#simps fics

[rottmntsimp]

Colds, Coughs and Cuddles

Prompt: Oh no! Y/N's come down with a sickness! Look's like their caring S/O will have to take care of them 🖤 Pairing(s): Rise!Donnie x Sick!Reader; Rise!April x Sick!Reader

Donnie

💜 - As soon as you text him you're sick, don't be surprised when you hear a knock on your window a few seconds later

💜 - He's the kind of guy who'll go online and look up anything and everything he might need for a happy and fulfilling relationship the day right after you guys first got together-

💜- He [thinks he] knows what to do

💜 - No need to open the window for him, he's got you, boo <3

💜 - As he carefully makes his way in, he'll probably look a little pissed

💜 - Not because he hates you! In fact, it's the complete opposite- He just cares for you so much (although he might not say it) that he's upset you have to go through this

💜 - He'll probably have on a surgical mask, and probably some plastic gloves (how he got 3-fingered gloves, you'll never know), before flicking his goggles down and doing a scan of your condition

💜 - After that's finished, his metallic spider-arms thingies retract from his battle shell, each one holding a different medicine, ranging from syrups to pills, and even an ice pack

💜 - Won't let you move at all

💜 - Want some water? He's already got you a nice warm glass

💜 - Feeling a little cold? Adjusting your blanket

💜 - Heating up? Putting the icepack on your forehead

💜 - But just cause he's doing all this, doesn't mean he's doing it himself

💜 - Oh no, he's a sitting all the way across your room, having his spider arms help you out

💜 - Now, this whole time it was uncomfortably silent, so much that even Donnie's autistic ass (/affec) could pick up on it

💜 - So, get ready for an interrogation

💜 - He's gonna get curious about how you got sick

💜 - Oh, there's a cough going around your school?

💜 - Alright, just make sure to wear a mask to school next time

💜 - Now, let's say you got sick because of something like...uh, playing in the rain for too long

💜 - Oh boy

💜 - The second you see his eye twitch get ready for the lecture of your life

💜 - Will scold you for being so careless and getting sick

💜 - And is a bit hurt you didn't invite him out

💜 - But I headcanon him as the kind of guy who doesn't mind being in water, but despises being touched when wet, so he understands

💜 - Will be asking you what the fuck you were thinking, and might look a little pissed, but you know its just out of love

💜 - Once he's calmed down, get ready for him to stay the night

💜 - Now, if you guys have gotten together only recently, he'll probably just pull up a chair and sit at the spot where he was standing before, across the room from you and your bed

💜 - He doesn't mean to be rude! He just hates catching colds, and is taking the necessary precautions to ensure he doesn't end up getting sick too

💜 - But if you guys have been together for a while now, he'll pull the chair up by your bed and take your hand in his, and coax you to sleep

💜 - If you ask him for cuddles, he'll just raise his eyebrow at your pouting face, before giving your hand a gentle squeeze

💜 - Better than nothing I guess

💜 - Either way, he will not sleep tonight

💜 - My boy's gonna keep an eye on you, scanning you every hour, getting you water and giving you your dosages of medication whenever needed

💜 - Now AFTER you start to get better, he'll start acting normal again

💜 - I hc him as the kind of guy who likes touch, but he doesn't like surprise touch or being touched when overstimulated

💜 - If he's in a good mood the next day, for the love of god, gently pull him into the bed and force him to sleep

💜 - That boy needs it

💜 - Overall, may come off as harsh, but he's just looking out for you <3

April

💚 - This girl's gonna be by your side the whole time

💚 - She's got the spare key to your place for emergencies, and seeing her gorgeous S/O suffering alone-

💚 - Nuh uh, not on her watch

💚 - Is at your door within seconds, putting even the flash to shame

💚 - The second your guardian opens the door for her, she rushes in, shouting apologies to them, as she makes her way to your room

💚 - She's gonna burst into your room and start gushing all over you, worrying, especially if you didn't tell her at least 24 hours after you got sick

💚 - Just, like, imagine a black and white film, you're dramatically draped across the bed, hand to your forehead, as April "cries" at feet

💚 - Ok, but jokes aside, she will dead-ass have a whole backpack whole cold and cough syrup, cough drops, an ice pack for fevers, basically whatever you need

💚 - I mean, Raph didn't call her the "girl with a plan" for nothing

💚 - Now, while she is hovering over you, I don't mean she's panicking, nah, she's actually pretty calm

💚 - Perks of her mom being a nurse ig

💚 - Anyway, she's got plenty of experience dealing with small little sicknesses, experience is the best mentor yk

💚 - Fully believes laughter is the best medicine, but will make sure you don't strain your throat too much

💚 - Unlike Donnie, this girl don't care about getting sick

💚 - She's gonna crawl into the sheets with you, and cuddle up next to you, as you two just do something to get your mind off your sore throat and headache; be it just talking about something random like the show you 2 are binging together, or maybe another mission the turtles went on, or if you don't have a headache, maybe just watch some funny videos on youtube or tiktok

💚 - One way or another, you two are about to fall asleep like this, and I'm not taking no for an answer

💚 - She'll see that you've passed out and are leaning on her shoulder, and she'll just smile softly, before pecking your forehead, and adjusting the blankets before shooting her mom a text saying she'll be staying the night at your place, before falling asleep next to you <33

💚 - She'll probably end up sick too, but to her, it was totally worth it

💚 - Fr the best girlfriend ever, 10/10

--

AY HOW'S THAT FOR MY FIRST POST >:DD

I hope this came out well, cuz I was trying smth new by writing in 2nd POV, so tell me how you guys feel about it!!

[tenacious-world]

Character Matchups

I wanna start doing character matches and I've decided my last post about this was ridiculous, so here we go. Ill try my best. Give me a show or specific character + your personality and we'll go from there!!

[littlelightfish]

This... this is a whole different kind of psychic damage here. When nightmares got Marcille, we get to knew that her's biggest fear is outliving her friends. This isn't even canon probably, but look at this. This isn't a "I don't want my friends to die" kind of dream. This is a "I'm terrified of loosing my daughters, of something killing them, and being incapable of stopping it" kind of dream. It's so simple yet it explains perfectly the whole of chilchucks character. He loves, he cares, deeply. But he, or doesn't acknowledges, or doesn't know what to do with that knowledge.

Besides that. Someone had to wake him up after this. Imagine the devastation in this man after he wakes up. He just saw his three little babys murdered corpses (or maybe he saw them die, wich isn't better). He would possibly not talk about it, and that would worry the hell out of the party, because we'll, they see him all down and only one of them knows what he saw. Imagine being the one to pull him from that nightmare. Seeing this man, usually so composed, fuking staring with tears and terror in his eyes to the composes of what you can only assume are his daughters. It would be heartwrenching.

Idk, I love this man so much...

[dcxdpdabbles]

Bruce: What do you do if you wake up to one of your wards standing over your sleeping body, checking your heart rate while holding an Anti-creep stick?

Barry: Im going to take a wild guess here and ask: Was that Danny?

Bruce: Yes! He wanted to make sure I wasn't a vampire.

Clark: Where was Dick?

Bruce: Digging a hole.

Diana: Why was he digging a hole?

Bruce: In case I turned out to be a vampire, they needed somewhere to hide the body after Danny killed me.

Hal: Spooky, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but I think those kids you took in are a danger to the public.

Bruce: They're good kids! Dick is just going through a lot with his parents being killed in front of him and Danny.....well, Danny escaped a lab that his parents sold him off to. Both of them are having some trust issues right now and are acting out. That's all.

Clark: Bruce, last week Danny broke into my apartment and held me at knife point demanding to know what my intentions were with you. He wouldn't accept that we're coworkers.

Bruce: He probably thought you were a vampire. Danny doesn't like those.

Hal: Didn't Dick break into your house too Barry?

Barry: Yeah, but that was more so he could cuddle with Wally then to make threats at me. Danny, on the other hand, showed up at three am. after rumors about Batman and Flash sleeping together went around. He threatened to cut the muscles in my legs so I could be " The fastest crawler in the world" if I didn't offer Bruce a ring by morning.

Bruce: Why is this the first I'm hearing about that?

Barry: *shrug* I figured you knew since the next day you showed up and apologize for the boy's behavior.

Bruce: I did not know. I was apologizing for him breaking into what I assumed was to see Wally while grounded like Dick. Great, now the boy is going to kill me in my sleep and/or ensure I never get a lover again.

Diana: I think it's rather sweet. Danny is placing a challenge for your would-be suitors. It's like a wolf pup attempting to scare away mates from his father. No real harm was done.

J'onn: He set me on fire.

Bruce: What? Why?

J'onn: Apparently, my eyes were on your back for too long. I was admiring your cape, but Danny believed my eyes were focused too low, and I was instead admiring your bottom. Dick threw glitter in my eyes a few hours later.

Bruce: *sigh* Danny is overly protective, and Dick does whatever his big brother tells him to. I don't know what to do anymore.

Oliver: Tell him you're a vampire but like a sluty one that feeds on lust instead of blood. He'll get scared and leave your dates alone.

Bruce: That's an incubus. What you just describe is an incubus. Also, that's a terrible plan. I would be in a hole so fast.

Hal: Yeah, but they would cry while they buried you so there's that at least

[worlds-we-write]

The Weight of It All

pairing: Jackson!Joel Miller x Reader

summary: You’ve been hiding your sickness—and the truth—from Joel for weeks. But when a pregnancy test confirms your fears, the weight of it becomes too much to bear. Telling him risks reopening old wounds… but keeping it secret might break you both.

WC: 3.8K

tags: Age gap (60s Joel x 30s reader), pregnancy reveal, anxiety, crying, panic, mentions of past child loss (Sarah), emotional vulnerability, soft Joel, comfort, domestic tenderness, happy ending

My Masterlist

You’ve been sick for days. Maybe longer.

It started as something small—dull headaches, a little nausea in the mornings, that tight ache behind your ribs when you stood too fast. Nothing worth bringing up. Not with Joel. Not when he already worries too much.

You’d blamed it on stress. On the cold. On whatever dried meat Maria had handed you from the trade post. But it hasn’t gone away. It’s gotten worse.

Today, it hits harder than usual. Your stomach twists before your eyes even open. You lie in bed, curled on your side, one hand pressed to your mouth, breathing shallowly through your nose.

Joel’s already up. You hear him in the kitchen—footsteps creaking across the floorboards, the soft clink of silverware, the low grumble of the stove catching. You try to move, but the moment you sit up, your body rebels.

You make it to the bathroom just in time.

You vomit hard, clutching the edge of the sink like it might keep you tethered. Cold sweat beads on your neck, your spine prickling with heat and nausea and panic.

It’s not the first time this week.

And still, you haven’t told him.

By the time you pull yourself together, Joel’s voice is already calling down the hallway.

“Breakfast’s ready. You up?”

You splash water on your face and don’t answer right away. You can’t. Your reflection in the mirror looks pale, your lips chapped. You stare at yourself a moment too long.

Then you step into the hallway like nothing’s wrong.

He doesn’t question you.

He never does at first.

Joel’s at the stove, dividing up the food onto two plates. It’s not much—just scrambled eggs and a toasted slice of bread—but he’s humming under his breath like he’s proud of it. You try to sit down without making a face. The smell turns your stomach.

“Didn’t hear you get up,” he says, voice low and easy. “Sleep okay?”

You nod. Lie.

He sets the plate in front of you. You force yourself to eat a few bites, chewing carefully, swallowing around the nausea.

“You sure you’re not gettin’ sick?” he asks after a while, studying you. “You’ve been lookin’ a little… off.”

You shake your head too quickly. “No, just tired. Stomach’s been weird. Probably a bug or something.”

He doesn’t push. Just narrows his eyes, then reaches over to squeeze your thigh under the table. A quiet gesture. Comforting. You wish it didn’t make your chest ache.

You don’t talk much after that. Joel launches into something about a new gate they’re reinforcing on the east wall, and you nod along, trying not to gag every time you lift your fork. You excuse yourself early and claim a headache. He offers to make tea. You say no.

By the time you crawl back into bed, you’re already crying.

The test isn’t something you went looking for. Not really.

It’s tucked in the back of your dresser, hidden beneath a pair of old gloves and a cracked mirror you meant to throw away. You remember Maria handing it to you months ago, half-joking—“Just in case.” You’d laughed then. Said something sarcastic. Stuffed it in the drawer and forgot.

But you find it now.

Hands shaking.

Heart pounding.

You stare at the little plastic thing like it’s a weapon.

You haven’t had your period in… shit. You count on your fingers. At least two months. Maybe more. You try to remember when the last time was and come up blank. Just nausea and headaches and crying over stupid things like burnt toast and Joel leaving his damn flannel on the floor again.

You sit on the edge of the bed and peel the wrapper back slowly.

The directions are smeared but readable. You follow them. You take the test.

You wait.

Two minutes feels like an hour.

You pace the room, bare feet cold against the floor, every breath too shallow, too loud. You’re not ready for this. You can’t be. You’ve been careful. Joel’s older. You thought…

You glance at the stick.

Two pink lines.

Clear as day.

No denying it. No maybes. No confusion.

You’re pregnant.

You sink to the floor and cry so hard your throat burns.

It’s not that you don’t want a baby.

It’s that you don’t know how to have one. Not here. Not in this world. And not with Joel, not after everything he’s been through. After everything he’s lost.

You think about Sarah. The photo he keeps in his coat pocket. The way he still gets quiet when kids are nearby. The way he looks at you sometimes—like he’s waiting for you to vanish, too.

He hasn’t said her name in months.

But you see it in his eyes.

You press your hands to your stomach. Try to imagine what’s inside. Try to make it feel real.

And it does.

Terrifyingly real.

But you don’t tell him.

Not that night. Not the next. Not the week after.

You keep pretending.

Keep hiding.

Keep waking up sick and saying it’s nothing.

Because you love him too much to ruin this.

And you’re afraid—so afraid—that this will be the thing that finally breaks him.

You don’t remember when it stopped being something you could ignore.

Maybe it was when your nausea turned into full-blown vomiting every other morning. Maybe it was the way your body started to ache differently—heavier, tender in places it hadn’t been before. Or maybe it was the way Joel kept watching you when he thought you weren’t looking.

You try to keep up the act. Try to smile when he brushes your hair behind your ear. Try to laugh when he mutters something sarcastic about Jackson politics or how damn cold it still is. You sit with him by the fire at night, listening to the quiet crackle of the wood, letting him rest his hand on your thigh like nothing’s changed.

But everything’s changed.

You’ve got a secret growing inside you. One you didn’t ask for. One you still don’t know how to feel about.

And it’s eating you alive.

You start waking up before Joel does, slipping quietly out of bed to vomit or dry heave into the toilet, chewing your lip to keep from crying out. You brush your teeth in silence. Splash cold water on your face. Sit on the edge of the tub until the spinning stops.

By the time he’s awake, you’re already wrapped in a blanket on the couch, pretending to read a book you haven’t turned the page on in three days.

“You sure you’re not comin’ down with somethin’?” Joel asks again that morning, a mug of tea in his hand instead of coffee. “You’ve been… quiet.”

“I’m just tired.”

He gives you a look.

You try to change the subject. “What time you heading out with Tommy today?”

Joel doesn’t answer right away. Just hands you the mug. It’s chamomile. Your favorite. He’s trying. It makes your heart ache.

“I could stay,” he says slowly, sitting down beside you. “Ain’t nothin’ urgent. We were just gonna check the perimeter out past the ridge.”

“No, it’s okay,” you say too quickly. “I’m fine. Go.”

His jaw tightens a little. Not in frustration—more like… uncertainty. Like he doesn’t quite believe you but doesn’t know how to press without making things worse.

He kisses your forehead before he leaves.

You cry as soon as the door shuts.

You wander out later, needing air, even though the snow’s still packed in frozen ridges along the path outside the cabin. The sky is overcast, the wind sharp enough to sting your cheeks. You wrap Joel’s flannel tighter around you—he left it behind again this morning—and follow the half-trodden trail into the woods behind the cabin.

No one follows.

No one knows.

You find the edge of the treeline, the big flat rock you sometimes sit on in warmer months. You stand there now, breath puffing out in clouds, staring down at your gloved hands like they might hold an answer.

You fish the test out of your coat pocket.

You’ve been carrying it with you. You don’t know why.

Two pink lines, clear as ever.

You could throw it into the snow. You think about it—feel the urge in your fingers, the burst of anger that’s starting to rise like bile. You want to throw it, scream, crush it beneath your boot, pretend this isn’t happening.

But you don’t.

You sit.

And you hold it.

And you cry again.

That night, Joel makes soup. He tries not to burn it this time. You sit at the table and pretend to eat, smiling when he cracks a joke about the carrots being too soft. You’re exhausted, not just physically but from the weight of pretending.

“Was Maria askin’ about you today?” Joel says casually, handing you a piece of crusty bread. “Said she hadn’t seen you in a while.”

“Just been tired.”

“She said you should stop by.”

“I will.”

You won’t.

Joel leans back in his chair, watching you. “You know you can tell me if somethin’s wrong, right?”

You freeze.

He says it so gently, it almost breaks you. No suspicion in his voice, just quiet concern. The kind he only shows when he thinks you’re about to run—or when he is.

You want to tell him. You do.

But fear clamps down hard on your throat.

What if he looks at you and sees a mistake?

What if he looks at you and sees Sarah?

What if this is the thing that makes him leave?

You force a smile. “I know.”

Joel looks like he wants to say more. But he doesn’t.

He just reaches for your hand across the table and holds it in his calloused palm.

And you grip it like it’s the only solid thing keeping you from unraveling.

-

The nightmares come next.

You dream of blood. Of silence. Of holding something small and helpless and watching it disappear. You wake up gasping, clutching your stomach. Joel stirs beside you but doesn’t wake, and you’re glad. You don’t want him to see you like this.

You start wearing looser clothes. You start avoiding the mirror. You start skipping dinner.

Joel notices. Of course he does. He’s not stupid.

“Did I do somethin’?” he asks one night, voice quiet against your shoulder.

You’re in bed, turned away from him, pretending to be asleep. His fingers brush your arm.

“You’ve been distant.”

You say nothing. Your throat tightens.

“I ain’t mad,” he adds. “Just worried.”

You bite your lip so hard you taste blood.

“I love you, y’know,” Joel murmurs. “Even when you shut down like this.”

That’s the moment your heart breaks.

Because you realize what you’re doing isn’t fair. Not to him. Not to yourself. Not to the tiny life you’re carrying inside you.

But you’re still not ready.

Not yet.

You nod into the pillow, blinking tears onto the fabric.

“Love you too.”

A week passes.

Maybe more.

You lose track of time, counting your life in nausea and guilt and half-eaten meals. Joel never says it out loud, but you can see it in the way he watches you—like he’s trying to solve a puzzle without all the pieces.

You think about telling him every night.

You rehearse the words. I’m pregnant. I didn’t know how to tell you. I’m scared.

But when you open your mouth, nothing comes.

Until finally… it does.

You don’t plan to tell him that night.

It’s the same as every other evening lately. Joel gets back late from patrol, shedding his coat and boots at the door with a tired grunt. You’re already in the kitchen, stirring soup that smells better than it tastes. You’re still too nauseous to eat more than a few bites, but you pretend for his sake.

He doesn’t notice.

Or maybe he does. Maybe he’s just waiting.

The table is quiet as you both eat. Joel hums under his breath between spoonfuls, something familiar—an old Johnny Cash tune, maybe. He thanks you like always. Tells you it’s good even though it’s barely seasoned.

After dinner, he offers to wash up, and you let him. Your hands won’t stop shaking anyway.

You find him in bed later, shirtless and reading something he borrowed from Tommy—a survival manual someone dug up from the library. He doesn’t look up when you enter. Just shifts a little to make room for you under the quilt, reaching out to rest a warm hand on your hip when you slide in beside him.

You lie there stiffly.

Heart pounding.

Stomach twisting.

“You’re awful quiet,” he murmurs after a while, voice rough from sleep already creeping in.

You swallow. “Just tired.”

“Mm.” He turns slightly, fingers idly stroking the hem of your shirt. “You been sayin’ that a lot lately.”

You tense.

“I—” Your voice cracks. “Yeah.”

Joel doesn’t push. Not right away. He just keeps tracing slow circles on your skin, quiet and patient, like he’s waiting for something you’re not sure you know how to give.

And then—

“Been thinkin’…” he says slowly. “Maybe you oughta see that doctor Maria keeps fussin’ about. Just in case.”

You flinch. He feels it.

“I’m fine,” you say quickly, too quickly.

Joel rolls onto his side to face you, propping himself up on one elbow. His brow furrows, and the concern there nearly guts you.

“You’ve been sick almost every damn day,” he says gently. “You ain’t eatin’. You’re pale. You cry at soup commercials.”

You bark a laugh that dissolves into a sob before you can stop it.

Joel’s expression shifts. Alarmed now. He sits up fully, cupping your face in both hands. “Hey—hey. What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, curling into yourself. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“What—? Sweetheart, talk to me. What’s goin’ on?”

You squeeze your eyes shut.

And finally—finally—you say it.

“I’m pregnant.”

Silence.

Not shocked. Not gasped or cursed.

Just… silence.

You feel him go still, like every muscle has locked up at once. His hands fall from your face.

You don’t look at him.

“I found the test a couple weeks ago,” you say, words tumbling now, rushed and raw. “I thought it was a stomach bug, or something I ate, but then it didn’t stop. And I remembered Maria gave me that test a while back and I just—fuck, I didn’t mean for this to happen, Joel. I didn’t mean to do this to you.”

“To me?”

Your breath catches.

Joel’s voice is low. Barely above a whisper. You finally glance at him.

He looks shell-shocked. Not angry. Not even upset. Just… wrecked. His eyes are wide, jaw tight, like he’s trying to keep something inside from breaking loose.

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” you whisper. “After everything. After Sarah. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Joel doesn’t answer right away. He just stares at the blanket bunched around his waist, like it might offer an explanation he can’t find in your words.

“I thought you’d leave,” you admit softly. “Or worse—I thought you’d stay, but you’d hate me for it.”

Joel blinks slowly. “You really think that little of me?”

“No.” You wipe your eyes. “No, I just—I know what this means for you. I know what it could bring back.”

Joel’s breath hitches. He leans back against the headboard, one hand dragging over his face. The silence stretches between you like a rope pulled taut.

“I ain’t mad,” he says finally.

You flinch.

“I ain’t,” he repeats, quieter this time. “Just… I need a second.”

You nod. Curl your knees to your chest. You try not to cry again, but your chest won’t stop heaving, your hands won’t stop trembling.

Joel stays where he is for a long time. Not speaking. Not touching you.

But he doesn’t leave.

And somehow, that’s what breaks you the most.

Ten minutes pass. Maybe twenty.

Then Joel shifts.

He reaches for you slowly, hesitantly, and when you don’t pull away, he pulls you into his arms.

You bury your face in his chest and let yourself fall apart.

He holds you through all of it. Lets you sob until your voice goes hoarse, rubbing your back and whispering nothing-words you barely register.

When you finally quiet, he kisses the top of your head.

“You should’ve told me,” he says, not angry. Just aching.

“I was scared.”

“I know.” He sighs against your temple. “So was I.”

You blink. “You?”

Joel nods, pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes are wet, rimmed with red.

“I knew somethin’ was off. Knew it wasn’t just the weather or the food. I kept thinkin’ about what it could be, and I… I think I knew. I just didn’t wanna be the one to say it.”

“Why?”

He swallows hard. “Because if I said it, it’d be real. And if it’s real, it can be lost.”

Your breath catches.

He cups your face again, thumb brushing your cheek.

“But I’m not walkin’ away,” he says, voice rough but certain. “Not from you. Not from this.”

You close your eyes.

“Joel—”

“I don’t know how to do this,” he admits, whisper soft. “But I want to try. If you want this… I want it too.”

You nod, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“I do. I really do.”

He pulls you into his chest again and kisses your hair like it’s the only thing keeping him upright.

“You’re not alone,” he says.

And this time, you believe him.

You wake to the sound of rain tapping against the window.

It’s still dark, the kind of blue-black quiet that only settles in just before dawn. Joel’s arm is wrapped around your middle, his chest pressed warm and steady to your back, one hand splayed low over your stomach like he already knows what’s growing there.

Maybe he does.

He hasn’t moved all night.

You lie still for a while, not quite ready to break the spell. The room is quiet, the fire low in the hearth, the storm outside soft but persistent. You can hear his breathing behind you—slow, even, calmer than you’ve heard it in days.

It’s the first time you’ve really slept in weeks. The first time you haven’t woken up sick with dread curling through your spine. There’s fear, still. Of course there is. But it’s quieter now. Outweighed by something else.

Something that feels a little like hope.

Joel stirs not long after, mumbling sleep-drunk nonsense against your neck.

You hum softly, shifting to face him. His eyes crack open, still heavy with sleep. You expect him to look tense. Uncertain. But he doesn’t.

He looks soft.

His thumb brushes your hip. “Mornin’.”

“Hi,” you whisper.

His gaze drifts to your stomach, then back to your face. “You feelin’ okay?”

“Better.”

He studies you a beat longer. “You sure?”

You nod. “Yeah. Still tired. A little queasy. But… it’s different now.”

Joel’s fingers flex against your side. “Yeah. It is.”

There’s a quiet pause. Neither of you says it, but it’s there in the air between you. Real. Alive.

“I kept thinkin’ about what I’d say,” you admit quietly. “When I finally told you.”

Joel smiles faintly. “What’d you come up with?”

You shrug. “I didn’t think I’d get that far.”

He reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his hand lingering at your cheek.

“You were right to be scared,” he says. “I was scared, too.”

You nod.

“But I want this,” he adds. “I want you. I want this baby.”

You blink fast. “You sure?”

“Sweetheart.” His hand moves back to your belly, resting there like it belongs. “I ain’t been sure about much in my life, but this?” He leans in, voice low and raspy. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

Your eyes sting again.

He kisses you softly—slow, lingering, like he’s not in a rush anymore. And for once, neither are you.

Later, when the sky lightens and the rain slows, Joel gets up and pads to the fire to stoke it back to life. You sit on the edge of the bed, wrapped in one of his flannels, watching him move around the cabin like he’s already settled into this new chapter.

He talks as he works.

“Might need to reinforce that back door soon. Wind keeps slippin’ through the cracks.”

“Mmhm.”

“And we’ll need more blankets. If you’re gonna get cold easier, can’t have you freezin’ all night.”

You smile, resting a hand on your stomach.

“Could build a new shelf for the pantry,” he adds, glancing at you. “Start settin’ aside things for winter. For… y’know.”

He gestures vaguely at your stomach, the faintest blush creeping into his cheeks.

You can’t help it—you laugh.

“What?”

“You’re nesting.”

He frowns. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

Joel mutters under his breath, but you catch the corner of his mouth twitching.

He crosses the room a moment later and crouches in front of you, palms resting on your knees.

“I’m serious, though,” he says. “We’ll figure it out. Whatever we need. You just gotta tell me what’s goin’ on, alright?”

You nod.

“No more secrets,” you whisper.

“No more secrets,” he echoes.

He leans forward, presses a kiss to your thigh, then rests his forehead there for a long moment. When he looks up again, his eyes are glassy.

“You ever think about names?”

Your heart lurches.

“I haven’t gotten that far.”

“Well,” he says softly, “maybe we should.”

You stare at him.

“I know it’s early,” he continues. “But I keep thinkin’ about it. The kind of name we’d give. What kind of person they’ll be.”

You reach for his hand. “You really want this?”

“I already do,” he says.

You smile, brushing your thumb over his knuckles. “What if it’s a girl?”

Joel swallows hard. “Then I guess I’ll have two reasons to keep this world safe.”

You press your forehead to his.

And you both sit there in the early morning quiet, breathing together, dreaming of something you never thought you’d have again.

A future.

That evening, Joel pulls you into his lap while the fire crackles, his hand absentminded on your stomach, thumb stroking slow circles over the curve that isn’t there yet but will be.

He talks to the baby like he’s already met them.

Tells them how much he’s looking forward to teaching them to fish, to play guitar, to run without looking back. He jokes about how stubborn they’re probably gonna be, how it’s definitely your fault, and how he’s not gonna let them out of his sight until they’re at least twenty-five.

You laugh, and cry, and laugh again.

And when you fall asleep in his arms, it’s the first time in weeks that your dreams aren’t full of fear.

They’re full of names.

And tiny hands.

And sunlight.

tags: @lowrisemiller @pedrito-is-punk7 here ya go from a post a couple weeks ago

[rafeyssugar]

baby girl

rafe treats y/n like she’s made of glass. like she’s something soft, delicate—something his.

and she lets him. because how could she not? when he’s always looking at her like that? when his touch is always so gentle?

like now—when she pouts at him from the passenger seat, arms crossed, lips pursed in that way that makes him weak.

“what?” he asks, fighting back a smirk, reaching over to squeeze her thigh.

“you didn’t let me carry the bags.”

rafe exhales, shaking his head. “because you don’t need to. what kind of boyfriend would i be if i let you carry heavy shit, huh?”

y/n huffs, turning to the window. “they weren’t even that heavy.”

and that’s when he knows—she’s just being a brat.

so he leans over at a red light, pressing a kiss to her temple. “my sweet girl,” he murmurs, lips dragging down to her jaw. “so spoiled, huh?”

she mumbles something under her breath, but he catches it—“not spoiled.”

he just grins. “nah, you are, angel. i made you that way.”

because he does spoil her. carries her bags, opens her doors, pulls her into his lap just because. worships her. and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

so when they get home, and she starts trying to grab the shopping bags again, he just tuts, plucking them right out of her hands.

“what did i say, baby?”

she pouts up at him. “but—”

rafe just shakes his head, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. “no buts. let me take care of you.”

she lets out a dramatic sigh but doesn’t argue, instead watching as he carries all the bags inside like it’s nothing.

“you know,” she says, plopping onto the couch, stretching like a cat, “i could have helped.”

rafe raises a brow, setting the bags down before making his way over to her. “oh yeah?”

“yeah.”

he hums, settling beside her, pulling her into his lap with ease. “but you like when i baby you, huh?”

she rolls her eyes, but he sees the way her lips twitch, how she doesn’t move away when he starts pressing slow, lazy kisses to her neck.

“admit it,” he murmurs, voice low, teasing. “you like being my spoiled little baby girl.”

she exhales, tilting her head slightly as he keeps kissing, hands gripping at his shirt.

“maybe.”

rafe chuckles, pulling back to look at her. “yeah?”

she shrugs, playing with the collar of his shirt, but when she finally looks up, she’s got that look in her eyes—the one that makes him weak. the one that tells him she’s just as obsessed with him as he is with her.

so he kisses her—slow, deep, like he’s got all the time in the world.

when they finally pull apart, he brushes a thumb over her cheek, voice soft. “good girl.”

-

now she’s curled up in his lap, fingers lazily playing with the chain around his neck, lips slightly swollen from how he’d kissed her stupid just moments ago.

and he can’t help himself.

his hands roam—slow, lazy, like he’s got nowhere else to be. one hand resting on the small of her back, the other tracing patterns along her bare thigh, dipping beneath the hem of her shorts.

“you tired, baby?” he murmurs, voice soft, knowing.

y/n hums, blinking up at him, looking dazed, floaty. “a little.”

he smiles, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “you wanna nap?”

she makes a noise, nuzzling closer, pressing her face into his neck. “mmm. just wanna sit here.”

and his heart melts.

because she’s never really said it, but he knows—knows she feels safest when she’s with him, tucked against him like this, wrapped up in his warmth.

so he just hums, rubbing slow circles into her back. “yeah? my lap comfy, huh?”

she nods, sighing contentedly. “mhm. best seat in the house.”

rafe chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “yeah, ‘cause it’s your seat, angel.”

she doesn’t respond, but the way she sighs again, soft and sweet, is enough.

he keeps holding her, fingers tracing slow, absentminded shapes against her skin, lips pressing light, fleeting kisses to her temple, her forehead, her jaw.

and when he feels her breathing even out, feels her relax completely in his arms, he knows she’s drifted off.

he smiles to himself, tightening his hold just a little, letting his head rest against the couch.

yeah, he thinks, pressing one last kiss to her forehead. he could hold her like this forever.

-

rafe doesn’t move—not even an inch. not when his leg starts going numb, not when his arm starts to tingle. because y/n is asleep, all warm and tucked against him, and he’d rather die than wake her up.

his baby girl—soft, sweet, always pressed up against him like she belongs there. (she does.)

he’s careful as he shifts just slightly, just enough to cup the back of her head, fingers threading into her hair. she stirs a little, sighing in her sleep, pressing closer.

rafe just smiles, running a thumb over her cheek. she looks so peaceful like this, face smushed against his chest, lips parted, lashes fluttering faintly.

he has to kiss her.

so he does—just a light press of his lips to her forehead, lingering for a second before pulling away.

but she feels it.

she exhales softly, shifting in his lap, stretching like a cat before blinking up at him, still sleepy, still floaty.

“…how long was i out?” her voice is quiet, groggy.

rafe grins, brushing some hair from her face. “’bout an hour.”

her brows furrow slightly. “you let me sleep that long?”

“‘course i did, angel.” his fingers move down, tracing the side of her neck, his voice dropping slightly. “you looked too pretty to wake up.”

her lips part slightly, and rafe knows he’s got her.

he smirks, dragging his hand down her arm, slow, teasing. “feel good?”

y/n nods, still dazed, blinking at him like she’s not sure if she’s awake or still dreaming.

rafe hums, tilting his head. “yeah? what feels good, baby?”

she exhales. “you.”

and he’s done for.

he cups her face, tilting it up as he leans in, lips brushing hers—soft, teasing. “yeah?”

“mhm.” her hands slide up his chest, gripping his shirt weakly, like she’s trying to pull him closer, but he’s already as close as he can be.

“wanna kiss?” he murmurs, voice low, teasing.

she nods again, breath hitching slightly. “please.”

rafe grins before finally—finally—closing the distance, kissing her soft and slow, like he’s got all the time in the world.

because he does. because he’s not going anywhere.

when they finally pull apart, she exhales, nuzzling into him, hands still fisted in his shirt.

rafe just chuckles, running a hand down her back. his baby girl.

more daddy!rafe

y/n trying to smoke

love bites

teaching y/n how to kiss

[arcanegifs]

ARCANE LEAGUE OF LEGENDS: 2x09 - “The Dirt Under Your Nails.”

[thatssomegoodsoup]

THE DOCTOR X READER HCs

saw this man in Dawko's Chapter 4 playthrough and immediately started simping lmao

CONTENT WARNING: mention of NSFW

Sex involves torture and degradation

Protects you from the prototype

Bluescreens when the reader kisses his TV

Is indifferent to the reader but still shows care

Likes when the reader sits in his lap

Got Yarnaby and Baba Chops used to the reader

Doesn't like when the reader wanders off from the lab

^ He's concerned for your safety but won't admit it

Likes the reader for their innovative nature and ability to fix things.

^ He would also be attracted to your looks (no matter how you look) and see the reader as a trophy.

In the unlikely event that someone else flirts with you, he would brutally kill them. He sees you as his and nobody else's.

^ He gets jealous very easily.

^ You can make up for this by fixing him, his robots, or something in his lab.

If one of the toys happens to hurt you, they will pay dearly.

Reader is also morally gray and less empathetic.

[sunnydbeam]

Huh...

[technically-human]

I love the idea that Stone is a hyper competent agent, who got assigned to Robotnik because of his bad personality or something.

And basically it was done as a "hey maybe it'll fix his attitude if he has to deal with someone WORSE than him". Then Stone became a gooey simp for Robotnik and everyone is like, "Well that's not how we expected Robotnik to uhh 'break' him of his behavior".

But the thing is, Stone still has attitude problems, they're just derived from his exasperation with general human stupidity. And well, for all you can say negatively about Robotnik you can't claim he's stupid.

Robotnik stays very unaware of Stones bad personality for far too long, because he's never personally witnessed it. And anyone who has ever worked with Stone previously is looking at Robotnik like he's crazy whenever he mentions that Stone is a giant pushover with major puppy dog eyes.

Truly the funniest thing. Stone is soft for one (1) man, and holds up to his name with everyone else.

Wait, wait, this gave me such a clear mental image, and normally I would draw it but I can't right now and I need the world to hear.

So they get called to a meeting, right. Robotnik is half paying attention as generals and Commanders complain of his existence for one reason or another. Stone is standing behind him.

"And we told you," some background character protests. "To stop all research on mind-control!"

At that, Robotnik crosses his arm, petulantly.

"What mind control? I haven't done anything!" Nothing they can prove, at least.

"Look at what you did to Agent Stone!"

Everyone turns to look at Stone, including Robotnik, who's now more confused than offended.

"What did I do to Stone?" he asks. The Agent shrugs at him to show he doesn't know either.

"He was an entirely different man before being assigned to you! Perfectly stoic, serious and professional, and look at him now! He follows you around like a lost puppy, always with that... That weird smile of his!"

"Stone has always been like that! Tell them, Agent."

Stone thinks. What should he say? "I just don't like you guys"? No, he can't afford to burn those bridges yet. "I adapt to what's presented to me?" No, no. The Doctor would get paranoid and think it's all an act!

"I just really enjoy working for the Doctor," he decides.

"Huh," Robotnik blinks.

"It's definitely mind control," everyone else laments.

[rottmntsimp]

Donnie x (gn) reader, where the reader is feeling particularly self concious? feeling as tho they don't contribute enough to the team due to not having mystic powers or not knowing how to fight, maybe they feel as tho they get in the way a lot? I know donnie isn't always great with feelings but I feel like he would relate to this problem and would know how to solve it in his own special way?

Much needed reassurance

Donnie x Insecure!Reader

TW: A bit of cursing (projecting cuz it's just smth i do when feeling a strong emotion lmao), using the lord's name in vain ( bro im atheist idk if this is a tw?), uh light jealousy (APRIL MAH QUEEN <33), mentions of stitching up cuts ig, light angst with fluff end <3 Oh and a pretty rushed ending lmao. Plus some slight ADHD projecting?? [Yes I got this req in September. Shh-] Thanks to @sleepytime-fics for title inspiration <3 /p

Donnie

You wince, letting out a hiss, as your cut stung in pain. Peeking out from in between your fingers, you see Donnie’s frown, not processing any of the words he rambled on to you. He let go of your hand, putting down the bandages, before moving onto your face to disinfect the scrapes along the side of your face, making you flinch in pain, listening to him chastise you for how careless you were.

“-I thought I’d told you to stay in corners. They can’t sneak up on you, if your back is against a wall.”

Sinking deeper into the mattress of the bed, you sigh, running a finger over the bandaging on your forearm, only for Donnie to slap your hand away. Rolling your eyes, you let him patch up your face, avoiding eye contact, because you knew as soon as you did, shit would hit the fan.

After what seemed like hours of nonstop admonishing and multiple rolls of bandages (which in all reality was only a few minutes), Donnie finally packs up the first aid kit, having finished patching you up. You stretch a little, before reaching for your phone, which lay on the far end of the mattress. Just as you were about to pick it up, a metal arm suddenly swipes it off of the sheets, holding it up.

“Hey-”

As you go to reach for the phone again, he just brings the phone higher up, farther out of your reach.

“So…” the mutant started, busying himself with putting supplies back into the first aid kit. “Leo informed me you, uh…got jumped-”

“Please, don’t remind me-” you sighed, the memory of being unable to defend yourself flashing behind your closed eyelids. Not only had Leo been struggling to take care of his share of the ninjas, he had to make sure you weren’t getting hurt too.

 Opening your eyes once more, you frown at the floor, listening to Donnie go on.

“Scoff,” Donnie scoffs, voicing his actions, “Well, if you let me finish, you would've heard me say ‘-you got jumped, are you feeling ok?’ It’s unlike you to get taken advantage of like this in combat.”

“Stop it,” You mumble, not wanting to hear about how you were unable to help, frustration rising as Donnie went on, not having heard you.

“I mean, it was just a couple of foot ninjas, and statistically speaking, you’ve done better before-”

“Donnie-” You frown, speaking a bit louder, but your words went unheard as Donnie’s rambling went on.

“I’m just thankful Nardo was there for you, don’t tell him I said that though-”

“Donnie!”

He freezes, facing you as his rambing comes to an abrupt end. Seeing the frown on your face as you shifted in your seat, your head held down, Donnie was riddled with guilt. “Were you,” he clears his throat, “Were you about to say something…?”

Silence.

That’s all he got in return, before soft mumbles could be heard, “It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve told me, it just won’t get in my head alright? I’m not a ninja, I’ve never gotten training-,” you muttered, as Donnie stopped what he was doing, focusing on your words- “Hell, I don’t even have a proper weapon!” you scoff, gesturing to Donnie’s tech bo, which lay messily on his desk, piles of unorganized blueprints and tech scattered around it. “Even April has one! April!” 

“Well, that is an issue can easily be resolved by simply paying a visit to the local sports store-”

Donnie’s words were cut short by the glare you gave him, as you went on. “But that makes perfect sense, since she’s just…so perfect,” you chuckled dryly, jealousy creeping into your voice, or maybe it was just self-pity.

Running a hand through your hair, you pause to take a deep breath, knowing you’ve already said too much; but fuck it, if you were going to get reprimanded for something out of your control, might as well let out some of those pent up feelings…right?

The only noise that could be heard was the soft whirring of the vents filtering air, and the sound of you guys’ breathing. The silence was eating you up from the inside, uneasiness hanging in the air. After a whole two minutes of silent torture, Donnie lets out a sigh, biting his tongue so that he doesn’t say anything he might regret, before finally speaking again.

“Where…where are you going with this?”

“Fucking christ, Donnie-” you snap, your head in your hands, as you let out a strong exhale. Looking up at him, you took a deep breath, trying to stabilize your voice, as a lump formed in your throat.

You mumbled under your breath, trying not to break down as tears of frustration formed in the corners of your eyes, your vision slowly going blurry. Why? The hell if you knew, all you could process was the fact that you were practically useless, and if that wasn’t enough to make you break down…

“I’m not as strong as you guys and I sure as hell don’t have any mystic powers,” you say, as a tear finally falls. One turns to two, and two turns to four, and before you know it, tears streamed silently down your face, as you tried to stop; but you both knew it was pointless.

Panic flashed behind his eyes as he noticed you crying. What was it you do when people cry? Talk to them? No, no, he was pretty sure you give them space.

“I always need at least two people out with me when I join you guys for patrol, and I always get hurt, and end up being more of a burden than a help…” You clear your throat, cursing at yourself as your voice cracks.

Once again, silence.

Looking down at the floor, you sniffled, using the sleeve of your hoodie to wipe your tears away. White floods your vision, looking up, you see one of Donnie’s mechanical spider arms holding a tissue out in front of you, his eyes averted to the side.

Nodding your thanks, you blow your nose, as quiet ensued once more. You both sat there, your minds occupied by your own racing thoughts respectively.

After what seemed like hours, Donnie spoke up, his voice soft, but firm, as though he were deep in thought, “I…apologize, for not realizing how you felt earlier. I should have been more observant, I should have been able to notice how you felt about all of this much earlier on… I’m sorry for being a terrible partner-”

“Donnie-” You just sigh, the adrenaline from earlier wearing off, as a wave of exhaustion washed over you. “I’m not calling you a bad partner, I’m just saying that…maybe I shouldn’t go out on missions with you guys anymore. I’ll just hold you all back, and-” 

“Hold us back?-” Donnie interrupts, his face going from that of understanding and thoughtful to utterly flabbergasted. Standing up from his seat on the mattress, he has a robotic arm shoot out of his battle shell and yank a chair over, as he took a seat across from your place on the mattress. He faced you, arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed, renewed confusion apparent, “You believe that you’re…holding us back?”

“...Well, yeah-”

“SCOFF! Never have I heard such malarkey- Oh Y/N, you are anything but deadweight!-”

You could only listen as he went on, giving up on trying to get your point across as he never gave you the chance to. Yet despite the affirmations, a nagging feeling stuck in the back of your mind, refusing to leave as he rambled on about your strengths, physically and intellectually.

His voice became nothing but a soft hum in the background, accompanying the buzz of the vents, as you spaced out. Why was he doing this? You aren’t worth the struggle, the effort… He’s always had to help you catch up, get up to speed on things. Homework, fights, hell- even simple things like staying on task, giving you something to do, to think about…

“-And just because you don't have mystic potential, doesn't mean you aren't a valuable asset to our group. There are plenty of other ways you make up for it..."

The nerve of this hypocrite; saying you’re useful while still in doubt of his own abilities.

"I mean," Donnie went on, putting a hand on your shoulder, trying to get you to look at him, "It's not like you're the only human in our little posse. April's our friend too, and she's just as important as the rest of us-"

"She doesn't count-" You snap, your voice raising to a higher volume. Donnie flinched, his hand retracting in shock. Wincing, you mumble a quiet apology, feeling a wave of disappointment and regret wash over you before going on.

"April's been training with you guys since she’s met you, she doesn't count…" You mumbled, trying to keep control of how loud you spoke. “She’s been there since the beginning, basically on you guys’ level. She’s known you all since you were young, grew up with you guys, trained with you guys, fights with you guys…all while kicking ass and looking good…all I do is stand in the back and cheer you guys on…”

“Oh my sweet Y/N,” Donnie sighs, looking up at you again. “What will it take for you to understand that moral support is better than no support whatsoever?” The pleading look in his eyes, the desperation in his voice for you to understand just how valuable you are didn’t go overlooked by you, as you just sighed in response.

“I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again, darling. You are as valuable to our bunch as any of us are. Learning to fight takes time, time which you never gave yourself, which I’m gladly willing to change.

“And as for getting hurt…” Donnie put a hand on yours, making you look at him as he let himself smile, “I guess we’ll just have to start training.”

Taglist [ask if you want to be added!]:

@lemme-be-cringe-damnit @sleepytime-fics @ray-of-midnight-storm @hamthepan @charismakat

[yakichoufd]

doodles inspired by that bobby/scott fic

[venshichan]

So we all know those au where Shen Yuan transmigrates early and becomes Shen Jiu’s mentor/guide, right? SY could be a parent, an older brother, a younger brother, a sibling, a fellow Qing Jing disciple–could be a shidi or shixiong–or a random rogue cultivator.

But what if... he transmigrates as Qiu Jianluo?

Enter, SY, who finds himself transmigrating into QJL, realizing he's Qiu Haitang's older brother and meant to be murdered in cold blood in a few years by the future Scum Villain’s hands. He tries his best to avoid taking Shen Jiu into his household to avoid dying, but the System threatens to send him back to his old body if he doesn't let the plot run its course. It's very hard to avoid your death when even the System brought back the original goods because you refused to play your role—so now you share a body with it's former host, where you can see what the other is doing whenever they are in control, but helpless and unable to do anything about it.

SY would be in control at night, but QJL would be in control by day–hence the reason why SJ was still brought into the Qiu Household, because QJL (the asshole) went out somewhere and brought him back while SY was "asleep".

To everyone else's pov, "QJL"–after some weird fever and a terrible accident–is bipolar. By day, he's the cruel young master. By night, he's the sweet and kind young master–the old version of QJL, the one who wasn't yet exposed to the cruelty of society, the version who hadn't been taken aside by his father to be molded to who he would be in the far future. Of course, people preferred the "nicer" side.

Shen Jiu doesn't know what’s happening, but he also prefers the kinder side: according to what he hears about his master, he had suffered a terrible accident–It was out of nowhere, too!–on his birthday where things changed.

SJ’s life will continue on as it was–except he gets spoiled by SY at night, gets cuddled by him, gets comforted and such. He gets to learn that the "nicer" side likes to call himself "Shen Yuan", and being to call him as such. SJ may or may not....have a crush on "SY". Well, it's complicated, really, since the "young master" is also the one who sort of hurts him and the fact that the share the same face/body–and also the fact that he's supposed to be engaged or marry the sister.

"SY" eventually manages to wrangle control from QJL, and seals him away after outsmarting the System, convinces SJ to escape at night to Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, giving him money and supplies so he can make it there to find his "Qi-ge".

He waits for SJ, hoping he would turn out fine and never treat the protagonist badly, always exchanging letters with him on how to handle his disciples and such, until a few months later, the letters stopped. SY is of course saddened by this, and mope around for a while: everyone isn't too worried that he'd go on a rampage and beat people up, because the night that SJ fled, the "harsh" QJL was suddenly gone.

QHT is a little worried about her brother, of course. And a little stumped that her fiance ran off to be a cultivator, but then again, it will work out for her to have a cultivator as her husband, right? Wrong!

SJ suddenly came to their household one day, all finery elegance, and grace–looking like the immortal master that he is, and QHT is overjoyed by his return. She thinks they'll finally get married and all...only for SJ to kneel before her brother and propose to him—

"....Xiao Jiu, what the hell?"

—much to everyone's shock, confusion, and outrage (on QHT's part).

P.S.: For funsies, this will mostly be in SJ's pov. :3

[worlds-we-write]

Sweet on You - Masterlist

pairing: Jackson!joel miller x baker!reader

summary: In the quiet routine of Jackson, you bake bread and try to keep your distance—from your past, from attention, from him. But Joel Miller keeps showing up, and when a snowstorm leaves you alone together one night, the line between safety and temptation begins to blur.

Tags: Joel Miller x Reader, Age Gap, curvy/plus-size reader, Jackson Era, Bakery AU, Slow Burn, Emotional Tension, Abusive Ex, Protective Joel, Snowed-In, First Time, Heavy Smut, Praise Kink, Dirty Talk, Aftercare, Angst & Comfort, Possessive Joel (will be updated as chapter progress)

Chapter 1: Bread and Butter

Chapter 2: Kneaded You

Chapter 3: Burned at the Edges

Chapter 4: Sweet Enough

Chapter 5

Updated 04/19/25

Series Playlist <3

[mblue-art]

“...A-Actually, this is my apartment, I'm pretty sure you're staying with me.” Dust's eyelights had returned to normal size, cyan burning bright as his single red ring had thinned to a sliver, “is that an invitation?”

drew for @kaygee-doodles one of my fav scenes from her fic, gloom & doom ! 💜

want a doodle? ☕ i'm also open for comms ! 💙 xtwt , bsky

[choccy-milky]

how to scare a goody two-shoes ravenclaw 👵🏻