CHAPTER FIVE:
JOHNNY, LOGAN AND KETTI
WALK INTO A FUCKING BAR
WITH THE WORLD'S MOST
ANNOYING FUCKING PERSON

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KETTI FUCKING NEEDED A DRINK.

Bad.

Her three broken fingers from two weeks prior were fucking hurting, Peter had a busted lip and was fighting with Gwen about said reason for busted lip — some heroic thing she literally didn't give a shit about — so she was in the middle of that, and fucking Deadpool wouldn't leave her the fuck alone.

And all she wanted to do was fuck Logan.

Fuck.

She wanted a fucking drink.

Somehow, Ketti got roped into a fucking groupchat with Hot, Dumbass, and Peter, with a name so fucking disgusting she didn't even want to look at it.

(I won't say it in case this airs on Disney+, but it's reaaaaal bad guys. I'm very proud of it. Make your guesses in the comments and the winner gets...fucking nothing. This isn't a hand-out club, it's a fucking book.)

Ketti asked if anyone wanted to go drinking. Logan replied with a thumbs up emoji.

It's all he ever replied with.

She wasn't sure if he entirely knew how to use his phone properly.

Deadpool sent a voice memo, like fucking always, because he can't fucking not talk even in fucking text because he likes the sound of his own fucking voice so much.

Peter sent a gif of a fucking puppet talking about bringing juice.

(God, he's fucking twelve years old.)

Twenty minutes later, they're at a fucking bar.

And for moral support because Peter's so ADHD coded his fucking brain won't operate properly on alcohol — and he gets drunk after "I can't even feel it, look at how cool this sounds if I blow bubbles, look, look, look" then plastered — Ketti invited Johnny.

Johnny and Logan took one look at each other before they shrugged and walked into the bar with Ketti between them.

Fucking Peter was early because, bless his little anxious heart, he couldn't decide if he should be ten minutes late or twenty, so he showed up an hour early (to compensate for swinging traffic — I'm sorry, are the fucking birds in the way?) and fucking Deadpool does a step-kick behind them as he enters.

God, he's fucking embarrassing.

"Johnny!" Peter exclaimed, perking up excitedly.

Johnny greeted the younger man with a grin, slinging an arm over Ketti's shoulder as the pair sat down.

"Uh oh," Deadpool pointed between them. "Is this a thing? Because I might have to kill you if this is a thing."

"Ask again and I'll burn you alive," Johnny smiled tensely.

Logan glanced between Johnny and Ketti, but didn't say anything.

It's not like Ketti and Johnny were a thing.

And it's not like they weren't a thing either.

It was complicated.

(It's not complicated.)

"We should get some nachos!" Peter suggested, looking between the four other occupants of the table with wide eyes.

He and Ketti exchanged a look.

Ketti was regretting being alive.

Peter was regretting being Ketti's friend.

Logan was watching Johnny.

Johnny was watching Logan.

Deadpool was quiet.

Ketti's eyes widened at Peter and she nodded to her left a fraction, hinting to the silent mercenary.

Peter nodded, also wide-eyed.

"Nachos sound good," Ketti said finally, her voice faint.

No one else spoke.

Peter's eyes didn't leave Ketti's.

Ketti's eyes didn't leave Peter's.

Forty-one seconds passed before Deadpool spoke again.

"This is such an interesting steal-your-girl plot!" He exclaimed. "Get ready, Johnny, she's ours."

"I'm my own person."

"Not now, Kitten."

Despite every single ounce of resolve in her body, Ketti blushed at Logan's fucking words.

Fuuuuuuck where were the nachos?

—

"Fuck is that?"

Ketti jumped, smoking a cigarette against the wall of the building. "Cigarette?" She replied in a hint of a question, gaze looking up to Logan's intimidating stature.

Logan watched her for a moment.

The pair had barely spoken a handful of words. She didn't know the first thing about him.

But fucking hell, she wanted him to slam her against this wall and—

"Who's the kid?"

It took a moment for Ketti to register he'd spoken, consumed by thoughts of him literally fucking her brains out.

(Now, now, Ketti, you're too cute for that. We will fuck you until you can't think clearly, though.)

"W-what?" She managed in response, taking another hit of her cigarette in an attempt to be fucking casual.

"Who's the kid?" Logan repeated, looking down at her.

"I don't...?"

Who was he talking about? Peter? Johnny? Johnny wasn't a kid, he was well into his thirties, way older than she and Peter, but fuck how old was Logan?

"Johnny?" Logan clarified.

Ketti got the sinking suspicion that he was asking for a reason.

"Um, he's — he's my friend."

Logan grunted in response. His eyes narrowed down at her and he took her cigarette from her hands, taking the last hit before it singed her, and then tossed it to the ground.

He let out the air through the side of his mouth, eyes on her.

"Nice hickey."

Logan looked over her face and then turned, heading back into the bar.

Ketti reached a hand to her neck, eyes widening as she recalled two nights prior when she and Johnny were having lazy sex in his apartment.

She didn't even like hickeys, really. She kept telling Johnny to stop leaving them.

It wasn't her fault. It just happened. It wasn't the first time and wouldn't be the last.

They were friends with benefits.

Then...why did she feel so fucking bad? She wasn't Logan's. Or Wade's. Or Johnny's.

She was Ketti.

(Our Ketti. Not you Johnny, fuck you, Human Torch wanna-be.)

But if that was the case, then why did she want to run after him, tell him it meant nothing, and let him fucking leave a hickey on her instead?

—

"I'm not drunk, really really really," Ketti babbled, leaning against Wade.

Johnny had taken Peter home, after he promptly passed out on the table, leaving Ketti — who was only three drinks in — with Wade and Logan.

Now fucking four shots and half a Long Island later, she was feeling very not fucking sober.

"Yeah, you sure seem sober," Wade replied sarcastically.

"'M totally good," she slurred.

"I'm certainly not complaining about the close proximity," Wade commented, looking over her head at Logan, "but you're hammered, dollface."

"Am not!" Ketti exclaimed, shaking her head. "Who's got a bigger dick?" She slurred.

"That depends," Wade hummed, "who are the contenders."

"I do," Logan said, cutting off what would be Wade's tirade. "Wade's thicker."

"D'ya guys...like...fuck in your outfits?" She asked. "Got like fucking...fuck holes?"

"Of course we—"

"No."

"Why do you ruin everything?"

(We don't, in fact, have these. Terribly inconvenient, but we've mastered the art of stripping and fucking with superhuman strength, so, no worries fanfiction writers.)

"I wanna fuck you."

"I know, honey," Wade pressed a masked kiss to her head and she snuggled against him. "You're so drunk."

"'M not."

"We should get her home."

"But she's so cute like this," Wade whined, using one of his gloved hands to gently stroke her hair. "Why won't you just admit it, baby?"

"Hm?" Ketti asked, eyes closing.

"You awake, kid?"

"Hm?"

"Up, Wade," Logan gestured. "Let's get her home."

Wade sighed, but agreed, getting out of the booth and holding her against him. She clung to him tenderly, nuzzling against him.

Tomorrow would be another fucking day where she didn't fucking like him.

His eyes narrowed when he spotted something on her neck, jaw tightening under the mask.

Was that a fucking hickey?

Fuck.

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ehhhhh not my best but I really wanted to update next chapter will be straight chaos idk I miss the chaotic shit so fully nonsense next chapter (and I think Frank Castle in the one after that ugh my BABY)
her & Johnny be fucking lmk if yall want a smut chapter with them idk if I wanna but they have established history now soooo idk
Shes kind of a slut ngl she may just fuck everyone except Peter
Do I care?
Nah yall will read it you nasty little dawgs