#none of this will happen but it’s fun to dream

[alxtiny]

Ad Astra per Aspera

Episode 4

Pairing: Pirate!Ateez x Navigator!reader

Genre: pirate!au, fluff, angst, maybe smut

Word Count: 8k

Warnings: none?

Notes: its here woohoo 🥳 i’m lazy please understand, also maps been updated for this chapter

Playlist : wonder by shawn mendes | this side of paradise by coyote theory | in the kitchen by mree

Series Masterlist | Episode 5 | Episode 3

When the first light of dawn started creeping in, it stirred you from your slumber, and you blinked your eyes open to a fresh new day. For a moment, you wondered if last night had been just a dream, considering how you felt renewed and well rested.

But as you shifted, you became aware of something—or rather someone—behind you. You froze, realising you were nestled snugly in Yunho's arms, his head resting against your back and his arm tucked underneath your head. Your legs were tangled together in a dangerous dance that left you more flustered than you’d care to admit. You slowly pulled yourself away and turned around, staring at him for a second, taking in his peaceful expression, his flushed cheeks, and messy hair. He looked so… soft, you brushed away a few strands from his face, the ticklish feeling making him twitch.

His movement made you panic, and you quickly shot up from the mattress, almost losing your balance as you did so. The sudden jerks caused Yunho to awaken, his eyes slowly fluttering open. He blinked, looking at you with a sleepy, lopsided smile that made your heart race.

"Good morning," he mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep. He looked like a sleepy puppy.

"H-hi, good morning," you stammered, feeling your face heat up. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was aware of how close you had been.

Yunho stretched lazily, his long limbs extending out as he groaned. His tunic rose slightly, exposing a glimpse of his toned midriff, which only made your blush deepen. You quickly looked away, trying to compose yourself.

"We should probably go back up," you said, your voice a little shaky.

Yunho smiled again. "Yeah… let’s go before the others start wondering where we’ve been," he teased lightly, pushing himself to his feet and smoothing down his hair.

As Yunho flipped a few switches, the room began to transform back to its original state, the balcony retracting and the wall closing back up seamlessly. He gestured for you to follow him as he led the way back up the narrow passage. The ship was quiet, the crew likely still fast asleep, save for a few on night watch. Luckily, no one seemed to be around as you quietly made your way up and out of Yunho’s secret spot.

Once you were back on the deck, Yunho turned to you with a grin. "Alright, we’ve got a couple of hours before we need to get back to work. So, what do you want to do?"

You hesitated for a moment, still feeling tense because of the accidental cuddle, but Yunho didn’t seem to remember it at all. Maybe he hadn’t known, or maybe he was just brushing it off. Either way, it made the awkwardness dissipate a little.

"Well," you started softly, "I haven’t seen much of the ship yet. Maybe you could show me around?"

Yunho’s smile brightened, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "A tour of the ship? I can definitely do that!"

He stepped closer, his hands gently resting on your shoulders as he led you further across the deck. "Let’s start with the main deck. This is where most of the action happens during the day—sails, rigging, steering, all that fun stuff. Oh, and that’s where Hongjoong spends most of his time barking orders," Yunho said with a laugh, pointing toward the helm.

As he guided you through the ship, explaining each section with enthusiasm, you began to relax. The edge from earlier softening as Yunho’s cheery energy rubbed off on you. He showed you the various stations, the cabins, the weapons storage, and the little parts of the ship he liked the most.

By the time you went around and reached the bow of the ship, the sun had fully risen, sprinkling glitter over the water. Yunho leaned against the railing, looking out at the horizon.

"You know," he said, his voice softer now, "not many people get a personal tour of the ship directly from its engineer. It’s kind of special. That’s why I named it the Treasure."

You nodded, chuckling at his words, "I guess I’m lucky then.”

Yunho glanced at you, his eyes warm and gentle. "Yeah, I guess you are."

You stood together in silence for a while, watching the ocean stretch out before you, the ship cutting through the waves with ease. For the first time since being taken aboard, you didn’t feel like an outsider. You felt like you belonged, even if just for a moment. And standing there with Yunho, you couldn't help but think that maybe—just maybe—this strange, chaotic life might suit you well after all.

Unfortunately no moment lasts forever, as you and Yunho were abruptly interrupted by the loud voice of a crewman calling out for him. "Yunho! Captain’s asking for you!"

Yunho gave you an apologetic smile, "Looks like duty calls. You can stay here if you want, or maybe explore a bit more on your own. I’ll come find you later, okay?"

With a brief wave, Yunho left, leaving you alone on the deck. You sighed, feeling the quiet settle over you once again. Leaning against the railing, you closed your eyes, enjoying the sound of water splashing against the hull.

"What are you doing?" a deep voice cut through the white noise.

You glanced over to find Mingi standing next to you, his tall frame casting a shadow over you.

"Nothing much," you replied lazily, used to people showing up out of nowhere. "Yunho gave me a tour of the ship."

Mingi chuckled, amused. "Did he now? That’s interesting. He doesn’t usually do that. In fact, I think even most of our crew doesn’t know every corner of the ship like Yunho does."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Really?"

"Mhmm," Mingi confirmed with a nod. "But anyway, I’m sure you know why I’m here."

You groaned, already knowing where this was going. "Not again," you complained, slumping back against the railing. "You saw me last time—I barely managed to not cut myself. Isn't that enough proof of my lack of skill?"

Mingi chuckled, clearly not deterred by your reluctance. "Well, that’s why you have me, right? To help you out. Besides, we're doing self-defence and hand-to-hand combat today. San’s with us this time."

You pouted in defeat as Mingi grabbed your arm, easily pulling you up to your feet. There was no escaping this. "Fine," you muttered. "But don’t expect much."

With a resigned sigh, you let him drag you below deck, where he guided you to a spacious room. The floor was lined with mats, and some training equipment was stacked off to the side. The room had a faint smell of sweat, which made you grimace slightly, but you kept your complaints to yourself.

In the middle of the room was San, already stretching like a cat, his lithe movements making it clear how flexible he was. You couldn’t help but stare in awe at how effortlessly his body moved. As soon as San spotted you, his serious expression brightened.

"There you are," San said with a playful grin as he walked over. "Took you long enough."

"Well, she wasn’t exactly eager to come," Mingi replied, shrugging.

"Ahh, that makes sense." San smiled at you and gestured toward the mats. "Alright, we’ve got a lot to cover today. Why don’t you stretch a bit while Mingi and I demonstrate?"

You nodded, sitting down on the mats and began to stretch your arms and legs. The movement caused your joints to pop in protest, reminding you of just how long it had been since you’d done any serious physical exercise. In front of you, San and Mingi stood at a safe distance, preparing to demonstrate the basics of hand-to-hand combat.

Mingi positioned himself in front of San, his stance wide and solid, while San moved with the grace of a ballerina. "First things first," San began, his voice steady, "we're going to show you some defensive moves. You’re not going to be attacking anyone right away. The goal here is to protect yourself and get out of a situation safely."

Mingi nodded in agreement, raising his arms in front of his face, "First you need an idea on what areas to look out for and how to optimise your body weight to deflect an attack," he instructed.

San advanced on Mingi, throwing slow, deliberate punches that Mingi blocked easily, deflecting each one with minimal effort. "You see how Mingi doesn’t try to overpower me," San said, still moving. "He’s using my momentum against me, redirecting the force of the attack rather than absorbing it."

You watched, trying to take in as much information as possible. They moved with such ease, clearly experienced in the art of combat, while you still felt clumsy even while walking, but you knew you had to try. This wasn’t just some practice session for you—it was for your survival.

"Alright," San said, stopping and turning to you. "Now it’s your turn. Don’t worry, we’ll start slow."

You got up, feeling slightly nervous as you stood in front of San. Mingi stepped aside, watching with an encouraging smile.

"Okay, I’m going to come at you slowly," San explained. "All you have to do is focus on blocking and deflecting. Don’t worry about hurting me—I can handle it."

You swallowed nervously and nodded. San advanced, throwing a light punch, which you awkwardly tried to block. Your arms moved in the right direction, but your timing was off, and the force of San’s hand still made contact, though gently.

San's teasing grin was both playful and exasperated. "Oh wow, you are bad at this," he said, shaking his head. The comment made you pout in sadness, feeling pity at your own inexperience. But he wasn’t giving up on you, not yet.

"We’re gonna be here for quite a while. Let’s do it again, but this time, try to anticipate the movement a little earlier," San instructed, his tone still gentle.

You nodded hesitantly, feeling the fatigue already creeping into your limbs. Each movement took a lot of effort, and frustration was beginning to build. You didn’t understand why it was so difficult for you to get the hang of this. Part of you wanted to ask them to give up, to admit that maybe combat wasn’t for you, but then again, someday you might not have anyone to rescue you.

San threw another punch, and this time, you managed to block it more effectively. It wasn’t perfect—your movements still lacked the smoothness that came with experience—but it was better. You could feel the difference, even if it was small.

"Yeah! Like that!" Mingi cheered from the sidelines, his voice full of encouragement. "You're doing better."

His words gave you a boost of confidence, and you found yourself blocking a few more of San’s punches, though ineptly. Each round started to feel like a small victory. Even though it wasn’t easy, with every block, you could feel yourself getting a little more coordinated. It was a slow process, but progress was there, and that was enough for now.

Finally, after what felt like hours—though it couldn’t have been more than two—San grinned at you after another successful block. "See? You’re tougher than you think," he said, his eyes twinkling with approval.

You managed a weak smile, wiping the sweat off your face. "I’ve never done this much exercise in my entire 24 years of living," you said, your voice exasperated.

Mingi clapped his hands, full of energy as always. "Well, we’re not done yet. We still have to learn offense."

At his words, you nearly melted into the floor. "Ugh, I don’t think I can anymore. I might die at this rate," you wailed dramatically, feeling utterly spent.

San laughed softly. "Now, now. Nobody’s dying. Get up, and we can finish quicker."

With a groan, you begrudgingly got up, forcing your body to continue despite the overwhelming urge to collapse. They taught you how to throw a few punches—San showing you how to position your fist and use your body weight. You learned how to knee someone effectively in the stomach, break out of somebody’s grip, and a few other basic self-defense techniques. It was exhausting, but by the end, you felt satisfied, having learned at least something.

By the time the training was over, it was almost five in the evening, and you were both thirsty and starving. Earlier, you had managed to grab some bread and a banana for breakfast when you were with Yunho, but since then, you had been burning more calories than you could keep up with. The hunger gnawed at you, and your mouth was dry.

Collapsing onto the floor, you lay flat on your back, hoping the ground would somehow absorb you and put you out of your misery once and for all. Alas, that didn’t happen.

San and Mingi sat down next to you, both trying to catch their breath. "You did good for a beginner," San said, offering you one of his cute, dimpled smiles. "I think you’ll be fine. We’ll keep practising, of course, once we’re back from our job."

His smile did make you feel a little better, the exhaustion easing slightly in the warmth of his words. You smiled back, feeling grateful for the time he spent helping you.

Mingi stretched his arms above his head and glanced at the clock on the wall. "We should go eat. I’m kinda hungry."

You couldn’t agree more. Finally, you were allowed to leave the stuffy training room, the outside air feeling like a blessing against your sweaty skin. The scent of saltwater and fresh air was almost pleasant after the dusty, sweat-soaked room. You couldn’t wait to take a long shower, but that would have to wait until you docked. For now, food was your top priority.

The three of you made your way to the kitchen, with San and Mingi walking ahead, chatting quietly about something. When you entered the dining hall, it was much quieter than before. Wooyoung wasn’t here this time, and the room was mostly empty, save for some pots and pans that held the remnants of lunch. It seemed you had missed the main meal, but there were still leftovers.

You piled some food onto your plate—a mix of whatever was left—and ate with a ravenous hunger, barely pausing between bites. It was delicious, like everything else on the ship, and once your plate was cleared, you felt somewhat revived.

"Well, I’m off to find some peace and quiet," you said, waving goodbye to San and Mingi, who still seemed to be in the middle of their conversation. You were looking forward to some downtime, maybe even a nap before the next task came up. But first, you had to check in with the captain and get an update on the ship’s location. With a sigh, you made your way back up the deck, your body tired but your mind a little sharper, thanks to the training.

Outside, the sky had deepened into soft shades of dusk, the air crisp and cool with a light breeze that carried the scent of the sea. You made your way quietly to the helm where Captain Hongjoong stood, as usual, keeping watch with Seonghwa steering beside him. You stood silently next to them, earning a quick side glance and nod of acknowledgment from Hongjoong.

It was the last stretch of light before you reached your destination. If everything went smoothly, the ship might reach the shore by early morning—just in time for you to slip into your accommodation unnoticed. All of a sudden, a familiar voice rang out from the lookout.

“Land ahoy!”

Instantly, the deck erupted with a flurry of movement. You could hear the crew working, the sounds of ropes being handled and sails rustling into place as they adjusted for the final stretch after the confirmation of land. You glanced behind and saw Wooyoung descending from the lookout’s nest with his usual flair, skipping the makeshift ladder entirely and opting to climb down the rigging with scary speed. A small smile tugged at your lips—of course, Wooyoung wouldn’t do things the ordinary way. That simply wasn’t his style.

He rushed towards the helm, slightly out of breath, though his energy didn’t falter. “Captain! We have approximately 350 nautical miles more to go—” he began, before you cut him off.

“That means seven more hours?” you asked, already calculating the time in your head.

Wooyoung turned his head towards you, a little impressed. “Yeah, exactly.”

You looked ahead at the distant speck of land. “We might reach earlier than I thought,” you mumbled to yourself, glad that you had managed to lead them through successfully.

“The sooner the better,” Captain Hongjoong said, his tone laced with carefully concealed excitement. “We might get some time for respite.” He was a man of efficiency, but even he couldn’t deny the appeal of some well-deserved rest.

“The arrangements for our arrival will have already been made,” Hongjoong added.

“I can’t wait to take a shower,” you sighed, the thought of fresh water and cleanliness feeling like a luxury after days at sea. The salt, sweat, and exhaustion from the combat training earlier were still clinging to you, making the idea of a long, hot shower even more enticing. One would think you would have gotten used to the dirt and grime given the nature of your job, but unfortunately for you, you never did.

Wooyoung grinned, his usual playfulness shining through. “I think we’re all in need of that at this point. Just a little while more.”

Seonghwa spoke quietly from his place at the wheel. “Enjoy the peace while it lasts,” he said, his eyes focused on the sea, “because once we dock, it’s going to be a different kind of chaos.”

You sighed, knowing Seonghwa was right, but before you could dwell on it too much, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you found Wooyoung with a mischievous smile playing on his lips. He silently gestured for you to follow him.

Curiosity piqued, you trailed behind him until he stopped in front of the makeshift ladder by the main mast.

“We’re going up,” he said with a grin, pointing upwards towards the crow’s nest.

Your eyes widened. “You want me”—you pointed to yourself—“to climb that high?”

Wooyoung nodded eagerly, the shit-eating grin never leaving his face. “Don’t worry, I’ll catch you if you fall,” he added with a wink.

You squinted at him, unsure if he was serious or teasing, probably both. “Alright, but if I die, it’s on you,” you muttered, rolling your eyes.

With a long sigh, you began the climb. The ladder was rough under your hands, and each step felt more unstable than the last. Twice, you nearly lost your grip, your heart leaping into your throat each time. Wooyoung, climbing right behind you, would chuckle softly each time you faltered, keeping an eye on you and helping you regain balance. After what felt like an eternity of effort and several near-death experiences, you finally reached the crow’s nest, breathless but alive.

“Woah,” you whispered in awe as you took in the view. The world stretched out infinitely before you, the sky blending into the sea. From up here, the ship seemed smaller, a lone vessel cutting through the vast ocean. The sunlight shimmered as it hit the waves, creating a mesmerising dance of light across the water, and the ship’s shadow rippled gently below.

“I know, right!” Wooyoung’s voice was full of excitement as he settled in beside you. “I thought you’d appreciate a little change of scenery. Something different from all that running around on deck.”

“I do,” you said, closing your eyes and inhaling deeply. The air up here was lighter, fresher—less of the dense, salty air that fogged around everything on the deck. For a moment, you just stood there, breathing it in.

Unbeknownst to you, Wooyoung was watching a different view, with a fond smile. Despite knowing so little about you, something about your presence felt familiar, comforting, like the easy bond of an old friend. He knew the others felt it too, it might have been because of the chemical that ran through all of your veins that created this invisible link between you. Whatever it was, Wooyoung knew he wanted to savour it for as long as possible.

Maybe, just maybe, you were the one who could help them like Captain Hongjoong had said.

“Thanks for bringing me up here,” you said, eyes opening slowly as you turned to Wooyoung. “I needed this.”

“Anytime,” Wooyoung replied softly, leaning back against the railing of the nest. His eyes flicked briefly to the sky before returning to you. “We’ll reach land soon, but before all of that starts, it’s nice to have moments like this, right?” Wooyoung’s voice was soft, and unusually calm.

You nodded, giving him a small, appreciative smile before you both made the climb back down. Once on the deck, you found yourself wondering what to do with the remaining six and a half hours, and the answer came easily—sleep. Who knew when you’d next get the chance? Dragging yourself to your small cabin, you collapsed onto the bed, and the moment your head hit the pillow, you were out.

You were woken by a strange sensation—like something soft and warm was… licking you? You cracked an eye, startled, only to find yourself staring right into Byeol’s big twinkling eyes. She was perched against the side of your bed, held up by none other than San himself, who was watching with an amused grin.

“Isn’t this the best alarm clock?” he said with a snicker, clearly entertained by your half-awake state.

You scowled, still groggy, and took Byeol from his hands, nestling her against your chest, trying to cuddle her to sleep with you. “This is why you don’t deserve her. She should live with me instead,” you muttered, pressing a kiss to Byeol’s head and closing your eyes again.

San huffed dramatically. “As if she’d want to live with you,” he teased back.

You squinted your eyes open again, giving him an offended glare. “Alright, what do you want? Why did you wake me?”

“Well, princess,” he began, leaning back with a smirk, “we’re about an hour from land. Captain sent this for you.” He held up a large leather backpack, swinging it back and forth in front of you. “You don’t have much since you were… uh, abducted twice. So we packed a few essentials for you, things you’ll need until we can dock, apart from clothes—those you can get at the port, since we’ll have a bit of time to spare.”

You blinked, taking the bag from him. “Ah… I see. Thank you.”

San’s grin softened, and he gave you a friendly clap on the shoulder. “Alright, I’ll leave you to it. Meet us up on the deck in half an hour.”

With a click of his tongue, he called Byeol, who bounded after him, leaving you alone with the bag and a few moments to gather yourself. Opening the pack, you found various useful items—water, some bandages, a small pouch of coins, and a map of the area near the port, along with a neatly folded blanket and some dried snacks. It was certainly very thoughtful of them, they could’ve left you without anything if they wanted to but they didn’t.

You took a deep breath, setting everything back into the bag before slinging it over your shoulder. After a few more minutes of preparing yourself phys and mentally, you climbed up to the deck to meet everyone. They were gathered near the bow, and as you joined them, Captain Hongjoong gave you a quick nod.

“Ready?” he asked, a little uncertain seeing the queasiness on your face.

The grip on your bag tightened as you nodded, pushing down the feeling, “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

With the ship anchored just out of sight, hidden strategically behind raised rocks, the nine of you and two other crewmen piled into two smaller boats, making your way to shore. Once you were safely dropped off, the crewmen paddled back. The added part to the plan was that you’d accompany Jongho, Yunho, and Mingi into the marketplace the next morning when they went for restocking, so you could pick out new clothes. The thought of wearing something that actually fit and didn’t make you look like a shapeless blob made you more excited than you’d have expected.

As soon as you reached the shore, a masked man appeared, greeting Hongjoong with a bow and a firm handshake. The two seemed familiar, as the man led your group to a small clearing where another masked figure stood holding six beautiful horses, their coats gleaming under the moonlight. He greeted Hongjoong in the same respectful manner, and soon instructed everyone to pair up for the journey.

Hongjoong and the masked man rode alone, with Yeosang riding with Jongho, Mingi with Yunho, and Wooyoung with San, you were left with Seonghwa. Despite still feeling a bit wary around him, he was nothing but a gentleman. He helped you onto a beautiful black mare with deep, gentle eyes, his movements smooth and elegant, like a prince, as he climbed up in front of you. Your bags were strapped to the side for balance. You had never even sat on a horse before, you wondered how long it would take for you to fall off. Seonghwa glanced back at you, his expression a mystery as usual.

“You can hold on to me,” Seonghwa said in his low voice, breaking you out of your thoughts. “I don’t bite, and we’ll be going quite fast.”

You hesitated, lightly gripping the back of his coat, but he let out an exasperated sigh, reaching back to take your hands and wrap them firmly around his waist. “Keep it tight,” he instructed, with a small lilt in his tone. “We don’t want you falling off just yet.”

“Okay,” you squeaked, feeling your cheeks heat up as you adjusted your grip. Thank goodness he couldn’t see the flush that spread across your face.

With everyone ready, the horses set off, following the masked man and Hongjoong in the lead. The terrain was rough, the path dimly lit only by the full moon above, but the horses and riders moved with ease, as though this was a journey they’d made countless times before. You marvelled at how the men manoeuvred the horses, their motions so natural and in sync with the horses as they navigated the changing landscape at a fast pace.

Although to you, in the dark, every sudden shift or dip felt like you might topple off, and without thinking, you tightened your arms around Seonghwa, pressing yourself closer to his back. You were sure he could feel the thudding of your heartbeat, but he said nothing, simply adjusting the reins and shifting slightly to keep you both steady.

The moonlight cast everything in a soft, silvery glow, but the wildness of the ride kept you tense, your focus on not falling rather than the view. It was only when you felt Seonghwa’s voice rumble low in his chest that you realized he was speaking to you.

“Relax,” he murmured, his tone gentler than you’d heard before. “You’re going to be fine.”

You heeded his words and calmed yourself down a little, and though you still clung tightly, you were able to look up, taking in the beauty around you. The trees loomed like shadows on either side, the air crisp with the scent of pine and earth, and the ocean now far behind, not even a scent of it in the earthy breeze. You loosened up just a little, letting the rhythm of the horse’s strides carry you as the group forged on toward their destination.

The rumbling of hooves finally gave way to silence as you and the others arrived at a farmhouse, just as the sky had begun to lighten with dawn. The sweeping farmhouse before you was surrounded by tall stone walls, with a sprawling farm and livestock area enclosed in the back, as far as your eyes could see. A hefty metal gate swung open to let you pass through on foot, and stable hands waiting close by took the horses from you, leading them toward the stables. The others retrieved their bags, and together, you walked toward the house’s intricately carved wooden doors where a man awaited you.

“Hyung!” Hongjoong called out, hurrying over to the man and engulfing him in a warm hug. You noticed his sunglasses were nowhere to be found.

“It’s been a while, you’ve grown I see” the man chuckled, patting his back. “I trust everyone’s been well?”

He looked over the group, his eyes scanning each face until they landed on you, and his brows raised. You felt yourself shrink back a little, inching behind Seonghwa.

“Who do we have here? A new face?” he asked, his voice warm yet curious.

Hongjoong nodded, a smile playing on his lips. “This is Aurora, our new navigator,” he explained as Seonghwa nudged you forward gently. “Aurora, this is my brother, Bumjoong. We’ll be staying at his place during our visit.”

“Nice to meet you, sir,” you greeted him with a little bow, trying to keep your voice steady.

Bumjoong broke into a reassuring smile. “No need for formalities. If you’re with these guys, you’re family too.”

You could only offer him a queasy smile at that statement.

“Let’s get inside, then, and get everyone settled,” Bumjoong said, leading the way through the doors.

Inside, the farmhouse was even more expansive than you’d expected, with high ceilings, rustic beams, and warm wooden furniture filling the space. You let out a soft “whoa” as you took in the surroundings, noticing that the others seemed more at ease, now that you were inside. At the entryway, you were greeted by an older man dressed in a crisp suit, whom Bumjoong introduced as Mr. Shin.

“You can all leave your things here, and Mr. Shin will make sure your belongings are taken to the rooms while we have breakfast, I’m sure you’re all famished,” Bumjoong explained before stepping away, “I’ll be in the dining hall,”

The group immediately launched into a discussion about rooming arrangements, seemingly forgetting your presence until you cleared your throat softly.

“Um…where will I go?” you asked, turning all eight heads towards youself.

“Oh, right. We need to make room for you too,” Hongjoong said sheepishly. “There are four guest rooms, three of which sleep two people, and one that fits three. Normally, that one has an extra space, but since we’re all here, it looks like you’ll have to share.”

“Dibs on the three-person room!” Wooyoung called, raising his hand. “Me, San, and Yeosang will take that one.”

“I’ll pair with Jongho,” Mingi added.

You tried to keep the disappointment from your face, realizing that no one had suggested rooming with you yet. Hongjoong, however, quickly took charge.

“Alright, Seonghwa and I will take our usual room, which leaves Yunho with Aurora. Is that alright with you?” he asked, glancing your way.

You nodded, glancing back to find Yunho already looking at you with a small smile. You hadn’t talked to Yunho, since yesterday morning, you had been subconsciously avoiding him to make sure he wouldn’t bring up what had happened before. You hoped this arrangement wouldn’t cause any more awkward situations.

“Alright, then,” Hongjoong confirmed, turning to Mr. Shin. “Please take our things to the rooms.”

The old man bowed, collecting everyone’s bags with practiced efficiency and surprising strength.

“Now, let’s get some food,” Hongjoong declared, leading the way to the dining hall.

The dining room was as homely as the rest of the house, the wooden table set with a mouth watering spread of breakfast foods—freshly baked bread, variations of different egg and meat dishes, fruit, and steaming pots of tea and coffee. You found yourself seated next to Yunho, your stomach rumbling at the sight of the food.

Bumjoong signalled for the kitchen aids to start serving, soon enough your plate was piled spectacularly high with food and you dug in. With a life like this, you wondered why Hongjoong lived like a pirate. As you ate, you found the exhaustion leaving your body, you even joined in the laughter as the guys shared stories of the sea with Bumjoong. Yunho, of course, paid close attention to you, making sure you had enough on your plate and felt comfortable in the loud atmosphere.

“You look less anxious,” he remarked quietly, offering you a warm smile.

You nodded, “It must have been the exhaustion keeping me on edge,” you replied, savoring a bite of fluffy omurice. “It’s nice to be off the ship for a bit.”

After a satisfying meal, Bumjoong stood, clapping his hands. “Alright, make yourselves at home. We’ll be heading into town soon enough, but in the meantime, rest up or explore. It’s not every day you’re grounded here, after all.” Yunho had mixed feelings about that, he felt the most at home on the ship, even after all this time.

With everyone scattering to their rooms or settling into the common room, you decided it was the perfect time to explore. The farmhouse was certainly alluring—spacious, well-built, and grand without feeling gaudy. Starting on the ground floor, you roamed through the expansive kitchen, the dining hall, and a cosy common room where some of the crew lounged, chatting lazily. On the first floor, you discovered three bedrooms—one master bedroom with an attached bath and two double bedrooms with a shared bathroom in the hall. Above that, the second floor housed two more bedrooms—a triple-sharing room and a double-sharing, along with a library and a study. You were struck by how thoughtfully designed the house was, and you hoped you’d get a chance to explore the never ending outdoor grounds someday, too.

Finally, you got to having the shower you’d been craving since you set foot on land. You gathered up your toiletries and a fresh set of towels provided by the staff, making your way to the shared bathroom on the first floor. It was a quaintly decorated space, with a large, inviting bathtub at the centre, surrounded by shelves lined with a variety of soaps, shampoos, and bath salts. Just how rich were these people, you weren’t used to having such luxuries available so easily and for free at that.

After a bit of fumbling with the ornate taps, you managed to draw yourself a warm, fragrant bubble bath. Slipping out of your travel-worn clothes, you eased into the bath, letting the warm water melt away every ache. You washed your hair, scrubbed away the grime, and felt yourself sinking deeper into the pillow of relaxation Finally, you stepped out, drying off and wrapping a towel around yourself, with a second one around your damp hair. As you scanned the bathroom for your fresh clothes, your stomach dropped—you’d left them in your room.

Sighing at your own mistake, you edged into the hallway, hoping the coast would be clear for the quick dash to your room. Just as you stepped out, though, you collided into something—someone, to be exact. You looked up to find Seonghwa standing before you, his eyes widening at the sight. His shirt was open, his perfectly sculpted torso right in front of you, and he looked like he’d just been on his way to shower himself. The air was thick as you fought the urge to let your gaze leave his eyes and travel further away.

Before either of you could speak, Seonghwa shrugged off his shirt and draped it over your shoulders, quickly fastening the top button by your collarbone. “Be careful,” he murmured offhandedly, his voice low. “You can’t be wandering around in just a towel.”

Your face flushed at his words, and you mumbled a soft “thank you,” locking your gaze on the floor. Seonghwa gave a small nod and slipped past you into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him. You made your way quickly back to your room, glad that no one else caught you, and that Yunho hadn’t returned to the room yet.

Inside the bathroom, Seonghwa let out a shaky breath as he leaned against the sink, trying to compose himself. The moment was replaying in his mind—the way you’d looked so innocently at him, with your big eyes and the teasing drops of water trailing down your neck and disappearing beneath the towel you clutched to your chest. He felt his own face heat up as he tried to push the memory aside.

Taking a cold shower was probably a good idea right about now, Seonghwa thought, letting the icy water shock him out of his flustered state. Meanwhile, you were in your room, practically jumping into your clothes. Embarrassed was an understatement; you couldn’t believe how nonchalantly Seonghwa had reacted, as if seeing you in a towel was just another everyday event for him. Now, not only was being around Yunho already a little awkward, but now you could add Seonghwa to that list of complications.

You stared at yourself down in the mirror, forcing the flush on your cheeks to fade. “Just act normal,” you whispered to yourself, giving your reflection a firm nod. Fixing your appearance one last time, you headed downstairs and took a seat beside Yeosang, who gave you a small smile. You made some polite small talk, asking about his day and listening as he spoke about the journey and how glad he was to be on land again. His voice was gentle, helping you pass the time while the rest of the group assembled.

Once everyone was settled, Bumjoong addressed the room. "Hongjoong’s already updated me on the situation and the plan," he began, hands clasped together. "Each group will have an assigned servant to accompany them for assistance, except for San and Aurora, to avoid any additional suspicion. Now, let's go over each team’s role and objective."

Hongjoong took over, “Right, so our first team to dispatch will be Yeosang and Wooyoung.” He motioned to them. “Your job is to follow Myung Seokchul, the lawyer…our target. He’s in his early forties, lives alone since his wife passed due to an illness that swept through the southern part of the island a few years ago.”

At the mention of the disease, you noticed both Hongjoong and Bumjoong’s faces darken a little. There was clearly a history there.

After a pause, Hongjoong continued. “Apart from this basic information, we don’t have much on him, except for a distinct scar that runs from his left temple down to his chin. That’s his main identifying feature.”

Wooyoung let out a small scoff, adjusting the old ascot hat he’d donned as part of his disguise. “I can’t wait to see this guy. Sounds like a real charmer.”

Yeosang shot him an unimpressed look,“Don’t forget we’re just tailing him, Wooyoung. Let’s keep this smooth and unnoticed. The last thing we need is to get on his radar before we understand his movements.”

Wooyoung shrugged, but the glint in his eye betrayed his excitement. “Alright, alright. I’ll keep my distance—promise,” he said, smirking behind the dull brown cloth he’d drawn over the lower half of his face. “Though, I can’t say I’m not looking forward to playing the part of the humble farmer.”

Yeosang sighed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “If you get us caught, I’ll personally see to it that you’ll be the one taking care of the goats in the morning.”

“Relax, Yeosang,” Wooyoung replied, patting his shoulder with a grin. “If anything, I’m here to make you look even more convincing. You’ll thank me later.”

Hongjoong cut in, exasperated, before Yeosang could retort, “Alright, you two, enough bickering. Remember, this is a low-profile mission. Blend in, observe, and come back with any useful information.”

“Yes, Captain,” Yeosang said firmly, his gaze returning to Hongjoong. Wooyoung gave a mock salute before the two of them turned and made their way to the door.

You watched them go, Wooyoung tossing a wink over his shoulder as Yeosang tugged him along. “Wish us luck,” Wooyoung called out with a confident grin.

“Just don’t blow our cover,” San replied, rolling his eyes, but with an amused smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Alright, as for the rest of you,” Bumjoong said, nodding for Hongjoong to continue.

Hongjoong clasped his hands and directed his gaze to you and the others. “The next group to leave will be Jongho, Yunho, Mingi, San, and Aurora. You’ll head to the marketplace. Once there, we’ll split into two smaller teams: Jongho and Mingi will handle restocking the ship’s supplies, while Yunho and San will take Aurora to pick up whatever essentials she might need for her time onboard. Regroup here by 3 PM. After that, we’ll proceed as planned.”

Everyone nodded, gathering things they would need. Hongjoong and Seonghwa were to remain at the farmhouse to prepare a room for their ‘guest’ in the evening. But before that, they had something else to confirm.

Once the rest of you departed, Hongjoong, Seonghwa, and Bumjoong moved back into the library, the heavy wooden door creaking shut behind them. Bumjoong turned to Hongjoong, looking grave. “Are you sure it’s her?” he asked, voice teetering on uncertainty.

“That’s what we need to find out,” Hongjoong replied. He paused before adding, “Are you still in contact with Mr. Hwang from the public library?”

“Well of course,” Bumjoong replied thoughtfully. “He helped us quite a bit back in the day. He retired a few years back, though. You think he might know something?”

“He was part of the Guardian’s Guild here for a while, till their ideas changed. He might know what she looks like. We need to meet with him urgently,” Seonghwa said.

Bumjoong nodded, reaching for a bell to call for Jihye. “He lives nearby. I’ll send Jihye with you—she’s close with his granddaughter.”

A few minutes later, Jihye entered, she was a stable hand at the estate. After Bumjoong explained the situation, she nodded, an three set off toward Mr. Hwang’s humble cottage without delay.

Mr. Hwang’s “cottage” was anything but humble. After a ten-minute walk from the farmhouse, they stood before a grand, albeit slightly worn, manor nestled amidst tall trees and overgrown thickets. Though smaller than the Kim estate, it was still impressively lavish, with ivy trailing up the stone walls and stained-glass windows that gleamed in the sunlight.

Jihye stepped up to the door, rapping her hand against the wood. A servant opened it and regarded the trio with mild curiosity before Jihye explained their visit and the urgent need to speak with Mr. Hwang. The door closed again for a bit, then servant came back, ushering them inside and leading them down a corridor toward Mr. Hwang’s study.

The man himself sat behind a large, carved desk, spectacles perched on his nose as he pored over a large leather-bound volume. He looked up as they entered, a small, welcoming smile gracing his face.

“Hongjoong, Seonghwa, it’s been a long time,” he said warmly, setting his book aside. “What brings you here today?”

Hongjoong wasted no time. “Mr. Hwang, we need your expertise on a very particular matter.”

The old man leaned forward, his expression shifting to one of interest. “Of course, son. How can I assist?”

Hongjoong drew in a breath, and removed his sunglasses, looking at the old man with intensity. “We’re searching for someone—a young woman, we believe she’s connected to something the Guardians were once involved in, if you’re catching my drift.”

Mr. Hwang’s eyes widened slightly. “You mean…the World Z Project?”

Hongjoong nodded. “So you’re aware of what we speak of. I remember you telling us about this ‘legendary scientist’ when we were kids. She was your best friend at the facility, wasn’t she?”

A distant look clouded Mr. Hwang’s face. “Yes, Lee Junhee. She endured so much, only to be cast aside after her greatest discovery. The Guardians discarded her once they had what they wanted. They might have even killed her, but we managed to escape. She passed away a few years back… But if you’re saying it’s her you’ve found—”

Seonghwa shook his head. “Not her. We heard about her passing from Haneul noona. Her Guild has been keeping tabs on the older Guardians. We think it’s her granddaughter—a young woman around our age. We brought her aboard as a navigator, and while she hasn’t shown any unusual abilities yet, there may be something neither she nor we fully understand. Her name’s Aurora.”

Mr. Hwang’s eyes widened in realization. “Little Aurora… Of course! How could I forget?” He rose shakily, leaning on his cane as he shuffled toward a nearby shelf, pulling out a dusty leather book. He flipped through it carefully and retrieved an old photograph, handing it to Hongjoong and Seonghwa. “This picture… Junhee once told me her granddaughter was exceptionally bright beyond her years, though quite timid. It’s a few years old, but she should still be recognizable.”

Hongjoong took the photograph, examining the face of a young Aurora, likely about twenty. She looked younger, happier, her features still touched with traces of adolescence, but it was undoubtedly her.

“Hwa,” Hongjoong whispered, elation laced his voice, “it’s her. We’ve found her. We finally have the link to that damn map.”

Seonghwa’s tense expression softened, furrowed brows relaxing. They had a real lead after six years of relentless searching.

Mr. Hwang looked at them both, he wasn’t entirely sure, what all this was for, but he still prayed in their support. “I hope she is everything Junhee hoped she would be… You have my best wishes. Go, and be careful.”

Hongjoong and Seonghwa rose, bowing deeply. “Thank you, Mr. Hwang. We can’t express how grateful we are for your help,” Hongjoong said.

The older man simply nodded, waving them off with a knowing look in his eyes as they turned to leave. They exited the manor with Jihye, who led them back to the Kim estate. Once back, they reconvened with Bumjoong, who listened intently as they shared everything Mr. Hwang had told them, fixing the pieces for the final puzzle. But before they could settle down completely, a loud, frantic voice echoed through the hall.

San burst into the house, his face pale and drenched in sweat, his chest heaving as he stumbled forward. “Aurora, she’s gone!” he shouted, falling to his knees, utterly defeated. “The others are still searching, but… we can’t find her.” His voice cracked with panic and frustration.

“What?” Hongjoong’s eyes widened, and he shot up from his seat. He quickly approached San, Seonghwa close behind. “San, what happened?”

San looked up, his face stricken. “We were at the dressmaker’s. She went behind some curtains to have her measurements taken, and then she was just… gone. I was right there, and Yunho was with us too, I swear!” His voice wavered as he struggled to hold back tears.

Seonghwa placed a steadying hand on his shoulder, his voice low and calm. “Take a deep breath, San. We’ll find her; we have to.”

Hongjoong’s expression hardened, the calm before a storm brewing in his gaze. “San, take us to the others. Lead the way.”

© alxtiny . Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, repost, or use my works on any platform in any way.

Comment under masterlist to be added to taglist

DISCLAIMER: THIS IS PURE FICTION AND NOT RELATED TO THE MEMBERS OF ATEEZ IN REAL LIFE PLEASE DO NOT TAKE IT SERIOUSLY

Taglist: @yandere-stories @passionandsuga @beabatiny @sadtoru @pixie0627 @nagynomi98 @bunnychui

[twinge-of-cosmicangst]

Marianne at the funeral if Greg gleefully mentions how much Tom and Shiv’s marriage is failing, or if she sees Tom and Greg interact, or if she notices how much contempt Shiv seems to have for Greg. Or any combination of these three things.

[tethrras]

deciding to headcanon that the lighthouse makes people feel Calm and Docile and Relaxed to excuse the fact that more of the companions aren't as mad as lucanis that ANY of this is happening

[thingscanalwaysgetworse]

Thinking about the Ian/Ellie/Ian reunion through a romantic lens. Spending decades trying to convince themselves that they didn’t miss each other and then they meet up and it’s like?? Alan and Ellie are already gazing at each other like long-lost lovers. When they walk into Ian’s lecture, he pauses and looks like his world has just shifted on its axis. Ellie and Ian always had something going on between them but now Alan’s realizing that his own feelings for Ian are maybe less platonic than he thought. And then later they’re all bickering lovingly like they’ve been married for years. I’m unwell

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

for some reason im really feeling the Queer Euphoria in this chilis tonight, specifically: being so ambiguous its hilarious. there is No label to describe my orientation/gender. like yeah i use nonbinary bc technically it fits but also bc the flag Fucks. if asked, my only correct answer would be "Wildcard, Motherfucker!"

[kitkat-the-muffin]

What if Jonathan’s letters to Mina actually sent and Dracula didn’t burn them?

What if she believed those letters but Lucy didn’t, and so Lucy sent Seward to visit Jonathan in Dracula’s Castle to test his level of insanity?

What if Seward fell in love with one of the Vampyresses in the castle?

So anyway I had the strangest dream last night-

[losttranslator]

like most Christian movies risen is cheesy and biblically dubious at times and gets loads of cultural stuff wrong for the sake of being recognizable to a primarily American audience but I'll readily admit the poor roman tribune's absolute bafflement at these religious weirdos who keep talking about love and stuff has me cackling unhingedly

Like, is it sound biblical doctrine and is it historical believable? No? Is it hilarious and do I enjoy seeing this random shmuck lose his mind going through what's essentially a very disturbing psychological thriller from his pov while the disciples are overflowing with joy? You bet??

The guy is dealing with horrifyingly decomposed dead bodies trying to find the right cadaver and previously sane soldiers going crazy and dead men being spotted alive and strange supernatural phenomena and angry gods and unexplained madness and religious fanatism spreading like a contagion, and meanwhile the disciples (and Jesus) are all like HELLO BROTHER WOULD YOU LIKE TO HEAR ABOUT THE BEST NEWS EVER :D :D :D

[dogboots]

to be honest with everybody I don't think I'm supposed to be here. I think I'm supposed to be somewhere else

[kushanna]

i hate this type of red truth cause it's not specified whether the red sentence by itself is a truth for the murder we're talking about atm or for the game board as a whole. genji and nanjo were not killers? if you're telling me they can't be killers at all in the first game board then that's a huge bummer for me

also hate this one cause yeah?? does she guarantee that the unidentified corpses are actually corpses though?? i do understand that yes, since she did say "there were no body double tricks", but GOD that's such a ridiculous play with words. get out of here

[sastielsfandom]

Took a nap, proceeded to have a nightmare. Very fun. I never know how detailed my dreams can get until I'm locked in an elevator, pushing every button to get out, unable to. And when it's finally pried open, I don't even know how it happened but there were multiple people injured. Anyway my dreams can fully produce the image of dead and injured people with blood and bones, organs showing.  And I didn't know that until now.  My description does no justice to what I saw and felt. So yeah.

[elfsyellowflowerzart]

asril the tiefling bard

(any pronouns)

[piratadelamor]

its always like this. i wanna make a family bc i want a second chance to live things my family couldnt give me first

[nomairuins]

so close to being done with one step in the larger step in the larger step of the spreadsheet.

i ran out of space in the tags so im continuing them under the cut bc i wasnt finished... and if you let me finish i would of finshed my santance

anyways i have some countries like. the borders r pretty close to irl countries and i have them in my notes as x country but other ones i split them into like. just smaller subregions of the continent based on irl like. regions. like i split africa into . Madagascar + East Africa + Central Africa + Southern Africa + Western Africa + Northern Africa and its referenced off of maps where those r like. the recognized regions (well. madagascar is usually just counted as either east or southern africa but yk). but idk... im worried its a shitty thing 2 do i just dont know what else 2 do with it. maybe i should just use an actual world map instead since im going more realistic with like. the time periods and stuff. IDK i just rly wanna avoid the shit the sims does so much where it lumps a bunch of cultures together like. the chinese world in ts3 world adventures having a torii gate for the icon. -_- yk. the map was kinda superfluous anyway and more judt a way to visualize where the worlds we have were distributed + also was mostly influenced by that one ts4 mod which takes that more simplistic approach but maybe i can just step away from that and just go more realism based Its just hard bc i dont wanna like. lose the more like. silly isnt quite the word (itis kind of but not fully) ig i mean i dont wanna lose the abstraction kind of thing the sims has. but like. I am auite literally making a spreadsheet to get rid of some of the abstraction the sims has so what am i on about. IDK i just have been thinking abt it a lot basically... like sims im already making shit up and locking the sims to like real world history stuff it only makes sense to like. do the same thing with The world and not have it be abstracted. so yes that was a lot of words to say i think im just gonna move to thinking of the sims as living on Basically earth. In my personal the sims palace that ive made up. this is not to say i personally think of the sims as tkaing place on earth or anything ive just decided to do like. Bc this whole thing is basically an au im making anyway like. taking ts3 sims and making them be from the 1950s thats already Not what the game is like. so ill just make it a Realworld sims au. ok yay 👍 thats all sorry for talking sm abt something so pointless and also for not using a SINGLE paragraph break im basically just writing in this like i write in the tags (stream of consciousness) but the tags have the benefit of being naturally split up so yes i dont think anybody is reading this far. when i was little and playing skyward sword for the first time roughly 7-8 years old i got to the like trial on skyloft and i got so scared i smashed the cd so that i wouldnt have to do it . and then i blamed my dog for it. and i did this even tho lamp had JUST started a skyward sword playthru which idk if i knew at the time but i do feel rly guilty abt it. but i was rly scared. ok thats all

[unproduciblesmackdown]

tfw my shifting dream threads for a bit were all framed as Media & all had will roland acting a Role. first was "here's a short film w/him & some guy & he's wearing sort of a smock sort of a dress over pants & a sweater & we're like yeah cute. kind of about his role getting mentorship about performing a role but at first neither are sure they're that interested in this creative process & i suppose that will bear the plot" then was "idk the plot but i was also doing A Role & i heard a roger mentioned & i am like is this the will roland role? so i ad lib leaning over like [as in roger that] & he ad libs [never heard that one before XD] so yes" like can't go wrong, a [hop, skip] of a name as you can sort of glissade in & out on the R but with an untamed Short O &, looks something up, affricate in the mix for panache. third time i was the wrole b/c i advanced a Gay Love Interest? thread by leaning over like "amicable perhaps teasing interaction with this guy" then like "and what of beaming about it afterwards when it was simply momentary & even while you've turned away" & beyond that there was still a wrole in an ensemble plotline. thank you & goodnight

[joelsgoldrush]

“guilty pleasure” | 8.6k

worst!logan howlett x f!reader

SUMMARY: After saving Earth-10005 from impending disaster, Wade convinces Logan, the alcoholic and easily irritated mutant, to stick around for a while. He’s convinced that nothing good can come out of this experience, until he meets you: the charming bartender with a soft spot for swearing that matches his own. Suddenly, sticking around doesn’t seem so bad after all.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ fluff. drinking. dirty talk. slow-burnish. grumpy!logan x sunshine!reader. reader is really kind but cracks a lot of jokes. age gap (25 vs 200 - they’re basically the same age). oral sex (f receiving). fingering. finger sucking. soft dom!logan. wade being the funniest asshole. logan calls reader "kiddo/kid”.

A/N: HI! first of all, i'd like to thank you for all the support you showed me on my recent post. let me just tell you that i’m LOVING writing for logan. but none of this would be possible without YOU, so yeah, i fucking love y’all.

** regarding this story, i was planning on making it even longer, but writing these two has been so much fun, and i didn’t want it to end just like that (i have attachment issues as you may infer from this note). therefore, i’ve made the decision to write a second part to this fic, which will contain fluff and other stuff (you already know the drill). i don’t know when i’ll be posting it, but i’m sure it won’t take me that long.

*** i’m also working on other one shots (purely fluff/domesticity because i want this man to cradle me in his arms). anyway, i don’t know if anyone’s going to read this, but still, all I have to say is THANK YOU FOR READING MY WORKS! i hope you really like this silly story i made up :)

**** english is not my first language so if you come across any mistakes don’t hesitate to tell me :)

special recognition to @zloshy who allowed me to rant about my own fic 😭 the sweetest human ever

The bar is far from packed, but then again, it never truly is.

Studying your regulars has become your favorite hobby. Soon you end up knowing their names, the drinks they like, and what time they come through the door. It’s what happens when standing on your own two feet and refilling glasses lose all their charm. A part of you thinks you also do it to make them feel safe. No matter how much you try to deny it, you truly care about their well-being.

Is this your dream job? Nope. Definitely not. You’re pretty sure that holding some stranger’s hair while they empty their insides wasn’t on your bingo card for this year. But sadly money doesn’t grow on trees, and university isn’t going to pay itself. Plus, this was the only job in which your resume was not immediately rejected. It should also be stressed that the drunks happen to love you. 

Perhaps this isn’t the life you had always imagined for yourself, but you were getting closer to it. You’d often talk to Adam, a retired psychologist in his seventies. He was without a doubt one of the most loyal clients you’d ever encountered. In the past, he’d even given you free advice on some of your failed hookups. You once told him that in less than two years, you’d be just like him when you got your degree in Psychology. To your surprise, he replied: “You’ll be much better than me, doll. I’m a mess, can’t you see it? You don’t wanna be like me,” his voice was hardly above a whisper as he continued. “I should be at my daughter’s birthday right now, but I didn’t get an invitation this year. Believe me, you don’t want to end up like this old man.” 

Like Adam, most of the men who frequented the bar day-to-day saw it as an opportunity to hide within the shadows. In comparison to the other pubs in the area, the one you work at doesn’t receive that much attention from the general public. A dimly lit place where only music from the 80s is allowed. You’re certain that if a health inspector ever came down here, you’d be in serious problems. But hey, you know what they say: do not worry about tomorrow; instead, live in the now.

The atmosphere of the bar shifts dramatically as the main door slams shut with a resounding thud, pulling you abruptly out of your daydreaming. You turn to see who’s arrived, but as soon as your eyes meet his, you’re compelled to look away. Nevertheless, the brief glance you catch of the stranger’s features is enough for you to unlock your phone and send a quick text to your best friend. 

You:

cutie patootie alert

there’s this really handsome guy at the bar

i don’t think i’ve ever seen him before

i think i’m in love with him

my night just got a 100% better

Allison:

age

what does he look like

is he bald?

You:

he looks like he could be in his early fifties??? it’s hard to tell UGH i wish you were here

brown hair, beard, 6’2 if i’m not wrong 

i didn’t stare at him for too long

otherwise that would’ve been very weird

and no he’s not fucking bald

that happened only once and i was not aware of that gentleman’s lack of hair 

Allison:

so you’re dating retired now

get it grandma!

You:

oh fuck you allison 

Allison: 

it’s okay girl we all have our flaws

just make sure it’s nobody’s father

wait it’s not mine right?

You:

nah your dad’s way hotter don’t you worry about it

Allison:

bitch 

Even with the music blasting through the speakers that are attached to the ceiling, you can still hear the low murmur and the whispers. The mysterious stranger seems to have attracted the attention of the other patrons, some of whom have even raised their phones to take photos. Your eyebrows draw together. Why would they do something like this, approaching the man as if he were a celebrity? Since curiosity never fails to kill the cat, you decide to get involved.

“Do I have somethin’ on my face?” you hear him ask the crowd, his raspy voice making your knees wobbly. He sounds enraged. You step on your tiptoes, trying to see what all the fuss is about, albeit it’s pretty hard considering how these men are caging him with their bodies.

The glow of a phone’s flashlight catches your attention, and suddenly, a chair is dragged without much elegance. “Enough of that, y’hear me?”

Enter you now. “Okay, gentlemen, I’m sorry. I’m gonna need you to make some space for me, alright?” you mumble as you gently push them aside. “Thank you, thank you. Y’all can be real sweethearts when you put your minds to it.”

Then you spot him, and it becomes clear why everyone is making such a fuss. 

Gary, your worst client ever, steps forward. His nasty breath clouds your senses as he rests one of his sweaty hands on your shoulder. “Doll, it’s the fucking Wolverine. Don’t ask him for a picture, though. He doesn’t seem to be in the mood for that.”

The last thing you needed to see today was a fight (despite your knowledge of who would be the winner). You locate yourself amidst them, shaking your head like a disappointed mother, so as to add a tiny bit of drama to the situation.

“Guys, what you’re doing here is completely inappropriate. I thought I’d taught you better. Imagine if I were to pull this crap on you. You wouldn’t have it.”

Adam presses his lips together, flushing a bit. “She does have a point.” 

“Thank you, peanut. You’re still my favorite,” you flash him an honest smile. Scrutinizing the rest of the men, you continue with your speech. “You can still make up for it and fill my tip jar all the way to the top. Deal?” they all scoff, barking their disagreement. “Oh, you don’t like the sound of that? Then leave him alone, okay? Class dismissed! Back to your places,” you clap your hands repeatedly, signaling them to go away. “Chop chop. All this alcohol won’t be drinking itself.”

Just like that, everything goes back to normal in the blink of an eye. Wolverine sits back down in his chair, leaning closer to the table and resting both elbows on it. He examines you, lifting his chin while his brown eyes take in every inch of you.

“Thank you,” he utters, his eyes still trained on your features. 

“No need to. It’s what I’m here for,” you point to your work clothes, which consist of an antiqued apron and a silly sticker that has your name written on it. “Can I get you anything to drink? It’s also Burger Night. You can get one for half the usual price.”

(No. It’s not fucking Burger Night. You just happen to find yourself deeply attracted to him.)

He doesn’t seem too eager to hear you talk. “Not hungry at the moment. But I could use some whiskey.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, kid. Very sure.” Well, now he does look annoyed.

“Great. I’ll be back in a minute,” you move as if you were in a race, returning to him after a hot minute. Setting his glass down on the table, you fill it with some old whiskey you don’t even know the name of. Still, he omits that detail, gulping down two-fingers of whiskey as if it were water. “I see you’re thirsty.”

“Could you leave the bottle here?” those brown puppy eyes are begging you to do as he says, and although you’d be happy to oblige, rules are rules. 

“Actually, I can’t. The bottle stays on the counter. But you can always join me at the front,” your proposal doesn’t appear to have the desired effect on him. “I won’t talk to you if that’s what you want.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he rubs his neck, drawing a long breath as he stands up. 

You can feel many pairs of eyes searing into your soul. The others ask you for more drinks and you pour them, pricking up your ears when you hear them talking about him.

“What a weirdo. Didn’t you see it on TV? He’s not even from this universe,” Gary explains, looking for accomplices to hate on Wolverine. “Let me tell y’all something: he shouldn’t even be here. He’s fucking dead on this earth.”

Yeah… that you knew.

It had been all over the news for weeks. Some would even swear that he was back from the dead, but that was until the representatives from the TVA spoke their truth. If someone would’ve told you a month ago that multiple universes were a thing, you would’ve laughed in their face.

As if that weren’t already difficult to process, your mind does the job of reminding you that there’s a man with metal claws sitting a few meters away from you. Despite that, you can’t seem to be scared of him. There’s something magnetic about his personality and that don’t-come-near-me-or-there-will-be-consequences expression that he has. Why had you promised not to speak to him? Dammit.

“I can hear your thoughts,” a muscle in his jaw twitches after knocking back another glass of whiskey. He squeezes his eyes shut before tapping the table with two fingers, silently asking for a refill.

“I thought you didn’t want me to talk,” you raise one of your eyebrows, and you behold how the corners of his mouth turn up for an instant. “I can assure you your liver hates you.”

“Alcohol won’t kill me, so don’t be afraid. Keep ‘em coming.”

For nearly twenty minutes, he does nothing but drink. He attempts to light a cigar at some point, and you stop him. “You can’t smoke in here.”

“No special treatment?” he inquires, placing the cigar between his parted lips and tilting his head back. He’s so… dreamy. He has to know it.

“I saved your ass today. The least you can do is not cause me any trouble.”

His eyes widen at your words, blinking owlishly. “You saved my what?”

“Your goddamn ass. You were about to start a fight.”

“Blame the idiots you have for clients,” he says, jerking his thumb toward your direction. “I was just mindin’ my own business. They came for me, not the other way around.”

“Look, Wolvie. I–”

“Wolvie?” giving a bitter laugh, he rams a hand through his hair. “That’s the worst nickname I’ve heard in a long time,” he looks at you through his lashes, getting rid of his leather jacket. “It’s Logan.”

“Wow. Your name is very boybandish.”

You succeed in making him laugh once again. It’s the perfect opportunity for you to observe his face without feeling like you were just about to get caught. He has deep creases and worry lines etched between his eyebrows, a brown beard that perfectly frames his jaw, and a few white hairs scattered in his sideburns. Pearly teeth that go hand in hand with one of the most impeccable smiles you’ve ever seen, and a pair of brown eyes that make you feel weak in the knees. You know for a fact that he’s a lot older than you; his exact age remains a mystery, but his appearance is enough for you to start fantasizing.

Shit, you want him. You should feel sickened by the mere thought of being with him. He was born God knows when, has lived hundreds of years. Still, the idea of tracing his cheekbones with your fingers while lying on his chest doesn’t leave you. This is fucked up. You are fucked up. A fucked up Psychology student. The joke is pretty much self-explanatory.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding, you preening slut. Can’t even bother to answer my calls now?”

The tension between you shatters like a glass dropped onto the floor. He doesn’t dare to look in the direction of the owner of that voice, not even as the seat next to him gets taken. He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Wade, what the hell are you doin’ here?”

“It hasn’t been exactly easy, raising our kid on my own. I don’t even have money to hire a babysitter, Lo. I spent nine months carrying your child, and for what? You end up going after a bartender,” the masked man turns to you, giving a sly wink. “No offense, baby. You must be a real sweetheart. In fact, do you want my number? The name’s Wade, but you can call me whatever you like.”

“You dumb fuck. Are you flirtin’ with her?”

“No shit, smartass. You’re the future of this country.”

A soft giggle escapes you despite your attempt to hold it back. You take a step back, admiring the two men. “Well, aren’t you two a beautiful couple?”

“You should see our little munchkin. He’s got my eyes and Logan’s hair. His first word was gubernatorial.”

“Would you like to have a drink while you’re here?”

“A beer would be great. Thank you, sugarbear. You’re the cutest,” Wade sinks back into his chair, resting his chin on his palm. He jerks his head in Logan’s direction, bumping his shoulder. “She’s the cutest. Are you two together?”

Logan rubs his forehead, speaking through gritted teeth. “How did you find me?”

“It's the power of love, baby. I had It’s All Coming Back To Me Now on repeat for hours. Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Handing Wade a cold beer, your eyes scan Logan’s face. “I didn’t know patience was your strongest suit.”

“Me neither.”

“Enough of that! I can’t stand not being included in a conversation,” Wade throws his hands in the air, and you look at him. “There you are. So, what about you? Are you even allowed to be here? Did bars change their policies?”

You can’t help but snort. “I’m 25.”

Wade looms closer, lowering his voice. “Now that I think about it, you could totally be Logan’s caretaker. He’s been having some issues recently, given his age. Do you… know anything about adult diapers?”

But then Logan’s face contorts, turning crimson. He rises from his seat, grabbing Wade’s arm. “That’s it. We’re leavin’,” his eyes lock on you for a moment. “How much do I owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house.”

The things you’re willing to do for a man, right? You should be ashamed of yourself.

(But you aren’t.)

His mouth hangs open in disbelief. “Kiddo, are you–”

“Completely sure,” you finish his sentence for him, bowing your head and clasping your arms behind your body. A tight-lipped smile takes over you. “Just don’t tell my boss.”

Wade shifts his gaze back and forth between Logan and you. “I usually don’t mind third-wheeling, but I sort of feel left out.”

“I’m gonna sew your mouth shut, Wade.”

“Oh, come on! I was just making small talk,” the masked man tries to excuse himself while Logan pushes him towards the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you, sunshine. I’m free on Thursdays. Hit me up if his whiskey dick fails to impress you! Mine’s way more agile and young!”

As you watch them leave the bar, you remain frozen in your place amidst the clamor of ongoing chatter and clinking glasses.

What the fuck had just happened?

“Patrick’s normally the first one to get wasted during weekends,” you explain to the blonde woman sitting in front of you, and she writes that information down in her notebook. “He can usually handle himself, but at some point, he’ll try to call his ex-wife, and that’s when you know you need to stop serving him.”

She clicks her tongue, the color draining out of her face. “This is… definitely a lot to remember. I think I already forgot half of what you said.”

You shake your head, shoving your hands in your pockets. “You’ll get used to it, believe me. I’ll be with you at all times, so if you have any doubts, just ask me.”

After a whole year of working solo at the bar, you finally get to have a coworker: Gwen, a mother of two teenagers in her forties. You had met her at the grocery store, and in the process of helping her find a specific brand of cookies, you found out that she had recently lost her job. One thing led to another, and now she’s your trainee.

Your savior complex strikes again!

It has been four days since your first encounter with Logan. The thought that he could show up at any moment makes your heart race and your hands sweat. Allison had received countless voice messages where you narrated the entire experience in full detail. 

Touching your arm softly, Gwen’s face lights up. “Another man came in. Is he a regular? I don’t think you told me about him.”

Fuck, it’s him. Manifesting does work wonders. He locks eyes with you and raises a hand in greeting.

“Leave this one to me,” you tell her as your feet take you to where Logan’s sitting, contemplating the way in which his leather jacket hugs his wide frame. “Long time no see.”

“Hey, kid,” he grins. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Nobody has puked yet, so that’s a good thing,” you crinkle your nose, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Whiskey?”

“You know me so well,” a smirk takes place in his lips, and he smiles cockily. “Though this time, I won’t be leavin’ without payin’.”

“We’ll see about that,” you go back to your usual spot behind the counter, looking for a glass. Your cheeks kind of hurt from smiling so hard. Next to you, Gwen studies your reaction to seeing Logan. “Is that your boyfriend?”

You almost drop the whiskey bottle. “God, no. He’s not my boyfriend. Barely know the guy.”

“It’s funny,” she says, raising her eyebrows with a knowing look, as if she knows something you don’t. “He hasn’t stopped looking at you since he arrived.”

“It’s probably because of this,” you reply, lifting the bottle in her direction before pouring a small amount into a glass. Just as you’re about to walk over to him, a girl slides into the sit beside him, her long blonde hair swept up in a ponytail. She’s wearing a stunning red dress and black heels. You wonder if she’s a model, because she certainly looks like one.

Her hand creeps up his arm, fingernails scraping against the worn leather. Although Logan’s expression is hard to read, he doesn’t even flinch.

“You know what? Here’s his drink– You take care of it. I’ll stay here,” you don’t give Gwen a chance to talk back, instead staying behind the bar, engaging in small talk with other clients. 

“Doll, are you okay?” Adam asks you after noticing you struggling to open a beer bottle. He takes it from your hands and opens it with ease. “There you go.”

“Thank you, Adam. I’m fine, never been better. Why you ask?

“You sure?”

“Affirmative.”

“You mixed up our drinks,” he explains in his most psychologist-like voice. “This never happens to you. Michael has my wine, and I’ve got his martini.”

“Fuck! I’m so sorry. I just— I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you chew on your bottom lip, rubbing your temples. “I feel stupid.”

“Oh, please. Don’t say that. You’re far from being stupid,” he sits up straight, reaching for your fingers and giving them an apologetic squeeze. “If you ask me, I think you’ve got your mind on someone else,” he must notice how you visibly get tense because he adds: “Remember: I know when you’re lying. You didn’t charge him the other day, which means that you must really like him,” taking a tentative sip of the martini he didn’t even ordered, Adam shrugs. “I’m a great observer. That’s all.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the blonde girl from before returning to where her friends are chatting. Logan is left alone, and you watch him grab his glass and head towards the counter.

“As I said, your mind’s somewhere else,” Adam sighs, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips. “Go get your man. I’ll survive.”

“Not my man. But thanks, older-and-wiser-version-of-cupid.”

Pretending not to have seen Logan, you continue with your work. He remains silent for some minutes before finally saying: “Hi.”

Hi? It sounds so out of character for him.

“Hey, claws,” you force a smile, still avoiding to meet his gaze. “Do you need anything?”

Logan points to his empty glass, like a toddler asking for more cereal. “I also wanted to talk to you.”

“I thought you were busy over there,” you say, surprisingly managing to sound nonchalant, despite the jealousy bubbling underneath your friendly tone. “Did you get her number?”

“What? No.”

“Why not? She’s cute.”

Yeah, maybe you don’t sound as collected as you think.

Whether Logan notices it or not, he chooses not to mention it. He folds his arms over his chest, fixing his brown eyes on you. “I’m not interested.”

“And what is it that interests you, champ?” your question elicits a low chuckle from him. Just as he opens his mouth to seemingly reply, Gwen appears out of nowhere to ask you about the price of a certain drink. Your gaze shifts between her and Logan, who remains focused on you while sipping his drink.

After that, Gwen leaves. The man in front of you goes poker-faced, pursing his lips, and his abrupt change in demeanor alarms you. “Wade wants to have dinner tomorrow at his apartment– well, our apartment. I live with him now. It’s complicated,” he adds with a dismissive wave of his hand, and you laugh. “Anyway, he asked me to tell you that you’re invited. I know we don’t know each other that much, but… he said you seem like someone worth havin’ around,” he mumbles awkwardly, eyes downcast. “I think the same as well.”

You could die at peace.

“You’re a lucky fucker because I don’t work on Sundays,” you quip, smiling. “I’d be more than happy to attend your feast.”

“Great. I thought you would turn down the invitation.”

“Now why would you think that?”

“‘Cause you barely know me– us,” he corrects himself rapidly. “Plus, Wade’s annoying as hell when he puts his mind to it. You’ll see.”

“Marital problems?” he actually in response. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Oh, I’ll bring the dessert.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I do want to,” you tilt your head in an effort to hide your longing for him.

“Just want to get under my skin, huh? I can see why Wade likes you,” Logan beams, reaching out to tuck a $100 bill into the pocket of your apron. “The tip’s included.”

“I don’t know how things work in your universe, but you’re giving me way more money than you’re supposed to. I can't accept this.”

“Oh, but you will,” his gravelly voice fucks your system up, and you’re glad he can’t see how you squeeze your legs together behind the bar.

He writes down Wade’s address on a random napkin, holding his breath as he stands up. “I should get goin’. See you tomorrow then.”

Before he walks out the door, you stop him. “Logan? You didn’t answer my other question.”

His back shakes momentarily with laughter. Turning around to face you, his stare leaves you even more confused. “Good night, doll.”

This is becoming a habit: every time he goes away, you feel as though you’ve just run a marathon with no water available. Your mouth is completely dry, your fingers are numb and there’s a knot in your stomach that’s becoming all too familiar.

“Would you mind telling me where you got him?” Gwen’s voice makes you almost jump out of your skin.

“He’s not from around here. I think he’s Canadian.”

You’ve got this. You’ve got this. You’ve got this.

Knocking softly on Wade’s door, you step back, the container holding the tiramisu cold to your touch. It’s your first time trying out this recipe, so you’re expecting it to at least not taste like shit.

Wade answers the apartment door, acting surprised when you remain silent. “Well, look what the wind blew in: if it isn’t my husband’s lover. How dare you? We’re still going to couples therapy.”

You show him the container, and he squints at it. “Tiramisu. You want it or not?”

“I hate twenty-somethings,” he says with a defeated sigh, stepping aside to let you into the apartment. 

Leaving your purse on the nearest surface, you scan the living room, wondering where Logan might be. There’s a small mirror beneath the couch, and you check yourself for the hundredth time tonight. “Don’t get too excited. He’s still showering,” Wade’s voice rings in your ears, and you turn to look at him, your eyebrows knitted. “Yeah. I noticed. You’re already drooling over that big piece of metal between his legs.”

“Keep quiet!” you cover his mouth with your palm, noticing the scarred state of his skin up close. “Wade, you fucking dog. Are you licking my hand?”

“Couldn’t help it. You taste like mascarpone cheese and espresso.”

Then Logan emerges from the bathroom, with only a white towel draped around his waist. Droplets of water fall from his wet hair, tracing the muscle of his abs, ending somewhere beneath his happy trail. Your eyes keep flickering between him and his torso until he clears his throat. “I thought you were comin’ later.”

“Me too, but I…,” you trail off, your brain struggling to catch up, “I didn’t know what else to do at my place.”

“It’s fine. Just– let me put on some clothes.”

“Please don’t,” Wade murmurs next to you, but Logan only scoffs. “I was just being honest. Communication is key.”

When Wade and you are alone again, he lets out a harsh breath. “That was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. My pants are really tight right now.”

“Thin walls, buddy!” Logan shouts from his bedroom, earning a laugh from you. 

Like A Prayer starts playing. Wade moves his hips to the beat, getting lost in the melody. “Is that your phone?”

“Yeah, but I always take a few seconds to dance to it. Such a banger!” he says, then picks up his phone, accepting the call. “Hey, Ness! What´s up?” Wade covers the speaker before telling you: “It’s Vanessa. My ex-girlfriend. We fuck once a week, sometimes even twice.”

From behind, Logan nudges your arm with his, looking at you. ”Hey, kid.”

“No, I’m not busy at all,” Wade exclaims, grabbing his crotch and thrusting into the air. “I’ll be there in ten, cupcake. See you,” he spreads his arms wide and whistles. “Someone’s getting laid tonight!”

“You made me come all the way here… and now you’re leaving?”

“What? My friend Wolverine wanted to invite you over. I just had to provide the apartment,” in one quick movement, he presses a kiss to your cheek, then does the same to Logan. “Shave yourself, will you?”

“Go fuck yourself, will you?”

“Love you too, honey. Hope you two lovebirds have a good night, because I know I will!”

Wade throws a wink over his shoulder before heading out, the apartment going dead silent. Logan and you stand frozen, staring at each other, although he quickly drops his gaze, unable to maintain eye contact. A giggle threatens to escape you: he wanted to see you. Could he possibly enjoy your company as much as you enjoy his?

Logan watches the spot where Wave had just been. The absence of his chaotic energy makes the room feel strangely empty now. He coughs lightly, the sound awkwardly loud in the quiet room.

“So... I, uh, bought pizza,” he says, his voice a little too casual, as if trying to cover up his nervousness. Averting his eyes, he focuses on the pizza boxes on the table.

You catch the hesitation in his tone, your curiosity piqued by his discomfort. Tilting your head, a teasing smile forms on your lips. “Pizza, huh? You sure know how to impress a girl.”

Logan chuckles, the sound strained, as he scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I figured it was a safe choice. Didn’t want to ruin it, y’know?”

You move closer to the table, the warmth from the pizza boxes radiating against your hands as you open one of them. The rich smell of melted cheese and pepperoni fills the air, a comforting scent that makes your stomach growl softly. “Thank you. I’m a big fan of pizza.”

He sits in the chair across from you, taking a bite of his slice. You watch him quietly, your own thoughts churning. The truth of his origins had been a shock at first, but now, it just made you want to know more about the man. What was his life like in the other universe? Did he miss it? Was he happier here, or was he longing to return?

“Logan…,” you begin, your tone gentle but probing, “Can I ask you something?”

He glances up at you, eyes widening. There’s something in your eyes –an understanding, maybe– that makes him feel like you could see right through him. 

“Sure,” he replies, trying to sound more at ease than he really feels. “Ask away.”

You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to push too hard. “I was wondering... would it be okay if I asked you some questions? About, you know, your life. Where you're from.”

The bite of pizza suddenly feels heavy in his mouth. He hadn’t talked much about his world, not even with Wade. Partly because it was too painful, and partly because he wasn’t sure how to explain how things turned out for him. He nods slowly, setting his slice down. “Yeah, it's okay. I’ll answer what I can.”

“I just... I want to understand you better.”

“Well, first and foremost, I’m no hero. You should know that by now.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Kid, I’m the worst Logan. A complete failure. Of all the variants out there, Wade just had to pick the one despised by every living soul on his earth,” Logan looks away, his voice low and heavy. You’re wondering if doing this was a good idea. “I need a drink.”

He gets up and you follow him into the kitchen. He rummages through the fridge, in search of a cold beer. Meanwhile, you attempt to find the right words. “I don’t think–”

With a sharp flick of his wrist, three metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. A gasp catches in your throat as he uses his claws to pierce the beer can, drinking from the punctured holes. Once he’s done, he goes back to staring at you. Your gaze, on the other hand, is still glued to the now-empty beer can. “What?” he asks, exhaling slowly.

“That was completely unnecessary,” you mutter, and he lets out a bitter chuckle, tossing the can into the trash. “But, back to what you said before– I don’t think you’re the worst Logan.”

“You didn’t know me back then, darlin’. I fucked it up,” he leans against the counter, arms crossed defensively over his chest. “Like the Logan from this universe, I once belonged to the X-Men too. I remember that Scott used to beg me to wear my suit. So did Jean, Storm, Beast– All of them,” his gaze grows more distant, and you can tell that memories are flooding his mind. “Wanted me to be part of the team, but I wouldn’t do it. Told them they looked fucking ridiculous.”

The pizza’s long forgotten. You take the risk and get a bit closer to him, your eyes never leaving his. 

Logan’s silence stretches for a moment before he speaks again. “One day, while I was off on my own, the humans came. They went mutant hunting.”

Your heart clenches at the pain in his voice. He still remembers everything as if it had happened yesterday. “I can guess the rest. You don’t have to–”

But he cuts you off. “No, let me say it. I need to say it,” he takes a deep breath, lowering his head. “By the time I stumbled home, shit-faced from the bar, it was too late. They were dead. They called after me and I walked away.”

Reaching out, your hand gently brushes against his. He doesn’t pull away, but instead searches for your eyes. “My suit's all I've got to remind me of who they were. What I did. I found them and they were… dead. I started killing, and I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I turned the whole world against the X-Men.”

You tighten your grip on his hand, knowing there’s nothing you can do to change how he feels. “You’re not a bad person, Logan,” he shakes his head, mumbling something you can’t quite catch. “I mean it. What happened back then doesn’t define you. You took the blame for their deaths upon yourself. I can tell you loved them deeply, and I’ll never fully understand the pain you feel. I wish I could. I wish I could take it away, make you forget somehow, but I can’t. That’s not how life works. But you got your second chance: you saved this world. My world,” gently cupping his face in your hands, you allow your fingers to caress his cheeks. He leans into your touch, watching you with half-lidded eyes. “You’re my hero. I’m your biggest fan– after Wade, obviously, which is a lot to say.”

He grins, letting out a laugh. “Easy there, bub.”

“Should I give you some space?”

That’s the last thing he wants from you right now. You already know that as he looks you up and down, placing his hands on the small of your back, his thumbs drawing small circles on your skin. There’s no turning back– The warmth between you feels almost like a fever dream. “For a long time, all I wanted was to disappear. I couldn’t stand waking up every morning, knowing that another day awaited me.”

“And what happened?” your breath mingles with his, his closeness becoming nearly intoxicating. “What changed?”

“I met a pretty girl at a pub, that’s what happened,” he murmurs, his dilated pupils flicking up to meet your gaze. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“Do all your kisses come with a warning?”

“God, do you ever shut up?”

You don’t have time to respond because he kisses you there and then. His stubble scrapes your skin as your mouths meet again and again, needy hands that hold you as if you were prone to breaking. Logan licks into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours and swallowing every one of your whimpers.

“So this is what it takes to shut you up, huh?” he murmurs against your lips. You can feel him smiling, and it makes your heart skip a beat. 

“Keep talking and you won’t get a single bite of my tiramisu,” you tease him, kissing him again, the taste of beer numbing your senses. “I really like kissing you.”

“The feeling’s mutual, but now that you’ve mentioned that tiramisu…”

“Am I that easily replaced?”

“No. You’re just a pain in the ass.”

Jokes aside, you’re as happy as a clam.

Since that night you and Logan kissed, you’ve been living your best life. Like a freaking schoolgirl with a crush. Some things never seem to change.

He hasn’t been to the bar in three days. Yes, you’re counting them. No, you haven’t lost your mind. You want to see him, but there’s something about making the first move that gives you the chills. What would his reaction be if you showed outside of apartment?

It’s been a long time since you’ve been with anybody. On top of that, all the guys you’ve dated were your age. Being with someone that older than you certainly wasn’t no your plans. You’d be lying if you said that the mere idea of being with him in that way didn’t excite you.

Oh boy, you miss him. You miss his scruffy voice, his gorgeous hair. And you two aren’t even official yet. To be honest, you don’t even know what he wants from you. Is he even the type to be in a relationship?

“Nighty night, gentlemen,” you say to Gary and his friends as you find yourself in front of them, smoothing your apron. Gwen had called in sick tonight, so it’s just you at the bar babysitting a bunch of grown-men.

“What’s up, doll? You’ve forgotten about us. We miss you coming in here to chat,” Gary’s eating his burger at the same time he speaks, something you find repulsive, but you’ve seen worse. “Y’know, I’d love to take you out someday. I have a place you’d like.”

The other men laugh and punch him in the back, just boosting his ego. Pathetic. 

“I’ll let you know when I’m free,” you reply with the most polite smile you can offer, intending to go on. “What are you having tonight?”

“You always pull that shit, baby. I don’t think you’re so busy that you can’t accept a date.”

You hate the way he’s looking at you, as if you were wrong for not being interested. As if you didn’t know any better.

“You’re reading minds now? Shocking, Gary.”

“Oh, doll. That attitude of yours shows you’ve never been with a real man like me, that’s all,” he leans back in his chair, resting one of his arms on the table and the other one near his crotch, manspreading. “It’s alright. I like you bratty.”

“I’ll be back when you finally have something to order,” you attempt to turn around but he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. Your eyes lock, and he seems to enjoy this: being in control. Like a predator hunting his prey. “Come on, Gary. I don’t want to have to kick you out.”

“It’s not that you don't like me, right? You’ve already got your mouth full.”

“Careful.”

“What? Don’t tell me you’re not fucking that useless mutant. I see you like ‘em older. Pretty little things like you drive me wild.”

You laugh in his face, showing him your teeth. “It was never about your age, Gary. You’re right: I do like them older. I’m just not into bald, vertically-challenged pricks.”

His entourage of idiots goes silent after that. He looks up at you, eyes burning with hatred. His grip on your wrist tightens, probably leaving a mark. “Fucking bitch.”

“Get your hands off her.”

Logan’s voice forces the two of you to look in his direction. It seems that he’s just arrived at the pub, his jacket still on. 

“You joining us? We’re just getting started here, big boy.”

“Did you not hear me?” Logan lunges forward, his nose almost touching Gary’s. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Easy there, cowboy. I’m just having a chat with your girl. She’s one of the good ones, I’ll give you that,” arching a sly brow, his forehead puckers. “You don’t like sharing? We can even take turns.”

Logan clenches his jaw, lips set in a grim line. “Say one more word, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

“I���ll give you a full sentence instead: can you even get it up?” 

The tension in the air is thick, every second stretching out as Logan's anger simmers dangerously close to the surface. Gary’s smug grin only makes it worse, pushing him to the edge. Before you can react, Logan’s fist swings forward, connecting with Gary’s jaw with a sickening crack. Gary staggers back, realising your wrist. Blood seeps from his nose, his white shirt becoming stained with it. “You fucker! You broke my nose!”

“We’re just getting started here, big boy,” Logan mocks him, repeating his previous words.

“Stop!” you shout, moving quickly to grab his arm, trying to pull him back. But he’s beyond hearing, his rage blinding him to everything else. He shakes you off, and with a fierce growl, drives another punch into Gary’s stomach. The latter doubles over, gasping for air, the wind knocked out of him. He then falls to the floor, curling into a ball. People start to gather around you, and soon your beloved bar becomes a box ring.

“That’s enough, Logan! He’s barely conscious,” you murmur under your breath, stepping between them, hands up in a desperate attempt to create some space. Logan pauses, chest heaving, fists still clenched, as he finally looks at you. The wildness in his eyes starts to fade, replaced by a dawning realization of what he’s done.

“He deserved it,” he nods vigorously to himself, as if trying to explain his point. “He was hurting you.”

“If you keep that up, you’re going to kill him. My bar is not a fucking cemetery,” your voice trembles a little bit, expecting to talk some sense into him. “I won’t let you do this.”

The room is quiet now, the only sound being Logan’s heavy breathing as he stands there, still tense, still processing. You turn to Gary’s friends, cold fury in your eyes. “Get him out of here,” you watch as they haul him up, practically dragging him to the door. The other clients continue to stare at Logan, their mouths hanging open. “Everybody out, right now! Go home. We’re closing earlier tonight.”

Adam is the last person to leave, slamming the door behind him. You rush to the counter, searching for a mop to clean the fresh blood off the floor. Still agitated, the images of Logan hitting Gary flash in your mind. He approaches you from behind, his fingers circling your forearm. “Bub–”

“Don’t. Now is not the time.”

“I was protecting you.”

“I told you to stop, and you didn’t. You just shook me off,” you snap, glancing at his knuckles which are not even bruised. Slamming your eyes shut, you get to your feet and wash your hands in the sink, the remaining water becoming reddish for a moment.

Logan moves closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. He wraps his arms lazily around your middle section. ”I’m sorry.”

You turn in his arms, your back flushed against the sink and your nose in the air. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“But– Jesus, Logan. You could’ve come sooner. I thought you regretted what happened the other day,” you say and the muscles in his face twitch, his body stiffening at your words. “Thought you no longer wanted me.”

“No, bub. I– I still want you. I want all of you, trust me,” he murmurs, and you allow him to press his body against yours, the scent of the cigar he must have smoked recently enveloping your senses. “I just… don’t know how to do this. I have a habit of ruining things, and I’m trying to figure out the best way to be with you without hurting you.”

“Pushing me away also hurts,” your eyes flick up to meet his gaze again, and he whispers under his breath. “I can’t read your mind. You need to tell me what’s going on in that ancient skull of yours.”

His face falters, flashing you a mischievous look. His hand creeps under the fabric of your shirt, fingernails scrapping against your spine. “I’m sorry, princess. I truly am.”

“You can’t just say ‘sorry’ with that voice and expect me to–”

You’re cut off by his lips crashing down onto yours. You melt into the kiss, unable to deny what your body has been craving for the past days. 

“I thought your kisses came with a warning,” you say, detaching your mouth from his, a smile spreading uncontrollably in your face as you see his toothy grin.

“Shut up and kiss me, will you?”

In a clash of tongues and teeth, your mouths meet once again. Tugging the hair at his nape, you feel him growl against your lips. His strong hands trace every curve of your body, kneading the flesh of your hips and undoing the knot at the back of your apron. You’re becoming one with the sink, but in a moment like this, you couldn’t care less. Logan’s hard on nudges your lower stomach, and he ruts against you like an animal.

“You said you wanted to know what’s on my mind, right?” his teeth nibble on the skin of your neck, syrupy voice going straight to your core. “Well, I’d love nothing more than to touch you right now.”

“Right here? On the counter?”

“Yeah, on the fucking counter,” he grabs you by your thighs, hosting you up and placing your body on top of the cold bar. He nudges your knees apart, his bulge meeting your clothed cunt deliciously. “Will you let me, baby? Can I make you come in here?”

“Please. I’m glad we have such a low budget. Camera installment is t–too expensive these days.”

“Do you always talk this much?” he slowly unbuttons your pants, and you help him to remove them.

“Yes. Next question,” your breath hitches in your throat as you feel the pad of his thumb circling your clit through your panties. Your eyelids drop, your head lolling back. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Logan hums, mesmerized with the way your hips roll into his hand, your whimpers sounding like music to his ears. “You have any idea how I felt when I saw him touching you? Wanted to rip his hands off you,” his eyes drift to your chest, how it rises and falls with impatience. “But it’s me who gets to have you like this. He can fantasize about you all he wants: I’m the only one who touches you, ain’t I right?” you sigh with content as his fingers graze your slit, aimlessly bucking your hips. He doesn’t go any further, and you tug at the collar of his flannel, needing more of his callousand hands on you. “Nuh-uh. You want something, you gotta use your words. Got it?”

“I w–want your fingers inside me,” you don’t even recognize your own voice at this point. The few guys you had slept with had never been very talkative during sex. But Logan isn’t like them. This is just the beginning and you’re already starting to realize that he has a dirty mouth, that expectant look on his face as he waits to see your reaction to his words. “Please, Logan. I want you so bad.”

“Oh, I know, bub. There’s something about me I don’t think you know,” he inserts one of his fingers in your cunt, your slick coating the palm of his hand. “These claws I have… they didn’t come on their own. Let’s just say my sense of smell is… pretty good,” Logan can almost see the gears turning in your head as you try to think coherently. He moves his middle finger in and out of you, stretching your walls. “And you… have been wet ever since the first time you saw me. Always nice to everybody, making sure they feel at ease,” you feel like you’re being stretched even further, another one of his fingers sinking into your warm pussy. “But you’re so needy, too. How long has it been since someone touched you like this?”

“Too long, f–fuck. Too long,” you’re squirming, a totally whiny mess. He retratcs his wet fingers and instead goes back to flicking your clit, this time with much less delicacy. His left hand squeezes your tits, and you hate the fact that you’re still wearing clothes. “Shit, Logan. I need you to fuck me. Please. Need your cock.”

His face comes to rest at your neck, and you feel lingering kisses and bites that keep you grounded to earth. “Not here. I need a bed to fuck you properly. You’re only getting my fingers now,” he positions them inches away from your entrance, testing your patience. “Tell me who owns this pussy.”

“L-logan–”

“Tell me and I’ll make you come,” his husky voice is making you dizzy, tears shimmering in your eyes. “Come on. Know you want it as much as I do.”

You succumb to the tentation, like divinity turned to sin. He kisses you roughly, and you struggle to find the correct words. “It’s you, Logan. You own my pussy. It’s f-fucking yours.”

With that, he goes back to nudging that spot that makes you see starts, that filthy squelching sound getting mixed up with your moans. The knot in your belly keeps growing tighter the more he pumps his fingers in and out of you. 

“I said you were only getting my fingers for now, but fuck… I need to gest a taste of this sweet cunt.”

He’s on his knees in an instant, urging your legs apart to make room for his body. Your thighs tighten around his face as he licks a hot stripe up your folds, tracing a heated path on your cunt, not wishing to waste a single second. Pleasure builds quickly, your breath hitching as your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer when your body begins to tremble. 

“I’m close,” you pant, breathing hard, grinding your hips against his face. “I’m so close.”

“That’s it. Come in my mouth like the good girl you are.”

Who had given him a damn script for this?

The release is explosive. Like the peak of a roller coaster: you go up up up, ascending higher. You think you almost see Jesus, but at some point, you also have to crash down with force. Your shoulders slump, your entire body cramping up; yet he doesn’t let you go that easily, his fingers still working, scissoring within you while you ride out the final waves of your high, drawing out every last moment of ecstasy.

Once you finally manage to open your eyes, there he is, staring down at you. He taps your lower lip with his fingers, and then mutters: “Open.”

And you do, because you’re just as messed up as he is. Your mouth parts, and he slides his fingers between your lips, dragging them smoothly across your tongue. His knuckles brush the back of your throat, and you gag around the intrusion, tasting yourself. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, clearly satisfied with the way you’ve cleaned them off.

“I think we should really pay a visit to your apartment,” he suggests, groaning in defeat, and you feel his bulge poking your hip. He must be painfully hard. “I meant what I said earlier. I need a bed if we’re going to fuck. My back’s hurting.”

You raise an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curving into a smirk. “Why not go to yours?”

“Wade’s in there. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate.”

You can’t help but laugh, pausing a moment to collect your thoughts, heat rising to your cheeks. “So we’re going rodeo?”

Aiming to silence up, Logan kisses you, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Only if you can handle it.”

part 2: “GIVE ME THE FIRST TASTE”

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

[kuchipark]

my mobile data not working is SO ANNOYING!!

had to write down these thoughts in my notes b4 posting