#I wanna finish this chapter of it though.

[benispunk]

Who's That Girl?

Chapter 12: All I Want For Christmas

Y/N spends Christmas with Logan and Wade, and Logan's wondering what he really wants to find underneath the Christmas tree.🎄

logan howlett x reader

TW: language, angst & fluff, D&W.

word count: 5K+

A/N: Merry Christmas everyone!!! before saying anything about this special chapter, I just wanted to thank you all for all the support on this series!! I love you guys so so much!!! and although this chapter made me giggle and kick my feet in the air, then I got a little carried away and...turns out Christmas isn't the happiest time of the year.....so sorry....enjoy? (don't worry, I will NOT let you down)

→ this fic is inspired by the TV Show New Girl, Wade and Logan aren't Deadpool and Wolverine (no powers/mutant gene etc) but I did take most of their character traits and storyline!!

Masterlist /Previous Part

The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the apartment as Y/N shuffled into the kitchen, her steps quiet against the floor. Her pajamas hung loose, her hair a tousled mess from sleep, but she didn’t care— not yet, anyway.

And then, she saw him.

Logan stood by the counter, leaning casually as he sipped from his mug. His hair was still damp from a recent shower, the dark strands curling slightly at the ends. His shirt clung just enough to his frame to hint at the muscles underneath, and for a moment—just a fleeting, traitorous moment—her eyes lingered a little too long.

When he reached for something on the top shelf, the hem of his shirt lifted, revealing a strip of skin and a flash of muscle along his waist. She swallowed hard, shaking her head. What is wrong with me? It was just Logan. Her roommate. Her very grumpy, very private, very…

“Morning,” he greeted, his voice rough but warm, breaking her train of thought.

Y/N blinked, her cheeks heating. “Morning,” she replied, forcing herself to look away as she reached for a mug.

The cup was warm in her hands, grounding her as she poured herself some coffee. She took a sip, savoring the bitter edge of it. This is fine. Everything is fine.

“So,” Logan started, watching her over the rim of his mug. “What’s your plan for Christmas?”

Y/N hesitated, swirling her coffee. “Nothing, really. My dad and brother are in Europe, and flights to California to see my mom… well, not exactly in the cards right now.” She offered a small shrug, though there was a hint of sadness in her voice.

Logan frowned, his grip tightening on the handle of his mug. After a beat, he said, “Wade and I usually celebrate here. Althea, his old roommate, comes over. It’s nothin’ fancy, but it’s good. You should join us.”

Y/N blinked, surprised. “Logan, I don’t want to intrude—”

“You’re not intruding,” Logan interrupted. “You’re family, Y/N. ‘Course you’re welcome.”

Her heart warmed at his words, and a smile spread across her face. “Thank you, Logan. That… means a lot.”

Just then, Wade barreled into the kitchen, already half-dressed for work. “What’s up, my favorite morning people?”

Logan smirked. “Y/N’s joining us for Christmas.”

Wade froze mid-bite of a piece of toast. “Yes!” he exclaimed, his face lighting up. “Y/N, you and Blind Al are gonna hit it off. She’s got this whole ‘beautiful disaster’ vibe going on, but you’ll love her.”

Y/N chuckled, feeling genuinely touched by their enthusiasm. “Thanks, Wade. I’m looking forward to it.”

“You better be!” Wade called as he rushed out the door. “Oh, and save me some cookies or I’ll never forgive you!”

The apartment settled into quiet again. Logan finished his coffee, setting the mug in the sink. “What about you? What are you doing today?”

Y/N tilted her head. “I need to run some errands, maybe pick up a few Christmas gifts. You?”

Logan shrugged. “Not much planned.”

She paused for a second, wondering if her next question was a good idea, then she smiled. Why wouldn’t it be? “Wanna come with me?”

Logan would be a liar if he said his heart didn’t skip a beat. “Yeah, sure. Why not?”

———

Logan had never liked shopping. Too many people, too much noise, and too many choices. It was the kind of thing he avoided at all costs—until today.

He trailed behind Y/N as she navigated the aisles, her attention flitting from one shelf to the next with a focus that he found oddly endearing. She examined items carefully, turning them over in her hands before either placing them back or tossing them into her cart.

Every now and then, she’d turn to him, asking his opinion. Like now.

“What do you think Wade would like?” she asked, holding up a pair of novelty socks with comic book characters on them.

“Probably those,” Logan said with a smirk. “The more ridiculous, the better.”

Her laughter was soft but genuine, and it tugged at something deep in his chest. She smiled easily, even when he barely gave her much to work with. She always had a way of drawing him out, making him feel… less guarded.

“Noted,” she said, tossing the socks into the cart.

As they continued, Y/N brought up another name. “What about Althea? I want to get her something too.”

“You don’t have to get everyone somethin’,” Logan said gruffly.

“I want to,” Y/N insisted. “Christmas is about giving, right?”

Logan shook his head but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips.

“Oh, and don’t think I forgot about you,” Y/N teased, nudging him lightly.

He stopped in his tracks. “Wait—you got me somethin’?”

“Of course,” she said, smiling sweetly.

“You didn’t have to—”

“Logan,” she interrupted. “It’s Christmas.”

Before he could respond, she turned and headed down the next aisle, her focus already shifting to whatever caught her eye. Logan stayed rooted to the spot, watching her go.

For a moment, everything else faded—the noise, the people, the chaos of the store. All he could focus on was her, the way she seemed to light up even the dullest places.

His chest tightened, an unfamiliar warmth spreading through him. He didn’t know what to call it, didn’t want to call it anything, but it was there all the same.

“You’re somethin’ else, Y/N,” he muttered under his breath, the words barely audible over the chatter of the store.

After a moment, he shook his head, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets as he trailed after her.

———

The coffee shop buzzed with a quiet energy, the hum of conversation blending with the clatter of plates and the hiss of the espresso machine. Logan sat across from Y/N, the table between them littered with sandwiches, pastries, and steaming mugs. She was talking, her voice animated as she recounted a story about one of her students.

“...and then he looks me dead in the eye and says, Miss, I’m not late. Time is just a concept.’” Y/N laughed, the sound warm and unguarded, and Logan couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips.

“Smart kid,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Too smart,” she replied with a shake of her head, still smiling.

But then something shifted. The lightness in her expression dimmed, her smile faltering as her gaze fixed on something—or someone—behind him.

Logan’s brow furrowed. He turned slightly in his seat, his eyes landing on a man approaching their table. The guy was average-looking, nothing particularly striking, but there was something about the way he walked—like he knew he belonged in her world, or at least used to.

“Y/N,” the man said, his smile tentative. “Wow, it’s been a while.”

“Hi, Mark,” Y/N replied, her voice polite but strained.

Logan glanced at her, catching the subtle tension in her posture, the way her fingers gripped the edge of her mug just a little too tightly. So, that was Mark.

The man’s gaze flicked to Logan, his smile faltering slightly. “And… you are?”

“Logan,” Y/N said quickly, before Logan could respond. “My roommate.”

Mark’s eyebrows lifted, and his smile thinned. “Oh. Roommate.”

Logan said nothing, his face impassive, but he could feel the weight of Mark’s scrutiny, the unspoken question hanging in the air. Is that all you are?

Mark turned his attention back to Y/N. “So… how’s everything?” he asked, his tone forced, as though he felt obligated to make small talk.

“Good,” Y/N replied, her voice clipped. “Good. You?”

He hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, uh… I’ve been going to therapy,” he said, his words tumbling out awkwardly.

“Oh,” Y/N said, her lips pressing into a tight smile. “That’s… good.”

An awkward silence settled over the table, heavy and suffocating. Logan’s jaw tightened as he watched Y/N’s discomfort. He wanted to say something, to cut through the tension, but he knew this wasn’t his moment to step in.

“Well,” Mark said finally, his smile brittle. “It was good to see you.”

“Yeah,” Y/N replied softly, not quite meeting his eyes.

Mark gave a small wave and walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Y/N stared down at her coffee, her shoulders slumping slightly.

“You alright?” Logan asked.

She exhaled slowly, lifting her gaze to meet his. “Yeah,” she said, though the tightness in her voice betrayed her. “I just wasn’t expecting to see my ex today. Sorry, that was really weird.”

Logan nodded, his chest tightening inexplicably. “No need to apologize, he was the weird one.”

That made her chuckle and he smiled again. Y/N’s eyes lingered on him, her expression softening. “Have you ever had that happen?”

“Not really,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to his coffee. “Can’t say I’ve had many good relationships to begin with.”

She tilted her head slightly, curiosity flickering across her face. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he said, a small shrug accompanying his words. “I mean, nothing real or long-lasting. Guess I’m not exactly easy to be with.”

“I don’t believe that,” Y/N said, softly. “You just haven’t found the right person yet.”

Logan looked up, his eyes meeting hers. For a moment, the world around them seemed to fade, the noise of the coffee shop a distant hum. There was something in her gaze, something that made his chest ache and his thoughts scatter.

He cleared his throat, breaking the spell. “Maybe,” he said, his voice quieter now.

Y/N smiled faintly, her attention drifting back to her coffee, but Logan could still feel the weight of the moment lingering between them, unspoken and unresolved.

———

By the time they returned to the apartment, the festive glow of the city lights outside had faded into a softer, quieter hum. Inside, the atmosphere felt almost intimate as they each set about putting away the day’s purchases.

Y/N carried the neatly wrapped gifts she’d picked out for Wade and a few others to her room, her mind still replaying snippets of the day. She placed the bags on her bed, pausing for a moment as her fingers brushed over the ribbon on one of the packages.

Meanwhile, Logan busied himself in the kitchen, unpacking a few groceries he had bought for dinner. His movements were slow and deliberate, but his focus wavered as the sound of Y/N’s light footsteps from the other room reached him.

It was the kind of silence that wasn’t quite empty.

When Y/N came back out to the living room, Logan glanced up briefly, his eyes catching hers.

“Got everything sorted?” he asked.

She nodded, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “You?”

“Yeah,” he said, placing a carton of eggs in the fridge. “All set.”

It was an ordinary exchange, but it lingered, hanging in the air between them like the faint scent of pine from the tiny tree Wade had set up in the corner.

Neither of them said much else as they gathered their things to head out, but the quiet wasn’t awkward. It was... charged.

———

The bar was alive with energy, the hum of conversation and bursts of laughter filling the space. Wade was on stage, commanding the room with a confidence that seemed almost effortless.

Y/N and Logan sat together near the bar and when Wade finished his set, he bounded over to them, his grin practically splitting his face.

“Well, well,” he said, plopping down in the seat next to Logan. “Look at you two. What’d you lovebirds get up to today?”

Logan tensed, his jaw tightening as he shot Wade a warning glance.

“Ran errands,” he said curtly, taking a sip from his drink.

“Bought gifts,” Y/N added with a smile, her tone light and unbothered.

Wade’s eyes flicked between the two of them, his smirk growing. “Oh, gifts, huh? For each other, maybe?”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “For everyone but each other, actually.”

Wade leaned closer to Logan, lowering his voice but making no effort to hide his teasing grin. “You’re gonna spill every detail later,” he said conspiratorially. “Or else.”

Logan sighed, his gaze flickering toward Y/N, who seemed blissfully unaware of Wade’s antics. “You’re relentless,” he muttered.

“And you love me for it,” Wade shot back, raising his glass in mock salute.

For Y/N, the day had been... strange. Comfortable in some ways, yet unsettling in others. Being around Logan had a way of grounding her and throwing her off balance all at once, a mix of feelings she couldn’t quite name.

For Logan, it had been much the same. A day that lingered, heavy with a tension he couldn’t ignore and wasn’t ready to face.

As they left the bar and stepped into the cold night air, neither of them said much, but the weight of the unspoken hung between them, unacknowledged yet undeniable.

———

*Christmas Eve*

The apartment was aglow with the warm light of fairy lights strung across the walls and a small Christmas tree standing proudly in the corner. The scent of roasted vegetables and spiced desserts filled the air, mixing with the soft hum of holiday music playing from the speakers.

Y/N stood on a chair near the window, carefully hanging the last of the ornaments, a delicate glass star. She adjusted it until it caught the light just right, a satisfied smile tugging at her lips. Her long red dress shimmered faintly in the glow of the lights, hugging her figure in all the right ways while remaining elegant and festive.

Logan walked in from the kitchen, a dish towel slung over his shoulder. He stopped mid-step, his breath catching as his eyes fell on her.

She was radiant.

He couldn’t look away, and for a moment, everything else faded: the chatter from the kitchen, the music, even the sound of Wade's muffled laughter from somewhere down the hall.

For a moment, he forgot where he was.

“Logan?”

Her voice pulled him back, startling him. He blinked, feeling caught, and quickly masked his reaction.

“Yeah?” he replied, his voice gruff.

Her brow furrowed slightly, as though she wanted to ask something, but before she could, the front door swung open with a burst of energy.

“We’re here!” Wade’s booming voice broke the moment.

Logan exhaled quietly in relief, stepping aside as Wade entered, grinning from ear to ear. Behind him followed a petite older woman with cropped gray hair and a sharp yet welcoming presence. Her dark glasses hinted at her blindness, but her confident stride suggested it had never slowed her down.

“Y/N, this is Althea,” Wade announced with dramatic flair. “Al, meet the famous new roommate. Be warned—she’s deceptively charming.”

Y/N laughed, stepping forward with an outstretched hand. “It’s great to finally meet you. Wade talks about you all the time.”

“Does he?” Althea’s tone was dry, but the faint curve of her lips showed her amusement. Ignoring Y/N’s hand, she reached out instead, her fingers brushing Y/N’s arm. “Forgive me, I don’t do handshakes. May I...?”

Y/N quickly caught on, her voice warm. “Of course.”

Althea’s hands moved gently to Y/N’s face, tracing her features with practiced care. Y/N held still, feeling a blend of curiosity and vulnerability.

“You’ve got a kind face,” Althea remarked, a smile softening her sharp features. “And I’d bet beautiful too.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed. She laughed lightly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s very sweet of you to say.”

Wade, observing the scene from the kitchen, raised a brow. “Look at you, Al, playing all sweet. Y/N, don’t let her fool you. She’s got a mouth that could make a sailor blush.”

“Shut the fuck up, Wade,” Althea shot back without missing a beat, her tone deadpan.

Y/N burst into laughter, startled by the abruptness of the retort. The sound of her laugh made Logan glance over from his spot near the counter. His lips twitched, caught between a smirk and something softer.

Wade caught the look and snorted. He leaned in closer to Logan, dropping his voice. “Oh, man, you’re hopeless.”

Logan scowled, draining his drink in one go. “Shut up, Wade.”

Unfazed, Wade grinned. “Hey, just saying— there’s mistletoe. Clock’s ticking.”

Logan’s ears burned red, but he turned away, pretending to busy himself with setting the table.

“Alright, ladies!” Wade called, clapping his hands. “Dinner’s ready. Let’s feast!”

———

The four of them gathered around the small dining table, the dishes carefully arranged in the center. Wade had gone all out, as usual, and the spread was both impressive and slightly chaotic.

Y/N found herself seated next to Logan, their chairs close enough that their elbows occasionally brushed as they passed plates back and forth.

“This looks amazing,” Y/N said, her eyes wide as she surveyed the food.

“Don’t give Wade too much credit,” Logan grumbled. “Half of this was my doing.”

“Hey!” Wade protested, pointing his fork at Logan. “Without me, this meal would’ve been functional but boring. Like you.”

Althea snorted, cutting in with a smirk. “Oh, please, the two of you are basically a mismatched couple from some sitcom. You just need a laugh track.”

The meal carried on, Wade cracking jokes like it was his job (it is) and Logan sighing like he couldn’t care less. Still, there was a rhythm to their back-and-forth, one that made Y/N smile even when Wade was pushing the boundaries.

At one point, Wade casually leaned back and tossed out a comment about how Logan’s “festive cheer” seemed to skyrocket whenever Y/N was around. Logan didn’t hesitate— his foot shot out under the table, hitting Wade’s leg.

Wade yelped, clutching his leg. “Rude! I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking!”

“Keep it up, and I’ll aim higher,” Logan muttered.

Y/N chuckled, her shoulders shaking slightly, but she didn’t say anything. Wade, sensing he was close to crossing a line, dialed it back just enough. The jokes stayed, but the comments about Logan and Y/N turned more playful, less obvious.

By the time the food was gone and the playlist had shifted to quieter, slower songs, the atmosphere felt easy, comfortable. Logan leaned back in his chair, his arm casually draped over the back of Y/N’s chair. He didn’t think much of it—it just felt like a natural place for it to be.

Y/N leaned back slightly, her shoulder brushing against his arm every so often. If she noticed, she didn’t say anything, and neither did he. Wade noticed, of course. He always noticed. But for once, he kept his mouth shut, letting the moment pass without a single jab or smirk.

Logan found himself watching Y/N as she laughed at something Althea said, her whole face lighting up. He didn’t realize he was staring, not really. Everything about the evening felt oddly normal, like this was just how things were meant to be.

———

Y/N and Althea sat side by side on the couch, the room warm and quiet now that dinner had ended. Logan leaned against the kitchen counter, nursing a glass of whiskey, while Wade sprawled in an armchair, pretending to be invested in their conversation. In reality, his focus shifted between the two women and Logan, who seemed utterly captivated by every word Y/N spoke, though he still didn’t seem to realize it.

Wade smirked faintly to himself, but again, said nothing.

“You know,” Althea was saying, “it’s rare to find people who make you feel at home so quickly. You’ve got a good heart, Y/N. I can see why these two keep you around.”

Y/N laughed. “Well, thank you, though I’m still figuring out how to deal with them sometimes.” She glanced playfully toward Logan and Wade.

“Hey!” Wade interjected, feigning offense. “We’re delightful.”

“That’s debatable,” Althea quipped.

They all laughed, and Y/N reached for a small bag she had tucked away under the coffee table. “Speaking of feeling at home, I actually got you a little something. Just a small gift.”

Althea’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “For me?”

Y/N handed her the bag, and inside was a plush, incredibly soft sweater in a deep burgundy color.

“For winter,” Y/N explained, smiling. “I thought it might be cozy for the colder days.”

Althea ran her hands over the fabric, her expression softening. “Alright, you’re officially my favorite now.”

Wade gasped dramatically. “What about us?”

Logan smirked into his glass, shaking his head.

“You two?” Althea said, turning her face toward the men with mock exasperation. “I don’t even know how Y/N puts up with you.”

The group laughed, the easy warmth of the evening wrapping around them like a blanket.

Once the laughter subsided, Wade and Logan presented their shared gift to Althea— a huge weighted blanket in a beautiful forest green color.

“For when you’re not here to roast us,” Wade said with a wink.

Althea ran her hands over the blanket, her lips curving into a genuine smile. “Alright, fine, maybe you two aren’t so bad. Thank you.”

———

When it was time for Althea to leave, Wade grabbed his coat and keys, patting Althea’s shoulder as they headed for the door. “I’ll drive her back. Don’t burn the place down while I’m gone,” he teased, looking between Logan and Y/N.

“We’ll try to behave,” Y/N replied with a grin, earning a chuckle from Wade and a low, amused hum from Logan.

As the door closed behind them, the apartment was blanketed in a peaceful quiet. The soft glow of the Christmas lights cast warm patterns on the walls, and the faint scent of cinnamon and pine lingered in the air.

Logan moved to the table, stacking plates. “We should probably clean this up,” he said, glancing over at Y/N.

“Good idea,” she agreed, grabbing a tray of glasses. They worked side by side in silence, their movements synchronized without effort.

“You didn’t have to get Althea anything,” Logan said after a moment, his voice low. “She’s not really the sentimental type.”

Y/N shrugged, glancing over her shoulder. “It wasn’t about that. She’s important to you and Wade, and I wanted to show I appreciate her too.”

Logan paused, his hands stilling for a moment. “She seemed to like you.”

“She’s easy to like,” Y/N replied with a smile, turning back to the sink. “I think she keeps you grounded.”

Logan let out a small huff of amusement. “Yeah, she does. She’s one of the few people who knows how to call me out without pissing me off.”

Y/N chuckled, her fingers brushing against his as she handed him a glass to dry. “That’s a skill worth respecting.”

The quiet between them was comfortable, almost tangible, but it was broken when Logan cleared his throat. “Speaking of gifts…”

Y/N turned, curious. Logan reached behind a stack of plates and pulled out a small box, wrapped neatly in dark green paper. “I, uh… I got you something.”

Her brows lifted in surprise. “Logan, you didn’t have to—”

“Just open it,” he interrupted, his tone gruff but soft.

Taking the box, Y/N unwrapped it carefully, revealing a delicate necklace with a shimmering emerald pendant. The stone caught the light beautifully, its hues shifting like the ocean.

“Logan,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s stunning.”

He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “I thought it might suit you.”

Her fingers brushed over the pendant, her heart swelling at the thoughtfulness of the gesture. But then, realization dawned, and her eyes widened. “Wait… is this an emerald? Logan, this is way too much!”

“It’s a gift,” he said simply, his tone brooking no argument.

She looked at him, torn between awe and disbelief. “I can’t believe you—”

“Let me help,” he murmured, taking the necklace from her hands.

Y/N turned around, holding her breath as he fastened it around her neck. His fingers brushed against her skin, sending a shiver down her spine. When she turned back to face him, their eyes met, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.

“Thank you,” she said softly, her voice thick with emotion.

Logan’s gaze lingered, his expression unreadable. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words eluded him. Instead, he gave a small nod, stepping back just enough to give her space.

“I should get your gift,” Y/N said, breaking the spell as she hurried to her room.

She returned with a neatly wrapped package. Logan opened it carefully, revealing a sleek black leather jacket. His brows lifted, his fingers brushing over the material.

“You mentioned your old one was wearing out,” Y/N said quickly. “And I thought—”

“It’s perfect,” Logan interrupted, his voice steady but warm.

She relaxed, her smile widening as she watched him try it on. It fit perfectly, the jacket molding to his broad frame like it had been made for him.

Relief washed over her, and she returned his smile. “I’m glad.”

Logan raised an eyebrow as he looked at the jacket again. "So, let me get this straight... you can get me a jacket as fancy as this, but I can’t even get you a beautiful necklace for Christmas?" he teased, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

Y/N smirked and shrugged nonchalantly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "It’s Christmas, Logan. Don’t overthink it," she replied, brushing him off with a quick wave of her hand.

Logan chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, right, of course. Christmas," he muttered, half to himself. He glanced at the jacket again, his fingers brushing the smooth material. “You didn’t have to go to all that trouble,” he said quietly.

“You’re worth it,” Y/N said before she could stop herself.

Logan looked up, his eyes locking onto hers. The weight of her words hung in the air, unspoken but deeply felt.

The moment stretched between them, the only sound being the Christmas playlist in the background, playing on low volume. Logan’s hand brushed hers as he set the jacket down, and Y/N felt her heart skip a beat.

Before either of them could say more, the front door swung open.

“I’m back!” Wade announced as he burst through the door. “I hope you two didn’t burn the place down without me.”

Y/N and Logan stepped apart almost instinctively, their brief closeness retreating into the unspoken space between them.

“Place is still standing,” Logan said, his tone calm as he leaned against the counter, arms crossed.

Wade gave him a pointed look, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly before they flicked over to the small box on the table. He didn’t comment immediately, though a knowing smirk tugged at his lips. “Good. Hate to think I’d miss out on the drama. So,” he added, as casually as Wade could manage, “what’ve you two been up to?”

“Just cleaning up,” Y/N said with a warm smile, the necklace still hanging delicately around her neck.

Wade’s eyes landed on the necklace, his smirk widening briefly before he shook it off and clapped his hands together. “Right, cleaning. Sure. Well, hope you saved me some holiday cheer. Now, let’s finish this properly and…give me my gifts.”

As Y/N moved toward the living room to join him by the tree, Wade paused briefly near Logan. He leaned in, speaking just low enough to avoid Y/N overhearing.

“Nice gift, Peanut,” he murmured, a sly grin on his face. “Now, try to take the next step.”

Logan shot him a warning glare but said nothing, shaking his head as Wade walked off with a chuckle.

By the tree, Y/N had already settled herself cross-legged on the floor, her fingers absentmindedly brushing against the pendant. Logan hesitated, standing back for a moment as Wade grabbed a gift and rattled it loudly.

“Come on, Grinch, get over here,” Wade said, louder this time.

Logan sighed and made his way over, sitting a bit stiffly on the couch behind Y/N. His gaze lingered on her as she leaned toward the tree, her movements soft and unassuming. She turned slightly, catching his eye with a brief smile that made something stir in his chest.

As the night carried on, the living room buzzed softly with warmth, the twinkle of Christmas lights casting a gentle glow. Wade lounged near the tree, holding court with one of his exaggerated stories about a gift exchange gone horribly wrong. Y/N laughed, her face lighting up as she added her own tale— a hilarious recount of a miscommunication during her first Secret Santa at work.

Logan sat on the couch, watching them. He leaned back, silent, his gaze flickering between Wade’s theatrical gestures and the way Y/N’s smile reached her eyes. The sound of her laugh stirred something warm and sharp in him, though he kept his face impassive.

The way she wore that necklace—his gift to her—like it had always belonged there. And maybe it did. But that didn’t mean he did.

The leather jacket sat on the coffee table. He still wasn’t sure what to make of it. It wasn’t just the thoughtfulness— it was the way it seemed to fit him so perfectly, like she had known something about him that even he didn’t.

“You’re quiet, Peanut,” Wade teased, nudging him with his foot. “Plotting your next great escape?”

Logan huffed, shaking his head. “Just listening.”

Y/N smiled at him, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Alright, Logan,” she said, leaning slightly toward him, “what’s the worst gift you’ve ever received?”

He blinked, caught off guard. For a moment, the question cut through the haze of his thoughts, and he scrambled to push the weight of his emotions aside.

“Worst gift?” he repeated.

“Yeah,” Y/N prompted, tilting her head with that easy, genuine interest she always carried.

“Probably a pair of socks with reindeer on them,” Logan said with a wry smirk. “Ugliest thing I ever saw.”

Wade snorted. “Bet you still wore them, though.”

Logan shrugged, his lips twitching. “They were warm.”

“I know I love mine.” Wade said as he put his feet in the air, showing off the socks Y/N had got him.

The conversation flowed on, but Logan felt himself retreating into his thoughts again.

Y/N’s fingers brushed the pendant around her neck, and Logan’s heart stuttered in his chest. She wore his gift like it was a part of her, and somehow that made the ache in his chest sharper.

The truth clawed at him, relentless. He wanted something to happen— something more than these stolen moments of warmth. But he couldn’t let himself have it. Not with her.

Not someone like her.

Someone so kind, so brilliant, so effortlessly beautiful. Someone who deserved all the light and laughter she brought into the world. Someone who didn’t deserve the shadow of his past— the darkness he never spoke about, the weight of nightmares that dragged him down night after night.

The necklace had been a mistake. A moment of weakness. When he’d chosen it, he hadn’t thought about what it meant, only that it was perfect for her. 

Oh, who was he kidding? Of course he knew what it meant.

But the moment he held it in his hands, the contrast had been too evident. It felt almost cruel to give her something so precious, as if he were trying to convince her he was something he wasn’t.

Wade’s voice cut through his thoughts, dragging his focus back to the room. Logan could feel his friend’s eyes on him. Wade always saw too much.

And Wade knew. Of course, he did. The way Logan’s gaze lingered just a second too long, the way his words faltered whenever Y/N was near. Wade saw it all, he knew it wasn’t just a simple little crush. It was probably the reason why he wouldn’t stop commenting on it.

But Logan didn’t need any of it. He didn’t need Wade pointing out how far he’d already fallen.

His heart ached with the weight of it. The selfishness of wanting to reach out, to take a chance, to risk everything for the possibility of more. But it was her. And he couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to meet Wade’s eyes briefly. He saw the smirk, the unspoken challenge, and ignored it.

He’d make it through this. He’d hide what he felt. He had to.

Because Y/N deserved better than him.

Logan leaned back on the couch, his face as still as stone as he forced his thoughts into submission.

“Alright,” Wade said, clapping his hands. “Time for another story— this one’s a real masterpiece.”

Logan let out a low hum, feigning interest as Wade began, but his focus was elsewhere.

Y/N’s laugh rang out again, soft and clear, and Logan clenched his jaw against the warmth it stirred.

He’d pretend. He’d hide.

And maybe, if he was lucky, it would be enough.

XXX

[kkuzushi]

જ Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby. . .ᐟ

˚𖦹 ‘ Chapter 13 : Communication is the key.. I guess. ࣪𖤐

— PREV | MASTERLIST | NEXT

Imagine attending a party just because you don’t wanna be alone and bored; that’s not really imagination now, is it? You told yourself that you’re just here for the food, maybe a few games, nothing else. It can’t be that bad, you still have a few friends in class anyway.

But it is that bad. You find yourself using your phone more than actually socializing with anyone else in the room. The obnoxiously loud Christmas songs weren’t helping your mood, it was like everyone’s drunk on iced tea—then again, some of your classmates have probably snuck alcohol in their bottles.

Here comes the star of the show—Scaramouche. Everyone came to cheer his entrance, but you just rolled your eyes and continued using your phone. It might be best to leave in a few minutes, no?

A few minutes passed and you were already getting ready to leave, not until you spotted Scaramouche, who’s already sitting beside you at your usual desk.

Things have gotten more awkward after the last encounter—both the party and that weird ‘congrats, yn’ of his. You can even see that repetitive emoticon he uses.

Suddenly, you hear pen scratches on a paper. You glance at him, noticing that he’s writing down something. You looked away immediately just as he finished, his hand extending to your side of the desk to give you the note.

Is this one of his antics to piss you off again? Well you’re not having it. You slid the note back to him, not bothering to reply or read it. He slid it back to you though, you’re starting to think this may never end if the both of you kept being stubborn about this.

Reluctantly, you opened the note.

You no longer replied after that weird drawing of his. You gave him another side glance and you see that infamous smirk of his again, only this time is that it didn’t look like a smirk anymore. It looked more like a grin of someone that’s proud of his work.

Adorable? Maybe, but you’ll never admit that.

You rolled your eyes and stayed quiet, the two of you not participating in the party in any way at all. You were just engrossed in your phone just like he is.

No, nevermind. He’s just pretending to be on his phone.

— ꒰꒰﹒TAGLIST : @raineyun @hayamie @sketcheeee @wraithisd3adinside @heusalettle @liuaneee @yevurin @mywillt0live @kaikaidenkai @alatusorrow @shrimplyasleep @reivelmin @scaraenthusiast1

— ꒰꒰﹒OPEN. [ 13/50 ]

© kkuzushi | Please do not translate, repost, or plagiarize my work. This AU is posted in Tumblr only unless stated otherwise by yours truly.

[kirby-the-gorb]

[thedemonscrawler]

OH YEAH (no I'm not procrastinating) but I think something that would be cool to do with Permission Slip once it's finished is to bind it. Which like, everyone and their sibling suggests binding fanfics, and that's cos it's a cool idea.

The thing is that PS is stupid long, and while I could bind it as one really hefty volume, i think it'd be a lot neater to make a fake paperback series. Like this kind of thing:

Each book would contain multiple chapters, so I think i'd divide it up like

1-4 5-8 9-10 11-13 14-15 16-17 18-20 21-22 Still workshopping the divisions here to get roughly the same length per book. Idk, future project idea

[pokimoko]

The Effigy and the Inferno - A Gravity Falls Fic

Written by pokimoko

Chapters: 3/3

Word Count: ~29K

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Ford Pines & Stan Pines, Filbrick Pines & Stan Pines, Stan Pines & Caryn Romanoff Pines

Characters: Stan Pines, Ford Pines, Filbrick Pines, Caryn Romanoff Pines, Crampelter (Gravity Falls), Original Characters

Tags: Pre-Canon, Childhood, Young Stan Pines, Young Ford Pines, Young Ford Pines and Stan Pines, Kid Stan Pines, Kid Ford Pines, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Broken Bones, Ford Pines Has Issues, Mental Health Issues, Stan Pines Needs A Hug, (A Mental Health Hug), Autumn, Horror Elements, Mimicry, Fae & Fairies, Changelings, Bugs & Insects, Moths, Fire, Extended Metaphors, Magical Realism, Identity Issues, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Autistic Ford Pines, Ableism, Internalised ableism, Self-Worth Issues, Depression, implied/referenced suicidal ideation, Rescue Missions, Brotherly Love, and its twin, Brotherly Angst, POV Stan Pines, Bittersweet Ending, partially because of the terrible thing that is:, Canon Compliant, (and boy do we all know what canon has in store for these two poor kids)

Summary:

mimicry (noun):

a biological phenomenon marked by the close external resemblance of an organism to another animal, plant, or inanimate object

the art of pretending to be someone you're not, someone you can never be

(or: in the last weeks of Fall, Stanley does his best to look out for Ford, but he soon finds his efforts hindered by a leaf that is not a leaf, a moth that is not a moth, and a brother that is not a brother.)

[random-autie-fangirl]

The Narrator:

You are in a judgment hall. At the end of this hall is the great door. Behind that door is a royal garden. In that garden is a golden throne, and tied to that throne is a prince. You are here to slay him, if you refuse…it shall be the end of the world.

[the-one-who-lambs]

When you're writing, rhetorical questions can often be a checkpoint to assess the effectiveness of your narrative. If you find yourself writing sentences like "What had (character) done?" / "What had really happened when ...?" / etc, chances are these are questions that your reader is already asking about your story, or should be asking. Readers don't need a ton of hand-holding, and such questions are usually more effective when presented in subtext rather than explicitly. However, if you take out the rhetorical question and the setup doesn't lend itself to the reader asking that question on their own, it's a good idea to evaluate why that may be.

I've heard the writing tip that rhetorical questions are most effective when used sparingly, but I think the reasoning (the way I see it, at least) is worth explanation.

[galaxythedragonshifter]

I have a copy of Minecraft: Story Mode season 2 LETS GOOOOO

[governmentmandatedryujinstan420]

I regret to inform everyone we're back in the white space. Expect the fire alarm to go off periodically in typical fashion of whenever it detects a steaming pile of garbage on the way. Like me! [i'll give a cookie to whoever recognizes where the sfx is from!!]

[trensu]

an excerpt of the newest chapter of the halfway house fic based on this past post. Enjoy :)

“Steve, come get your furry little menace! He’s chewing up my laces again,” Robin grumbled.

“Maybe if your laces are ruined, you’ll finally buy a new pair of shoes,” Steve snarked. Steve walked to the living room to find Robin attempting to tie her old Converse only to snatch back her hands every time the kitten took a swipe at the laces in question. “He’s just a baby. He wants to play.”

“He can get his own laces to play with, then. And there’s nothing wrong with my shoes. I’m not going to go buy new shoes when these are perfectly functional. And my favorite color.”

Steve scooped the kitten up even as he kept reaching for the laces and cuddled him to his chest. Steve rubbed gently behind the kitten’s ears until the kitten relaxed into tiny purrs.

“What do you think, Dustin? Should Robin get new shoes? Raise your paw if you agree with me,” Steve said. He lifted the kitten’s right paw and waved it a bit, making the kitten squirm. “See, he agrees with me.”

Robin snorted and rolled her eyes at his teasing smile. “I still can’t believe you named him Dustin.”

The kitten chose that moment to start climbing up Steve’s shirt to reach his shoulder. His tiny claws pricked at Steve’s skin through the thin fabric but they were so small, they barely hurt at all. Steve laughed as the kitten settled on his shoulder and began to mew at the top of his lungs.

“It’s not my fault he looks like a Dustin,” Steve insisted. When he brought the kitten home two days ago, Robin tried to name him something else but Steve put his foot down about it. He found the kitten, and he thought the kitten was a Dustin, so no other name was allowed. 

Dustin let out another mew so loud he nearly toppled over. Steve pulled him off his shoulder with an amused huff. Dustin wriggled incessantly in his hands. Steve lost his grip on him but thankfully he had gotten him close enough to the ground by then that the fall was negligible to a cat.

“Okay, okay, we’ll play for a little while, you needy baby.”

He and Robin were waiting for payday to run to the pet store for more supplies. They were lucky that their neighbor across the hall had an old litter box that her cat had outgrown, and a couple of spare food bowls. She had even given them a few cans of wet food, cooing over the kitten all the while. Dustin, apparently, was a charming little guy. He obviously took after Steve. Robin had punched him on the arm when he said as much.

In the meantime, they were using old bits of string and a little orange ball Robin had stolen back when they worked at a mini-golf place. The kitten seemed to enjoy them well enough but Steve planned on getting him fancier playthings and some catnip. He rolled the ball across the floor and the kitten chased after it. He pounced on it, wobbly, which sent the ball rolling again for another chase. Steve laughed. Robin giggled along with him.

“He’s lucky he’s adorable. Otherwise we’d be having problems, him and I,” Robin said with a grin. Her mischievous demeanor softened slightly. “I’m glad you found him, you big old softie. Now you can stop moping so much.”

Steve ducked away when she reached to ruffle his hair. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve said, lightheartedly. “Maybe if I do a good job with him, someone will finally let me have a kid.” 

The kitten had apparently gotten bored of the ball and was attempting to climb up the back of the couch. Steve quickly grabbed him so he would damage the upholstery. He booped the kitten’s nose.

“What do you think, baby? Will I be a good dad? Be honest.”

Dustin grabbed his finger and gnawed at it while making the most precious sounds. A purring mew.  Steve’s heart melted; though from what he had read, he really shouldn’t let Dustin get accustomed to using his hands as playthings.

Steve resigned himself to losing half his paycheck to cat toys.

Continue on Ao3

ps: i do not do reader tag lists or whatever those things are called. i tag all my writing with 'trensu tells stories' so please just follow that tag if you wanna keep up with my stuff, thank you

[deus-ex-mona]

goodxnight guys~~~

[i-am-beckyu]

Writing for me atm be like this:

and this

and also this

Oh and can't forget this!

Yeah writing has been going great recently......

[orcelito]

I think I cried harder today over my dad's jackets than I did at his deathbed. That was a miserable time of course, a memory that will likely be seared into my brain until I die, but I cried... I think a normal amount, all things considered. More than I ever usually do of course, but I typically don't cry At All. All this free crying is certainly surreal.

The jackets, though. I was put in charge of doing his laundry, because we don't want to pack up dirty clothes. I was expecting it to be unpleasant bc my dad's dirty clothes - gross. But really, it was much more unpleasant in that... those were his. It felt wrong to touch them. Felt wrong to treat his jackets as gross. Because they were just his jackets. They weren't even in the hamper. And then I was remembering him wearing them, and then I was crying. Again. And again. Weeping over these damn jackets.

Then I found a shirt on his bed that still smelled like him. It smelled like a Hug From Dad. And that set me off crying even harder.

In total, I think I cried like 6 times within 40 minutes. It took me that long to finish sorting the damn clothes bc I just. Was a wreck. Like, what are you supposed to do when you're living life like normal, vaguely hopeful bc you're taking steps to secure your own happiness, and then 4 days later you're sorting your dad's laundry because he fucking died. Suddenly. Without a goodbye.

And you have to worry about his lack of a will (even under an ideal situation, only 2 heirs and no conflicts between us, probate's a fucking Bitch), and arranging the funeral, and prepping his obituary, and picking out pictures, and writing a speech bc you want to talk at his funeral, of Course you want to talk at his funeral, but even just thinking about anecdotes you could share has you crying yet again.

I've cried more times in the past 3 days than likely the entirety of last YEAR. And that's WITH my cat, and uncle, and family friend dying. Those all hurt, my uncle most of all, & I was real fucked up over it. But this? This was my Dad. Likely the person I'd have named 2nd closest to me in my life, second only to my sister. He wasn't perfect, but he did so much for me throughout my entire life. All he wanted was to raise us to be happy and independent. And he accomplished it, we're getting by without him, but we still wanted several more decades with him. He was only 57. We should've gotten several more decades with him.

But here we are now. Playing investigators to his life, digging into all his shit, trying to find documents and take inventory of all his things, and learning Many things about him in the process. In his lockbox of sensitive documents, like his SSN and birth certificate and all that stuff, we found an old letter. About a decade old now, written in my hand. Right at the very top, we found that he'd kept the letter I wrote to him telling him frankly about my struggles and the things I wanted him to do better. He kept it. He tried to take it to heart. He looked at it again, sometime more recently than all the rest of the documents. That was on top.

His love for us is evident everywhere. The pictures he has hanging up all over the place, majority of them with us in them. The old fathers day cards placed on display in his bedroom bookshelf. The gifts we gave him, even stupid little knick knacks, placed around his apartment with pride. I wish we'd taken more videos of him. I don't want to forget the sound of his voice. I don't want to forget his smell either, the smell of a Hug From Dad, but I still tossed that shirt into the wash even though it felt like saying yet another goodbye.

It's the suddenness that hurts the most, I think. We were planning on having him help me finally get my license this year. My final words to him, the last thing he would've seen from me, were messages asking up on whether he'd called his car insurance company to make sure there wouldn't be problems. I should've called him more. I don't know if I'm going to learn from this.

I cut my 2 weeks off early to have time to grieve and to work on things for the funeral and settling the estate. The last thing I'd wanna do right now is selling fucking bubble tea in a job I already decided to leave. So here I am without a job, though with potentially two life insurance policy payouts to come. Inheriting half his 401k. Inheriting couches, knickknacks, keepsakes, paintings, art pieces, maybe even his guitar and other furniture if we can figure out what to do about space (I don't have room for this furniture, I don't know if I even have room for the couches, but God do I want to keep so much of this furniture). It has me even considering keeping one of his guns, just one. A tiny little revolver, it sits so comfortably in my hand. I don't even want to use it for anything. I just want to have it, keep it stored in a drawer with its ammo kept separate. I don't like guns, but this is a part of him. He loved collecting guns. He was about as responsible with them as someone can be, keeping them locked in a lockbox and impressing upon his children the importance of gun safety (I've known the basic gun safety rules ever since I was a little kid. Of course, of course, of course.) It reminds me of him. It's horrifically easy to have a gun in Indiana. I apparently don't even need a permit to carry anymore. (I have no intention to ever carry this in public.)

It's all a cycle. Business, grief, thoughts about my future. Round and round, like the most nauseating carousel in existence. I don't know how I'm still so functional. My skills with compartmentalization have been my lifesaver.

And im just thinking about the story my dad's best friend shared today. About a friend of theirs who lost her father. She reached out after hearing about my dad to share his words with her: "it's okay to grieve, but don't make his death your life".

He explicitly referenced himself in this, saying if he were to die suddenly that he wouldn't want us to define ourselves by it. Grief is expected, but he wants us to be able to move on. He's always wanted us to establish ourselves and make ourselves happy. He wouldn't want to be a weight holding us back from that.

So every time I start to feel guilty for thinking about having nicer furniture or using his life insurance payout to fund the rest of my college, I remind myself of that. Thinking about the material isn't a bad thing. I'm only human. And in the end, he'd Want me to be thinking about it. He never intended to die, certainly not without warning like this, so he would've only encouraged me being pragmatic about it all.

He only ever wanted us to be happy. So I need to do what I can to live up to that.

I love him. I miss him already.

[kg-clark-inthedark]

uhhh so how would people feel about an explicit corvojess comic at some point in the future?? a thought struck me and my hand slipped and I have a 4-part thing planned out now in full detail. would people hate that or?

[fruitybashir]

holidate ch6 spoilers without context, anyone?

[fortunatefires]

I finally finished the second chapter of my fic and posted it

Me @ me: