โโด๏ธ LINA .แ she/her. 22. jessica chastain enthusiast. soldier boy gf. editor. 2010's tv shows. book & music enjoyer. baker & cooker. cats. lover of old men.
latina. artist. scorpio. โฟ my dms and inbox are always open to talk! โด๏ธ this is a side blog so i can't follow back.
โคฟ requests are currently closed.แ I write for: logan howlett/wolverine, dean winchester, steve harrington, soldier boy, eddie alden, leopold mountbatten, beau arlen, clark kent, richie jerimovich, mark meachum and all pedro pascal characters (feel free to ask a prompt from this list here or any idea that comes to your mind with any of these characters)
โฎ my recent works: since day one (jack abbot), too good to be true (joel miller) โฎ fruitcake masterlist โฟ object!readers; apple pie, silver bullet. โฟ find my other works here.แ
โคฟ 100 celebration โ 18+ blog. minors and wincest dni !!!
โ summary: Jack was you attending, and no matter how hard you tried and scolded yourself, you simply couldn't contain the interest and passion that you were developing for him. Neither does he.
โคฟ jack abbot x fem!reader / cw: flirty jack, theyโre in love but donโt know what to do about it, smut, p in v, oral sex (f receiving), sweet, angsty towards the end, insecurity, resident and attending dynamic, happy ending, maybe a little oc, age gap, slightly changes in some canon events.
โคฟ word count! 3.5k
lina yaps: yeah, it happened againโฆ I didnโt finished my Christmas series (which I still plan to finish even though we are already in March lol) and now I just changed fandoms and Iโm writing for a completely different guy. I promise I'm still going to write and post things about all the other characters I usually write!! I just finished the first season of the pitt and I need to get this dilf out of my system.
The Pitt was a beast that never slept, and you were one of its newest, most exhausted handlers. Every shift was a baptism by fire, a relentless torrent of trauma, tragedy, and triumph. In the midst of the controlled chaos, one figure stood as an immovable anchor: Jack Abbott.
He was your attending, your mentor, the gravitational force around which your entire workday orbited. From your first day, raw and terrified, heโd taken you under his wing. When youโd fumbled with a suture kit, your hands shaking like leaves, heโd been there. He hadnโt yelled or belittled you like some of the other attendings were rumored to do. Instead, heโd placed a large, steady hand over yours, his voice a low, calming rumble. โSlow is smooth, and smooth is fast. Youโve got this. Iโve seen your file, I know what youโre capable of. Now show me.โ
And you did. For him, you always tried to.
When you successfully threaded a difficult line or made a quick call on a crashing patient, youโd catch it. A slight nod, a barely-there quirk of his lips. โGood job, kid. That was badass,โ heโd murmur, and the praise, so rare and so earned, would warm you from the inside out. He saw you. He saw your potential, the doctor you were fighting to become, and he nurtured it with a quiet, steady pride.
And God, he was gorgeous. It was a fact as undeniable as the laws of triage. The salt-and-pepper stubble, the crinkle at the corners of his deep brown eyes when he smiled, the way his worn-out scrubs did nothing to hide the powerful breadth of his shoulders and chest. He moved with a controlled, physical confidence, a man utterly at home in his own skin. He was a complete man, with a quiet strength in his beliefs and a manners-of-the-old-school politeness that was disarmingly attractive. Yet, with everyone in the hospital, he was relaxed, communicative, and disarmingly charming. Youโd seen him flirting with Myrna, after she teased and said how good he looked, he would give a response, making her chuckle. He had a similar, easy banter with the other attendings and the paramedics. It was just his way. It was Jack.
You knew it was harmless, his way of oiling the social machinery of a high-stress environment. But youโd be lying if you said you didn't notice the exact moment his attention towards you began to shift. It wasn't a grand gesture, but a collection of subtle, seismic changes. A glance that held a beat too long. A sideways smile meant only for you after he'd made a dry, witty observation about a patient's ridiculous story. The flirting started, too, but it was different. More respectful. Moreโฆ intimate.
It was subtle at first. A glance that held a beat too long. A private, sideways smile meant just for you after a particularly grueling code. The way his voice would soften when he spoke to you, the teasing laced with a new, electric undercurrent. โGood call on the fluid bolus. Youโre thinking like a pro,โ he said one day, his hand brushing against your lower back as he leaned in to review a chart with you. The touch was brief, professional even, but it sent a jolt of electricity straight to your core.
After that, the air between you thickened. He still gave you orders, still scolded you when you were too slow. But afterward, heโd catch your eye and give you a slow, deliberate wink. It was a secret, a tiny flame passed between you in the middle of the chaos. And you, you treacherous body, would respond. Your skin would prickle with heat, a deep, aching pulse settling low in your belly. Youโd watch his hands, those strong, capable hands that could so delicately suture a wound, and imagine them on you. Youโd listen to his voice, rough with exhaustion, and imagine it growling your name in the dark. Youโd get so dizzy at the thought, sometimes going to the bathroom to recompose, terrified he could read the wanton thoughts on your face.
You knew this was a disaster waiting to happen. He was your superior. A single misstep could derail your career before it even began. But logic was a weak dam against the flood of pure, unadulterated want he inspired.
The night it all broke down, it was the night of the Pitt Fest shooting. The hospital was on a knife's edge. So after you all survived the living hell, some of you had gathered in the small square in front of the hospital, the cool night air a welcome relief from the recycled, antiseptic atmosphere inside. Someone had produced a six-pack, then another. You were all sitting together, letting the adrenaline of a rough shift slowly leach out of your systems.
It felt like the last scene of a movie. Robby was quieter than usual, lost in thought. Santos was scrolling through her phone, occasionally interjecting with a sarcastic comment. Dana and Dennis were laughing about some patient from the morning shift. And Jack wasโฆ Jack. Leaning back on his hands, his long legs stretched out in front of him, a faint smile on his face as he listened to the chaos of this family.
Your eyes kept drifting to him. The way the streetlight caught the silver in his hair. The relaxed set of his shoulders. He caught you looking once, and instead of a wink, he just held your gaze for a beat longer than was comfortable, his expression unreadable, before turning back to the conversation. That look. It felt different. Charged.
One by one, they peeled away. Soon, it was just you, Robby, Jack, and Santos.
Santos stretched, yawned theatrically. โIโm out. This is where the fun ends, people. Donโt do anything I wouldnโt do.โ She winked and sauntered off.
Robby stood, brushing off his pants. He looked between you and Jack, a flicker of somethingโknowing?โin his tired eyes. โYeah, me too. Long day tomorrow.โ He gave a general wave. โGet home safe, you two.โ
And just like that, you were alone.
The silence that fell between you was heavy, a stark contrast to the easy camaraderie of moments before. The air itself seemed to thicken.
โGood shift,โ you said, your voice sounding too loud in the quiet. You were scrambling for something, anything, to fill the void.
โYeah,โ he agreed, his voice a low rumble. โYou were solid and smart today.โ
โThanks.โ You pulled your jacket tighter, even though it wasnโt cold. โI shouldโฆ I should probably head. Catch the bus.โ
โDonโt be ridiculous,โ he said, pushing himself up with a fluid grace. โItโs late. Iโm driving. Iโll give you a ride.โ
It wasnโt a question. And you, your traitorous heart hammering against your ribs, simply nodded.
His car was warm, smelling faintly of coffee and worn leather. The drive was short, just a few minutes through the quiet city streets. The conversation was stilted, about nothing. The traffic. The new coffee shop that had opened near the hospital.
You directed him to your building, a modest walk-up in a quiet neighborhood. He pulled up to the curb and put the truck in park, the engine idling with a low rumble.
โWell,โ you said, your hand on the door handle. โThanks for the ride, Jack.โ
โYou gonna be okay?โ he asked, and the simple question, asked with that genuine, attentive care, undid something inside you.
โYeah. Of course. Long day.โ
And before you could finally formulate a polite goodbye, he was out of the truck and opening your door. Surprising you.
โIโll walk you up,โ he said, softly. It wasn't a request.
The climb to your third-floor walk-up felt endless. You fumbled with your keys, your hands shaking. Jack stood behind you, so close you could feel his breath on the nape of your neck. The key finally found the lock, the door swinging open into your small, dark apartment.
You stepped inside, turning to face him, ready to deliver the rehearsed, professional thank you. But the words died in your throat. He was standing in your doorway, silhouetted by the hall light, his expression unreadable.
The atmosphere in the small space was stifling. The air crackled. You could barely breathe.
โI shouldโฆโ you started, but you didnโt know how to finish the sentence.
โDonโt,โ he said, his voice low and rough. He took a step forward, into your apartment, pushing the door shut behind him with a soft click. He was close now, so close. His gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes. โI know this is a bad idea.โ
โJackโฆโ His name was a plea on your lips.
โTell me you donโt feel this,โ he challenged, his eyes burning into yours. โTell me this thing between us is just in my head. Look me in the eye and tell me you havenโt thought about this.โ
You couldnโt. You couldnโt lie. Not to him. Not now. โI canโt,โ you whispered.
That was all the confirmation he needed. A low sound, something between a groan and a sigh, escaped him. He closed the final inch between you, his hand coming up to cup your jaw. โIโve wanted you for so long,โ he confessed, his forehead resting against yours. โGod, Iโve tried not to.โ
Then his mouth was on yours.
The kiss wasn't tentative. It was a claiming, a final surrender to months of tension. His lips were warm, firm, and tasted of coffee and something uniquely him. You moaned into his mouth, a sound of pure, unadulterated relief and lust. Your hands fisted in the fabric of his scrub top, pulling him closer. He responded by pressing you back against the wall, his body a hard, warm line against yours.
He kissed you like a starving man, desperate and deep, but his hands, as they roamed your body, were achingly tender. He broke the kiss to trail his lips down your throat, nipping at the sensitive skin. โNeed you,โ he growled against your collarbone. โNeed to see you. All of you.โ
His words sent a fresh wave of heat through you. You nodded, breathless. โYes. Please.โ
He helped you strip, his eyes drinking you in as each piece of clothing fell away. His gaze was reverent, hungry. Then his hands went to his own clothes, and you watched, mesmerized. He pulled his scrub top over his head, and you forgot to breathe.
His chest was a work of art. Broad, dusted with freckles, the muscles defined from years of physical labor and discipline. His arms were thick, roped with veins, strong enough to hold you, to protect you. He was beautiful. Your eyes traveled down, past the waistband of his pants, to his left leg. The prosthetic was a sleek, carbon-fiber blade, a stark contrast to the warmth of his flesh and blood.
He saw you looking and paused, a flicker of something โ vulnerability, perhaps โ crossing his face. โItโs okay,โ he said, his voice soft.
You shook your head, reaching out to touch his chest, your fingers splaying over his heart. โI know. Itโs justโฆ youโre amazing. All of you.โ
The vulnerability vanished, replaced by a fierce, bright tenderness. He finished undressing, and you couldn't help but look. He was fully, magnificently aroused, and the sight of him, hard and wanting for you, made your core clench with need.
He swept you up in his arms, carrying you the short distance to your bed and laying you down in the middle of it. He followed you down, his body covering yours. The weight of him, the feel of his skin against yours, was intoxicating.
He kissed his way down your body, his lips and tongue leaving a trail of fire. He lingered at your breasts, teasing your nipples until you were writhing. Lower, he went, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your stomach, your hips. When he settled between your legs, you shuddered, your hands flying to his hair.
โOh, god, Jackโฆโ you gasped.
He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire. โLet me taste you.โ And then his mouth was on you.
He ate you like you were his last meal, his tongue delving into your folds, circling your clit with a skill that had you crying out. He held your hips down as you bucked against his face, moaning into you, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through your system. You were spread wide open for him, head thrown back, lost to the sensation.
When he finally moved back up your body, his face was slick with you, and the sight was so incredibly hot it made you whimper. He reached for his pants, pulling a condom from his wallet and sheathing himself with practiced efficiency.
He positioned himself at your entrance, his forehead pressed to yours, his eyes holding yours captive. โYou sure?โ he whispered, giving you one last chance to stop.
In answer, you lifted your hips, pushing against him.
He sank into you with one long, smooth thrust, and you both groaned. He filled you so completely, stretched you in a way that was pure, perfect bliss. He started to move, a slow, deep rhythm at first, letting you adjust to his size. But the need was too great. Soon, his thrusts became harder, faster, more desperate.
โFuck,โ he grunted in your ear, the profanity a beautiful growl. โFeel so good. So tight.โ
His hand snaked between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and pressing in tight circles. The dual stimulation was overwhelming. The pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your belly, a spring winding to its breaking point.
โJackโฆ Iโm gonnaโฆ oh, god, Iโm gonna comeโฆโ you sobbed.
โCome for me,โ he commanded, his voice ragged. โCome on my cock. Let go. Iโve got you.โ
That was all it took. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your inner muscles clenching around him in rhythmic waves. You cried out his name, your back arching off the bed. You came hard, your own release soaking him, soaking the bed.
He groaned, a sound of pure, male satisfaction. โThatโs it. Thatโs my girl.โ He didnโt stop, fucking you through the intensity of your orgasm, chasing his own. With a few more powerful thrusts, he buried himself deep, a guttural shout tearing from his throat as he came undone.
For a long, sweet moment, there was only the sound of your ragged breathing and the thundering of your hearts. He collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms. You lay there, sticky and spent, his warmth seeping into your bones. He shifted, reaching down to remove his prosthetic with a quiet click, setting it beside the bed. It was such an intimate, domestic act that it made your heart clench.
And then, the panic set in.
It started as a tiny seed of unease in your gut, but it grew rapidly, its thorny vines wrapping around your heart and lungs until you couldnโt breathe. What have you done? The thought was a cold, harsh whisper in the warm afterglow. You slept with Jack. You slept with your attending physician. You were a resident, for Godโs sake. Your career, everything youโd worked for, could be ruined. The line you had sworn you would never cross lay shattered behind you.
Your body went rigid in his arms. Your breathing, which had just slowed, became shallow and quick. Your heart, which had been content, now hammered with a frantic, trapped-animal rhythm.
Jack felt it immediately. The change in your body was unmistakable. He propped himself up on his elbow, turning to look at you. His brow was furrowed with concern, his brown eyes soft but searching.
โHey,โ he said softly, his hand coming up to stroke your hair. The gentle touch, so perfectly Jack, only made it worse. โHey, whatโs wrong? Are you okay? Youโre shaking. Look at me.โ
You couldnโt. You squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head, a wave of nausea washing over you. You couldnโt speak, couldnโt form the words to explain the chaos in your head.
His thumb traced your temple, his touch infinitely patient. โCome on, sweetheart. Talk to me. Whatever it is, we can talk about it.โ His kindness was a knife.
Finally, you forced the words out, a choked, miserable murmur. โYou should go.โ
His hand stilled on your hair. The silence stretched, heavy and painful. When he spoke again, his voice was carefully controlled, but you could hear the hurt beneath it. โGo? You want me to leave?โ A pause. โYou already regret it. Is that it?โ
His words forced your eyes open. You turned your head to look at him. The vulnerable, satisfied man from moments ago was gone, replaced by one who was guarded, waiting for the blow. โNo,โ you said immediately, the word tumbling out. โGod, no, Jack. I donโt regretโฆ that. Not that.โ
โThen what is it?โ he pressed gently, the guarded look receding slightly.
Tears welled in your eyes. โIโm scared,โ you admitted, your voice breaking. โIโm so scared. What happens now? What happens between us at work? How do we justโฆ go back to being doctor and resident after this? Itโs going to be so weird and complicated. I canโtโฆ I canโt have this kind of worry right now. Iโm just a resident. If anyone finds outโฆโ
You trailed off, the tears spilling over and running down your cheeks. He watched you for a moment, his expression softening with understanding. He didnโt move away. Instead, he pulled you closer, tucking your head under his chin, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace.
โShh, shh, itโs okay,โ he murmured into your hair, his voice a low, rumbling comfort. โBreathe. Just breathe for a minute.โ
He held you until your shaking subsided slightly, his hand making slow, soothing circles on your back. When he spoke again, his voice was firm, gentle, and utterly sincere.
โListen to me,โ he said. โI care about you. Iโm not just saying that. I have cared about you for a long time. I didnโt just want to sleep with you. I want you. All of it. ย Iโve seen you dig deep when youโre exhausted, and be kind when youโre at your witsโ end. Iโve seen your potential, and itโs fucking astronomical. And Iโve been trying, so goddamn hard, to just be your attending. To just be your mentor. But I canโt. I want to be with you.โ
He pulled back slightly, tilting your chin up so you had to look at him. His eyes were earnest, blazing with a quiet intensity. โThis isnโt a one-time thing for me. I donโt want to be the guy who causes you problems because youโre sleeping with your boss. I want to be the guy who helps you through them. I want to be the reason you smile after a shitty shift, not the reason you panic.โ
His confession, so raw and heartfelt, washed over you, slowly dissolving the icy fear in your chest.
โWeโll figure it out,โ he promised. โWeโll be smart. Weโll be discreet. At work, Iโm your attending, and youโre my resident. Nothing changes there. Iโll still push you, Iโll still yell at you, and Iโll still be proud as hell of you. But out hereโฆ out here, Iโm yours, if youโll have me.โ
He looked at you, all the charm and confidence stripped away, leaving just a man, hopeful and a little bit scared himself. โSo what do you say? Can we try? For real?โ
The panic didn't vanish completely, but it receded, pushed back by the warmth of his words, the sincerity in his eyes. You were still terrified of what the future held, but the thought of facing it without him, of pushing him away after finally having him, was infinitely worse.
You reached up, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. โYou mean it?โ you whispered.
โWith all my heart.โ
A shaky smile touched your lips. โOkay.โ
His face broke into a relieved, heart-stopping grin. โYeah?โ
โYeah.โ
He kissed you then, soft and sweet and full of promise. It was a kiss of reassurance, of beginning. He pulled back, wiping the last of the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs.
โNow,โ he said, his voice dropping back to that husky, intimate register that made your toes curl. โNow that weโve got that settledโฆ I believe I owe you a proper round two. One without panic attacks at the end.โ
A real laugh bubbled up from your chest, light and free. He pulled you close, his body a warm, solid anchor in the uncertain sea. And as he began to kiss you again, you let yourself sink into him, into the feeling, into the terrifying, exhilarating possibility of what you might become.
๐ค reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!
โฅ main masterlist.
(If you like the pitt and Jack Abbott and want to be tagged in the next fics, let me know!! I also don't remember any mutual who likes the pitt too, so if you do speak up plss)
If you get a โญ๏ธโญ๏ธโญ๏ธโญ๏ธโญ๏ธ in your inbox it means your moot appreciates you, and your efforts in the community!!!!! send this to 10 mutuals to continue the love, if you want to๐
โจ Happy New Year! โจ
๐ฅน๐ฅน damiii thank you sm for this!!! You are the sweetest ily!! This right back to you and happy new year pookie ๐
โ summary: It's been a few weeks since you broke up with Harry. You've always loved Christmas, but this is your first Christmas without him, and you can't wait for this cursed day to be over. Or maybe you don't. [based on the song "is it new years yet?" by sabrina carpenter.]
โ harry castillo x fem!reader / cw: breakup, eventual back together, a bit angst but not exactly, yearning, really missing each other, so in love, harry being a good boyfriend but a difficult one, harry loving spoiling you with expensive gifts. (maybe there's more, but I don't remember lol) wc! 1.3k
fruitcake masterlist
Christmas comes quietly this year.
Not with laughter or champagne corks or the kind of joy that makes your chest feel too small โ but with the low hum of lights buzzing outside your apartment window, the distant sound of someone elseโs happiness bleeding through thin walls. Youโre curled up on the couch in an oversized sweater you stole from him and never gave back, knees tucked under you, phone facedown on the coffee table like it might burn you if you look at it too long.
Youโve been counting the days since December started.
Not because youโre excited โ but because you want it to be over.
You want January. You want the ache to stop feeling seasonal, like heartbreak only hurts more when everything around you is dressed in red and gold and joy. You want the world to stop reminding you of him in every shop window and song, and stupid ornament shaped like a star.
Harry Castillo loved Christmas.
He loved it loudly. Lavishly. Like it was something meant to be conquered with affection.
Or maybe he just loved Christmas with you.
Which was definitely worse.
Last year, heโd shown up at your door with arms full of bags, breath fogging in the cold, hair a mess from the wind. Youโd laughed, told him he was insane, that youโd told him not to get you anything this time.
Heโd just shrugged and kissed your cheek.
โYeah,โ heโd said easily, already pushing past you into your apartment. โBut I love you. Thatโs kinda my thing.โ
That was always his thing.
Too much. Too big. Too sincere.
He loved in excess โ gifts, attention, presence. He loved you like he was afraid you might disappear if he loosened his grip even a little. Flowers sent to your work for no reason. Jewelry that made you feel overdressed just wearing it. Dresses you swore you didnโt need. A weekend trip booked on a whim because youโd once said you missed the ocean.
You loved him for it.
You also drowned in it.
Now the apartment feels wrong without him. Too quiet. Too still. The space where his boots used to sit by the door looks like a missing tooth. His mug is still in the back of the cabinet because you canโt bring yourself to move it.
In the silence with your own pain, your phone lights up.
You flinch before you even look.
But itโs not him โ just a group chat lighting up with holiday chaos. You mute it and sink deeper into the couch.
You broke up three weeks ago.
Not because the love was gone.
Because it was too much of everything else.
Youโd told him you needed space. Heโd heard rejection. Youโd said you felt smothered; heโd heard ungrateful. The argument had spiraled, both of you bleeding old fears into new wounds until it felt easier to walk away than to keep hurting each other.
But God, you miss him.
You miss the way he looked at you like you were the only constant in a world that never stopped shifting. You miss the way his hand always found yours without thinking. You miss how safe you felt when he wrapped his arms around you โ like nothing bad could reach you as long as he was there.
Outside, snow starts to fall.
You donโt notice at first.
Not until your phone buzzes again.
A text. This time it was Harry.
Harry: I know I shouldnโt text. You donโt have to answer. I just... Is it weird that Christmas doesnโt feel like Christmas without you?
Your chest tightens so hard it almost hurts to breathe.
You stare at the screen, thumb hovering. Every instinct tells you to protect your heart. To keep the distance. To survive the season and deal with the feelings later.
But youโre so tired of being brave.
I was just thinking the same thing.
The typing bubble appears almost instantly.
Harry: Can I see you? Just for a little while. Iโll leave if you want me to.
You close your eyes.
Outside, snow thickens, coating the street in white. The world looks softer already.
Just a little while, you tell yourself.
Okay.
Twenty minutes later, thereโs a knock.
You donโt bother fixing your hair. You donโt change your sweater. You open the door barefoot, heart hammering so loudly youโre sure he can hear it.
Harry stands there with snow dusting his shoulders, breath coming out in white clouds. Heโs holding a small bag in one hand and a familiar nervousness in his eyes โ the kind he only ever had with you.
โHey,โ he says softly.
โHey.โ
For a moment, neither of you move.
Then he looks down, rubbing the back of his neck. โI- I brought something. I know you always said no gifts, but this isnโtโฆ Itโs not like before.โ
You step aside, letting him in.
The door closes behind him with a quiet click, sealing the two of you inside the warm, dim space. He looks around like heโs afraid of disturbing something sacred.
โPlace looks the same.โ he murmurs.
โYeah,โ you say. โI didnโt have the energy to change it.โ
He nods, understanding too much.
He hands you the bag. Inside is a small box wrapped in brown paper, tied with twine. Simple. Thoughtful. So very him trying to do better.
You open it slowly.
Inside is a snow globe.
Not flashy. Not expensive. Just a small glass globe with a tiny couple standing under a streetlight, snow falling around them. You shake it gently, watching the flakes swirl.
โIt reminded me of us,โ he says quietly. โBefore everything got loud.โ
Your throat tightens.
โHarryโฆโ
โI know I messed up,โ he says quickly. โI know I donโt always know how to love without going overboard. I justโ I never really loved anyone, never cared like that, and when I care, I guess I care hard. And I didnโt realize I was drowning you until you were already gone.โ
You look at him then. Really look.
The tired eyes. The hope heโs trying not to show. The vulnerability he never lets anyone see.
โI didnโt want to leave,โ you whisper. โI just wanted to breathe.โ
โI shouldโve listened.โ he says. โI shouldโve trusted that you werenโt going anywhere.โ
Silence stretches between you, thick but not uncomfortable. Outside, someone laughs. A car passes. Life goes on.
โIโve missed you.โ you admit.
His breath stutters. โI've missed you. Every day.โ
You donโt know who moves first โ maybe both of you โ but suddenly heโs closer, warmth radiating from him, familiar and grounding. He doesnโt touch you yet, just stands there, like heโs asking permission with his whole body.
You step forward and rest your forehead against his chest.
He exhales, arms coming around you slowly, carefully, like heโs afraid youโll disappear if he holds too tight.
โI donโt want to lose you again.โ he murmurs into your hair.
โThen donโt,โ you whisper. โBut we have to do this differently.โ
โI know,โ he says. โI want to try. I want to learn how to love you the way you need.โ
You pull back just enough to look at him. His eyes are soft. Hopeful. Real.
โMaybe,โ you say, voice trembling, โwe can start with tonight.โ
He smiles โ not the flashy grin he uses for the world, but the quiet one thatโs always been just for you.
โYeah,โ he says. โTonight sounds perfect.โ
Outside, the snow keeps falling.
Inside, the two of you sit together on the couch, knees touching, hands tangled, letting the quiet settle around you like a promise. Thereโs no rush. No grand gestures. Just warmth, and breath, and the slow rebuilding of something that never really broke โ it just needed space to grow.
And right then, you no longer wished for time to pass quickly and for the new year to arrive; in fact, you wanted time to stop so you could freeze this Christmas with him forever.
๐ค reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!
โฅ main masterlist.
a/n: This is shorter than I planned, and I also wanted to post it earlier, on Christmas Day, but unfortunately, I could only post it now, so please excuse the delay. Even so, merry christmas to all of you who read what I write and celebrated Christmas! <3
tags: @tinas111 (If you want to be added to the taglist, just let me know <3)
โ summary: You're Vanessa's best friend, and after meeting the Wolverine a few times, you've developed a crazy passion for him, and the fact that he's incredibly hot doesn't help matters. Finally, you muster up enough courage to act on it at the Christmas party. [based on the song "a nonsense christmas" by sabrina carpenter.]
โ logan howlett x fem!reader / cw: allusion to smut, kisses, two horny idiots in love, logan being grumpy, logan being a softie, worst wolvie. wc! 1.4k
fruitcake masterlist
The winter air bit sharply against Logan's skin as he stood outside Wade's apartment, cigarette smoke curling into the December night.
Snow had started falling an hour ago, dusting the fire escape in white. Inside, Wade was hosting what he called a "Christmas spectacular," which meant too many people, too much noise, and definitely too much eggnog.
Logan should've stayed at his cabin; he sometimes ran to. Should've kept his distance from all thisโthe decorations, the cheer, the pretense that any of them deserved a normal holiday. He was the worst Wolverine, after all. The one who'd let everyone down. The one who'd failed.
But then you'd shown up at Wade's door one month ago, some friend of Vanessa's who'd gotten tangled in their chaos, and suddenly Logan found reasons to stick around he couldn't quite justify.
"You planning to freeze out here, or are you coming back inside?" Your voice cut through his thoughts, warm despite the cold. You stepped onto the fire escape in a red sweater that hugged your curves, stockings disappearing into boots that definitely weren't made for snow.
"Needed air," he muttered, not looking at you. Looking at you was dangerous. Made him think about things he had no business thinking about.
"It's twelve degrees." You moved closer, and he caught the scent of vanilla and cinnamon. "Wade's about to start his Secret Santa thing. Says if you're not there, he's giving your gift to Dogpool."
Logan grunted, flicking the cigarette into the snow below. "Don't care about gifts."
"No?" You leaned against the railing beside him, close enough that your arm brushed his. "What do you care about?"
The question hung between them like mistletoeโwhich, knowing Wade, was probably hidden somewhere nearby. Logan's jaw tightened. He cared about too much when it came to you. Cared about the way you didn't flinch when his claws came out during a fight. Cared about how you'd clean the blood from his arms last Tuesday without asking about the holes in his suit. Cared about the sound of your laugh when Wade said something particularly stupid.
"Not much," he lied.
You studied him with those eyes that seemed to see through every wall he'd built. "You're a terrible liar, Logan Howlett."
His name in your mouth did something to himโmade his stomach flip like he'd swallowed snowflakes. "Yeah? What am I lying about?"
"You pretend you don't want to be here. Don't want the noise, the people, the holiday." You stepped closer, your breath visible in the cold. "But you keep showing up."
"Wade's persistent."
"So am I." Your hand found his, fingers threading between his despite the December chill. "And I think you keep showing up for the same reason I keep hoping you will."
Logan's heartโthat traitorous, supposedly adamantium-hardened thingโkicked against his ribs. "Shouldn't hope for much with me, darlin'. I'm not exactly on the nice list."
"Good." Your smile was dangerous, full of promise. "I've been bad this year too."
Something snapped in Logan's carefully maintained control. He turned, backing you against the brick wall, one hand braced beside your head. "You don't know what you're asking for."
"Don't I?" Your free hand traced up his chest, feeling the rapid beat beneath. "I've watched you, Logan. Watched you fight, watched you care even when you pretend you don't. Watched you look at me like I'm something you want but won't let yourself have."
"Because I'm a disaster." His voice came out rough, nearly a growl. "Everything I touchโ"
"I'm not afraid of getting burned." You pulled him closer by his flannel, eliminating the space between you. "Maybe I want to warm you up. You've been out in the cold long enough."
The kiss happened like an avalancheโinevitable, overwhelming, impossible to stop once it started. Your lips were soft against his, tasting like the candy canes Wade had been passing around. Logan's hand moved to your waist, pulling you flush against him as the kiss deepened. You made a sound in the back of your throat that drove him crazy, your tongue sliding against his until everything went numb except the feeling of you.
When you finally broke apart, both breathing hard, your lipstick was smeared and his composure was thoroughly wrecked. "Well," you managed, voice husky. "Ho-ho-holy shit."
Despite himself, Logan laughedโactually laughed, the sound rusty from disuse. "That really your best line?"
"My brain stopped working." You grinned, tugging him toward the window. "Come inside. I want you under better circumstances than a fire escape."
"That an invitation?"
"Consider it your wish list being granted." You climbed through the window, glancing back with heat in your eyes. "Fair warningโWade hung mistletoe in every doorway."
Inside, the party was exactly as chaotic as Logan expected. Lights twinkled everywhere, music blasted something about rocking around a Christmas tree, and Wade had somehow convinced Peter to wear an elf costume. But Logan barely noticed any of it, too focused on your hand in his as you navigated through the crowd.
"There you are!" Wade bounded over in a Santa hat and Deadpool suit combination that hurt to look at. "I was about to send a search party. Or at least live-tweet your freeze-to-death."
"We're fine," you said, not letting go of Logan's hand.
Wade's eyes darted between you, noting your mussed appearance and swollen lips. "Oh. OH. Did you two finallyโon my fire escape? That's my emotional support fire escape!"
"Wade," Logan warned.
"No, no, this is great! I've been waiting for this sexual tension to resolve since Thanksgiving. It was thicker than Blind Al's gravy." Wade clapped his hands. "This calls for celebration! More eggnog! The spiked kind!"
As Wade bounced away, you turned to Logan, sliding your arms around his neck. Another doorway, another sprig of mistletoe above. "You know what this means."
"That Wade's insufferable?"
"That too." You kissed him again, softer this time, sweeter. "But also that maybe you're not as coal-worthy as you think. Maybe you deserve something good for Christmas."
Logan's hands settled on your hips, thumbs tracing small circles. "Don't believe in Santa, darlin'."
"Then believe in me." Your fingers played with the hair at his nape, tugging gently. "I want you, Logan. Right here, right now."
His grip tightened on your waist. "Wade's got a houseful of peopleโ"
"Then let's deck some halls elsewhere." You pressed closer, lips brushing his ear. "My place. A hide place. Hell, a snow bank if you're feeling festive."
Logan growled low in his throatโhalf warning, half promise. "You're gonna be the death of me."
"What a way to go." Your smile was wicked as you pulled him toward the door, grabbing your coat. "Come on, Wolverine. Let's see if you're as good with your hands as I've been imagining."
The cold hit you as you stumbled outside, but neither of you noticed. Logan had you pressed against the building within seconds, kissing you like the world was endingโdeep and demanding, all teeth and hunger. Your leg hitched around his hip, and he caught it, holding you there as snow fell around them.
"My apartment," you gasped between kisses. "Two blocks."
You barely made it. The walk was punctuated by stolen kisses in doorways, hands roaming under coats, breath fogging in the winter air. By the time you got your door open, Logan had your sweater half off and you'd already unbuttoned his flannel.
"Bedroom?" he managed.
"Too far." You pulled him toward the couch, both of you shedding clothes in a trail across the floorโyour red sweater, his flannel, your boots kicked off carelessly. "Right here works."
And it did. Logan lifted you easily, your legs wrapping around his waist as he lowered you onto the cushions. The fairy lights from your own Christmas tree cast everything in a warm glow, and outside the snow kept falling, muffling the world beyond your windows.
"You sure about this?" he asked one last time, even as his body pressed against yours.
"Stop talking and deck my halls already," you breathed, and that was all the invitation he needed.
Laterโmuch laterโyou lay tangled together on the couch, a throw blanket hastily pulled over your cooling skin. Logan's fingers traced lazy patterns on your shoulder while you hummed contentedly against his chest.
"That wasโ wow, what a Christmas gift, huh?" you teased, not knowing what to say.
"Yeah," he agreed, pressing a kiss to your hair.
"Merry Christmas, Logan."
He looked down at you, this beautiful disaster who'd somehow decided he was worth the trouble, and felt something like peace settle over him. "Merry Christmas, darlin'."
๐ค reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!
โฅ main masterlist.
taglist: @damimami1994 @tinas111 @mcrdvcks (if you want to be added or removed let me know <3)
Lina this was such a fun read and Iโm loving all the christmas puns the reader was saying through out ๐โค๏ธ๐
Their talk on the fireplace was really soft and special, I loved it from how he felt to how much reassurance she gave Logan!!
He cared about too much when it came to you. Cared about the way you didn't flinch when his claws came out during a fight. Cared about how you'd clean the blood from his arms last Tuesday without asking about the holes in his suit. Cared about the sound of your laugh when Wade said something particularly stupid.
โ
"Wade's persistent."
"So am I." Your hand found his, fingers threading between his despite the December chill. "And I think you keep showing up for the same reason I keep hoping you will."
This fic goes so great with Sabrinaโs song too, especially when they get to her apartment ๐คญ
โ summary: You're Vanessa's best friend, and after meeting the Wolverine a few times, you've developed a crazy passion for him, and the fact that he's incredibly hot doesn't help matters. Finally, you muster up enough courage to act on it at the Christmas party. [based on the song "a nonsense christmas" by sabrina carpenter.]
โ logan howlett x fem!reader / cw: allusion to smut, kisses, two horny idiots in love, logan being grumpy, logan being a softie, worst wolvie. wc! 1.4k
fruitcake masterlist
The winter air bit sharply against Logan's skin as he stood outside Wade's apartment, cigarette smoke curling into the December night.
Snow had started falling an hour ago, dusting the fire escape in white. Inside, Wade was hosting what he called a "Christmas spectacular," which meant too many people, too much noise, and definitely too much eggnog.
Logan should've stayed at his cabin; he sometimes ran to. Should've kept his distance from all thisโthe decorations, the cheer, the pretense that any of them deserved a normal holiday. He was the worst Wolverine, after all. The one who'd let everyone down. The one who'd failed.
But then you'd shown up at Wade's door one month ago, some friend of Vanessa's who'd gotten tangled in their chaos, and suddenly Logan found reasons to stick around he couldn't quite justify.
"You planning to freeze out here, or are you coming back inside?" Your voice cut through his thoughts, warm despite the cold. You stepped onto the fire escape in a red sweater that hugged your curves, stockings disappearing into boots that definitely weren't made for snow.
"Needed air," he muttered, not looking at you. Looking at you was dangerous. Made him think about things he had no business thinking about.
"It's twelve degrees." You moved closer, and he caught the scent of vanilla and cinnamon. "Wade's about to start his Secret Santa thing. Says if you're not there, he's giving your gift to Dogpool."
Logan grunted, flicking the cigarette into the snow below. "Don't care about gifts."
"No?" You leaned against the railing beside him, close enough that your arm brushed his. "What do you care about?"
The question hung between them like mistletoeโwhich, knowing Wade, was probably hidden somewhere nearby. Logan's jaw tightened. He cared about too much when it came to you. Cared about the way you didn't flinch when his claws came out during a fight. Cared about how you'd clean the blood from his arms last Tuesday without asking about the holes in his suit. Cared about the sound of your laugh when Wade said something particularly stupid.
"Not much," he lied.
You studied him with those eyes that seemed to see through every wall he'd built. "You're a terrible liar, Logan Howlett."
His name in your mouth did something to himโmade his stomach flip like he'd swallowed snowflakes. "Yeah? What am I lying about?"
"You pretend you don't want to be here. Don't want the noise, the people, the holiday." You stepped closer, your breath visible in the cold. "But you keep showing up."
"Wade's persistent."
"So am I." Your hand found his, fingers threading between his despite the December chill. "And I think you keep showing up for the same reason I keep hoping you will."
Logan's heartโthat traitorous, supposedly adamantium-hardened thingโkicked against his ribs. "Shouldn't hope for much with me, darlin'. I'm not exactly on the nice list."
"Good." Your smile was dangerous, full of promise. "I've been bad this year too."
Something snapped in Logan's carefully maintained control. He turned, backing you against the brick wall, one hand braced beside your head. "You don't know what you're asking for."
"Don't I?" Your free hand traced up his chest, feeling the rapid beat beneath. "I've watched you, Logan. Watched you fight, watched you care even when you pretend you don't. Watched you look at me like I'm something you want but won't let yourself have."
"Because I'm a disaster." His voice came out rough, nearly a growl. "Everything I touchโ"
"I'm not afraid of getting burned." You pulled him closer by his flannel, eliminating the space between you. "Maybe I want to warm you up. You've been out in the cold long enough."
The kiss happened like an avalancheโinevitable, overwhelming, impossible to stop once it started. Your lips were soft against his, tasting like the candy canes Wade had been passing around. Logan's hand moved to your waist, pulling you flush against him as the kiss deepened. You made a sound in the back of your throat that drove him crazy, your tongue sliding against his until everything went numb except the feeling of you.
When you finally broke apart, both breathing hard, your lipstick was smeared and his composure was thoroughly wrecked. "Well," you managed, voice husky. "Ho-ho-holy shit."
Despite himself, Logan laughedโactually laughed, the sound rusty from disuse. "That really your best line?"
"My brain stopped working." You grinned, tugging him toward the window. "Come inside. I want you under better circumstances than a fire escape."
"That an invitation?"
"Consider it your wish list being granted." You climbed through the window, glancing back with heat in your eyes. "Fair warningโWade hung mistletoe in every doorway."
Inside, the party was exactly as chaotic as Logan expected. Lights twinkled everywhere, music blasted something about rocking around a Christmas tree, and Wade had somehow convinced Peter to wear an elf costume. But Logan barely noticed any of it, too focused on your hand in his as you navigated through the crowd.
"There you are!" Wade bounded over in a Santa hat and Deadpool suit combination that hurt to look at. "I was about to send a search party. Or at least live-tweet your freeze-to-death."
"We're fine," you said, not letting go of Logan's hand.
Wade's eyes darted between you, noting your mussed appearance and swollen lips. "Oh. OH. Did you two finallyโon my fire escape? That's my emotional support fire escape!"
"Wade," Logan warned.
"No, no, this is great! I've been waiting for this sexual tension to resolve since Thanksgiving. It was thicker than Blind Al's gravy." Wade clapped his hands. "This calls for celebration! More eggnog! The spiked kind!"
As Wade bounced away, you turned to Logan, sliding your arms around his neck. Another doorway, another sprig of mistletoe above. "You know what this means."
"That Wade's insufferable?"
"That too." You kissed him again, softer this time, sweeter. "But also that maybe you're not as coal-worthy as you think. Maybe you deserve something good for Christmas."
Logan's hands settled on your hips, thumbs tracing small circles. "Don't believe in Santa, darlin'."
"Then believe in me." Your fingers played with the hair at his nape, tugging gently. "I want you, Logan. Right here, right now."
His grip tightened on your waist. "Wade's got a houseful of peopleโ"
"Then let's deck some halls elsewhere." You pressed closer, lips brushing his ear. "My place. A hide place. Hell, a snow bank if you're feeling festive."
Logan growled low in his throatโhalf warning, half promise. "You're gonna be the death of me."
"What a way to go." Your smile was wicked as you pulled him toward the door, grabbing your coat. "Come on, Wolverine. Let's see if you're as good with your hands as I've been imagining."
The cold hit you as you stumbled outside, but neither of you noticed. Logan had you pressed against the building within seconds, kissing you like the world was endingโdeep and demanding, all teeth and hunger. Your leg hitched around his hip, and he caught it, holding you there as snow fell around them.
"My apartment," you gasped between kisses. "Two blocks."
You barely made it. The walk was punctuated by stolen kisses in doorways, hands roaming under coats, breath fogging in the winter air. By the time you got your door open, Logan had your sweater half off and you'd already unbuttoned his flannel.
"Bedroom?" he managed.
"Too far." You pulled him toward the couch, both of you shedding clothes in a trail across the floorโyour red sweater, his flannel, your boots kicked off carelessly. "Right here works."
And it did. Logan lifted you easily, your legs wrapping around his waist as he lowered you onto the cushions. The fairy lights from your own Christmas tree cast everything in a warm glow, and outside the snow kept falling, muffling the world beyond your windows.
"You sure about this?" he asked one last time, even as his body pressed against yours.
"Stop talking and deck my halls already," you breathed, and that was all the invitation he needed.
Laterโmuch laterโyou lay tangled together on the couch, a throw blanket hastily pulled over your cooling skin. Logan's fingers traced lazy patterns on your shoulder while you hummed contentedly against his chest.
"That wasโ wow, what a Christmas gift, huh?" you teased, not knowing what to say.
"Yeah," he agreed, pressing a kiss to your hair.
"Merry Christmas, Logan."
He looked down at you, this beautiful disaster who'd somehow decided he was worth the trouble, and felt something like peace settle over him. "Merry Christmas, darlin'."
๐ค reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!
โฅ main masterlist.
taglist: @damimami1994 @tinas111 @mcrdvcks (if you want to be added or removed let me know <3)
The whole thing was filled with lovely quips between the two of them, but this exchange really got me the most:
"Because I'm a disaster." His voice came out rough, nearly a growl. "Everything I touchโ"
"I'm not afraid of getting burned." You pulled him closer by his flannel, eliminating the space between you. "Maybe I want to warm you up. You've been out in the cold long enough."
I'm a sucker for Logan not thinking he's worthy and someone instantly wanting to prove him wrong.
โ summary: You're Vanessa's best friend, and after meeting the Wolverine a few times, you've developed a crazy passion for him, and the fact that he's incredibly hot doesn't help matters. Finally, you muster up enough courage to act on it at the Christmas party. [based on the song "a nonsense christmas" by sabrina carpenter.]
โ logan howlett x fem!reader / cw: allusion to smut, kisses, two horny idiots in love, logan being grumpy, logan being a softie, worst wolvie. wc! 1.4k
fruitcake masterlist
The winter air bit sharply against Logan's skin as he stood outside Wade's apartment, cigarette smoke curling into the December night.
Snow had started falling an hour ago, dusting the fire escape in white. Inside, Wade was hosting what he called a "Christmas spectacular," which meant too many people, too much noise, and definitely too much eggnog.
Logan should've stayed at his cabin; he sometimes ran to. Should've kept his distance from all thisโthe decorations, the cheer, the pretense that any of them deserved a normal holiday. He was the worst Wolverine, after all. The one who'd let everyone down. The one who'd failed.
But then you'd shown up at Wade's door one month ago, some friend of Vanessa's who'd gotten tangled in their chaos, and suddenly Logan found reasons to stick around he couldn't quite justify.
"You planning to freeze out here, or are you coming back inside?" Your voice cut through his thoughts, warm despite the cold. You stepped onto the fire escape in a red sweater that hugged your curves, stockings disappearing into boots that definitely weren't made for snow.
"Needed air," he muttered, not looking at you. Looking at you was dangerous. Made him think about things he had no business thinking about.
"It's twelve degrees." You moved closer, and he caught the scent of vanilla and cinnamon. "Wade's about to start his Secret Santa thing. Says if you're not there, he's giving your gift to Dogpool."
Logan grunted, flicking the cigarette into the snow below. "Don't care about gifts."
"No?" You leaned against the railing beside him, close enough that your arm brushed his. "What do you care about?"
The question hung between them like mistletoeโwhich, knowing Wade, was probably hidden somewhere nearby. Logan's jaw tightened. He cared about too much when it came to you. Cared about the way you didn't flinch when his claws came out during a fight. Cared about how you'd clean the blood from his arms last Tuesday without asking about the holes in his suit. Cared about the sound of your laugh when Wade said something particularly stupid.
"Not much," he lied.
You studied him with those eyes that seemed to see through every wall he'd built. "You're a terrible liar, Logan Howlett."
His name in your mouth did something to himโmade his stomach flip like he'd swallowed snowflakes. "Yeah? What am I lying about?"
"You pretend you don't want to be here. Don't want the noise, the people, the holiday." You stepped closer, your breath visible in the cold. "But you keep showing up."
"Wade's persistent."
"So am I." Your hand found his, fingers threading between his despite the December chill. "And I think you keep showing up for the same reason I keep hoping you will."
Logan's heartโthat traitorous, supposedly adamantium-hardened thingโkicked against his ribs. "Shouldn't hope for much with me, darlin'. I'm not exactly on the nice list."
"Good." Your smile was dangerous, full of promise. "I've been bad this year too."
Something snapped in Logan's carefully maintained control. He turned, backing you against the brick wall, one hand braced beside your head. "You don't know what you're asking for."
"Don't I?" Your free hand traced up his chest, feeling the rapid beat beneath. "I've watched you, Logan. Watched you fight, watched you care even when you pretend you don't. Watched you look at me like I'm something you want but won't let yourself have."
"Because I'm a disaster." His voice came out rough, nearly a growl. "Everything I touchโ"
"I'm not afraid of getting burned." You pulled him closer by his flannel, eliminating the space between you. "Maybe I want to warm you up. You've been out in the cold long enough."
The kiss happened like an avalancheโinevitable, overwhelming, impossible to stop once it started. Your lips were soft against his, tasting like the candy canes Wade had been passing around. Logan's hand moved to your waist, pulling you flush against him as the kiss deepened. You made a sound in the back of your throat that drove him crazy, your tongue sliding against his until everything went numb except the feeling of you.
When you finally broke apart, both breathing hard, your lipstick was smeared and his composure was thoroughly wrecked. "Well," you managed, voice husky. "Ho-ho-holy shit."
Despite himself, Logan laughedโactually laughed, the sound rusty from disuse. "That really your best line?"
"My brain stopped working." You grinned, tugging him toward the window. "Come inside. I want you under better circumstances than a fire escape."
"That an invitation?"
"Consider it your wish list being granted." You climbed through the window, glancing back with heat in your eyes. "Fair warningโWade hung mistletoe in every doorway."
Inside, the party was exactly as chaotic as Logan expected. Lights twinkled everywhere, music blasted something about rocking around a Christmas tree, and Wade had somehow convinced Peter to wear an elf costume. But Logan barely noticed any of it, too focused on your hand in his as you navigated through the crowd.
"There you are!" Wade bounded over in a Santa hat and Deadpool suit combination that hurt to look at. "I was about to send a search party. Or at least live-tweet your freeze-to-death."
"We're fine," you said, not letting go of Logan's hand.
Wade's eyes darted between you, noting your mussed appearance and swollen lips. "Oh. OH. Did you two finallyโon my fire escape? That's my emotional support fire escape!"
"Wade," Logan warned.
"No, no, this is great! I've been waiting for this sexual tension to resolve since Thanksgiving. It was thicker than Blind Al's gravy." Wade clapped his hands. "This calls for celebration! More eggnog! The spiked kind!"
As Wade bounced away, you turned to Logan, sliding your arms around his neck. Another doorway, another sprig of mistletoe above. "You know what this means."
"That Wade's insufferable?"
"That too." You kissed him again, softer this time, sweeter. "But also that maybe you're not as coal-worthy as you think. Maybe you deserve something good for Christmas."
Logan's hands settled on your hips, thumbs tracing small circles. "Don't believe in Santa, darlin'."
"Then believe in me." Your fingers played with the hair at his nape, tugging gently. "I want you, Logan. Right here, right now."
His grip tightened on your waist. "Wade's got a houseful of peopleโ"
"Then let's deck some halls elsewhere." You pressed closer, lips brushing his ear. "My place. A hide place. Hell, a snow bank if you're feeling festive."
Logan growled low in his throatโhalf warning, half promise. "You're gonna be the death of me."
"What a way to go." Your smile was wicked as you pulled him toward the door, grabbing your coat. "Come on, Wolverine. Let's see if you're as good with your hands as I've been imagining."
The cold hit you as you stumbled outside, but neither of you noticed. Logan had you pressed against the building within seconds, kissing you like the world was endingโdeep and demanding, all teeth and hunger. Your leg hitched around his hip, and he caught it, holding you there as snow fell around them.
"My apartment," you gasped between kisses. "Two blocks."
You barely made it. The walk was punctuated by stolen kisses in doorways, hands roaming under coats, breath fogging in the winter air. By the time you got your door open, Logan had your sweater half off and you'd already unbuttoned his flannel.
"Bedroom?" he managed.
"Too far." You pulled him toward the couch, both of you shedding clothes in a trail across the floorโyour red sweater, his flannel, your boots kicked off carelessly. "Right here works."
And it did. Logan lifted you easily, your legs wrapping around his waist as he lowered you onto the cushions. The fairy lights from your own Christmas tree cast everything in a warm glow, and outside the snow kept falling, muffling the world beyond your windows.
"You sure about this?" he asked one last time, even as his body pressed against yours.
"Stop talking and deck my halls already," you breathed, and that was all the invitation he needed.
Laterโmuch laterโyou lay tangled together on the couch, a throw blanket hastily pulled over your cooling skin. Logan's fingers traced lazy patterns on your shoulder while you hummed contentedly against his chest.
"That wasโ wow, what a Christmas gift, huh?" you teased, not knowing what to say.
"Yeah," he agreed, pressing a kiss to your hair.
"Merry Christmas, Logan."
He looked down at you, this beautiful disaster who'd somehow decided he was worth the trouble, and felt something like peace settle over him. "Merry Christmas, darlin'."
๐ค reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!
โฅ main masterlist.
taglist: @damimami1994 @tinas111 @mcrdvcks (if you want to be added or removed let me know <3)
โ summary: You're Vanessa's best friend, and after meeting the Wolverine a few times, you've developed a crazy passion for him, and the fact that he's incredibly hot doesn't help matters. Finally, you muster up enough courage to act on it at the Christmas party. [based on the song "a nonsense christmas" by sabrina carpenter.]
โ logan howlett x fem!reader / cw: allusion to smut, kisses, two horny idiots in love, logan being grumpy, logan being a softie, worst wolvie. wc! 1.4k
fruitcake masterlist
The winter air bit sharply against Logan's skin as he stood outside Wade's apartment, cigarette smoke curling into the December night.
Snow had started falling an hour ago, dusting the fire escape in white. Inside, Wade was hosting what he called a "Christmas spectacular," which meant too many people, too much noise, and definitely too much eggnog.
Logan should've stayed at his cabin; he sometimes ran to. Should've kept his distance from all thisโthe decorations, the cheer, the pretense that any of them deserved a normal holiday. He was the worst Wolverine, after all. The one who'd let everyone down. The one who'd failed.
But then you'd shown up at Wade's door one month ago, some friend of Vanessa's who'd gotten tangled in their chaos, and suddenly Logan found reasons to stick around he couldn't quite justify.
"You planning to freeze out here, or are you coming back inside?" Your voice cut through his thoughts, warm despite the cold. You stepped onto the fire escape in a red sweater that hugged your curves, stockings disappearing into boots that definitely weren't made for snow.
"Needed air," he muttered, not looking at you. Looking at you was dangerous. Made him think about things he had no business thinking about.
"It's twelve degrees." You moved closer, and he caught the scent of vanilla and cinnamon. "Wade's about to start his Secret Santa thing. Says if you're not there, he's giving your gift to Dogpool."
Logan grunted, flicking the cigarette into the snow below. "Don't care about gifts."
"No?" You leaned against the railing beside him, close enough that your arm brushed his. "What do you care about?"
The question hung between them like mistletoeโwhich, knowing Wade, was probably hidden somewhere nearby. Logan's jaw tightened. He cared about too much when it came to you. Cared about the way you didn't flinch when his claws came out during a fight. Cared about how you'd clean the blood from his arms last Tuesday without asking about the holes in his suit. Cared about the sound of your laugh when Wade said something particularly stupid.
"Not much," he lied.
You studied him with those eyes that seemed to see through every wall he'd built. "You're a terrible liar, Logan Howlett."
His name in your mouth did something to himโmade his stomach flip like he'd swallowed snowflakes. "Yeah? What am I lying about?"
"You pretend you don't want to be here. Don't want the noise, the people, the holiday." You stepped closer, your breath visible in the cold. "But you keep showing up."
"Wade's persistent."
"So am I." Your hand found his, fingers threading between his despite the December chill. "And I think you keep showing up for the same reason I keep hoping you will."
Logan's heartโthat traitorous, supposedly adamantium-hardened thingโkicked against his ribs. "Shouldn't hope for much with me, darlin'. I'm not exactly on the nice list."
"Good." Your smile was dangerous, full of promise. "I've been bad this year too."
Something snapped in Logan's carefully maintained control. He turned, backing you against the brick wall, one hand braced beside your head. "You don't know what you're asking for."
"Don't I?" Your free hand traced up his chest, feeling the rapid beat beneath. "I've watched you, Logan. Watched you fight, watched you care even when you pretend you don't. Watched you look at me like I'm something you want but won't let yourself have."
"Because I'm a disaster." His voice came out rough, nearly a growl. "Everything I touchโ"
"I'm not afraid of getting burned." You pulled him closer by his flannel, eliminating the space between you. "Maybe I want to warm you up. You've been out in the cold long enough."
The kiss happened like an avalancheโinevitable, overwhelming, impossible to stop once it started. Your lips were soft against his, tasting like the candy canes Wade had been passing around. Logan's hand moved to your waist, pulling you flush against him as the kiss deepened. You made a sound in the back of your throat that drove him crazy, your tongue sliding against his until everything went numb except the feeling of you.
When you finally broke apart, both breathing hard, your lipstick was smeared and his composure was thoroughly wrecked. "Well," you managed, voice husky. "Ho-ho-holy shit."
Despite himself, Logan laughedโactually laughed, the sound rusty from disuse. "That really your best line?"
"My brain stopped working." You grinned, tugging him toward the window. "Come inside. I want you under better circumstances than a fire escape."
"That an invitation?"
"Consider it your wish list being granted." You climbed through the window, glancing back with heat in your eyes. "Fair warningโWade hung mistletoe in every doorway."
Inside, the party was exactly as chaotic as Logan expected. Lights twinkled everywhere, music blasted something about rocking around a Christmas tree, and Wade had somehow convinced Peter to wear an elf costume. But Logan barely noticed any of it, too focused on your hand in his as you navigated through the crowd.
"There you are!" Wade bounded over in a Santa hat and Deadpool suit combination that hurt to look at. "I was about to send a search party. Or at least live-tweet your freeze-to-death."
"We're fine," you said, not letting go of Logan's hand.
Wade's eyes darted between you, noting your mussed appearance and swollen lips. "Oh. OH. Did you two finallyโon my fire escape? That's my emotional support fire escape!"
"Wade," Logan warned.
"No, no, this is great! I've been waiting for this sexual tension to resolve since Thanksgiving. It was thicker than Blind Al's gravy." Wade clapped his hands. "This calls for celebration! More eggnog! The spiked kind!"
As Wade bounced away, you turned to Logan, sliding your arms around his neck. Another doorway, another sprig of mistletoe above. "You know what this means."
"That Wade's insufferable?"
"That too." You kissed him again, softer this time, sweeter. "But also that maybe you're not as coal-worthy as you think. Maybe you deserve something good for Christmas."
Logan's hands settled on your hips, thumbs tracing small circles. "Don't believe in Santa, darlin'."
"Then believe in me." Your fingers played with the hair at his nape, tugging gently. "I want you, Logan. Right here, right now."
His grip tightened on your waist. "Wade's got a houseful of peopleโ"
"Then let's deck some halls elsewhere." You pressed closer, lips brushing his ear. "My place. A hide place. Hell, a snow bank if you're feeling festive."
Logan growled low in his throatโhalf warning, half promise. "You're gonna be the death of me."
"What a way to go." Your smile was wicked as you pulled him toward the door, grabbing your coat. "Come on, Wolverine. Let's see if you're as good with your hands as I've been imagining."
The cold hit you as you stumbled outside, but neither of you noticed. Logan had you pressed against the building within seconds, kissing you like the world was endingโdeep and demanding, all teeth and hunger. Your leg hitched around his hip, and he caught it, holding you there as snow fell around them.
"My apartment," you gasped between kisses. "Two blocks."
You barely made it. The walk was punctuated by stolen kisses in doorways, hands roaming under coats, breath fogging in the winter air. By the time you got your door open, Logan had your sweater half off and you'd already unbuttoned his flannel.
"Bedroom?" he managed.
"Too far." You pulled him toward the couch, both of you shedding clothes in a trail across the floorโyour red sweater, his flannel, your boots kicked off carelessly. "Right here works."
And it did. Logan lifted you easily, your legs wrapping around his waist as he lowered you onto the cushions. The fairy lights from your own Christmas tree cast everything in a warm glow, and outside the snow kept falling, muffling the world beyond your windows.
"You sure about this?" he asked one last time, even as his body pressed against yours.
"Stop talking and deck my halls already," you breathed, and that was all the invitation he needed.
Laterโmuch laterโyou lay tangled together on the couch, a throw blanket hastily pulled over your cooling skin. Logan's fingers traced lazy patterns on your shoulder while you hummed contentedly against his chest.
"That wasโ wow, what a Christmas gift, huh?" you teased, not knowing what to say.
"Yeah," he agreed, pressing a kiss to your hair.
"Merry Christmas, Logan."
He looked down at you, this beautiful disaster who'd somehow decided he was worth the trouble, and felt something like peace settle over him. "Merry Christmas, darlin'."
๐ค reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!
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taglist: @damimami1994 @tinas111 @mcrdvcks (if you want to be added or removed let me know <3)
โ summary: you're not going to lie, you have a huge crush on Joel Miller, so when he decides to host a Christmas party at his house, and you're invited through Ellie, hope and nervousness take over you, even if you know that crush is unrequited because an older man like him would never have a crush on you, someone who just works in the greenhouse and takes care of the animals sometimes... but, well, what if he does?
โคฟ joel miller x fem!reader / cw: jackson joel, brief descriptions of reader age and use of heels and dress, fluff, you two having a crush on each other and being weird instead of just admitting it, maybe a little oc, christmas time, mention of a date, ellie, tommy teasing joel, and just cute moments.
โคฟ word count! 2.4k
lina yaps: since we're in the Christmas spirit, I decided to write this story, which I might be planning to create as a series of individual one-shots focusing on moments between them... but who knows.
When Joel invites you to the Christmas party at his house, your first instinct is to say no.
It's not that you don't want to goโGod, you want to go more than anythingโbut the invitation feels too good to be true. Joel Miller, with his gruff demeanor and those warm brown eyes that make your stomach flip, couldn't possibly want you there. You're convinced it's just politeness, the kind of obligatory invitation you extend to acquaintances in a small town like Jackson. Your relationship with him is surface-level at best: polite nods on patrol, brief conversations about supply runs, the occasional shared meal in the dining hall where you're hyperaware of every word that leaves your mouth.
But then there's Ellie.
"You're coming, right?" she'd asked when she caught you near the stables, her eyes bright with excitement. "Joel's actually doing this whole thingโTommy's idea, obviouslyโand it's gonna be so weird if it's just a bunch of old people. Please say you'll come."
You'd laughed at that, at being grouped in with "old people" when you're barely in your thirties, but Ellie's enthusiasm is infectious. And the truth is, you adore the kid. She's sharp and funny, and she's somehow managed to crack through Joel's walls in a way that makes you wonder what it would be like to be let in like that.
So you say yes. For Ellie, you tell yourself. Definitely for Ellie, and not because the thought of seeing Joel in a social setting, maybe even relaxed and smiling, makes your heart race.
The night of the party, you stand in front of your mirror for far too long, second-guessing everything. The dress you've chosen is simple but niceโa deep green that Maria had helped you trade for months ago. And the heels. God, the heels. They're not even that high, but you haven't worn anything like them since before the outbreak. Still, they make your legs look good, and there's a small, vain part of you that wants Joel to notice.
You arrive fashionably late, hoping to slip in unnoticed among the other guests. The Miller house is warm and inviting, string lights draped across the living room and the smell of pine and cinnamon in the air. Tommy answers the door with a wide grin, pulling you into a quick hug.
"There she is! Maria was wondering if you'd chickened out."
"Never," you say, trying to sound more confident than you feel. You hand him the bottle of wine you'd broughtโsomething from the community's stashโand he ushers you inside.
The house is fuller than you expected. Neighbors, patrol partners, people you recognize from around town. Maria waves at you from across the room, and you make your way over, grateful for a familiar face. She's in the middle of a conversation with a few other women, and you slip easily into the group, letting the chatter wash over you.
You don't see Joel right away, and you tell yourself you're not looking for him. But then Ellie appears at your elbow, grinning. "You made it! Joel was worried you wouldn't show."
Your heart does a stupid little flip. "He was?"
"Yeah, he's been weird all day. Tommy won't stop giving him shit about it." She rolls her eyes, but there's affection in it. "Come on, he's in the kitchen."
You follow her, weaving through the guests, and there he is. Joel's standing by the counter, pouring drinks, his flannel sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He looks up as you approach, and for just a second, something flickers in his expressionโsurprise, maybe, or relief.
"Hey," he says, his voice a little rough. "Glad you could make it."
"Thanks for inviting me," you reply, trying to sound casual even though your pulse is hammering in your ears.
Tommy appears behind Joel, clapping him on the shoulder. "See? I told you she'd come. Now maybe you can stop moping around like a lovesick teenager."
Joel's jaw tightens, and he shoots his brother a look that could kill. "Tommyโฆ"
"What? I'm just saying, it's nice to have everyone here. You, Maria, Joelโwe should do this more often. Maybe hit up the Tipsy Bison sometime, make it a regular thing. Double dates and all that."
Your face heats at the implication, and you're suddenly very interested in the drink Joel hands you. He looks equally flustered, his ears turning red in that way you've noticed happens when he's uncomfortable.
"Tommy, leave her alone," Maria calls from the doorway, her tone exasperated but fond. "Come help me with the food."
Tommy grins, unrepentant, and saunters off. You and Joel are left standing there, the silence stretching just a beat too long.
"Sorry about him," Joel mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. "He's beenโฆ like that all week."
"It's fine," you say quickly. "He's just excited about the party."
Joel nods, but there's something in his eyes, something you can't quite read. Before you can dwell on it, Ellie drags you off to meet some of her friends, and the moment passes.
The evening unfolds in a pleasant blur. You chat with neighbors, help Maria set out food, and even manage to relax a little. But as the night wears on, the heels you'd been so proud of earlier start to exact their revenge. By the time dinner is over and people are milling around with drinks, your feet are screaming.
You slip out onto the porch, grateful for the cold air and the quiet. The party sounds muffled from out here, just a low hum of voices and laughter. You sink onto the steps, tugging off your heels with a sigh of relief, and start rubbing your aching feet.
"You okay?"
You jump, twisting around to see Joel standing in the doorway, two glasses in his hands. He looks concerned, his brow furrowed in that way that makes him look older and somehow softer at the same time.
"Yeah, just needed some air," you say, feeling embarrassed. "And these shoes are torture devices."
He huffs a quiet laugh, stepping out onto the porch and handing you one of the glasses. "Thought you might need a refill."
"Thanks." You take the drink, acutely aware of how close he is as he settles onto the step beside you. His shoulder brushes yours, and you have to fight the urge to lean into the warmth of him.
"Feet that bad, huh?" he asks, nodding at the discarded heels.
"Terrible idea," you admit with a rueful smile. "I haven't worn anything like this in years. I forgot how much they suck."
"Could've fooled me. You lookedโฆ nice." He says it quietly, almost like he didn't mean to say it out loud, and your heart does that stupid flip again.
"Thanks," you say, your voice softer now. "You clean up pretty well yourself."
He ducks his head, and you swear you see the corner of his mouth twitch up. For a moment, you just sit there, the silence comfortable in a way that surprises you. The cold air bites at your skin, but you don't mind. It feels good, grounding.
"Party turned out nice," you say eventually, trying to fill the quiet. "Ellie seems happy."
"Yeah, she does." Joel takes a sip of his drink, his gaze distant. "Tommy's idea, all this. Said it'd be good for us toโฆ I don't know, be normal for a night."
"Is it working?"
He glances at you, and there's something unguarded in his expression. "Yeah. Yeah, I think it is."
You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest that has nothing to do with the alcohol. "Good. You deserve it. Both of you."
Joel doesn't respond right away, just looks at you like he's trying to figure something out. Then he clears his throat, shifting slightly. "Tommy's been on me all week, you know. About you."
Your stomach flips. "About me?"
"Yeah. Keeps sayingโฆ well, doesn't matter what he says. Point is, he's got a big mouth."
You laugh, the sound surprising you. "Maria's the same way. She's been dropping hints for months."
"Hints about what?" Joel asks, and there's a note of hope in his voice that makes your breath catch.
You look down at your glass, suddenly feeling brave. Or maybe just reckless. "About how I should stop being so stubborn and just ask you out already."
The silence that follows is excruciating. You risk a glance at Joel, and he's staring at you, his expression somewhere between shocked and disbelieving.
"Youโฆ you want to ask me out?"
"I mean, I figured you weren't interested," you say quickly, backtracking. "You've always been kind ofโฆ distant. I thought maybe you were just being polite, inviting me tonight."
"Polite?" Joel repeats, and then he laughsโan actual, genuine laugh that you've never heard from him before. "Christ, I've been trying to work up the nerve to talk to you for months. Tommy's been giving me hell about it."
You blink, your brain struggling to catch up. "Wait, what?"
"I'm not good at this," Joel says, running a hand through his hair. "Talking to people, especiallyโฆ especially someone like you. I figured you weren't interested. You're always so put-together, so confident. I didn't think you'd want anything to do with a guy like me."
"Joel," you say, your voice trembling slightly, "I have the biggest, dumbest crush on you. I've been a mess every time we've talked."
He stares at you, and then that small, crooked smile you've only seen a handful of times breaks across his face. "You're kidding."
"I'm really not."
"Well, shit," he says, shaking his head. "Tommy's never gonna let me hear the end of this."
You laugh, the tension breaking, and Joel laughs too, the sound low and warm. It feels easy, suddenly, sitting here with him. Like maybe this is how it's supposed to be.
"So," you say after a moment, "what now?"
Joel takes a sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving yours. "Now I guess we stop being idiots and actually do something about it."
"Sounds like a plan."
You sit there for a while longer, talking about nothing and everything. Joel tells you about the time Ellie tried to convince him to finally get a Christmas tree and ended up dragging home something that was more bush than tree. You tell him about the town gossip you've heardโabout the couple who got caught sneaking into the Bison bathroom after hours pretending not to be touching nonstop, about the new guy who tried to impress everyone on patrol and ended up falling off his horse.
Joel laughs at that, a real, full laugh, and the sound makes something warm and bright bloom in your chest. You talk until your drinks are empty and the cold starts to seep through your dress, and even then, you're reluctant to go back inside.
"We should probably head back in," Joel says eventually, though he doesn't move. "Before Tommy comes looking for us and makes it weird."
"Weirder than it already is?" you tease, and he grins.
"Fair point."
He stands, offering you a hand, and you take it, letting him pull you to your feet. Your heels are still on the porch, forgotten, and you don't bother putting them back on. Joel notices, his gaze flicking down to your bare feet.
"Need a hand getting back inside?" he asks, and there's a playful note in his voice that you've never heard before.
"I think I can manage," you say, but you don't let go of his hand.
He doesn't let go either.
When you step back into the warmth of the house, the party is still going strong. Maria catches your eye from across the room and gives you a knowing look, and you feel your face heat. Joel squeezes your hand once before letting go, and the loss of contact feels like a promise of more to come.
Ellie bounds over, grinning. "There you guys are! We're about to do Secret Santa. You can't miss it."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Joel says, and when he glances at you, there's something soft and unguarded in his expression that makes your heart ache in the best way.
But before you can say anything, her eyes drop to your bare feet, and she gives you a confused look. โDude, where are your shoes?โ
โOhโฆโ you replied, looking down at your feet, โThey were killing me.โ you explained with an upside-down smile.
She just hummed before disappearing into the house, and you exchange a look with Joel, waiting. A moment later, Ellie returns, holding out a pair of oversized, well-worn slippersโdefinitely too big for her.
"Here," she says, thrusting them at you. "They're Joel's, but he never wears them. You can borrow them."
"Ellie, itโs fine, you don't have toโ"
"Too late." She drops them at your feet with a satisfied grin. "Can't have you freezing your toes off. Plus, Joel would feel bad all night if you did."
Joel clears his throat, looking mildly embarrassed. "She's not wrong."
You can't help but laugh as you slip your feet into the slippers. They're comically large, warm, and soft, and they smell kind of funny. "Thanks, Ellie."
"No problem," she says, already running ahead. "Now come on, Secret Santa's starting!"
Joel shakes his head, but there's fondness in his expression. "She's something else."
"She really is," you agree, shuffling forward in the oversized slippers.
The rest of the night passes in a blur of laughter and warmth. You exchange gifts, sing off-key carols, and at some point, Joel's hand finds yours again under the table. It's subtle, just his fingers brushing yours, but it's enough to make you feel like you're floating.
When the party finally winds down and people start to leave, you linger, helping Maria and Tommy clean up. Joel walks you to the door, his hands shoved in his pockets, looking almost shy.
"Thanks for coming," he says. "I'm glad you did."
"Me too," you say, and you mean it.
"So, uhโฆ about that date," he starts, his voice a little uncertain. "How about the Bison? Tomorrow night?"
"Tomorrow night sounds perfect."
He smiles, and it's the kind of smile that makes you forget about your aching feet and the cold and everything else. "Good. It's a date, then."
"It's a date."
You leave the Miller house with your heels in your hand, still in his slippers and a lightness in your chest you haven't felt in years. The night is cold and clear, the stars bright overhead, and as you walk home, you can't stop smiling.
Behind you, you catch a glimpse of Joel standing in the doorway, watching you go. And when you turn back to wave, he waves back, that crooked smile still on his face.
Maybe this party was exactly what you all needed.
๐ค reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!
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tags: @ablondehoe @tinas111 (If you want to be added to the taglist, just let me know <3)
these shy lil' lovebugs stole my heart in one fell swoop, they were so preciously bashful ๐ฅน๐๐คญ also I always enjoy tommy bugging joel about his lovelife!! ๐
โ summary: Christmas is an important celebration for you and your relationship with Joel, even more so now that you're dating your very own grumpy and handsome Santa Claus. [based on the song "buy me presents" by sabrina carpenter.]
โ joel miller x fem!reader / cw: baking cookies, smut, kitchen sex, fluff, idiots in love, dirty suggestive comments, established relationship. wc! 2.6k
Almost two years into being Joelโs girl, and you're still not used to how domestic it all feels.
It's Christmas Eve, and you're in his kitchenโyour kitchen, really, since you've been spending more nights here than at your own place for months nowโattempting to bake cookies. The operative word being attempting. The first batch is currently smoking slightly in the oven, and you're pretty sure the dough for the second batch has the wrong consistency, but you're committed to seeing this through.
Joel walks in from the cold, stomping snow off his boots, and immediately wrinkles his nose. "Something burning?"
"No," you lie, yanking open the oven door. Smoke billows out, and you wave it away frantically. "Maybe. Possibly."
He crosses the kitchen in three strides, gently moving you aside to pull out the tray of definitely-burnt cookies. "Darlin', these are charcoal."
"They're rustic."
"They're inedible." You look at him, giving him your best unimpressed stare, but it's hard to maintain when he's grinning, that soft, affectionate look he gets that makes your stomach flip every single time. He's shed his heavy coat, left in just that damn flannel that fits him just right, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and jeans that sit a little lower on his hips than they used to. There's a softness to him now, he's put on a little weight since last winter, a comfortable weight that comes from regular meals and not constantly running for his life. It suits him. Makes him look comfortable, settled, happy.
Makes you want to climb him like a tree.
"You're staring," Joel says, setting the ruined cookies aside.
"You're distracting," you counter, turning back to your dough.
"I just walked in the door."
"Like I said. Distracting."
He moves behind you, his hands settling on your hips, chin hooking over your shoulder. "Need help?"
Your breath catches. He's warm and solid against your back, and you have to resist the urge to abandon the cookies entirely and drag him upstairs. "I've got it under control."
"Uh-huh." His lips brush your ear. "That why the first batch is currently resembling hockey pucks?"
"Those were a test run."
"Sure they were." His hands slide around your waist, fingers splaying across your stomach. "What're you making these for anyway?"
"The party tomorrow. I told Maria I'd bring something."
"Could just talk to Seth. He likes you, he would make some for you."
You elbow him gently. "That's cheating."
"That's practical." But his hands don't move, thumbs rubbing small circles through your shirt. "You know what else is practical?"
"What?"
"Taking a break." His mouth moves to your neck, lips dragging over your pulse point. "You must have been at this for an hour."
Your eyes flutter closed. "Joel..."
"Hmm?"
"You're not playing fair."
"Never said I would." He nips at your earlobe, and you shiver. "Come on. Ten-minute break. I'll even help you with the next batch after."
Why he always had to tease you like that? You wanted to say no and finally finish these cookies, get them in the oven, prove that you're capable of basic domestic tasks. But Joel's hands are sliding under your shirt now, callused palms against bare skin, and your resolve crumbles.
"Ten minutes," you agree, turning in his arms.
"Ten minutes," he confirms, and then his mouth is on yours.
The kiss starts slowโJoel's always slow at first, like he's savoring itโbut it doesn't stay that way. Your hands fist in his flannel, pulling him closer, and he groans into your mouth, backing you up against the counter. His hips press against yours, and you can feel exactly how affected he is.
"Joel," you breathe when he moves to your neck, teeth scraping over sensitive skin.
"Yeah, sweetheart?"
"Need you. Now."
He pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes dark. "What about the cookies?"
"Fuck the cookies."
He grins, wicked and pleased, and then he's lifting you onto the counter, stepping between your legs. "That's my girl."
His hands are on your thighs, pushing your long skirt up, and you're already working on the buttons of his flannel when you hear the front door open.
"Joel? You home?" Ellie's voice echoes through the house.
You both freeze.
"Shit," Joel mutters, stepping back quickly. You slide off the counter, tugging your skirt down and trying to look innocent. Joel's flannel is half-unbuttoned, his hair messed up from your hands, and there's no way Ellie's not going to know exactly what you were doing.
She appears in the doorway a moment later, taking in the scene with raised eyebrows. "Seriously? In the kitchen?"
"We weren'tโ" you start.
"We were justโ" Joel says at the same time.
Ellie holds up a hand. "Save it. I don't want to know." She spots the burnt cookies on the counter and wrinkles her nose. "What the hell happened to those?"
"Baking incident," you mutter, face hot.
"Clearly." She grabs an apple from the fruit bowl, grinning. "I'm going to Dina's. Try to keep it PG until I'm gone, yeah?"
"Ellie," Joel says, his tone warning.
"What? I'm just saying." She takes a bite of the apple, backing toward the door. "Also, you've got flour in your hair," she tells you, then disappears before either of you can respond.
You reach up, finding the flour she mentioned, and Joel laughs. "She's right. You look like you've been in a fight with a bag of flour and lost."
"Shut up." But you're smiling. You brush the flour out, then move back to the counter. "Come on. Let's actually finish these cookies."
"Thought you said fuck the cookies."
"That was before we got interrupted." You shoot him a look over your shoulder. "Don't worry. I'll make it up to you later."
His eyes darken again. "That a promise?"
"Absolutely."
You work together on the next batch, and with Joel's help, they actually turn out decent. He's surprisingly good at thisโcareful and precise in a way that makes you think of him on patrol, every movement deliberate. You watch him roll out dough, his hands steady and sure, and you have to physically restrain yourself from jumping him again.
"You're doing it again," Joel says without looking up.
"Doing what?"
"Staring."
"Can you blame me?" You lean your hip against the counter, studying him openly. "You're pretty to look at."
He scoffs, but there's color in his cheeks. "Pretty's not the word I'd use."
"What word would you use?"
"Old. Tired. Got a fat dad bod."
"Hey." You step closer, reaching up to cup his face. "First of all, you're not old. You're mature. Second, you're not tiredโyou're relaxed, which is a good thing. And third..." Your hands slide down to his chest, then lower, fingers skimming over his stomach. "The dad bod is working for you. Trust me."
His breath hitches. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." You press closer, voice dropping. "You know what I was thinking about earlier?"
"What?"
"That is so difficult to get presents being in the apocalypse... maybe I will have to wrap myself for you."
Joel blinks, clearly thrown by the words. "What?"
"You know, it's Christmas and Christmas is an important date for us... You deserve a good present." You watch his face, enjoying the way his pupils dilate. "I don't believe in Santa anymore, but you could be my Santa and drink me like a warm glass of milk." You smile, trying really hard to be sexy and to not laugh.
"Jesus," he mutters, his hands finding your hips again.
"I know it's nothing new, but I think I had some ideas." Your fingers play with the hem of his flannel. "About how you're older, but that just means you know what you're doing. About how you've got this body that's just..." You press a kiss to his jaw. "Perfect. About how fucking hot you are when you're taking me apart."
"Darlin'." His voice is strained. "You can't say things like that when we've got cookies in the oven."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm about two seconds away from bending you over this counter and making you scream, and those cookies are gonna burn again."
Heat pools low in your belly. "The timer's set. We've got twelve minutes."
"Twelve minutes isn't enough."
"Then we'll have to be quick."
He stares at you for a long moment, jaw tight, and then he's moving. His hands grip your ass, lifting you back onto the counter, and his mouth crashes into yours. This kiss is nothing like the earlier oneโit's desperate, hungry, filthy. His hands are everywhere, shoving your skirt up, dragging your panties down, and you're working on his belt with shaking fingers.
"You're sure about this?" he asks, his voice low.
"Joel, we've been together for over a year. I'm very sure."
"Just checking."
You pull him back to you, your hands tangling in his hair. "Less talking, more kissing."
"Yes, ma'am."
You open more your legs for him, making him gasp.
"Fuck," he breathes against your mouth when you get his jeans open, hand wrapping around him. "Darlinโ, we gottaโ"
"I know." You're breathless, already aching. "Please."
He doesn't need more encouragement. He lines himself up and pushes in, and you bite down on his shoulder to muffle your moan. He's big and thick and perfect, stretching you just right, and you wrap your legs around his waist to pull him deeper.
"Christ," Joel groans, his forehead pressed to yours. "You feel so fucking good."
"Move," you demand, and he does.
It's fast and hard and exactly what you both need. The counter digs into your back, Joel's hands are bruising on your hips, and you can hear the obscene sound of skin on skin, the wet slide of him inside you. He's breathing hard, muttering filthy things in your earโhow tight you are, how perfect, how he's been thinking about this all day.
"Joel," you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders. "I'mโ"
"I know. I've got you." One hand slides between your bodies, thumb finding your clit, and that's all it takes. You come with a choked cry, clenching around him, and he follows a moment later, burying his face in your neck as he spills inside you.
For a minute, you just stay like that, both of you panting, hearts racing. Then the oven timer goes off, shrill and insistent.
"Fuck," you mutter, and Joel laughs, breathless.
"Cookies," he says, pulling out carefully. You wince at the loss, already feeling the mess between your thighs.
"Cookies," you agree, sliding off the counter on shaky legs.
Joel pulls the tray out while you try to make yourself presentable, tugging your panties back up and smoothing your skirt down. The cookies are perfectโgolden brown, not a hint of burning. You catch Joel's eye and start laughing.
"What?" he asks, grinning.
"We just had sex in the kitchen to make sure the cookies didn't burn."
"Priorities."
You shake your head, still smiling, and lean up to kiss him. "Merry Christmas, Joel."
"Merry Christmas, darlin'." He wraps his arms around you, holding you close. "So, the cookies are ready for tomorrow, and I also have your present ready..."
You pull back, raising an eyebrow. "What? Joel! I told you I didn't want anything."
"Come on, darlin', it's small," he says quickly. "Nothing fancy. Just... something I made that I thought you'd like."
You soften, reaching up to touch his face. "You didn't have to."
"I wanted to." He presses a kiss to your forehead. "You gonna let me give it to you tomorrow?"
"Only if you let me give you yours."
"Deal."
You bite your lip, watching him. "Also, you know, like i said earlier, I don't need presents if you give me other things instead..."
"What kind of other things?" His eyes darken again.
"The kind we were just doing." You slide your hands up his chest. "The kind I want to keep doing. All night, if you're up for it."
"Babe, I'm always up for it with you."
"Good." You kiss him again, slow and deep. "Because I've got plans for you later."
"That right?"
"Mm-hmm. Involve you, me, that bed upstairs, and nothing else."
"Hmm, Christmas really is the best season ever," Joel murmurs against your lips.
You giggled, your cheeks red. "But so you know, that's all I need. You. This."
He pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression serious. "Sweetheart, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I hope you know that."
You smiled, nodding.
He kisses you again, softer, but still deeper. His hand slides down to your waist, pulling you closer, and you go willingly, wrapping your arms around him.
"Joel," you breathe against his mouth, and he groans, the sound vibrating through you.
"Yeah, darlin'?"
"So... about that thing I said, you, me, that bed upstairs, and nothing else, are you for us to start it now?"
"Fuck, yeah," he agrees, his voice rough.
He stands, lifting you with him, and you wrap your legs around his waist, laughing as he carries you toward the stairs. "Show-off," you tease.
"You complainin'?"
"Not even a little."
He takes the stairs two at a time, and by the time you reach the bedroom, you're both breathless and grinning. Joel sets you down gently on the bed, his hands braced on either side of you, his gaze locked on yours.
Your eyes wander through him, and you sigh. "Baby, I'm really into the dad bod."
He huffs a laugh, his hand coming up to tangle in your hair. "Still can't believe you like that."
"I love it." You lift your head and bite his lip gently, making him close his eyes. "Love that you're not all hard edges anymore. Love that you're comfortable, that you're here, that you're mine."
"I am," he says, voice rough. "All yours."
"Good." You kiss him while speaking, noticing his breath catches. "Because I plan on keeping you."
"Wouldn't have it any other way."
After, you're curled against his side, his arm around you, both of you sated and drowsy. Your head resting on his chest. You can hear his heartbeat, steady and strong, and it's the most comforting sound in the world.
"You know," you say after a while, your voice drowsy, "I was thinking."
"Dangerous," Joel teases, his fingers playing with your hair.
You swat his chest lightly. "Shut up. I'm being serious."
"Alright, alright. What were you thinking?"
You tilt your head to look up at him. "About our first Christmas. About how nervous I was to come to the party."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. I was so convinced you didn't actually want me there. That it was just... I don't know, pity or something."
Joel's expression softens, his hand moving to cup your face. "I wanted you there more than anything. I was just too much of a coward to say it."
"You're not a coward."
"I was about you."
You smile, leaning into his touch. "Well, I'm glad we're both past that now."
"Me too."
You take a moment just to look at him, to smile at him, to memorize the lines of his face, the gray in his hair, the way his chest rises and falls with each breath. And all you feel is pure peace. Even at the end of the world, you dare to say you never felt happier and complete. So you just lie there for a while.
Outside, the snow keeps falling, blanketing Jackson in white. But inside, wrapped in Joel's arms, you've never felt warmer.
๐ค reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!
โฅ main masterlist.
tags: @ablondehoe @tinas111 (If you want to be added to the taglist, just let me know <3)
Ooooh, I hate hate HATE scummy people like this โฌ๏ธโฌ๏ธ
I normally donโt get upset about stuff but this needs to get out more traction to get her off this app. So, spread the word โ block, report and share. I know Iโm being hypocritical with this blog but Joelspookie canโt keep getting away with this.
Sheโll keep stealing and reposting fics word for word, without giving credit until Tumblr does something eventually so please please do what you all can. Share with friends, tell mutuals, reblog. Whatever gets word out.
NONE of us take plagiarism lightly nor blatant stealing.
So I urge you all to find the original creators to every work this person has stolen to support them instead
โ I haven't written them all yet, so there are no specific dates in which I will post, but the deadline for me to finish this 'celebration' is the end of december <3
โ summary: you're not going to lie, you have a huge crush on Joel Miller, so when he decides to host a Christmas party at his house, and you're invited through Ellie, hope and nervousness take over you, even if you know that crush is unrequited because an older man like him would never have a crush on you, someone who just works in the greenhouse and takes care of the animals sometimes... but, well, what if he does?
โคฟ joel miller x fem!reader / cw: jackson joel, brief descriptions of reader age and use of heels and dress, fluff, you two having a crush on each other and being weird instead of just admitting it, maybe a little oc, christmas time, mention of a date, ellie, tommy teasing joel, and just cute moments.
โคฟ word count! 2.4k
lina yaps: since we're in the Christmas spirit, I decided to write this story, which I might be planning to create as a series of individual one-shots focusing on moments between them... but who knows.
When Joel invites you to the Christmas party at his house, your first instinct is to say no.
It's not that you don't want to goโGod, you want to go more than anythingโbut the invitation feels too good to be true. Joel Miller, with his gruff demeanor and those warm brown eyes that make your stomach flip, couldn't possibly want you there. You're convinced it's just politeness, the kind of obligatory invitation you extend to acquaintances in a small town like Jackson. Your relationship with him is surface-level at best: polite nods on patrol, brief conversations about supply runs, the occasional shared meal in the dining hall where you're hyperaware of every word that leaves your mouth.
But then there's Ellie.
"You're coming, right?" she'd asked when she caught you near the stables, her eyes bright with excitement. "Joel's actually doing this whole thingโTommy's idea, obviouslyโand it's gonna be so weird if it's just a bunch of old people. Please say you'll come."
You'd laughed at that, at being grouped in with "old people" when you're barely in your thirties, but Ellie's enthusiasm is infectious. And the truth is, you adore the kid. She's sharp and funny, and she's somehow managed to crack through Joel's walls in a way that makes you wonder what it would be like to be let in like that.
So you say yes. For Ellie, you tell yourself. Definitely for Ellie, and not because the thought of seeing Joel in a social setting, maybe even relaxed and smiling, makes your heart race.
The night of the party, you stand in front of your mirror for far too long, second-guessing everything. The dress you've chosen is simple but niceโa deep green that Maria had helped you trade for months ago. And the heels. God, the heels. They're not even that high, but you haven't worn anything like them since before the outbreak. Still, they make your legs look good, and there's a small, vain part of you that wants Joel to notice.
You arrive fashionably late, hoping to slip in unnoticed among the other guests. The Miller house is warm and inviting, string lights draped across the living room and the smell of pine and cinnamon in the air. Tommy answers the door with a wide grin, pulling you into a quick hug.
"There she is! Maria was wondering if you'd chickened out."
"Never," you say, trying to sound more confident than you feel. You hand him the bottle of wine you'd broughtโsomething from the community's stashโand he ushers you inside.
The house is fuller than you expected. Neighbors, patrol partners, people you recognize from around town. Maria waves at you from across the room, and you make your way over, grateful for a familiar face. She's in the middle of a conversation with a few other women, and you slip easily into the group, letting the chatter wash over you.
You don't see Joel right away, and you tell yourself you're not looking for him. But then Ellie appears at your elbow, grinning. "You made it! Joel was worried you wouldn't show."
Your heart does a stupid little flip. "He was?"
"Yeah, he's been weird all day. Tommy won't stop giving him shit about it." She rolls her eyes, but there's affection in it. "Come on, he's in the kitchen."
You follow her, weaving through the guests, and there he is. Joel's standing by the counter, pouring drinks, his flannel sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He looks up as you approach, and for just a second, something flickers in his expressionโsurprise, maybe, or relief.
"Hey," he says, his voice a little rough. "Glad you could make it."
"Thanks for inviting me," you reply, trying to sound casual even though your pulse is hammering in your ears.
Tommy appears behind Joel, clapping him on the shoulder. "See? I told you she'd come. Now maybe you can stop moping around like a lovesick teenager."
Joel's jaw tightens, and he shoots his brother a look that could kill. "Tommyโฆ"
"What? I'm just saying, it's nice to have everyone here. You, Maria, Joelโwe should do this more often. Maybe hit up the Tipsy Bison sometime, make it a regular thing. Double dates and all that."
Your face heats at the implication, and you're suddenly very interested in the drink Joel hands you. He looks equally flustered, his ears turning red in that way you've noticed happens when he's uncomfortable.
"Tommy, leave her alone," Maria calls from the doorway, her tone exasperated but fond. "Come help me with the food."
Tommy grins, unrepentant, and saunters off. You and Joel are left standing there, the silence stretching just a beat too long.
"Sorry about him," Joel mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. "He's beenโฆ like that all week."
"It's fine," you say quickly. "He's just excited about the party."
Joel nods, but there's something in his eyes, something you can't quite read. Before you can dwell on it, Ellie drags you off to meet some of her friends, and the moment passes.
The evening unfolds in a pleasant blur. You chat with neighbors, help Maria set out food, and even manage to relax a little. But as the night wears on, the heels you'd been so proud of earlier start to exact their revenge. By the time dinner is over and people are milling around with drinks, your feet are screaming.
You slip out onto the porch, grateful for the cold air and the quiet. The party sounds muffled from out here, just a low hum of voices and laughter. You sink onto the steps, tugging off your heels with a sigh of relief, and start rubbing your aching feet.
"You okay?"
You jump, twisting around to see Joel standing in the doorway, two glasses in his hands. He looks concerned, his brow furrowed in that way that makes him look older and somehow softer at the same time.
"Yeah, just needed some air," you say, feeling embarrassed. "And these shoes are torture devices."
He huffs a quiet laugh, stepping out onto the porch and handing you one of the glasses. "Thought you might need a refill."
"Thanks." You take the drink, acutely aware of how close he is as he settles onto the step beside you. His shoulder brushes yours, and you have to fight the urge to lean into the warmth of him.
"Feet that bad, huh?" he asks, nodding at the discarded heels.
"Terrible idea," you admit with a rueful smile. "I haven't worn anything like this in years. I forgot how much they suck."
"Could've fooled me. You lookedโฆ nice." He says it quietly, almost like he didn't mean to say it out loud, and your heart does that stupid flip again.
"Thanks," you say, your voice softer now. "You clean up pretty well yourself."
He ducks his head, and you swear you see the corner of his mouth twitch up. For a moment, you just sit there, the silence comfortable in a way that surprises you. The cold air bites at your skin, but you don't mind. It feels good, grounding.
"Party turned out nice," you say eventually, trying to fill the quiet. "Ellie seems happy."
"Yeah, she does." Joel takes a sip of his drink, his gaze distant. "Tommy's idea, all this. Said it'd be good for us toโฆ I don't know, be normal for a night."
"Is it working?"
He glances at you, and there's something unguarded in his expression. "Yeah. Yeah, I think it is."
You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest that has nothing to do with the alcohol. "Good. You deserve it. Both of you."
Joel doesn't respond right away, just looks at you like he's trying to figure something out. Then he clears his throat, shifting slightly. "Tommy's been on me all week, you know. About you."
Your stomach flips. "About me?"
"Yeah. Keeps sayingโฆ well, doesn't matter what he says. Point is, he's got a big mouth."
You laugh, the sound surprising you. "Maria's the same way. She's been dropping hints for months."
"Hints about what?" Joel asks, and there's a note of hope in his voice that makes your breath catch.
You look down at your glass, suddenly feeling brave. Or maybe just reckless. "About how I should stop being so stubborn and just ask you out already."
The silence that follows is excruciating. You risk a glance at Joel, and he's staring at you, his expression somewhere between shocked and disbelieving.
"Youโฆ you want to ask me out?"
"I mean, I figured you weren't interested," you say quickly, backtracking. "You've always been kind ofโฆ distant. I thought maybe you were just being polite, inviting me tonight."
"Polite?" Joel repeats, and then he laughsโan actual, genuine laugh that you've never heard from him before. "Christ, I've been trying to work up the nerve to talk to you for months. Tommy's been giving me hell about it."
You blink, your brain struggling to catch up. "Wait, what?"
"I'm not good at this," Joel says, running a hand through his hair. "Talking to people, especiallyโฆ especially someone like you. I figured you weren't interested. You're always so put-together, so confident. I didn't think you'd want anything to do with a guy like me."
"Joel," you say, your voice trembling slightly, "I have the biggest, dumbest crush on you. I've been a mess every time we've talked."
He stares at you, and then that small, crooked smile you've only seen a handful of times breaks across his face. "You're kidding."
"I'm really not."
"Well, shit," he says, shaking his head. "Tommy's never gonna let me hear the end of this."
You laugh, the tension breaking, and Joel laughs too, the sound low and warm. It feels easy, suddenly, sitting here with him. Like maybe this is how it's supposed to be.
"So," you say after a moment, "what now?"
Joel takes a sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving yours. "Now I guess we stop being idiots and actually do something about it."
"Sounds like a plan."
You sit there for a while longer, talking about nothing and everything. Joel tells you about the time Ellie tried to convince him to finally get a Christmas tree and ended up dragging home something that was more bush than tree. You tell him about the town gossip you've heardโabout the couple who got caught sneaking into the Bison bathroom after hours pretending not to be touching nonstop, about the new guy who tried to impress everyone on patrol and ended up falling off his horse.
Joel laughs at that, a real, full laugh, and the sound makes something warm and bright bloom in your chest. You talk until your drinks are empty and the cold starts to seep through your dress, and even then, you're reluctant to go back inside.
"We should probably head back in," Joel says eventually, though he doesn't move. "Before Tommy comes looking for us and makes it weird."
"Weirder than it already is?" you tease, and he grins.
"Fair point."
He stands, offering you a hand, and you take it, letting him pull you to your feet. Your heels are still on the porch, forgotten, and you don't bother putting them back on. Joel notices, his gaze flicking down to your bare feet.
"Need a hand getting back inside?" he asks, and there's a playful note in his voice that you've never heard before.
"I think I can manage," you say, but you don't let go of his hand.
He doesn't let go either.
When you step back into the warmth of the house, the party is still going strong. Maria catches your eye from across the room and gives you a knowing look, and you feel your face heat. Joel squeezes your hand once before letting go, and the loss of contact feels like a promise of more to come.
Ellie bounds over, grinning. "There you guys are! We're about to do Secret Santa. You can't miss it."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Joel says, and when he glances at you, there's something soft and unguarded in his expression that makes your heart ache in the best way.
But before you can say anything, her eyes drop to your bare feet, and she gives you a confused look. โDude, where are your shoes?โ
โOhโฆโ you replied, looking down at your feet, โThey were killing me.โ you explained with an upside-down smile.
She just hummed before disappearing into the house, and you exchange a look with Joel, waiting. A moment later, Ellie returns, holding out a pair of oversized, well-worn slippersโdefinitely too big for her.
"Here," she says, thrusting them at you. "They're Joel's, but he never wears them. You can borrow them."
"Ellie, itโs fine, you don't have toโ"
"Too late." She drops them at your feet with a satisfied grin. "Can't have you freezing your toes off. Plus, Joel would feel bad all night if you did."
Joel clears his throat, looking mildly embarrassed. "She's not wrong."
You can't help but laugh as you slip your feet into the slippers. They're comically large, warm, and soft, and they smell kind of funny. "Thanks, Ellie."
"No problem," she says, already running ahead. "Now come on, Secret Santa's starting!"
Joel shakes his head, but there's fondness in his expression. "She's something else."
"She really is," you agree, shuffling forward in the oversized slippers.
The rest of the night passes in a blur of laughter and warmth. You exchange gifts, sing off-key carols, and at some point, Joel's hand finds yours again under the table. It's subtle, just his fingers brushing yours, but it's enough to make you feel like you're floating.
When the party finally winds down and people start to leave, you linger, helping Maria and Tommy clean up. Joel walks you to the door, his hands shoved in his pockets, looking almost shy.
"Thanks for coming," he says. "I'm glad you did."
"Me too," you say, and you mean it.
"So, uhโฆ about that date," he starts, his voice a little uncertain. "How about the Bison? Tomorrow night?"
"Tomorrow night sounds perfect."
He smiles, and it's the kind of smile that makes you forget about your aching feet and the cold and everything else. "Good. It's a date, then."
"It's a date."
You leave the Miller house with your heels in your hand, still in his slippers and a lightness in your chest you haven't felt in years. The night is cold and clear, the stars bright overhead, and as you walk home, you can't stop smiling.
Behind you, you catch a glimpse of Joel standing in the doorway, watching you go. And when you turn back to wave, he waves back, that crooked smile still on his face.
Maybe this party was exactly what you all needed.
๐ค reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!
โฅ main masterlist.
tags: @ablondehoe @tinas111 (If you want to be added to the taglist, just let me know <3)
