“Let’s have another baby.”

“…Anything but that.”

You and Tyler spent hours gathering supplies and building a house together, just shooting the shit like you had been for days.

Truthfully, you had a hard time discerning what was actual flirting from him and what was being played up for his stream, but the longer you spent together, the more real it all felt.

When it started to get late, you decided to end your stream, but stayed on the server for just a little while longer before bed. Tyler had opted to do the same, mentioning he wasn’t quite ready to head to bed yet either.

“I forgot to tell you,” Tyler started offhandedly, “I’m gonna be in LA next week. I’d love to see you, if you’d be down to chill. You could show me your favorite lunch spot.”

You paused your building, your skin growing warm at the offer. “Like a date?” You chanced to ask, and you heard Tyler’s laughter in your ear.

“Yeah, like a date.” Tyler confirmed. “Unless you’re not into that. I just thought we were vibing, but I didn’t know if it was just for show or—”

“No, no, I’m super into that.” You interrupted, smiling.

“Fuck yeah,” Tyler breathed, “Because I’m super into you.”

[insvmniac]

he’s sooo silly :(

[insvmniac]

daylight ❀ s. reid x reader

in which communicating with your boyfriend is scary, and spencer reid can't stand to see you cry.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: comfort/fluff! tags: reader avoids her issues... for a little bit. that's kind of it. it's just fluffy and simple! word count: 1.5k a/n: something short & sweet because i thought it was cute and i write the most when i'm procrastinating assignments... um… inspired by a conversation sam willow and i were having a few nights ago🫂 reminder that pretty girls cry when they’re confronting somebody!!

Spencer Reid was not oblivious to all things in the world. In fact, he was rather perceptive compared to most people. Psychology degree and human behaviour-based job aside, he noticed things. 

A lot of it was good. He knew exactly how to wake you up on mornings he started earlier than you. How to keep you half-asleep enough to allow you your return to sleep, but also awake enough to ensure you'd remember him kissing you goodbye (there had been an argument a few months ago about it — you thought he had left without a word). He knew your go-to Thai order from the restaurant down the street, and he knew which pair of wooden chopsticks your favourite were to pull out of his kitchen drawers. 

He was also observant enough to know something was wrong. 

He was back from a case. A long one, that had worn him down enough that he felt like a pile of creaking bones when he re-entered his apartment earlier that afternoon. You had returned from your own job an hour after that, and despite the initial excitement that came from your boyfriend being back in the state again, you were a bundle of nerves. 

And he knew that.

You were on his couch, legs across his lap and back up against the arm, his hands resting comfortable in the dip between your two knees. There was a quiet episode of New Girl playing on the television (you had convinced him to watch it after he had sat you through every Star Trek movie), but your thoughts were anywhere but the sitcom you had been using to entertain yourself as of recent. 

"You've been awfully quiet," Spencer said, piercing the less than comfortable air settled around you two. 

"Sorry," you answered, tearing your gaze from the screen to look at him, meeting a worried expression you had somewhat expected. 

Hands ran up and down your legs, erupting goosebumps along the skin. "Is something wrong?" 

"No," you immediately shook your head and forced a smile onto your face. "Nothing's wrong."

He furrowed his eyebrows, lips parting in that confused look he always had on his face when he was thinking, and he stared at you for a few seconds longer, before, "Yes there is."

Profilers. "Seriously, Spence. There isn't. I'm just kind of tired tonight."

"I am as well," he said, hands stilling on your legs rather abruptly. "I was in Idaho for a week. I'm also exhausted. And usually my girlfriend is a little touchier and more talkative than this when I come home. So I'm assuming something's wrong."

"You're assuming incorrectly, then," your shoulders shrugged.

He said your name chidingly, and it was at that tone of voice that you retracted your legs from his lap, instead tucking your feet beneath yourself, gaze dropping to the couch cushion. 

"I just missed you," you told him, a slight stretch of the truth. 

"I missed you too," he said, and your shoulders softened. "But that's not all it is."

You blinked, before you fell silent, shaking your head instead. 

"Talk to me. What's happened?" his voice was achingly soft, your heart shattering in your chest to the point you wanted to take back every thought you'd had over the past week and burn them to ashes. They didn't mean much now in front of him. Not when he was reminding you of how kind he was. 

"You barely talked to me," you said, hands dropping to your lap, and you fidgeted with them under his gaze. "I never knew what was going on. You didn't call once, except for when you landed."

"I was really busy, honey," he answered, and you could hear the frown in his voice. "If I had time to do anything other than the case and sleep, you know I'd have talked to you more." 

"I know," your voice shook, and you could feel your emotions overriding your brain. As usual. So, you kept your head down. "But I would've liked you to tell me that, at least."

You heard him sigh, and curiosity got the best of you as you lifted your gaze, inspecting to see if he was sighing out of irritation or not. He wasn't — just exhaustion — and that made you feel a little better.

"I know for next time then," he said, and he met your eyes, which had watered since the last time he looked at you. Which wasn't very long ago, and so he was drawing his eyebrows together, again, confusedly. "What's that? What's wrong?"

On instinct he leaned forwards, and you let him shift his body closer to yours, hands coming up on either side of your neck. You sniffled, trying to suck the tears threatening to fall back into your eye sockets. 

"I can't communicate," you mumbled, quietly, a tear escaping and dripping down to the lower half of your cheek. 

"You communicated pretty well just then, angel," he said, voice soft as he caught the remainder of the tear and swiped it away with his thumb. 

"Yeah but—but now I'm crying," you moaned, pathetically, more tears slipping down your face. His lips twitched — though not in humour, you noted — as he adjusted his hands to your jaw, thumbs continuing to wipe falling tears. 

"Yeah. That's okay," he answered. "You've got a flood of hormones going through you right now, and so your body reacts to it in the best way it sees fit. In your case, it's tears."

"I hate it," you mumbled, and this time he did laugh a little, nodding his head. 

"I know," he said. "Are you feeling embarrassed about communicating with me?"

"I guess," you replied. "I don't know. I think I just..." you trailed off as your voice disappeared, breath beginning to hyperventilate acutely. "I—I just feel kind of sil—silly."

You cursed each sob that broke up your speech, and yet his gaze and focus on you never once wavered. In fact, his touch seemingly had grown softer, and the concern in his eyes had only grown. 

"You aren't silly," he said, once he was sure you weren't going to continue speaking. "If me not talking to you for a week upset you, I'd say that's pretty reasonable."

"I don't know..."

"Want a secret?" he asked, fingers poking into your cheeks enough for you to crack a small smile. You only nodded your head in response, chest still jolting with each sharp intake of breath. "I have to physically restrain myself from calling you every hour on a normal day."

"You're lying," you mumbled, and his smile only widened, a bashful laugh leaving his lips. 

"No, honestly. I have so much I want to talk to you about during the day, and I need to remind myself that you're busy and at work too."

A few uncontrollable tears dripped down your face, and your gaze dropped to the top of his shirt, though the smile never left your face. "I don't believe you."

"I wish you would, but that's okay," he said, evidently seeing right through your defying statement — you believed him a little.

His forefinger and thumb caught your chin, and he tilted your head back up so his eyes could meet your glassy ones. 

"I'm sorry," you murmured, before he could get a word in.

"For what?"

"Crying."

"Do you take in anything I say to you?" he chastised, though the smile on his face eliminated any fear of him being genuinely irritated, and so your shoulders simply shrugged. 

"Sometimes," you said, and his eyebrows shot up. 

"Sometimes?" he repeated back to you, and you had to bite your lip to keep the amused expression off your face. He was smiling back at you, before his face settled into something more serious, as he continued, "I don't mind you crying, angel. It breaks my heart to see it, but I'm not sitting here and judging you for it. You know that, right?"

"Yeah."

"Good," he finalised with a short nod, and you sniffled with a nod of your own. 

"I mean, technically, crying is good," you said, tongue poking between your teeth as you forced back a smile. 

"Yeah? Why's that?" 

"Releases endorphins and oxytocin."

He huffed a single laugh through his nose, nodding his head. "Yes. It does."

"I know things," you grinned. 

"You do," he agreed with a nod. "My smart girl."

"Yeah. Don't ever forget it."

"I could never," he replied, and a comfortable silence enveloped your two bodies, your heart fluttering in your chest. 

"Can you tell me about Idaho?" you finally asked him.

"You really want to know?" 

You nodded your head, and he sighed, but complied regardless. And you eventually found your head in his lap, staring up at him as one hand danced gently over the skin of your slightly exposed stomach, the other entangled in your hair, brushing through it. 

And he told you about the case he had been away on — it became glaringly obvious behind why he hadn't called or messaged you at all — and consequently eased any other remaining worries behind it.

And it dried your tears up.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[insvmniac]

i love glasses!spence

spencer reid fic where reader just adores spencers glasses and they kiss and she like pushes his glasses up cuz they like slipped down his nose and its like ughdjskskkxksksdm YKWIM. (s2.)

Free Treasure — Spencer Reid.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: You love his glasses. Maybe even more than him. Though, he doesn’t seem to find it odd at all.

Word Count: 460+

Disclaimer/s — Fluff, again. I LOVED THIS REQUEST.

A/N: This makes me sick. Reader finding out he wears glasses is a flashback, the ‘…’ means #flashbackover! When it starts I think is self-explanatory, but let me know…

You were convinced nothing was better than this.

It was one of those perfect days where you and your boyfriend could savor every moment with one another, from morning to night. After you insisted that he deserved at least one day off to relax, he finally relented and agreed.

So, there you both were, nestled on the couch. Your hands were tangled in his hair while his gently cupped your face. Your lips met in a kiss that was tender and so, so incredibly soft. You melted the very moment you saw him lean in.

Pulling back to catch your breath, your gaze scans over his face. A smile graces your lips at the sight of his glasses.

The first time he wore them, you were caught by surprise, to say the least. Your expression had dropped, and he noticed right away, furrowing his eyebrows and asking, “What? Are you okay?”

“Glasses,” you mumbled, “You have glasses?”

His face reddened and he nodded, “Oh, yeah. Do you… do you not like them?”

Walking toward him, you lift your hands to his jaw, tilting his head to examine him and his frames from every angle. “You look so cute!”

“Cute?” The man replied, his voice raising an octave. “Why ‘cute’?”

"Because," you hummed softly, offering no further explanation as you continued to gaze at him with a smile that he had come to love, knowing it was a special expression reserved solely for him.

He realized that being called 'cute' by you no longer mattered to him.

…

You snapped out of your daze when he whispered your name, making you hum in response. “Are you okay?” He questioned, “You’re distracted.”

“Have I ever told you how much I love when you wear your glasses? You should wear them more often. Why don’t you wear them more often?”

Spencer shrugs his shoulders, “I don’t know, I don’t actually have to wear them. I prefer my contacts. They’re less annoying to put up with.”

"Right, right," you drawled. His eyebrows pinched together, as if trying to decipher your tone.

“You’re doing it again.”

With a small laugh, you thread your fingers through his hair once more prior to speaking, “Doing what, Spencer? Looking at you?”

“Well—I… yeah.”

Your eyes linger on his, drifting down to his lips before finally resting on his glasses, which have slipped down the bridge of his nose. With a tender touch, you push them back up. Just as he starts to speak, you silence him with a soft, lingering kiss, cutting him and his words off.

It doesn’t stop him from returning it, though.

Perhaps he will wear his glasses more often.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @pedrilcvr ! ౨ৎ

[insvmniac]

marriage is scary what if they dont want to rewatch murder house with me every fall

[insvmniac]

i love the way you write.

♯ GOD KNOWS I TRIED ; kit walker

PAIRING! kit walker x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! kit is a true gentleman at heart, and he does what kind men do : he protects the ones he cares about ( based on this req.!! )

WORD COUNT! 4.1k

WARNINGS / TAGS! angst, fluff if you squint hard enough, mature / suggestive themes, briarcliff asylum warnings, sister jude and her punishments + lmk of more if found

NOTES! my man my man my man . all the credits to the devider bellow belong to @/v6que !!

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

THE RAIN FELL IN RELENTLESS CASCADE, DRUMMING AGAINST THE GLASS WINDOWS OF BRIARCLIFF ASYLUM. The night was clothed in darkness and the only source of provided light was the occasional flash of lightning that illuminated the gothic architecture of the asylum. The heavy rain had changed the surrounding landscape into a dark blur. The expansive green lawn, overgrown and wild, seemed like it came out of a horror story with its ghostly flashes, revealing the twisted forms of ancient trees and the labyrinthine tangle of bushes. The wrought iron gates, their ornate designs now almost swallowed by the storm, groaned softly as they were tossed around by the wind. 

Inside, the atmosphere was equally grim. The asylum's corridors, long and narrow, were bathed in a dim, flickering light from the aging fluorescent fixtures that barely pierced the gloom. Each flash of lightning revealed glimpses of the asylum's interior: the scattered, old furniture, the barred windows, and the heavy, locked doors. The harsh light highlighted the grim details of the inside — rusting fixtures, peeling paint, and the long shadows cast by the iron bars on the windows. 

The nuns had decided to host one of the famous movie nights. It was a tradition they upheld during every stormy night in an attempt to calm down the residents who would become agitated by the loudness that came with the storm. 

The main common room had been transformed for the occasion. The dim, oppressive lighting was softened by the warm, flickering glow of a makeshift projector setup, casting a gentle, almost nostalgic light across the room. The walls, lined with faded, institutional artwork and peeling paint, were obscured by heavy, tattered curtains that had been drawn over the windows to shield the patients' wandering eyes from the storm's fury outside. The dusty curtains hung in uneven folds. The nuns had also arranged a selection of worn, overstuffed chairs and mismatched couches in a semi-circle around the small projector that sat on a makeshift table. The screen was a large, slightly yellowed sheet stretched taut across a wooden frame and its surface bore the scars of countless previous showings. 

You sat on one of the overstuffed couches positioned in the back row of the common room, your figure partially hidden by the shadows cast by the dim light of the projector. The couch you occupied was a faded, floral-patterned relic, its cushions soft and sagging from years of use. The upholstery, once vibrant, had long since dulled to a muted palette, its once-bright colors now blended into the overall gloom of the room. Everything was dull here in Briarcliff. Your posture was relaxed because of the warmth the man beside you provided. 

Kit Walker, a kind man once you got to know him, was the sanest person in the whole building besides yourself and you were glad to form an alliance with him. Although, there were feelings nestled deep inside you, ones you didn't have to say out loud for him to see and feel. That man had a strong jawline and high cheekbones that gave him a chiseled, almost heroic appearance and that alone gave your knees the right amount of shake to fall for him. You found out he had a natural ability to really listen and offer comfort and he carried himself with a quiet dignity, not seeking validation or praise but simply remaining true to himself despite the circumstances. 

Kit Walker was the man of your dreams.

The screen was currently displaying an old, black-and-white film, its grainy images flickering in sync with the erratic flashes of lightning outside but you couldn't force yourself to pay any amount of attention to the supposed entertainment. The film's dramatic scenes, with their exaggerated gestures and artificial emotions, seemed almost absurd compared to the thoughts that were dedicated to the man sitting next to you. 

And the same could be said about Kit. The way the occasional light from the projector cast soft highlights across your features, emphasizing the curve of your cheek and the depth of your eyes, made you seem almost ethereal and Kit was losing it. None of the workers could force him to sit on the moldy couch and torture himself with boredom when you sat quietly beside him, distracting him with just simply being there. 

He noticed your subtle, distracted glances toward the screen, but your eyes lingered more on him than on the film.  Kit could feel the way your eyes followed the play of light and shadow across his face, how you seemed to be drawn to the warmth he provided rather than the outdated drama on the screen. He found himself smiling softly to himself at your distraction with a knowing look in his eyes. You wanted him as badly as he wanted you. 

Leaning slightly closer to your body, Kit's voice was low and warm as it hit the side of your face, barely above a whisper to avoid breaking the fragile atmosphere that had settled around the two of you. "You know," he began and a hint of playful amusement appeared in his tone, "we don't really have to stay here if we're not into the movie." 

"What do you mean?" you asked in the same tone as him, your voice a gentle murmur that barely competed with the distant hum of the projector. When you exhaled, the warm air hit Kit's face. 

Kit's honey-brown irises shimmered in the darkness, and he subtly nodded toward the exit of the dimly lit room, where the storm outside was barely audible against the noise of the film. "I was thinking . . . maybe we could sneak away, find a quieter spot where we can actually do whatever we want. What do you think?"

The suggestion was simple, yet it carried the promise of a more intimate and personal escape from the boredom of the asylum's common room. The thought of stepping away from the dreary atmosphere was an enticing one. Yet, the fear of feeling Sister Jude's sick pleasure held you back. Sister Jude, with her sharp eyes and ever sharper tongue, seemed to delight in catching the patients of the asylum in any moment of weakness or rebellion. Her authority was absolute, an iron hand that loomed over every corner of Briarcliff, and the idea of stepping out of line — even for a brief moment — carried a weighty sense of risk. You could already imagine the way Sister Jude's eyes would narrow in satisfaction, her lips curling into that smug, almost sadistic smile she reserved for moments when she exerted her control. 

You still remember what she did to Grace. What she did to Lana. 

And yet, the allure of escaping with Kit, even just for a little while, was difficult to resist. 

"I don't know, Kit," you whispered in a trembling voice as you voiced your worries to him. "What if we get caught? You know how Sister Jude is. She'd make an example out of us, and I — I don't think I could handle that. I don't want to give her the satisfaction."

He could see the fear in your eyes, the way it held you back, and it only made him more determined to protect you. "[Name]," he said gently, his voice low and reassuring, "nothing's going to happen. I promise you that. We'll be careful, okay? And even if something does happen, even if Sister Jude catches us, I'll take the blame. She won't lay a finger on you."

"Kit..." you began but he cut you off with a slight squeeze of your hand. You didn't question when he took hold of your palm. 

"Trust me, [Name]," he murmured, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles repeatedly. "I won't let her touch you. I'll take the heat if it comes to that. But right now, let's just get out of here, even if it's just for a little while. We deserve that much, don't we?" 

There was a warmth in his voice, a quiet strength meant to reassure you in ways nothing else at Briarcliff ever could. Kit was right — both of you did deserve this. And you could use the sweet release from the asylum's cruel grasp. 

You took a deep breath, nodding slightly as you made up your mind. "Okay," you whispered into the darkness. Kit could feel the touch of your words against his lips. "Okay, let's go." 

His hand was firm and reassuring as he helped you to your feet. Every movement of his was carefully done, as if even the slightest noise could shatter the fragile veil of secrecy he had cast over the both of you. The dim light of the common room flickered weakly, casting long shadows across the floor, but you moved with purpose, slipping quietly through the rows of seats, avoiding the eyes of the staff and the other patients who were too engrossed in the film to notice your departure. Sister Jude should hire more responsible staff. 

Once you reached the doorway, Kit paused, glancing back to ensure no one was watching before gently guiding you with a strong hand against your lower back into the darkened corridor beyond. The heavy wooden door closed behind you with a soft creak, and the two of you were finally alone, the distant sound of the movie a only faint hum behind. You moved quickly through the long, lonely corridors of Briarcliff Asylum, footsteps barely audible on the cold, tiled floors. The rain continued its assault on the windows with no sight of stopping. Kit led the way, his grip on your hand never faltering. 

As the both of you rounded a corner, the sound of distant voices reached your ears — staff members making their rounds. Kit's fingers tightened his hold on yours, pulling you closer as you pressed yourself against the wall, breaths held in unison. The voices grew louder for a moment, then faded as the staff continued down another corridor, oblivious to the two figures hidden in the shadows. Relief washed over you along with the vivid pictures of Sister Jude's punishment. You needed to find a place to hide, somewhere quiet where you could steal a few moments of peace away from the watchful eyes.

Finally, you reached the heavy metal doors of the kitchen, pushed open just enough to allow a sliver of light to escape into the dark corridor. Kit glanced around to ensure you were alone before gently pulling the door open wider, gesturing for you to slip inside first. He followed right after you. 

The kitchen was quiet, dimly lit by a single overhead light that cast a soft glow across the industrial steel countertops and rows of neatly organized utensils. The scent of cleaning supplies mingled with the faint aroma of fresh bread that had long since been cleared away. 

And before either of you could think or second-guess, you were drawn together like magnets. Kit leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both tender and filled with urgency. The kiss deepened quickly though, passion flaring between the two of you like a wildfire as everything else faded away — the asylum, the storm, the fear. All that mattered was this moment, this connection. His hands found their way to the small of your back for the second time this evening, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours with a hunger that matched your own. You responded in kind, slender fingers threading through his hair, tugging him closer as if afraid that letting go would mean losing this fleeting moment of intimacy. 

The heat of the kiss spread through you both when Kit's strong hands slid down to the bottom of your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. The feel of your body against his was intoxicating, and he moved with purpose, carrying you to the nearest counter. With a fast and urgent motion, he set you down on the cool steel surface, hands brushing aside utensils and making space for you, painting his hands with flour in the process.

Your heart raced as Kit's hands roamed your body, exploring with both desire and respect. His touch was precise as if he was memorizing every curve, every inch of your skin to remember for the rest of his days. He kissed you again, this time slower, savoring the taste of your lips as his hands moved from your waist to your hips, then slowly up to your back, pulling you closer to his body and hiking your knees up even more, leaving white fingertips in their path.

You responded in kind, hands tracing the sculpted lines of his shoulders, down his chest, feeling the muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt. There was something so raw, so real about the way he touched you — as if this was the first time in a long time he had felt truly alive. Your fingers danced across his skin, exploring the planes of his body with the same amount of desire. Kit's hands slid up your sides and under the hem of your gown, his thumbs brushing against the soft skin just above your underwear, creating a shiver that traveled down your spine. You arched into his touch, breath hitching as you felt the tension coil tighter within you. 

"Kit . . . I—" you couldn't finish your sentence, the words lost in a breathless moan as his hands wandered lower, his touch sending waves of pleasure through you. 

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his breath hot and ragged against your lips. The intensity in his gaze was undeniable, a mixture of raw desire and something deeper, something that made your heart pound even harder. That look — told you how much he wanted you, how much he needed this, how much he needed you — made you tighten your legs around his waist. "I've got you," he whispered, his voice rough. It was a look that made your heart race and your body ache for more. 

The door swung open with a suddenness that shattered the intimate bubble you had created, the sound echoing off the cold, sterile walls of the kitchen. Kit froze, his grip on your hips tightening instinctively as you both turned toward the intrusion. The harsh overhead light of the corridor spilled into the room, illuminating the figures standing in the doorway.

A tall, stern-looking man in the uniform of the asylum staff stood there, his eyes narrowing as they fell upon Kit and you. His presence was imposing, his broad shoulders blocking out most of the light from the hallway, but it was the figure behind him that sent a jolt of fear through your chest.

Sister Jude.

She stood in the doorway like a dark omen, her presence dominating the small, dimly lit kitchen. The air around her seemed to chill, as if the very atmosphere cooled from her disapproving gaze. She didn't need to raise her voice to command attention; her mere presence demanded it. The rosary beads hanging from her waist clicked softly as she took a measured step forward, the sound eerie in the tense silence of the room.

The staff member followed the head of this asylum, his eyes flicking between Kit and you, the disdain in his expression unmistakable. "Found them, Sister Jude," he said with a cruel satisfaction. "Just like you suspected."

Kit quickly released you and his hands dropped from your hips to tug at your gown. The least he could do was to save your modesty as much as he could. The man stepped back, positioning himself slightly in front of you as if to shield you from the inevitable wrath of Sister Jude. Your heart pounded in your chest, the warmth of the moment disappearing into the cold reality of the situation just like Kit's hands. 

Sister Jude's icy gaze shifted from the staff member to Kit, and then to you, her brown irises narrowing further. "Well, well," she began loudly, her voice echoing in the silent room, cutting through the tension easily. "I always knew you had a penchant for trouble, Mr. Walker, but this . . . This is a new low, even for you." She took a step closer to you, her heels clicking ominously against the tiled floor. "And you, Miss [Last name] . . . I expected better." 

The weight of her words pressed down like a leaden shroud, suffocating any remaining trace of the warmth and connection that had filled the room just moments before. It was as if the very walls of Briarcliff had closed in around you both, trapping you in.

Kit stood his ground, though every instinct screamed at him to protect you from the storm that was about to break. His jaw clenched tightly, the muscles in his neck tensing as he fought to maintain his composure. His hands, which had just moments ago been tenderly caressing your skin, now curled into fists at his sides. But beneath that facade, there was also a flicker of fear — not for himself, but for what you might endure at the hands of Sister Jude if his plans failed. He squared his shoulders, drawing himself up to his full height, and locked eyes with the cold woman before him. "It was my idea," Kit declared, his voice firm and unwavering despite the tension that crackled in the air like a live wire. "Leave her out of this." His words were a shield, a desperate attempt to keep his promise, to protect you from the consequences that he feared would be far worse for you than for him.

Sister Jude's eyes flickered with something that you couldn't quite place — an emotion that lingered somewhere between suspicion and a twisted, almost predatory satisfaction. Her thin lips curled into a faint, humorless smile, and the cold glint in her eyes seemed to sharpen, as if she were savoring the moment. She took another slow step forward and her gaze shifted from Kit to you, who stood just behind him, face paler than usual.

"Oh, I have no doubt it was, Mr. Walker," each word was enunciated with deliberate precision, as though she were savoring the power she held over the two of you. "But both of you will be held accountable for this . . . indiscretion."

"I'm the one who's responsible," Kit's voice cut through the oppressive silence with a determined edge. "It was my idea, and I should be the one held accountable. Leave [Name] out of this."

Sister Jude's expression flickered with a moment of surprise, but it quickly settled back into its usual look. Her eyes narrowed as she took in Kit's words, her mind no doubt calculating how best to respond to his unexpected act of bravery. "Very well," she said, her tone clipped and devoid of sympathy. "If you insist on taking the blame, then you will be the one to bear the consequences." The woman turned her attention to the staff member who had followed her into the kitchen. "Go to my office. Fetch the cane. The one I reserve for my favorite patients."

The staff member's brow furrowed slightly, but he didn't hesitate. He gave a curt nod and turned on his heel, disappearing through the door with a purposeful stride. The sound of his footsteps echoed faintly down the corridor as he made his way to retrieve the instrument of punishment.

Sister Jude's gaze returned to Kit and Dahlia, her expression unrelenting. "You've chosen to make this difficult for yourself, Mr. Walker," she said, her voice dripping with a cold satisfaction. "And while I commend your misguided sense of honor, it changes nothing about the punishment that awaits you. And you, miss [Last name], shall watch what happens once stupidity takes over the mind."

Your heart ached at the sight of Kit standing his ground, his body tense with the weight of his decision. You wanted to protest, to beg Sister Jude to reconsider, but the words caught in your throat, choked by the sheer weight of the situation. Instead, you reached out, your hand trembling as you grasped Kit's arm, trying to offer some measure of comfort and support.

Kit looked down at you, his eyes softening just for a moment before he turned his attention back to Sister Jude. "Whatever you're planning, I can take it."

"Your bravery is noted. But bravery will not protect you from the consequences of your actions."

The staff member returned, carrying the cane with a deliberate and solemn expression. The cane was an old-fashioned implement, its polished wood gleaming menacingly under the kitchen's harsh lights. It was a feared symbol of discipline, one that had seen many hands and many uses over the years, and its presence in the room only heightened the sense of dread.

Sister Jude took the cane from the staff member, her fingers tracing its surface with a possessive, almost reverent touch. "This is the cane I reserve for my most . . . memorable patients," she said, her voice low and chilling. "It is reserved for those who require a lesson in obedience. You will stay and watch. This is part of your lesson as well — understanding the consequences of defiance."

Kit's pants were pulled down by the staff member, exposing his bare bottom to the cold air of the kitchen. The sight of his exposed skin, vulnerable and waiting, was a sharp contrast to the determined set of his jaw. He braced himself against the edge of the kitchen counter, his knuckles white as he gripped the surface for support.

The cane was held firmly in her hand, and Sister Jude raised it with a practiced ease, preparing to deliver the first stroke. The sharp whoosh of the cane slicing through the air was followed by a resounding crack as it made contact with Kit's bare skin. The sound was a brutal reminder of the severity of the punishment, and Kit's body tensed, a muffled grunt escaping his lips as the sting of the cane seared into his flesh. The printed redness flared bright against the pale tone of his skin. 

Your eyes filled with tears as you watched, heart breaking at the sight of Kit's suffering. The sight of his reddened skin, the way his body flinched with each stroke, was almost too much to bear. Every crack of the cane seemed to echo through your own chest and you felt like throwing up. 

The punishment was relentless, each crack of the cane drawing a sharp gasp or low moan from Kit, his breath coming in ragged, uneven bursts. His eyes remained fixed straight ahead, and he tried to maintain his composure, though the strain of the punishment was evident in the tension of his muscles and the way his body shook with each hit. His only concession to the agony was the occasional clenching of his jaw and the muffled sounds that escaped him.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Sister Jude stepped back, her breath even and controlled. The cane was lowered, and she regarded Kit with a look of detached satisfaction, as if the punishment had been a necessary chore rather than an act of cruelty.

Kit's body slumped slightly, his breathing ragged and labored as he tried to regain his composure. His bottom was marked with the angry red welts of the punishment, the skin raw and tender from the relentless strokes of the cane. Your eyes were filled with anguish as you looked at him, the man who had taken the blame upon himself to protect you.

Sister Jude's gaze then turned to you, her expression one of stern disapproval, before she and the staff member exited the kitchen. "You've seen what happens when rules are broken. Let this be a lesson to you." 

Your heart raced, pulse pounding in your ears as you rushed to Kit's side. Your movements were frantic, driven by a desperate need to offer him some measure of comfort and relief from the suffering he had endured. Tears streamed down your cheeks, blurring your vision as you approached him, hands trembling more than ever as you reached out to touch him. "Kit, I'm so sorry."

Kit turned his head slightly to look at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of pain and something softer, a flicker of gratitude for your concern. He took a deep, shuddering breath and attempted to straighten up, though his body protested with each movement. "Don't," he said softly, his hand reaching out to drape over your shoulders for support. "It's not your fault. I chose this. And I would do it again."

[insvmniac]

And what if I want to take him on a museum date and let him over explain everything about every exhibit and then spend all my savings on buying him more books and then express to him my deep never ending love and adoration for him.

Dr. Spencer Reid you mean everything to me. Kiss me on my hot mouth NOWWW.

[insvmniac]

I LOVE THIS AND I LOVE PINK SOSO MUCH

Hi, can I request cuddling and falling asleep with Randall pink Floyd?❤️🖤

Only Comfort

Pairing: Randall ‘Pink’ Floyd x FemReader

Warnings: fluff, insomnia, anxiety, mentions of drugs/alcohol, friends to lovers

Summary: It’s not unknown to your friends that you struggle to sleep, insomnia being your biggest curse and the number one reason you’re the most fun to party with. Yet one night spent with Pink you discover he just might be the key to getting some rest.

word count: 1.9k

Masterlist

You couldn’t believe it. It was your senior year, a Friday night, but suddenly all your friends were too tired to party. As much as you understood where they were coming from, how you all had been doing the same thing every weekend, a part of you still wished they’d agree to go out. Mainly because it was the only time your nights weren’t so lonely. Sleep never coming to you in the late hours and emptiness filling the void. Weekends with nights that never ended was where you thrived so the idea of a Friday night spent home alone was the worst form of torture to you. A nightmare to be exact.

Pink doesn’t miss the panic on your face, how an anxious hand reaches to pick at the rips in your jeans. You’re uneasy all because no one felt like hanging out tonight. He knew you struggled with sleep, pretty much everyone did, considering that even when they got tired you were still ready to go. He just didn’t know it bothered you so much, made you this nervous to not be surrounded by a little life. So he jumps to attention before you spiral too hard.

“I’ll hang out with you, we can let these guys get their beauty sleep” Pink says, hand clasping over your shoulder and he can feel how you immediately relax at his recovery. You offer him a thankful smile and Pink decides it’s worth it to lose a little more sleep.

That’s how you find yourself in the passenger seat of Pinks El Camino after football practice. His hair was still damp from the locker room shower but he looked so soft in this light. The sun setting and caressing his golden skin. It was no surprise all the girls fell for a boy like Pink. Kind, handsome, charming, he checked all the boxes. Thing was, with everyone taking a break from partying, not a single soul was out tonight. Not even Wooderson had made an appearance and it almost made you double check if it was a full moon. The entire earth off its axis, something had to be explanatory for the quiet weekend.

“We can just go to my place and watch a movie?” Pink offers as you pass the Emporium for a third time just to see there was still only two cars in the parking lot.

“You sure?” you question, not wanting to feel like you’re overstepping but Pink just flashes a smile, chuckling lightly.

“Yeah, why not. Apparently we don’t have anything better to do” he says and you can’t help the wide smile that crosses your face as he pulls into the Top Notch for supplies.

You make it back to Pinks house in no time, juggling some milkshakes, fries, onion rings, and whatever other grease filled food you could get your hands on. It wasn’t your first time at Pinks before, having done the long trek up to the attic space that had become his own. The room is in a slight disarray but you don’t mind as you move to set the food on the small trunk used as a coffee table in front of his couch. There was something homey about it, how everything here had been passed down and worn in. Patches covering old holes in the couch and blankets tucked around cushions Slater had accidentally burned. His bed covered in a homemade quilt and mismatching pillows. It was Pink, in the simplest terms, and no other way to describe it.

“Any particular movie in mind?” he asks, clicking on the small television set, an old T-shirt hanging off the side. You smile around a bite of french fry as you slip off your shoes and begin to settle in.

“Not at all, something good” you tell him and he laughs before grabbing a VHS of American Graffiti and popping it into the TV. It’s not long until the boy has joined your side, the couch dipping you into him with the added weight. You accept it and settle in as the tape begins to play.

In no time, majority of the food has disappeared, and you’ve both been sucked into the movie. You lasted only ten minutes before wrapping a blanket around your form and maybe thirty before you rested your head against Pinks shoulder. He doesn’t mind, actually quite content with the situation he’s found himself in. He doesn’t question any of it but after the better part of an hour you’ve rolled against him, arm wrapping around his waist and pulling him tight, which makes him freeze. Dropping his eye-line he spots your closed eyelids, the soft breaths falling softly out in an even pace. You’re asleep and the idea makes him freeze because you never sleep. Not once in front of him at least, and he’s spent over 48 hours with you before.

The movie had been over for twenty minutes but Pink doesn’t dare move a muscle, knowing how much you need this, even if you hadn’t meant to curl against him. So slowly and carefully he begins to adjust you both on the couch. Turning to lay back against the cushions and lower you down with his chest. Once you’re tucked safely between him and the back of the couch, he pulls the blanket over you both, the wrapping his arms around your form and getting comfortable against your side. Allowing sleep to overcome him as well.

When you wake the next morning you’re more than confused, having not remembered falling asleep last night. It had been a long time since you felt so rested, so blissful, and so delirious. The room you open your eyes to is not your own, and the pillow beneath you is not a pillow but instead rises and falls with a breath. Eyes darting upward you find Randall ‘Pink’ Floyd evenly breathing and dreaming away, soft golden sunlight framing his face that peaks through the sides of his mismatch curtains. It’s then you feel the firm grip he has around you and realize your own. You must’ve fallen asleep during the movie but what was more unsettling about the predicament you were in, was how easily you had.

Breaking your thoughts, Pink lets out a soft groan, shifting in his sleep and rolling into you. You freeze as he snuggles closer, knee nudging between your own and tangling you whole. It’s then you realize you had only fallen asleep due to how comfortable you had been. Pink and this room had offered you something you hadn’t felt in a long time. The idea nearly brings tears to your eyes because he made you feel safe. Safe enough to fall asleep here and feel protected. He allowed you to get some real rest that you desperately needed, wanted more than anything. As you look at the long lashes that graze his cheekbones and his soft pink lips, your heart swoons. Pink was worshipped by every girl but in this moment you swear you love him. So you hug him close before kissing his cheek, soft yet firm.

When he doesn’t wake you kiss his other cheek before peppering him in kisses anywhere you can. Forehead, eye lids, chin, nose, and when your lips finally grace the corner of his own his eyes slowly flutter open. You watch as he processes the sight in front of him, you in his arms, and kissing his face. A dramatic turn around from the friendly and teasing relationship you had shared before this. “Hi”

“Morning Pink” you reply, hoping he doesn’t move from his hold on you. If you could stay like this forever now you would, sleeping right here peacefully in his arms.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, a small crease forming between his brows as he realizes he has no idea why you’d be kissing him the way you were.

“Yeah, I just wanted to say thank you” you say, throat already tightening as you use your hand to push some hair away from his face. That way he was easier to see.

“Thank you for what?” he questions, trying not to shiver from your touch. Mind reeling in how soft and warm you were against him. How beautiful you looked in the morning.

“I haven’t slept through a whole night in a very long time. It’s the one thing in life that makes me the most uneasy. So thank you for making me feel comfortable enough to finally sleep” tears fill your eyes and Pink notices, one slipping out and over the bridge of your nose due to your shared horizontal position. Quickly he reaches to brush them away before hugging you close.

“Of course, yes of course. Anytime” he mutters into your hair and you smile through your tears, feeling so much adoration and love for the boy beside you.

“I can leave though, I understand that I’ve probably overstayed my welcome” you say, beginning to lift yourself from between him and the couch but his hold tightens on you. Dragging you down and close.

“You have not overstayed, in fact you can’t leave until you tell me what all that kissing was about” he states and you blush cherry red, having realized that your joy for him had prompted some spontaneous action.

“I was just excited that I slept through a whole night. It was a thank you” you answer, unable to look him in the eye and he snorts.

“Really, that’s it?” and you groan, the blush darkening as you drop your head to his chest.

“Fine, I may or may not have been a little charmed by you. Couldn’t help myself” you offer and Pink chuckles, hand tucking under you to lift your chin. You allow him to pull your gaze back into his eye-line.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to a few more thank you’s” he whispers, lips close to your own and you gulp nervously. Feeling that magnetic pull and the thrumming of your heart that beat just for him in this moment.

When you’re sure you’ll combust you finally press your lips against his own, hands tangling in the chocolate strands of his signature hair, holding him close. Pink kisses back just as eagerly, unknowingly nudging his knee up more between your legs. His kiss is everything you imagined and when his tongue grazed along the seam of your lips you allow him entrance. Whining softly at the taste of him and how his tongue meets your own. He kisses you hungrily, desperately, wanting nothing more than to keep kissing you. In this moment you wish to keep him, not just for the comfort of sleep but for everything in between and after. You never want to stop thanking him.

“How was that for thank you?” you ask when you pull away for air and his grins, lips swollen and red from your own. He’s even prettier than before and when he tucks your hair behind your ear you know he’s meant to be yours.

“I don’t know, maybe we should try again” and you snort in laughter, hitting his chest lightly, but he draws you near again. When his lips brush against your own you stop fighting him and allow him back into a kiss.

Perfectly content with kissing him all day and sleeping in his arms all night.

[insvmniac]

good morning - Theodore Nott

summary: a lazy morning with Theo turns into something more before the two of you get interrupted

note/warning: established relationship, kissing, touching

The warm sunlight casting through the curtains is waking you up. Your eyes flutter open and you take in your surroundings. You are in Theos dorm. In his bed to be more specific. He is still asleep behind you with his arm draped around you. His soft breathing is tickling your neck. His body feels warm and soft against yours as you move closer to him. His naked chest pressing against your back. You let out a content sigh.

From the look of the other bed his roommate Mattheo has already left for breakfast giving the two of you some privacy. Theo stirs behind you his arm moving you impossibly closer to him. A light hum makes his chest vibrate as he nuzzles his face in your neck gently kissing the skin there. "Good morning, angel", his deep morning voice ghosts against your neck. Merlin, the things his voice does to you.

"Morning, Teddy", you whisper enjoying his warm embrace. Theo continues to gently kiss along your neck making you let out a sigh at the feeling. "Love waking up next to you, angel", he whispers inbetween kisses. You turn on your back to finally look at him. His brown soft curls hang loosely in his face and you take your hand to brush through them. Theo softly smiles at you and leans down to kiss you.

His hand moves to softly stroke your cheek and keep you in place as he continues to kiss you. A soft moan leaves your lips and your hand moves to his shoulders holding on to him. Theo always made you feel special. You loved the way he holds you and kisses you. His touch is able to send a fire through your body. By now he moved himself above you supporting himself on his other arm.

You loved mornings like this. Making out with Theo on top of you. Your hand moves down his torso making him shiver as you reach close to the waistband of his boxers making you smirk into the kiss. "Careful, angel", he whispers before pressing another kiss to your now lightly swollen lips. You let the waistband snap against his waist before moving your hand upwards again feeling his toned chest.

A knock on the door startles the two of you. "Morning lovebirds. Can I come in or do you need to get dressed first?", you hear Mattheo say. Theo groans burying his face in your neck annoyed that you got interrupted. He rolls off of you before telling Mattheo to come in. "Morning you two. Slept well?", Mattheo sends a wink your way before making his way over to his side of the room. "Thanks, mate", Theo groans again making his friend chuckle.

[insvmniac]

lovebird | spencer reid x reader

Spencer's little girl sets you and her dad up.

wc: 3.3k, rating: teen

tags/warnings: 2+1, kindergarten teacher!reader, single girldad!spencer, fluff, meet-cute, implied sex, use of "Y/N" because this fic would've been impossible to write without it oops

a/n: not sure what possessed me to write this, but i finished writing this in about 2 days lmao. girldad!spencer loml. thank you to my lovely friends over on twitter who fuelled my insanity. for this fic i have season 10 spencer in mind/later seasons spencer who's just full on daddy at that point <3 (also crossposted on ao3!)

Sunday

You’re at the grocery store in a ratty t-shirt and sweats, picking out fucking cereal when you hear the pitter-patter of footsteps running towards you, and a sweet, high-pitched voice calling your name. 

It’s one of your students, Ellie Reid, holding a box of cereal that’s half her height, and she comes up to you in the aisle. 

“Ellie? What are you doing here?” You ask sweetly, pushing your hair out of your face before you squat down to meet Ellie’s height. 

“My daddy wanted to get groceries. He said we would go together. But he had to pick up the phone, and I wanted to help look for the things Daddy needs.”

Her dad, Dr. Spencer Reid, is an FBI agent and a single dad to Ellie. He’s one of the best parents you’ve had this year – the fancy kindergarten you teach at lends itself to spoiled brats and uptight parents, but Dr. Reid and Ellie are a welcome reprieve in a usually stuffy environment. You’re pleased to see her here, on a weekend, but less pleased with the fact that she’s alone. 

“Oh, wow! You’re so helpful, Ellie,” you say, holding her arm gently. “I’m sure your dad is really thankful. But you shouldn’t have walked off alone. I’m glad you found me.”

“Why?” 

“Because it’s not safe for you to walk around alone in the grocery store, Ellie,” you smile. “Let’s go find your dad.”

Ellie nods, her cheeks ruddy and when you hold out your hand for her to hold, Ellie’s little hand wraps around two of your fingers. “Did you come to the grocery store alone? It’s not safe.”

“I did come alone. But I’m an adult, so it’s okay. You’re little, Ellie, so you should only walk around with your dad.” You lead Ellie down aisle after aisle, walking past canned food and bags of chips and walls lined with bottles of drinks. 

“But you shouldn’t walk around alone if it’s dangerous. When we find my daddy maybe he can protect you too!” Ellie says confidently. 

When did this grocery store feel so big? You can’t find Dr. Reid anywhere, and you feel a rising panic in your chest. You have half a mind to pull up the school’s contact information in your phone, but you hear Dr. Reid’s voice calling his daughter’s name, and both you and Ellie turn around.

“Daddy!” Ellie shrieks, almost dropping the box of cereal in her arms as she dashes toward her father. She almost trips as she closes the distance, thankfully landing in her father’s arms before she does fall. 

Dr. Reid scoops her up, holding her tightly. “You had me worried, sweetheart.”

“Sorry, Daddy,” Ellie mumbles against her father’s shoulder. “But I found Miss Y/N and she helped me find you!”

“I told her not to run off alone in the future,” you say. “Right, Ellie?” 

The sweet girl nods. She giggles into Dr. Reid’s shoulder, and his hand comes up to pat her back, a soothing gesture.

“I’m glad it was you she bumped into,” Dr. Reid says, sighing with relief. “I wouldn’t know I would do with myself if–”

“It’s okay, Dr. Reid,” you assure him. “It’s not a problem at all. You’re– You’re doing a great job with her.”

“Thank you for saying that. I– I’ll see you at the parent-teacher meeting next Friday, right?”

“Yeah, next Friday.” You smile at him. “Have a good day, Dr. Reid. Bye, Ellie!”

“Bye!” Ellie, sweet girl, waves excitedly, her gummy smile overtaking her face. Dr. Reid walks toward the checkout, holding Ellie with one hand and pushing his shopping cart with the other. 

You feel how warm your cheeks are when Dr. Reid and Ellie are finally out of sight, your hand clammy around the handle of your shopping basket. You slap your cheek lightly, willing yourself to pull yourself together.

The way your heart flutters whenever you see Dr. Reid is a cause for concern, and you wonder if you should see a doctor about it. 

Dr. Spencer Reid is a marvel. He’s admirable, juggling his job at the FBI with raising a little girl all on his own, and he’s both a great profiler and a great dad. He’s incredibly sweet with Ellie and incredibly kind to you, which you unfortunately don’t get a lot, especially with the kinds of parents you deal with. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome: his hair is slightly long, wavy and messy in a way that frames his face just right, not to mention the stubble that makes him look that much hotter.

Your little crush on Dr. Reid is certainly inappropriate, but over the parent-teacher meetings and interacting with him when he drops off and picks up his daughter from school, you can’t help yourself from falling for him. 

Tuesday

Ellie Reid is a smart girl, that you know, but you're blindsided by her genius one day at recess. You’re monitoring all the kids at the playground when Ellie comes up to you. She has a contorted look on her face but she says, “Miss Y/N, I fell.”

“You did? Are you feeling okay?” You ask, squatting down to match her height. You look at her knees – not a speck of dirt nor a red spot from falling down.

“My knee hurts. Can you call my daddy?”

“Does it hurt badly? I’ll take you to see the nurse if it does,” you say, not entirely understanding the situation. You’ve never met a four-year-old who wouldn’t be in tears over tripping and falling, even if the injury wasn’t severe. 

The look on Ellie’s face makes you think that she’s trying to match your expectations of what she should be feeling. “It doesn't hurt bad. I just want my daddy to come pick me up. Can you call him?”

You try not to furrow your brow at the strange request. You’re usually trusted to handle any little accidents and mishaps with the children, but at Ellie’s insistence of calling her father, you feel like you should. 

(It’s certainly not spurred on by seeing him at the grocery store last weekend.)

“Alright, Ellie. I’ll call your dad and see what he says, okay?”

“Okay, Miss Y/N,” Ellie says, smiling at you. You get her to sit down on the bench next to you and your co-teacher to oversee the kids before fish your phone out from your pocket to dial Dr. Reid’s number. As you wait for the call to go through, Ellie looks at you with wide, expectant eyes. You smile at her.

On the third ring, Dr. Reid picks up. “Hello?” 

“Hi, Dr. Reid. This is Miss Y/N from Ellie’s school. I’m calling to inform you that Ellie fell on the playground during recess.”

“Oh, my. Is she alright?” You hear Dr. Reid’s voice grow concerned. Ellie looks up at you, and you look the little girl up and down one more time just to be sure.

“Yes, she is. I checked and she doesn’t have any scrapes or bruises. She says her knee hurts, but that she’s also fine. Usually, we don’t call parents over small mishaps like this, but Ellie insisted that I call you.”

“I see,” Dr. Reid hums, his tone indecipherable. “Can I talk to her?”

“Sure thing, Dr. Reid,” you say. You hold the phone out to Ellie as you put the call on speakerphone and tell her, “Your dad wants to speak to you, Ellie.”

Ellie is polite, but clearly excited as she yells, “Hi, Daddy!” 

“Woah! Hi, Ellie,” Dr. Reid laughs, his serious tone while he was speaking to you gone, talking to his daughter with a delightful whimsy. “Miss Y/N told me you fell on the playground today. Does it hurt?”

“No,” Ellie answers, but she looks up quickly at you. “I mean, yes. Just a little. It doesn’t hurt too bad anymore.”

You hide your smile, and you think you can hear the smile in Dr. Reid’s voice as he says, “Okay, sweet girl, that’s good.”

“Can you come and pick me up right now, Daddy?” Ellie asks, a little whiny. It’s adorable, though. 

“Well, it’s only ten in the morning, honey,” Dr. Reid bargains. “And I know you have art class later, right? Don’t you want to stay around for that?”

“I do!” Ellie says eagerly. “Oh, I love art class!”

“I know you do, honey,” Dr. Reid assures. “So, do you feel okay enough to stick around in class until Daddy comes to pick you up at the end of the day?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Ellie nods, even though Dr. Reid can’t see her. “But you have to come pick me up!”

“I always do, Ellie,” Dr. Reid laughs, making Ellie laugh along too. “Okay, honey. Go on and play with your friends. I’ll see you later.”

“Okay! Bye, Daddy! I love you!”

“Bye! I love you too, Ellie!” Dr. Reid matches Ellie’s excitable energy, and Ellie giggles before she runs off to play again. His voice returns to a calm but engaged sort of energy. “Well, that was something.”

“She seems fine,” you say, switching the speakerphone off as you hold your phone back up to your ear. “I’m sorry to bother you in the middle of your work day, Dr. Reid.”

“Oh, please, it’s not a bother at all,” Dr. Reid laughs gently. “I love talking to Ellie. She might miss me or something, if she had to fake a fall so you would call me.”

“Perhaps,” you say, slightly surprised that Dr. Reid would be so quick to call out his daughter’s bluff. Some of the other parents would rip your throat out if you even insinuated their child was in the wrong. “I’ll still keep an eye out for her.”

“Thanks, Miss Y/N,” Dr. Reid insists. “Besides, it’s always a pleasure getting a call from you.”

You don’t remember if you thank him before he hangs up, because all you can think about is Dr. Reid saying he enjoys talking to you.

After putting your phone away, you press your hands to your warm cheeks in an effort to calm yourself and your beating heart down. 

Dr. Reid is one of the last parents to come by during pickup. It’s a somewhat regular occurrence, with Dr. Reid’s busy and hectic job. You are never bothered by spending extra time with Ellie, and you know Dr. Reid always tries his best to pick Ellie up as soon as he can. He usually makes regular pickup so you never get to exchange more than a few words with him, but days like today aren’t necessarily rare either. But considering your interaction on Sunday, you’re secretly pleased with how it’s worked out. 

Only you and Ellie are left in the classroom, you having told your co-teacher to clock out first. You’re pleasantly surprised when there’s a knock on the door frame, Dr. Reid standing there in a cardigan and a button-up shirt with his dress pants. “Ellie!”

His hair is somehow more fluffy and messy than you’d seen him at the grocery store, but it just makes him look even more soft and domestic. You try not to look at Dr. Reid with hearts in your eyes as Ellie shrieks and runs towards him, Dr. Reid picking her up easily and swinging her around before he holds her tight. “Hi, sweet girl.”

“Daddy!” Ellie giggles. “I missed you today.”

“I missed you too, honey,” Dr. Reid coos, pressing a kiss to the top of Ellie’s head. Your insides melt, gooey at the tooth-rottingly sweet display in front of you. “Were you a good girl for Miss Y/N today?”

“Uh-huh!” Ellie nods, her gummy smile absolutely adorable. 

“She was a pleasure,” you add. “Hello, Dr. Reid.”

“Hello again.” Dr. Reid smiles. “It’s nice to see you. Are you doing well?”

“Yes, I am. Other than Ellie’s little incident, today was thankfully uneventful. Thank you for asking.”

Dr. Reid’s face scrunches up in an extremely endearing way, like it’s obvious that he’d want to know about… you. “Of course. I like to know you’re doing well. It’s great to hear.”

You feel like you don’t know what to say to that, perhaps a little too caught up in your little crush on him to come up with a coherent response. You laugh shyly, tucking your hair behind your ear. Dr. Reid has set Ellie down, and she wanders around the classroom, fidgeting with the pencils on the tables, but doesn’t stray too far from her dad. “Ellie seems to be fine from earlier, but you might want to check in with her again.”

“I will,” Dr. Reid says, nodding. “Oh! I almost forgot–”

You look on as Dr. Reid fumbles in his satchel, pulling a crumpled paper bag out. The paper bag looks bulky, oil stains seeped through on the sides and on the bottom. “Oh, it looks bad. It’s good, I promise– It’s a chocolate muffin from this really good bakery near my office. I just thought I’d get you one. Since you’re so helpful with Ellie. Especially today.”

Dr. Reid holds it out for you, and you scramble to step forward and take it. “Thank you, Dr. Reid, you- You didn’t have to. It’s my job to look after Ellie, after all. Not that it’s a burden, or just a job, I mean– Ellie’s great. She’s one of our brightest, but don’t tell any of the other parents that.”

Dr. Reid smiles so bright you feel like you could feel the warmth radiating from him. “I won’t, if I bump into any of them at the parent-teacher meeting.”

You bite your lip, smiling, shy at the attention Dr. Reid gives you. You think he’s flirting(?) with you, but you try to remain professional. You clear your throat. “Thank you, Dr. Reid.” 

“Thank you again, Miss Y/N. I mean it.” Dr. Reid asserts, and you feel your cheeks flush. “Tonight is pizza night, so Ellie and I should be making our way home right about now.”

“Pizza!” Ellie yells, giddy, causing both you and Dr. Reid to laugh. She zooms past you to stand next to her dad. 

“Thank you, Dr. Reid. I’ll see you proper on Friday,” you say, nodding your head slightly. “And I’ll see you, Ellie, tomorrow, yeah?”

“Bye, Miss Y/N!” Ellie waves frantically. Dr. Reid joins her in her waving, equally silly. 

“I look forward to seeing you then, Miss Y/N,” Dr. Reid smiles. “Bye.”

“Bye!” you reply, trying not to sound too eager, and then Dr. Reid ducks out of the classroom with Ellie in hand. You feel like you’re swooning so hard you might faint.

Friday

Parent-teacher meetings go smoothly, thankfully. There are parents who only bother to hear the praise you give their children, so ignorant to the criticisms of their children that you try not to make too obvious. After seeing nineteen sets of parents, Dr. Spencer Reid is your last of the day. You don’t want to say you’ve been waiting for this all day, but checking off the nineteen sets of parents before this has only made you more and more excited. 

Dr. Reid finally enters the classroom, two minutes early for his slot, but he’s alone. 

“Where’s Ellie? She’s totally allowed to sit in for these meetings too.”

“She’s at my boss’ place for a playdate with his son,” Dr. Reid says. “Actually, that sounds pretty weird, doesn’t it? My daughter, having a playdate with my boss’ son?”

“Not at all. They say it takes a village to raise a child. I’m glad your colleagues are so helpful with Ellie.”

“They really are,” Dr. Reid asserts, smiling. “Hotch– My boss, I mean– offered, knowing I had this meeting.”

“That’s really nice of him,” you nod. “So, about Ellie…”

“Please tell me you only have good things to say,” Dr. Reid jokes, and you try very hard not to swoon. 

“Essentially, yes,” you nod. “Ellie is such a bright girl, and she’s so sweet. She’s always helpful with her classmates and polite to everyone and the teachers too. Again, don’t tell this to the other parents, but Ellie’s set high standards for the rest of the class.”

“You’re telling me an awful lot that I shouldn’t be telling the other parents,” Dr. Reid grins. “You sure you aren’t playing favourites?”

“You certainly are my favourite,” you say before you can catch yourself, and Dr. Reid looks at you with wide eyes. You imagine you look equally shocked. “I’m sorry, Dr. Reid, I didn't mean to say that.”

Dr. Reid cocks his head, a little smile toying on his lips. “Miss Y/N, did I ever tell you what I do for the FBI?”

You have no idea how this relates to how unprofessional and inappropriate you are being. You shake your head anyway, too afraid to say anything anymore before you say something even more embarrassing. 

“I’m a profiler, Miss Y/N. I use psychology and study behaviour to catch serial killers,” Dr. Reid explains, using his hands to articulate his point. Your eyes dart down to the motion; but your gaze quickly flits back up to his face. “In general, I’m good at reading people.”

“Is that so?” You gulp. Is he able to read you?

“I don’t mean to profile you, Miss Y/N, I mean it,” Dr. Reid sounds a little apologetic. “But I can’t help but notice the way you lean toward me when we’re speaking, the way you fidget with your hands a little, the way you can almost meet my eyes, but you still seem a little bashful about it. I either intimidate you, or…”

“Or..?” 

“I’m sorry if this is too forward, but would you like to get dinner with me?”

“What?” You ask, disbelieving. “Dinner?”

“You- You’re interested in me too, aren’t you?”

“Too?” You gape, sounding like a parrot as you repeat his words, simply unable to wrap your head around the fact that Ellie Reid’s young, hot, genius father just asked you on a date. 

“I’m usually not too doubtful of my profiling skills, but beautiful women like you make me second-guess if I’m reading this right.” Dr. Reid laughs, avoiding looking at you. 

“Dr. Reid, I would love to get dinner with you,” You say, trying to sound confident. 

Dr. Reid beams as he meets your eyes. “Oh, thank God.”

“Cheesy that you’re calling me beautiful,” you laugh bashfully, waving him off. 

“I mean it!” Dr. Reid insists. “And, um– Would you want to do dinner after this? If you don’t have any other meetings, of course. Or any other plans– you’d probably have plans on a Friday night, right? Way to be presumptuous–”

“Dr. Reid! I don’t have plans tonight. A dinner date sounds great,” you laugh.

“Great! Great, good. I’m glad.” Dr. Reid says, looking a little giddy that you’d taken him up on it. “Also, um- I love when people call me Dr. Reid, but please just call me Spencer. Do you think people would get the wrong idea if you called me Dr. the whole time?” 

You cackle, Spencer looking thoroughly pleased at making you laugh. 

“Okay, Spencer,” you try his first name, and it rolls off your tongue with ease. “Let me pack up and then we can go get dinner.”

“I like when you say my name,” Spencer smiles. “What’re you feeling for dinner?”

If you and Spencer kiss at the end of your dinner date in front of your apartment door, that’s between you and him. 

You pulling Spencer into your apartment with your hands fisted in his hair should also stay between you and him. 

It doesn’t entirely stay between you and him, though, as Spencer calls his boss to turn Ellie’s playdate into a sleepover before he rolls over to kiss you and take you all over again. 

[insvmniac]

Clumsy Confessions

Summary: In a post-injury, heavily medicated haze, you let slip the one thing Spencer has been dreaming he’d hear you say for years. There’s only one problem: you couldn’t possibly mean it. …Could you?

Pairings: Spencer Reid x gn!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: Back again with another medically induced confession of love... going back to my roots! (I wrote For Real almost 4 years ago exactly 😱) Also Reader is written with no descriptors, but there is one scene where they are wearing a dress!

“I’m fine!”

Spencer let out an exaggerated gasp. “You have a broken elbow!”

“Yes, true, but we’ve both seen worse.” You shrugged, or at least attempted to. “Besides, my best friend is a doctor. I think I’m in very good hands.”

He rolled his eyes fondly, trying to ignore the way the words ‘best friend’ somehow felt like a punch to the gut. Friends. That’s exactly what you were. And, unfortunately for him, that was all you would ever be. “I’m not a medical doctor.”

“Eh, whatever,” you said. “Po-tay-toe, po-tah-toe.” He let out a low grumble in response, and you just laughed. “I’m the one in the hospital bed, I have the trump card here.”

“Whatever you say, your majesty.” Spencer gave a little bow from the uncomfortable plastic chair he was nestled in beside you.

“Now that’s more like it.”

He huffed out a laugh, taking your hand in his and giving it a squeeze. “In all seriousness, though, I’m really glad you’re okay.” He would never be able to live with himself if you weren’t. “I–” The words he had been holding back for literal years were stuck in the back of his throat, desperate to escape, yet unable to come out. He just–he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t be brave. Not when he knew you didn’t feel the same way. “I’m just really, really glad,” he finally settled on.

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