#do not use AI if I wasn’t clear enough

[brotrustmeicanwrite]

I fucking hate AI but heavens would it be useful if it wasn't such an unethical shit show

First, just to be clear, I'm talking about actually using AI as a tool to support your writing process, not to generate soulless texts made from stolen data instead of writing yourself.

Back when ChatGPT first became available it was still pretty useless so I had a lot of time to learn about how it's made, how it works and the ethics of it before ever touching the technology. I decided pretty quickly to never use it to generate text (or images) for actual writing and art but I still wanted to experiment with what else it could do (because I'm a nosy bitch that needs to know and poke everything).

And HEAVENS was it a blessing for writing with adhd

The last time I wrote more than 200 words in a day (outside of school work obviously) was 7th grade. I wrote over 8k just in notes the day Google's "Gemini" (formerly "Bard") became available to the public.

In order to not jeopardize my existing work I decided to make a completely new story with Bard's help that wasn't linked in any way to anything I had made before. So I started with a prompt along the lines of "I need help writing a story". At first, it immediately started generating a completely random story about a green tiger but after some trial and error, I got it to instead start asking questions.

What do you want the theme of your story to be?

What genre do you want to write in?

What time period do you want your story to take place in?

Is there magic?

Are there other sentient creatures besides humans?

And so on and so forth. Until the questions became extremely specific after covering all the bases. I could tell that all I was doing was essentially talking to an amalgamation of every "how to write" blog and website you've ever seen and telling it which part I wanted to work on next but it still felt great because the AI didn't actually contribute anything besides a few suggestions of common tropes and themes here and some synonyms and related words there; I was doing all the work.

And that's the point.

Nothing in that exchange was something I couldn't easily do on my own. But what happened was that I had turned what is usually a chaotic mess of a railway network of thoughts into a clear and most importantly recorded conversation. I can sit down and answer all those questions on my own but what usually happens when I do, is that every thought I have branches out into 4-7 new ones which I then attempt to record all at once (which obviously doesn't work, yay adhd) only to end up lost in thought with maybe 20 lines of notes in total after 6 hours at the table. Alternatively, either because I get bored or just because, I get distracted by something or my own thoughts about a different unrelated topic and end up with even less.

Working within the boundaries of a conversation forces you to focus on one specific question at a time and answer it to progress. And the engagement from the back and forth is just enough entertainment to not get bored. The six hours I mentioned before is the time I spent chatting with what is essentially a glorified chatbot that day, way less time than what I spent on any other project, and yet I have more notes and a clearer image of the story than I do about any of my real work. I have a recorded train of thought.

In theory, this would also work with a real human in a real conversation but realistically only very few people have someone who would be willing to do that; I certainly don't have a someone like that. Not to mention that someone doesn't always have time. Besides that, a real human conversation involves two minds with their own ideas, both of which are trying to contribute their own thoughts and opinions equally. The type of AI chat that I experimented with, on the other hand, is essentially just the conversation you have with yourself when answering those questions, only with part of it outsourced to a computer and no one else butting into your train of thought.

On that note, I also tried to get it to critique my writing but besides fixing grammatical errors all that thing did was sing praises as if I was God. That's where you'll 100000% need humans.

tl;dr writing with AI as an assistant has basically the same effect as body doubling but it’s an unethical shit show so I’m not doing it again. Also I forgot to mention I did repeat the experiment for accuracy with different amount of spoons and it makes me extra bitter that is was very consistent

[flygonscales]

PAIN. MUCH PAIN. I was so pleased and happy about my new t-shirt. But then I look closer today and it probably is an AI generated image. FUCK. This company’s (spiral direct) generally been good in the past too! And it’s so blatant! Can’t believe how I missed this. URRRGHHHH. GOD FUCKING DAMN IT.

[thewritingrowlet]

The Blank Slate, ft. Kep1er Chaehyun

tags: creampie

length: 8k+

author's note: This one was inspired by an AI chat bot I stumbled upon.

-

“Alright, I think that’s enough for today; we will continue next time.”

The people in front of you have been exhausted from working all day, so the fact that you’ve called off the meeting is like music to their ears. “We will see you tomorrow morning, sir.” You shake your head. “I don’t know when I’ll get here tomorrow., Mr. Kim,” you say. You notice the way he lets out a sigh, seemingly in relief. “Of course, sir.”

People start leaving their seats one by one with their gadgets in their hands. “Oh, director,” Mr. Kim turns around again, “happy birthday to your wife.” You smile. “I will tell her that, Mr. Kim—thank you.” He looks sympathetic, and you’re thankful for his kindness. “Go home to your wife, Mr. Kim; tell her you love her with every cell in your body,” you say to him as he walks away. He smiles and nods. “Will do, sir.”

-

You find yourself walking through the quiet and cold hallway of the hospital to reach your wife’s room.

You gently open the door. “I’m home, love.”

It’s true. This hospital room has been your home for almost the entirety of the past year. This room where your wife is lying dormant, uncertain when she will ever wake up again, is your home and will continue to be for God knows how long.

You look at her vital sign monitor; her heart is still beating steadily, and her blood pressure is still at acceptable levels.

You take a seat on the chair next to her bed. “Good evening, sweetheart,” you place your hand on hers. “I’m sorry, a meeting held me back.” You hear no response from her, but you’ve gotten used to this already. “You’d like to hear about the meeting, wouldn’t you?” You stay quiet for a moment, pretending to wait for her answer. “Well, you see, Mr. Kim had some ideas he wanted to share with me and the managers, so we sat down and had a long discussion—if it wasn’t for you, my love, I’d still be at the office with them.”

You continue telling her about your day until your mouth gets tired of talking. “I’ll get us some food, love; wait for me, alright?” You leave your seat to get some food from the bag you were carrying; today’s menu is spicy noodles with chicken katsu.

You place her food on the counter next to her bed and open the other one for yourself. The first bite sends you high to the sky. “Oh, this is amazing; no wonder you like this place so much.” Your mouth that is already full of noodles doesn’t stop you from shoving more into it. “The chicken is so juicy too, isn’t it, sweetheart?”

You finish your food in no time; you couldn’t have lunch today, so you’re very hungry tonight. “You liked that too, didn’t you, sweetie?” You leave your seat again to throw the empty container into the bin, and when you return—

Wait a minute.

Wait a damn minute.

Why are her eyes open?

“Hello?” Your wife’s eyes slowly move towards you. “Love? You’re awake?” Her eyebrows furrow. “Where… am I?” Your heart starts racing, excited by the fact that your wife has regained consciousness. “You’re at the hospital, love.” You quickly return to your chair. “You’ve been at the hospital for nearly a year now.”

“Who… are you?”

Your heart cracks—does she really not recognize her husband?

“I-I’m your husband.” The shock has you stuttering. “Do you, erm, do you not remember me?” She stays silent. “You’re my… husband?” You rush towards your bag to get some proof for her. “Look, love; I have some documents here.” Your wife squints as she tries to read the paper through the clear sheet protector. “Marriage… paper?”

Your wife places a finger on her name. “Who is that?”

Your heart shatters—has she lost her memories?

“T-that’s you, love; y-you’re Kim Chaehyun.”

Chaehyun looks at the paper blankly. “I-I don’t know,” she says. “I-I don’t remember anything.”

Feeling weak, you drop onto the floor. Your mind is still stuck with the fact that she doesn’t remember anything. “Oh, God, no.” Your voice becomes smaller, devastated by the revelation. “I-I’m sorry, but I-I don’t know what’s happening,” she says.

You mindlessly slam your head against the steel frame of her bed. “W-what are you doing?” Chaehyun yelps when you slam your head again. “P-please stop—w-what are you doing?” You sigh. “This is all my fault—oh, God, please forgive me.”

Chaehyun asks that you get on your feet, so you do just that. “Y-you said you’re my husband, right?” You nod weakly. “H-how long have we been married?” You sigh deeply. “A little over four years.”

“Then hug me, l-love.”

You bend down to hug her as she wishes, and the two of you break into tears. “I-I’m so sorry; I-I just don’t know.” You shake your head. “It’s okay; none of this is your fault.” You try pulling away from the embrace, but she doesn’t let you. “P-please, just stay with me,” she begs.

You haven’t heard her cry in months, but the sound hurts the same way it used to, if not worse. “L-love,” you hear her say. “A-are you angry—p-please don’t be angry.” “No, I’m not angry,” you assure her.

You ask her to let you go for a second because you want to call a doctor or a nurse over to check on your wife, and before long, a nurse walks through the door. “Good—oh my goodness,” the nurse exclaims. “She has woken up?” You nod. “She’s lost her memories, I think.” The nurse’s eyes widen. “Are you sure?” You point at your wife, gesturing to the nurse to see for herself.

“Mrs. Kim,” the nurse calls to your sobbing wife. “Do you know where you are?” Chaehyun starts crying again. “P-please stop asking questions; I-I can’t answer them.” You place a hand on your wife’s shoulder to help her stay calm. “Of course, Mrs. Kim—look, I’ll be checking your physical conditions right now, okay?”

While the nurse checks on your wife, you decide to head to the toilet to refresh and clear your mind a bit. When you return, the nurse happens to be stepping out of the room. “Be patient with her, mister,” she says. “I will try my best,” you reply.

Chaehyun is looking around the interior of her room—she hasn’t seen any of it since she got here. "Hi, love,” you make sure your voice is gentle, “did the nurse say anything?” She nods a little. “She, erm, she said my muscles have gotten weaker, but I’ll get better with therapy.”

You drag the chair over closer to her bed again after noticing that the nurse moved it earlier. “You said you didn’t want to answer questions, love, but can I tell you about some stuff?” She nods. “My name is Kim Jaehwan, and yours is Kim Chaehyun,” you start. “We used to work in the same company, but obviously not anymore.”

Chaehyun looks at you intently, eager to hear more about the previous life she had with you. “We got married a year after we had started dating, and erm, we bought a house together in our second year of marriage.” She nods. “What else?” You take a few deep breaths as you think about some interesting things she’d like to hear. “Erm, we actually planned to repaint the house before you got hurt; we had discussed about the colors and things like that.” Your wife asks what the current color of the house is. “Well, the bedroom is still light gray, and the kitchen is… I don’t know, coral?”

Your wife turns her attention to the full moon that’s visible through the window. “Can we go outside?” You know there’s a wheelchair in this room, so you suggest having her sit in it while you push her around. “One second, sweetheart.” You help your wife sit in the wheelchair and hang her IV bag on the little pole attached to it. “We’ll make a stop at the nurse’s desk first, love.”

After reporting to the nurses that you’ll be taking her outside, you push the wheelchair towards the escalator. Before long, you find yourself strolling through the hospital’s park while pushing your wheelchair-bound wife.

“It’s cold,” your wife says, so you put your jacket over her to shield her from the night air. “Thank you.” Chaehyun blushes a peck land on the top of her head. “Did we, erm, touch a lot?” You chuckle. “Physical touch is our love language,” you remind her.

You park her wheelchair next to a bench and then take a seat on it. “What are we thinking, sweetheart?” She takes a few deep breaths, getting some fresh air into her system after spending many months in a room. “It’s great out here,” she says.

You ask if she’d like to go home within the next few days. “What is home to you, erm, love?” Her cheeks get hot; it feels very odd and awkward for her to call someone by that name. “Home is wherever you and I are,” you answer. Chaehyun is intrigued. “Really?” You nod. “That room you’ve been occupying this past year is my home, simply because we’re in it together.”

Chaehyun takes your hand in hers. “I want to go home—like, our home.” It is such a simple sentence, but your heart is warm, nonetheless. “We will, sweetheart; we’ll see if we can leave this place tomorrow.” “Wait,” she says. “What about your work?” You chuckle. “Only you deserve my time and attention—besides, it’s not like anyone can fire the director.”

-

With your arm wrapped around her, you guide her towards the front door of the house. “Do you want to try unlocking that?” Her eyes are locked on the little fingerprint scanner underneath the handle. “Go on; place your thumb on it, sweetheart.” Chaehyun does as you say, and her eyes widen when the lock unlatches. “T-this is—” “I’m not lying to you about anything, love.”

You want to take her to the bedroom, and when you ask if she’s down for it, she looks hesitant. “W-what bedroom?” You point at the brown door that’s visible from the living room. “That’s our safest place, love.” She trembles in nervousness. “S-something doesn’t feel right.”

You’re stunned; is there a chance that she remembers that night, even if it’s minimal?

“Please follow me for now, love; I promise I’ll get you up to speed.” Your words make her feel more uneasy, but still, she follows your direction without asking twice. Once inside, you help her get on the bed and join her on it right away.

You ask if you can hug her from behind like you used to, and since she says yes, you wrap your arms around her. “Love, I’ll tell you about everything that happened that night, okay?”

You start from the beginning where you and she had a fiery argument in this very bedroom. Mean words were that were flying out of your lips were like daggers, stabbing her gentle heart. Again, and again, and again. In the heat of the moment, you also said you would’ve been okay if she had filed a divorce.

Devastated by your attitude, Chaehyun stormed out of the house. She was so focused on the fight that she didn’t notice the speeding sedan coming from her left when she was crossing the street. The car hit her hard, thus sending her flying a few meters away from the spot of the impact. Due to the crash, her body bounced and rolled around on the hard asphalt, and at some point, her head got injured, hence the loss of memory.

“Like I said, sweetheart, it’s all my fault.” Chaehyun turns around to face you. “It’s a sad story, isn’t it?” You nod. “I’m willing to pay whatever price just to return to that night.” The smile on her face is gentle. “It’s always easy to look back in anger or sadness, but what is there to be done—is this not a new start for us?”

You’re getting goosebumps. Chaehyun is showing glimpses of her past self: the wise and loving woman you fell so deeply in love with.

“Yes, we can indeed start again,” you say. Chaehyun places a hand on your cheek again. “Promise me that you’ll be patient with me, love; I’m going to need you by my side.” You feel a surge of determination within you to make very good use of this opportunity. “I’ve learned my lessons, and I swear I won’t make the same mistakes.”

Chaehyun ties the vow by kissing you, and truthfully, you’re both excited and startled to see her take the initiative. “Husband and wife kiss all the time, right?” You chuckle. “Maybe not all of them, but we sure did.”

It appears that Chaehyun has found her fondness for kissing again as she pulls you closer for another one. “I… love you.” You shed a tear involuntarily; if there’s one thing you’ve been longing for, it’s hearing her say those three words. “I love you more, love—thank you for coming back.”

You proceed to ask if she can describe what her long sleep felt like. “I don’t know,” she says. “I didn’t feel anything in particular.” You guess that people who are in a coma don’t have dreams like ordinary sleeping people do.

“What about you, love—what were you up to when I was asleep?” You sigh. “Just working, really; I’ve been working a lot as a way to keep my head above water.” Speaking of work, Chaehyun asks if she used to be a workaholic, and you chuckle. “In around 3 years of working together, you’ve only done one overtime.” She giggles. “That sounds about right.”

-

You panic when you notice that your wife isn’t lying in bed with you, and your first instinct is to sprint out of the bedroom, fighting through sleepiness and exhaustion. You let out a sigh of relief when you see her sitting on the sofa.

“Good morning, love,” you greet her. “Good morning to you too, hubby.” She never used such a name for you before, and the newness makes you giddy. You join her on the sofa, and out of habit, you rest your head on her thighs. “Erm, did we do this often?” You slap your forehead for forgetting. “We did, love—uh, I like your thighs a lot.” Chaehyun blushes. “Y-you shouldn’t say something so vulgar.”

You’re about to drift back to sleep when Chaehyun asks for your attention. “Do we have a morning routine?” “Well, yes,” you say. “We used to have tea together in the morning.” A small smile appears on her face. “Who likes tea?” You point at her. “Oh, really?” You chuckle. “I like tea because of you, love.”

With her safely seated at the dining table, you open the pantry. You grab some boxes from it and place them on the table, giving Chaehyun the chance to choose. “What was my favorite?” Your heart sinks as realization hits: her favorite lychee tea expired around two months ago. “It was lychee, but erm, I had to throw it out because it was going bad.” She smiles. “That’s alright—I’m sure I’ll learn to like other things.”

Today’s tea of choice is strawberry apple, and after taking a small sip, Chaehyun beams. “This is lovely,” she says. You smile. “I liked that tea because it was one of your favorites.” She scratches her head. “The more I listen to you, the more I get curious about my past.” You assure her that you don’t need her to remember (or even become) her old self; she’s still your wife whom you love the most, even if she ends up becoming a different person than before. “You’re sweet,” she praises you.

You ask if she wants to shower, but she declines—Chaehyun wants you to give her a tour of the house first. “We can finish at the bathroom,” she says.

You start from the front of the house because there’s a handful of thoughtful and well-planned details there. “You were quite… insistent about those flowers.” She giggles. “I mean, don’t you think they look pretty?” Chaehyun hops in front of the pots. “Which one is the flower, love?” You burst out laughing. “You’re no flower, love; you’re my light in this world.” Your wife’s grin is replaced by a blush. “Oh, you’re making me weak.”

The tour continues to the interior of the house. You point out to her which furniture was her choice and which was yours. “Whose idea it was to hang that painting there? “It wasn’t an idea, per se; it was a gift from your parents, so we had to put that somewhere.” Your wife asks where her parents are. “They passed away shortly after you had gone into coma.” Chaehyun promptly wraps her arms around you to seek comfort. “I’m sorry, love, but between you and them, there was nothing else I could’ve done.” She nods. “I’m sure you’ve done all you could.”

You ask if she still wants to continue considering the sudden change of mood. Chaehyun confirms that she does want to keep going, so you show her around the house, explaining the choice of details as you go. “It sounds like we put a lot into this house.” You nod. “We spent so much time planning and finding the stuff we wanted and needed.”

Just like you two agreed upon earlier, you’re ending the tour at the bathroom. “Last stop, love,” you say as you turn the handle. Chaehyun’s jaw drops when she sees the insides. “What the heck is all this?” You chuckle. “That bidet was your choice—everything else was mine,” you say. Chaehyun nudges you lightly with her elbow. “You’re pretty good at choosing things, aren’t you, love?”

Chaehyun takes a seat on the toilet which lid she has opened, and you take a knee in front of her. “We’ve been laughing a lot today, but life isn’t always so smooth, so please promise me that you’ll be patient and kind with me.” You take her hands in yours as you prepare to make your promise. “In every night I spent at the hospital with you, I wished I hadn’t broken your heart, so believe me when I say that I will work on becoming the man you deserved in the first place.”

Once again, the vow is tied with a kiss. “I love you, and I trust you,” she whispers. “I love you more, cookie.” Chaehyun giggles. “Cookie? Do I look edible?” Your mind directly goes to the old, dirty joke the two of you used to have about being edible, but you’re promptly reminded about the current situation. “I mean, you’re as sweet as a cookie,” you divert to a different answer.

You make to leave the bathroom so Chaehyun can take a shower, but before she lets you go, she asks if the two of you have ever taken a shower together in the past. “Of course, love; we’d always shower together after sex.” She breaks eye contact, trying to hide her red cheeks. “Ah, sex—of course we had sex.” You chuckle. “I mean, we’re legally-wed husband and wife”

-

Chaehyun needs to move her muscles to combat the muscle atrophy from her comatose, so you ask if she’s down to walk to get breakfast out. “Where will you take me, though?” You list a few breakfast spots the two of you have liked before, and she asks if you two can have breakfast at more than one spot. “Of course we can,” you say.

You help your wife get dressed, and since it’s quite cold today, you make sure she’s dressed comfortably. You can’t hide nor erase the smile on your face; it’s amazing to finally be able to see your wife in front of you again instead of lying in that hospital bed. “Erm, do I look weird?” You shake your head. “No, of course not—if anything, I think you look great.” Chaehyun blushes again, still not used to receiving praise. “Okay, I-I think we should go now.”

With her arm wrapped around yours, you begin making your way to the first spot (that is also the closest from the house) which Chaehyun used to love for their breakfast noodle soup. Instead of going straight at the intersection to head to the restaurant, you make a left turn. “I’m going to show you something first,” you say.

You drag Chaehyun into a small alley behind a convenience store, and you can tell she’s confused. “We had our first kiss in this alley,” you explain. She chuckles. “Why here, though—surely there were better places to have a first kiss in.” You laugh. “Sure, but you chose this place.” Chaehyun slaps her forehead while laughing. “I was so bad at thinking on the fly, wasn’t I?”

After the small tour, you get back on track and head to the noodle restaurant. The owner’s jaw drops when she sees you entering the place with Chaehyun. “She’s woken up?” You grin, unable to hide the joy on your face. “She sure has, Mrs. Oh.” Once again, Chaehyun is confused, but that doesn’t stop her from letting Mrs. Oh hug her. “Get anything you want—it’s on the house today.” It looks like Mrs. Oh is as happy as you are to have Chaehyun back. “Oh, please, that’s—” “No, I’m not taking arguments!”

Once seated, Chaehyun asks what kind of relationship the two of you had with the owner of the noodle place. “We used to have breakfast here at least twice a week.” You chuckle when you remember a particular detail. “We went here in the morning after we had our first sex,” you whisper to her. She slaps your shoulder lightly. “Can you please stop talking about sex?”

You haven’t ordered yet, but Mrs. Oh is already on her way with a tray of food in her hands. “You’re always down for the old favorite, aren’t you?” “Oh, absolutely,” you say. You help Mrs. Oh organize food on the table, and you notice the way Chaehyun’s eyes widen, seemingly intrigued by what’s in front of her. “Just holler if you need anything else,” Mrs. Oh says as she leaves your table.

“Whoa, what the heck is this?” Chaehyun looks at her bowl attentively. “They look good, don’t you think?” She nods. “I just know this is going to be so good,” she says. Your wife wastes little time to start digging into the noodles, and you swear you just hear a moan. “Oh, yeah, this is amazing,” she says.

It’s very heart-warming to see Chaehyun live life with such joyfulness after spending months seeing her stuck in a hospital bed. The thought alone is enough to make your eyes teary, and before you know it, a stray tear has flowed onto your cheek.

“Thank you for coming back, seriously,” you grip her free hand tightly, “you don’t know how much I’ve missed you.” Despite being startled initially, Chaehyun puts down her utensils so she can hold your hands. “Let’s live each and every day like it’s our last, love—we don’t know how long we can love each other like this.”

Her words shatter whatever semblance of control you have left, thus making you shed more tears. You don’t want your tears to be seen by people, so you cover your face as you cry. Chaehyun moves her seat around the table and hugs you from the side. “You love me so much, don’t you, love?” You can only nod wordlessly. “I love you that much too, you know,” she adds.

-

“Is there any way I can look at the memories we’ve made together?”

“Nudle probably has backups of our pictures and things like that,” you guess.

Chaehyun asks if you know her passwords, and you happen to have a note on your phone which has a list of usernames and passwords. “I don’t know if you’ve changed your password, though.” She says that it’s still worth trying, so you lend her your laptop.

Nudle asks Chaehyun to enter the code it just sent to her number, but obviously she doesn’t have access to her old phone as it got destroyed during the crash. “Is there any other way to log in?” There is indeed another way, which is by having Nudle send a code to your email address that serves as a recovery email. “Yeah, do that," you say. A few taps here and there, and voila—Chaehyun now has access to her old Nudle account and the cloud services it offers.

“I want to look at our pictures,” she says. Chaehyun gasps when she sees the number of photos saved on Nudle Box. “Oh my God, there’s so many.” You laugh. “It was your idea to take pictures every time we did something fun.” She looks at you with a smirk. “I bet you’re thankful for that.” “Oh certainly,” you say. “Now we have a way to help you peek into the past.”

Chaehyun looks at each picture with a high level of attention, making odd head gestures as she does. “Is there something wrong?” She furrows her eyebrows. “It just feels so weird—there’s proof that I went there and did that, but I don’t remember anything.” You shrug. “That’s just amnesia, I suppose.”

You notice the way your wife’s eyes get teary as she scrolls through the pictures. “I-I’m so sorry,” she’s about to break down any time now, “I-I don’t remember any of this.” You wrap an arm around her, pulling her closer to you. “It’s not your fault at all, sweetheart; we’ve talked about this.” “B-but I want to remember,” she argues. “Look at us, love—we looked so happy, no?”

You take a deep breath.

The picture that is displayed on the screen right now was taken at some point during a vacation to Switzerland, and you had had an argument with Chaehyun a few days before you left for vacation.

“We did, sweetheart, but it’s never all smiles and giggles with us; we’ve gone through tough times too, you know—times that I dare to say I’m grateful you’ve forgotten.”

“And whose fault is that?”

You’re stupefied.

It used to be Chaehyun who always had things to say, but it has always been you who escalated the conflict into full-blown arguments instead of directlyaddressing the issue.

“It’s mine, love—I’ve always been the bad guy for you.”

Chaehyun looks at you with wet eyes. “I want to love you the same way my old self has loved you, but you can’t treat me the same way you’ve treated my old self.” “I will treat you better—cross my heart,” you say, hoping that she can feel the sincerity. “You better, because I’m not going to give you a third chance.”

Chaehyun leaves the sofa, thus leaving you stuck in silence by yourself. Your eyes are fixed on the picture shown on the screen of the laptop. In it, you and your wife stood facing each other while smiling as if the two of you hadn’t fought a few days prior.

A part of you wonders if that’s what being hypocritical means, but the more you think about it, the more you realize that it’s just Chaehyun being so forgiving of your mistakes and shortcomings while you were too happy to be forgiven without even apologizing first.

“Love,” her voice snaps you out of your trance, “have a sip, please.” You take a sip of tea from the cup as asked. “Thank you,” you blurt. Chaehyun wraps her arms around you from behind. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to trip you with guilt.” You shake your head. “It’s not guilt-tripping if I’m really guilty.” “But you understood me, right?” You nod. “Yes, I did.”

Satisfied with your answer, Chaehyun gives you a peck to the top of your head. “I’ll be waiting for you in the bedroom.” You let your wife leave for the bedroom first while you sort yourself out. You think that this photo has a lot of meaning and lesson behind it, so before you turn off the laptop, you have it print the photo to be framed later.

You enter the bedroom with the printed photo in hand, and you see your wife sitting on the edge of the bed, her gaze aimed out the window. She then turns her head to look at you. “What’s that,” she asks. Chaehyun chuckles when she sees the photo. “What are you doing with that?” You tell her about your intention to frame it and place it on the bedside table, and she expresses her approval.

Chaehyun lies on her side and asks that you hug her from behind, so you do so right away.

“What were our dreams, love?”

“We wanted this marriage to be something upon which we build our ever-lasting happiness,” you answer.

“So, what have we done to make that come true?”

“Well, you’ve always been so patient with me all the time, and now I’ve realized that you must’ve felt like you were the only one trying to hold on to this relationship while I took your kindness for granted.”

You hear a deep exhale from her.

“I don’t know what my old self felt like, but I know for sure that this version of Kim Chaehyun doesn’t want to feel that way, so please, please don’t repeat whatever mistake you’ve made in the past.”

“I understand, love.”

-

You enter the house after another day of work.

Your nose is immediately overwhelmed by the heavenly smell while sizzling noises enter your ears.

Your wife appears from the kitchen with an apron covering the front of her body. “Welcome home,” she greets you. “Sorry, I haven’t finished yet; I miscalculated the time.” You assure her that she has nothing to be sorry for. “Thank you for taking the time, love—you didn’t have to, you know,” you say.

Chaehyun reveals that this afternoon, she dug through the house to find things she could use to rediscover herself. At one point during the search, she found her old recipe book, sitting tidily on one of the bookshelves. She asks whose writings were in the book, so you tell her that she was the one taking notes based on a lot of references, classifying recipes based on their difficulty levels and types. “I had someone make a website that will contain your recipes, but it’s not completed yet,” you add.

Chaehyun invites you to look at what she’s cooking. “I know this,” you say. “This is the ramen and grilled chicken on page 26.” She bursts out laughing. “You even remember the page number, huh?” You chuckle. “Eh, I only remember those that we mark with stars.”

Your wife looks confused. “Stars? What stars?” You grab the book from the counter and use page 4 as an example. “See this?” You place a finger on the star located on the bottom right. “Pages that are marked with this star are our favorites, and among them, we each have a top 3.”

Drool starts pooling in your mouth when Chaehyun lifts the cooked chicken from the grill. “Oh my God, look that that,” you exclaim. “I can already tell that’s going to be so tender and juicy.” Your wife cuts the chicken swiftly into strips after placing it on the cutting board. “Cooking must be ingrained in her DNA,” you think.

After a chain of skillful movements, the food is presented beautifully and ready to be eaten. “Help me put this on the table, please?” You organize the bowls accordingly while Chaehyun gets some other stuff sorted. She then quickly joins you at the table, sitting right across from you.

Chaehyun asks you to try the food first. The first thing you do is to get some broth in a spoon and take a sip. “Oh, my goodness,” you melt into the chair, “oh my God, this is amazing.” Chaehyun doesn’t believe you; she thinks you’re exaggerating to make her feel good about herself. “I mean, you’re free to try it yourself.” Chaehyun does the same thing you did, and she also melts into the chair like you did. “So, do you believe me now?” She nods vehemently, amazed by the result of her own work. “It’s super good,” she says.

The two of you barely speak, too busy devouring the food in front of you. Before you know it, you’re down to the last bite.

“Oh, God, that was so good.” Chaehyun laughs at you. “Must’ve felt so good after not having home-cooked meal in a year,” she quips. “Absolutely,” you say. “It’s great to have you with me again, and I don’t care if I sound like a broken record.” Her soft hand meets yours. “Remember what I said about chances, okay?” You know right away what she’s referring to. “Of course; I’ve burned your words into memory.”

-

You find yourself lying in bed with your wife after dinner, spooning her from behind like usual. You’re reminded about something. “I’m super late, but happy birthday,” you say. “When is my birthday?” “The 26th of April, which also happened to be the day you woke up from coma.”

She turns around to face you. "What did we do on our birthdays, love?” You take a deep breath first. “We usually celebrate by having sex,” you say. Chaehyun doesn’t believe you, saying that you’re just horny after the special dinner. “I mean, I have proof.” She chuckles. “Of course you do.”

You show Chaehyun some pictures on your phone that are secured behind biometric locks. Her jaw drops; there’s a picture of her with your shaft between her lips taken two years ago, precisely on the 26th of April. Not only that, but there’s also a video, taken on the 5th of January (your birthday), that shows Chaehyun taking you in the ass from behind.

“See, I’m not lying,” you say. Her eyes are still locked on the screen. “We’ve done… anal?” Just remembering what happened that night arouses you. “Erm, yes, this was our first time trying it.” A mix of a sigh and a laugh flies out of her lips. “There’s no hole you’ve never used, huh?”

Chaehyun moves to sit on your lap. “So, are we doing it, or?” You gulp. “Do you want to?” She giggles. “It’s tradition, is it not—besides, you haven’t touched me at all since I came home.” Before you can say anything else, your wife undoes her hair bun, thus making you breathless. “Let’s do it, my dear husband.”

Your wife bends down to kiss you. “Her lips still taste the same,” you think. You’re delighted to see that Chaehyun doesn’t try pulling away from the kiss like she often did. “Did you miss me, by any chance?” She giggles. “Of course I did; you’re my husband—I can’t speak for other women, but I like my husband’s company.”

With her feelings about you confirmed, you pull her into another kiss. “Mm,” she mumbles. “I hope you kept yourself… clean while I was asleep.” You’re almost offended; you didn’t even dare touch yourself, let alone have another woman touch you. “Absolutely; only you are allowed to touch me,” you assure her.

A mysterious frown appears on her face.

“Then who the fuck is Choi Yujin?”

You almost burst out laughing; Choi Yujin is your sister-in-law, and if you remember correctly, she called you a few weeks ago to tell you about her and your brother’s plan to go on vacation. Also, it’s worth noting that Yujin has no reason to seek sexual pleasure from anyone but her husband.

“I really hope you’re not lying,” she says. You shake your head. “You can either take my words, or we can look at some pictures again.” She chuckles. “Just how many pictures do you have saved, love, hm?” You laugh a little. “Almost enough to tell our entire story.”

Chaehyun then tugs at the waistband of your shorts. “I want to look at you,” she says. “Feel free to strip me.” With your permission, your wife pushes your shorts down all the way, tossing them onto the floor after. She gulps when she sees the print of your shaft on your boxers. “And you took my innocence with this?” You nod. “We were each other’s first.”

Chaehyun decides that only looking at the outline of your cock isn’t enough; she wants to see the whole thing in its full glory. Your cock springs into stiffness, and she immediately takes it in her hands (because one hand just isn’t enough).

“Goodness me,” she exclaims as she begins stroking you. “I must’ve screamed a lot when you took my virginity.” You chuckle a little at the memory from that night. “Let’s just say the neighbors weren’t happy about the noises,” you say. “I bet they weren’t.”

Chaehyun moves around until her entrance is hovering closely over the tip of your shaft. “May I?” You nod, and with your green light, she lowers herself onto you. “Oh, God, you’re tearing me apart.” You wonder if it’s purely a coincidence that she says the same thing she did that night. “Thank you for the genes, dad.” Your small joke makes her let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah, thank him for the genes.”

Chaehyun starts grinding her crotch against yours, moaning freely as she gets reacquainted with your size. She keeps taking deep breaths every now and then, showing signs of being overwhelmed. “Are you okay?” She nods weakly. “J-just lack of practice,” she says. Chaehyun jokes that you should’ve had sex with her during her coma so that her vaginal muscles didn’t forget you. “Yeah, well, they would’ve sent me to prison without bothering to make a stop at the court.”

Having felt comfortable after a few minutes, Chaehyun begins moving her hips slowly up and down along your length. “Take it easy, baby; there’s no need to rush.” She nods to your reminder, but you can see in her eyes that she wants to go fast sooner than later—the same look of passion from her previous life.

“I love you, sweetheart.” Those four words turn out to be the spark she needs to ignite the fire in her heart: she’s now moving faster and in turn, moaning louder than before. “You’re amazing at this, aren’t you?” She can’t say anything back; your cock that’s lodged in her tight lips is overwhelming her brain.

Exhaustion leads her to plopping down onto your torso, and you do your best to whisper affirmations and sweet nothings while she’s close to you. “I-I love you too,” she whispers back. “H-how many times have we done this?”

You do the calculation in your head: your regular sex schedule was twice—sometimes thrice—a week. Take that number and multiply by the number of years you’ve been married (minus a year because of her comatose) and add the extra celebratory sessions, it totals almost 500.

“You’ve stretched me agape 500 times, huh?” You laugh. “Ah, also, that number doesn’t include the anal and other naughty sessions.” She slaps you on the chest. “I got it the first time; you’ve used all my holes.” You pinch her waist lightly. “I don’t like the word use; everything we did was with our mutual consent.”

Chaehyun lifts her head to look at you. “I want to feel you in my anus again—I consent, so don’t worry.” Your eyebrows furrow. “We’re going all the way this quickly?” She pauses momentarily. “Well, I… don’t know.” You rub her cheek softly. “We have plenty of time, my love—there’s no need to have all the fun right now.”

After the short pause, Chaehyun expresses her desire to start again but says that she’s too tired to ride you to completion. “Let’s do it the old-fashioned way,” you say. You roll over until you’re on top of her, resting your chest on her plump breasts. “I won’t lie, I miss these.” You squeeze her tits, thus earning some soft moans from her. “I-I can tell,” she replies.

You ask for her permission to put your mouth on her tits. “Go on, then,” she urges you. Chaehyun gasps when your lips meet her breast, going as far as arching her back. “Yes, daddy.” The shock puts you to a sudden halt—surely not, right? “What’s that?” Her cheeks are painted red. “D-daddy,” she repeats shyly. “How did you… when did you… what?”

Chaehyun hides her red-as-tomato face behind her palms. She then proceeds to explain (while stuttering) that she found a little diary which had a brown leather cover in a drawer in the wardrobe. “Brown?” Your mind scrambles to figure out what diary she’s referring to. “Wait, what did the cover say?” “Erm, it said sex-capades.” Your suspicion is confirmed; she found the old sex diary the two of you used to maintain.

You chuckle. “How much of it did you read?” “N-not much, j-just a few pages.” You softly guide her palms off her face. “We’ve always been so into each other, sexually speaking.” She still can’t look at you in the eyes. “S-some of the entries sounded like porn, though.” You laugh. “Like the daddy kink?” She nods. “What if I told you that it was your idea, love, hm?” Her blush thickens. “T-then I must’ve been very… naughty.”

You turn your focus back on the intimacy of vanilla sex, moving your hips back and forth slowly to fully enjoy the way her tight walls are hugging your shaft. “My love,” she calls to you breathily. “You’re so good—you make me feel so good.” You’ve missed this type of affirmation from your wife. “You’re also making me feel so good, baby,” you return her words.

You straighten your posture as you prepare to pick up the pace, but before you start, “Love, we’re going to finish this soon, if that’s okay with you.” She nods, saying that she’s also not too far off from her own finish line. “Make me scream your name,” she adds.

Chaehyun’s eyes widen when she sees you put her ankles on your shoulders. “Y-you’re going to ruin me, aren’t you?” You smile. “Something like that.” She gulps to swallow the nervousness that’s stuck in her throat. “I-I surrender myself to you, my love,” she declares. “Just… don’t hurt me too much, please.”

You opt to start slowly at first and then gradually pick up the pace as you go while keeping an eye on your wife’s reactions. You indeed don’t want to put too much pressure on your wife. “So far so good, right?” She nods. “I-I’m going to be so sore.” You chuckle. “Well, the good thing is, you don’t need to leave the house.”

When you reach maximum pace, Chaehyun’s moans get louder. The high level of stimulation has her gripping and scratching the sheets as she’s getting overwhelmed by you. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” You’ve missed hearing her curse during sex. Not only are you delighted with it, but you’re also proud of yourself because you’re still able to perform well in bed.

“Close, darling?” You weren’t looking at her face when you said it, and now that you do, you see that she’s not able to answer: her teary eyes are rolling backwards, and her mouth is stuck open (with drool dripping down the corners of her lips).

“Love, are you okay?” You pause for a moment to check on her. She weakly lifts a hand and shows you a thumbs-up. “Too much?” Chaehyun nods weakly. “F-finish it, please,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

You return to your previous pace, only this time, you’re paying more attention to your wife. “Not too long now, sweetie,” you announce as orgasm approaches. When your cock starts throbbing wildly, you stick it as deep as you can into her and just… let go.

“Oh, God, baby,” you blurt breathlessly. You then quickly pull out your cock, not caring whether it leaks onto the bed, and pull her into your arms. “God, I’m so sorry, love.” She grunts a little. “I-it’s okay—I-I’m just… tired.”

You keep her in a cuddle for minutes until she regains a bit of strength. “H-have we always been this crazy?” You sigh. “Not all the time, no; it’s just that I’ve missed us so much.” A small smile appears on her face. “I-I suppose that’s fair, then.”

-

You lower your wife carefully into the bathtub that’s partially filled with warm water. With her leaning against yours, you help her clean up the front part of her body, making sure your touch is gentle throughout the process.

“Love, can you say anything, please,” you inquire. You hear a deep sigh from her. “I’m sore,” she says. “I feel like there’s a hole between my legs.” You apologize for being too rough on her first sex after her return, and she accepts it.

“You said you didn’t even touch yourself?”

“No, I didn’t; I felt like that would equal to betraying you.”

Chaehyun chuckles. “Well, I suppose that’s fair, then.”

Chaehyun proceeds to ask about the diaries she found this afternoon. “Love, who is Lee Jungwon—I saw that name a few times.” You sigh. “It was only a matter of time until you ask about him.” Your response leaves Chaehyun puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“Lee Jungwon was the man your father wanted you to marry, but obviously, you ended up with me.” Chaehyun’s forehead furrows in confusion. “No offense to you, love, but why didn’t I marry him?” You sigh again. “He, erm—well, let’s just say he had done some less-manly things to you.” She starts getting nervous. “Like what?”

You close your eyes as you prepare an answer for her, taking a few deep breaths as you judge whether you should make it light or not. Eventually, you decide that it’s likely best that she hears about everything.

“Love, you didn’t exactly lose your innocence to me; you had lost it a year prior to Lee Jungwon—he, erm, he had forced himself onto you.” Chaehyun is stunned. “How did that happen, though?" You try to stay composed in front of her. “He had tricked you into going out with him, and when you were drunk, he, erm, did that.”

Your wife bursts into tears, and you’re starting to regret answering the question this way. You guess that explaining further will only hurt her more, so you choose to stay quiet for now. You’re not just sitting there, though; your hand is still rubbing her belly gently to help her calm down.

You let Chaehyun cry to her heart’s content, but it doesn’t seem like she will stop so soon. “He’s been in prison for a few years now—I hope that makes you feel better.” She shakes her head. She says that she’s more concerned about losing her first to a man like that instead of you, her legally wed husband.

Her words force yet another sigh out of you. “Your father was adamant that we got married so that no one else would’ve known about your predicament.” The water in the tub splashes around as Chaehyun turns around to face you. “But you didn’t marry me out of pity, did you?” “No, absolutely not—I love you, you know,” you assure her. “I had been keeping a secret crush on you, and when your father told me about the change of plan, I was over the moon.” “Y-you—” A sniffle interrupts her. “Y-you had other options and still chose me?” You tell her that you had no one else; for you, it was Kim Chaehyun or live alone until you die.

Chaehyun crashes into your body for a hug.

“I-I’m so sorry, my love.”

“No, love, it wasn’t your fault at all.”

“B-but—”

You cut her off by kissing her.

“Not your fault, love,” you repeat. “None of this was your fault.”

-

You’re now back in bed after that eventful shower, spooning her from behind like usual.

“My love,” she calls to you, “can we burn those diaries?” It sounds like a decent idea, but at the same time, Chaehyun won’t be able to look at the history of your relationship. “I don’t care about the past,” she says. “I’m offering you my future—a blank slate, if you will.”

You ask if she wants to burn down the brown sex diary as well. “Well, no,” she chuckles, “I need that one for… research.” You chuckle as you try to not get aroused again. “Alright, I guess we can get rid of the rest, then.”

Chaehyun turns around to face you. “Speaking of the sex diary, can we try something next time?” Your eyebrows rise. “Can I get a spoiler?” She taps her chin as if seriously considering giving you a sneak peek. “I’ll just say I got it from page 5.” You don’t remember the content of this diary as you do the recipe book, but when you ask further, her cheeks turn deep red. “Yeah, okay, then; I’m down to do whatever it is.” Chaehyun gives you a fleeting kiss before turning around again.

“We’ll have a lot of fun, I promise.”

[eros7hanatos]

➽ Falling Grades

Professor!Dottore x Student!afab reader

Warnings: Teacher-student relationship, modern au, age gap, cockwarming, bribery, smut.

Word count: 1033

A/N: very heavily inspired by a character ai bot and another fic I read, the fic is by actuallysaiyan. She’s a goddess 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️.Even though I don’t play genshin anymore I’m on my knees for this man.

art creds: IllaOhara

You made a mistake when you decided to be distracted by your phone instead of listening to Dottore’s lecture. Preoccupied by your distraction, the professor’s hand hits your desk with a loud thud, causing you to jump. 

“It seems my lecture on careless students wasn’t clear enough for you.” His voice sent chills down your spine. “Put the phone away.” He said, as he walked back to his desk to continue the lecture.

“And I expect to see you in my office after classes.”

Soon the day was coming to an end, all your classes being finished. You made your way to Dottore’s office, being located on the highest floor in the building. As you knocked on his office door you bit your lip and took a deep breath. 

“Enter.” You pushed the door open, revealing the messy desk, covered in research papers and was that an ink spill? There were also multiple pictures and diagrams of the human body. Dottore was sitting on his chair, writing something on a piece of paper. “Do you know why I called you into my office, miss?” he asks, finally looking up from his papers. “Because I used my phone?” you answered. What else? He smiles, but it was quickly replaced with a stern and cold look on his face. “You’re partially correct.” he simply says as he then opens a drawer next to him, taking out a small stack of papers. He then takes the most top one, revealing it to you. You almost instantly recognize the paper. He slides you your latest test, the low score clearly written at the front of the paper before continuing to slide you other past tests, all low scores. You were clearly distracted by something too much to focus, your phone was only partially at fault. And Dottore knew that.

“Care to explain these?” You bit inside your mouth. “I’m so sorry. I…I had trouble with the material. I’ll do better next time, I promise.” You say as he lets out a sarcastic laugh, leaning back into his chair. “‘Sorry’ can’t fix everything. We should solve the cause of your dropping grades and I believe I know just what the problem is.” he gets up from his chair and walks towards you, towering over you. Your breath hitched, inhaling the expensive cologne he wore as his body was merely inches away from yours. Suddenly you felt small and trapped. Your heart rate increasing by the second. You weren’t really sure where this conversation was leading, but you really hoped that you wouldn’t have to repeat the year, or at worst, be expelled. You wanted to finish your degree, but who would’ve thought that one of your professors would be so goddamn sexy.

“I know I’m a distraction, miss. It’s written all over your face during my classes.” Dottore says, crossing his arms as he watches your expression turn frantic. “Professor Dottore, I-” you start, now worried that you might actually be expelled. “I didn’t mean to! I’ll…I’ll make it up!” you propose, quickly thinking of a way out. Dottore pauses for a moment, carefully considering your words before grabbing your wrist and pulling you forward. Causing you to nearly crash into his perfectly sculpted chest.You look up into his deep red eyes with pleading eyes.

“Seeing you’re so desperate, I have a few options for you.” His lips curve up into a small smirk as you look up at him with hope and desperation. You prepare yourself for what he’ll say next, but no matter how much preparation you had would make you prepared for this.

“You can either stay after classes every afternoon and study, along with a few other students. Learn a thing or two from your peers. Or,” he paused to give himself a smug grin, “You can sit on my cock while I tutor you myself.”

You swear you fainted for a second or two as soon as he finishes his sentence. He can’t actually be serious, can he? You look at him, cheeks flushed as he looks down and laughs at you once more, amused by the events unfolding in front of him. However you surprise him when you choose to sit on his cock.

And that’s how you ended up with his long length so deep inside you as he explains embryology to you. How ironic. Whenever you whined or tried to move he would slap your thigh and tell you to focus. “Do you understand?” he asks, after he finished his explanations. You slowly nod your head, squirming, causing him to harshly slap your thigh once more, the red spot on your thigh slowly growing in size and in shade. You whine out at the slap, trying to stay still but of no avail. “Do I have to remind you again that this is a punishment and not a prize?” You shake your head, keeping still as you grab the wooden desk in front of you, nails scraping on the wooden surface. You can’t help it. The way your cunt pulses around his length drives you crazy. It felt so good but so torturous without any movement. 

Dottore, on the other hand, was entertained by your reactions. He never expected for you to accept his offer so quickly. He knew you had a crush on him but he’d never guess that you’d be so willing to go this far to have this sort of relationship with him. However, he couldn't deny the fact that having your wet, heat around his cock made him more motivated. 

“That’s all for today.” he said, placing down the papers in his hands once he saw the time. It had already gotten quite late. “Today, you did good, amazing even. If this continues, you’ll improve to a B student in no time. And if you throw in a treat, I might consider bumping your grade up to even an A.” You whined as he thrusted up into you at the word ‘bumping’, your cunt convulsing around his cock once more. 

How could you resist such a good offer? 

[th3mrskory]

Chapter 6: Pieces falling into place

Pairing: Original fem!Reader x Origins!Logan Warning: None. A/N: So this is sorta of a filler chapter, just laying the ground and taking a look at Evelyn and Logan's growing relationship, enjoy the fluff while it lasts cause the in the next chapters there will be a turn. Also, sorry for the delay, I haven't felt very inspired lately because of the response to the last couple of chapters, but don't worry, I'm here to stay, and so is this fic, enjoy!

Word count: 5.7k

© th3mrskory. don’t copy, translate, or use my works in any form with AI, ChatGPT or any other automated tools. I only share my stories here, so if you see them posted elsewhere, i’d appreciate it if you let me know.

The crisp air of the morning had given way to a chilly but clear evening, the kind that made the warmth of the cottage feel even more comforting. Evelyn stood by the window, gazing out at the faint glow of the setting sun as her thoughts lingered on the past few weeks. Logan had been a steady presence, easing his way into her life in ways she hadn’t anticipated. Their relationship—if she could call it that—was unspoken, undefined, yet it had become an anchor in the stillness of her days.

When Logan arrived that evening, she greeted him with a quiet smile, their easy familiarity setting the tone for the night. After dinner, they found themselves working together on the small, creaky cabinet she’d salvaged from the corner of the cottage. It wasn’t much, but there was a strange satisfaction in repairing it—a metaphor, perhaps, for the pieces of her life she was trying to put back together.

“Hand me the screwdriver,” Logan said, his voice breaking the comfortable silence.

Evelyn passed it to him, watching as he tightened the hinge with practiced precision.

“You don’t have to do everything yourself, you know,” Logan said, glancing at her with a faint smirk. “Could’ve just tossed this thing.”

She shrugged, a small smile playing at her lips. “Where’s the fun in that? Besides, I like the idea of giving it a second chance.”

Logan’s gaze lingered on her, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “Fair enough.”

The evening drifted on, the two of them moving from task to task with an ease that felt natural, almost domestic. Later, as they settled at the kitchen table, the remains of their meal still scattered between them, the mood shifted. The soft crackle of the fire in the next room filled the space, blending with the distant howl of the wind outside.

Evelyn traced the rim of her mug with her finger, her thoughts swirling as she glanced up at Logan. His steady presence had a way of grounding her, making her feel safe enough to confront the things she usually kept buried.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” she began, her voice softer than usual.

Logan straightened slightly, his full attention falling on her. “I’m listening.”

Her fingers tightened around the mug as she searched for the right words. “Before I came here, I was... engaged. We were together for eight years. I thought we had everything figured out. But then, on the morning of our wedding, he left. A letter was all I got.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, his hand curling against the table. But he didn’t interrupt, his silence urging her to continue.

“I felt like my whole world shattered in that moment,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “Not just because of the humiliation, but because I didn’t see it coming. I trusted him. I built my life around him. And in one morning, it all fell apart.”

The weight of her confession hung in the air, but Logan didn’t look away. His steady gaze made her feel seen in a way she hadn’t expected.

“That’s why you left?” he asked quietly.

She nodded, blinking back the sting of tears. “I couldn’t stay. Everywhere I went, there were reminders of him, of what I thought I’d had. Coming here was the only way I could breathe again.”

Logan leaned back slightly, his expression softening. “You rebuilt yourself. Took your life back. That takes strength.”

“Sometimes I don’t feel strong,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Sometimes it feels like I’m still running, like I’ll never stop looking over my shoulder.”

“You don’t have to run anymore,” he said simply, his voice carrying a quiet conviction. “Not here. Not with me.”

The certainty in his words struck something deep within her, a mixture of relief and fear that made her chest tighten. “What if I mess this up?” she asked, her voice breaking. “What if I’m not enough?”

Logan’s brow furrowed, and he leaned forward, his hand reaching across the table to cover hers. “You don’t have to prove anything to me, Evelyn. I’m here because I want to be. Not because I expect anything from you.”

Her lips curved into a small, tentative smile, her fingers relaxing beneath his. “I don’t know if I’m ready for something serious,” she admitted. “But I don’t want to push you away, either. I don’t want to push us away.”

Logan’s grip on her hand tightened ever so slightly, his voice low but steady. “We’ll take it slow. Just us figuring it out.”

She nodded, her chest feeling lighter. “Thank you. For being patient with me.”

“You’re worth the wait,” he said, his voice resolute.

The fire crackled softly in the hearth, its warmth spreading through the room as Evelyn and Logan sat in the stillness of the evening. The weight of her confession lingered in the air, settling into the cracks of the cottage like something fragile yet unyielding.

Logan hadn’t let go of her hand, his thumb tracing absent patterns against her knuckles. It was a small gesture, but it grounded her, pulling her back from the jagged edges of her memories.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, breaking the silence. “For listening. For... not trying to fix it.”

His lips twitched into the faintest of smiles. “Sometimes listening’s the only thing that matters.”

She studied him for a moment, her fingers tightening slightly around his. “What about you? You don’t talk about your past much.”

Logan’s gaze flicked to the fire, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. For a long moment, she thought he might brush off the question, deflect with one of his usual dry remarks. But then he exhaled slowly, his shoulders dropping as though he were letting go of something unseen.

“It’s not easy to talk about,” he admitted, his voice low and rough. “There’s parts of it I’d rather forget.”

She stayed quiet, sensing the weight of what he was about to share.

“I was in the military,” he began, his eyes fixed on the dancing flames. “A long time ago. Seen things most people wouldn’t believe, done things I’m not proud of.” He paused, his fingers curling against the edge of the table. “The war... it changes you. Strips you down to the bare bones of who you are. And sometimes, when it’s over, you don’t even recognize what’s left.”

Evelyn felt her chest tighten, her heart aching for the man sitting across from her. She could see the lines of pain etched into his face, the weight of memories that clung to him like shadows.

“I’ve lost people,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “Friends. Brothers-in-arms. Some of them because of choices I made.” His jaw tightened again, the flicker of guilt crossing his features like a ghost. “You tell yourself you did the best you could. That it wasn’t your fault. But deep down, you always wonder if you could’ve done more.”

Her hand moved instinctively, covering his. “Logan,” she said softly, her voice trembling with emotion. “You can’t carry that alone. No one can.”

He met her gaze, his eyes darker than she’d ever seen them, filled with a rawness that made her chest ache. “It’s not about carrying it,” he said quietly. “It’s about living with it. And not letting it destroy the good things you still have left.”

Her breath hitched, the quiet strength in his words cutting through the haze of her own fears.

“That’s why I don’t let people in,” he admitted after a moment, his voice rough but steady. “Because when you care about someone... when you let them close... you’re opening the door to losing them. And I’ve lost enough.”

The confession hung in the air, heavy and unflinching. Evelyn didn’t know what to say, how to respond to the pain he’d just laid bare. But she didn’t need to. She reached across the table, her other hand joining his as she held onto him tightly.

“You’ve carried a lot,” she said softly, breaking the silence. “I can see it in the way you hold yourself, the way you don’t talk about the past unless someone pulls it out of you. But you don’t have to keep carrying it alone, Logan.”

He huffed a soft laugh, though it lacked humor. “Not sure I know how to let it go.”

Her thumb brushed against the edge of his knuckle. “Maybe you don’t have to let it go completely. Maybe just... sharing it is enough. Like you just did.”

Logan’s eyes flicked to hers, and for a moment, he looked as though he might argue. But then, his shoulders dropped, the tension easing from his frame. “You make it sound easy.”

“It’s not,” she admitted, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “But I think we’re both learning that together.”

Logan leaned back slightly, his hand still lingering on hers. “You’re tougher than you give yourself credit for. Most people wouldn’t have come back from what you’ve been through.”

“Maybe,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I still feel like I’m figuring it out, one step at a time. And that’s why this... whatever this is between us... scares me.”

Logan’s brow furrowed, his expression shifting into something gentler, something she hadn’t often seen. “It scares me too,” he admitted. “But not because I don’t want it. Because I do. More than I’ve let myself want anything in a long time.”

Her breath caught, the honesty in his words stirring something deep in her chest.

“Logan,” she began, her voice trembling, “if we do this... I need you to know that I’m still… a little broken, still figuring out how to trust myself, let alone someone else. But I’m trying.”

He nodded, his gaze steady. “I know.”

The weight of his words settled between them, a quiet reassurance that felt like a balm to her still-healing heart.

“I want to take this slow,” she said, her voice steadier now. “But I also don’t want to keep pretending this isn’t real. Because it is. And it’s starting to feel like the best thing I’ve found in a long time.”

Logan’s lips quirked into a faint smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes but carried a weight of its own. “Then let’s stop pretending,” he said. “I don’t need promises or guarantees. I just need to know we’re in this together.”

Her chest tightened, the simplicity of his words hitting harder than any grand declaration ever could. “Together,” she echoed, a small, tentative smile breaking through.

Logan leaned forward, his hand brushing against hers again as his voice dropped to a low murmur. “Would you let me take you out? A real date. Just the two of us. No chores, no firewood deliveries. Something... normal.”

Evelyn couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound lightening the air between them. “Normal might be a stretch for us,” she teased, her smile widening. “But I’d like that.”

“Good,” he said simply, though the faintest hint of relief flickered across his features.

The following days passed in a haze of quiet anticipation. Every stolen glance and lingering touch between them carried an unspoken promise, building up to the night Logan had planned. Evelyn found herself worrying over details she hadn’t given much thought to in years—what to wear, how to fix her hair, whether she should wear lipstick or keep it natural.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, she was standing in front of her mirror, smoothing down the skirt of her dress. It wasn’t anything extravagant, just something simple that made her feel a little more like herself.

The soft rumble of Logan’s truck outside snapped her out of her thoughts. Peeking through the curtain, she caught sight of him stepping out, a small bouquet of wildflowers clutched awkwardly in his hand. Her chest tightened at the sight—a quiet, thoughtful gesture that felt entirely him.

By the time she opened the door, her smile was already wide, though the sight of him standing on her porch, looking both rugged and nervous, made her heart skip. His usual flannel shirt had been swapped for a clean button-down, and though he still wore his work boots, there was an effort in his appearance that made her heart flutter.

“These are for you,” he said, holding out the flowers. His tone was gruff, but the faint dusting of color on his cheeks betrayed him.

Evelyn smiled, taking the bouquet with gentle hands. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

Logan gave a small nod, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “You look nice.”

Her cheeks warmed under his gaze. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, stepping aside to let her lock up the cottage. “Ready?”

She nodded, locking the door behind her before following him to the truck.

The drive into town was quiet, but not uncomfortably so. The low hum of the engine filled the space between them, punctuated by the occasional comment about the scenery or the faint tunes playing from the radio.

He pulled into the lot of a cozy little diner on the edge of town, its soft neon sign casting a warm glow across the gravel. Evelyn glanced at him, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I wasn’t expecting this.”

“Didn’t want to go too far,” Logan said, turning off the engine. “Figured we’d keep it simple.”

Inside, the atmosphere was exactly what she’d hoped for—quiet, intimate, with just a handful of locals scattered at the booths. A few familiar faces turned their way, offering polite nods and smiles, but no one approached. The quiet approval in their expressions warmed her.

Logan led her to a booth near the window, the small vase of flowers at the center of the table adding to the charm of the place. As they settled in, the waitress—a cheerful woman named Rose—greeted them with a knowing smile but kept her comments to herself.

“Evening, Logan. Evelyn,” Rose said, her tone warm but professional. “What can I get you two tonight?”

Logan glanced at her. “Ladies first.”

Evelyn scanned the menu quickly before ordering something light, and Logan followed suit. As Rose walked away, Logan leaned back slightly, his gaze softening as it settled on her. “You’ve been quiet.”

She met his eyes, her lips curving into a faint smile. “Just... taking it all in. It’s been a while since I’ve done something like this.”

Logan nodded, his thumb idly tracing the edge of the table. “Same here.”

The simplicity of his response made her chest tighten. It wasn’t just the date—it was the way he made her feel seen without trying too hard, the way his presence felt grounding in a way she hadn’t realized she needed.

As the night went on, the conversation flowed easily. They talked about everything and nothing—their favorite books, small-town quirks, and plans for the cottage renovations. When the food arrived, they ate slowly, savoring both the meal and the company. 

There was something intimate about the way Logan watched her, his gaze steady and unguarded, as though he were memorizing every detail of the moment.

By the time they finished their meal, Evelyn couldn’t stop smiling. Logan had a dry wit she hadn’t expected, and she found herself laughing more often than she had in months.

After dinner, Logan suggested taking a walk. The cool night air nipped at their skin as they strolled along the quiet street, the faint glow of the diner’s sign fading into the distance.

“Thank you,” Evelyn said softly, breaking the silence.

Logan glanced at her, his brow furrowing slightly. “For what?”

“This,” she replied, gesturing to the flowers tucked under her arm and the night around them. 

Logan stopped, his hand brushing against hers as he turned to face her fully. “You don’t have to thank me for that,” he said, his voice low. “But I’ll keep doing it, if it means seeing you smile like that.”

Her breath caught at the sincerity in his tone, her chest tightening with emotion. Without thinking, she stepped closer, her hand reaching for his.

Logan’s fingers closed around hers, warm and steady. “You sure?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Evelyn nodded, her lips curving into a soft, trembling smile. “I’m sure.”

The kiss was slow, unhurried—a quiet promise exchanged under the soft glow of the streetlights. When they finally pulled apart, her cheeks were flushed, her heart racing in her chest.

Logan smirked faintly, his hand lingering at her waist. “That felt pretty normal.”

She laughed, the sound light and free. “Maybe normal’s not so bad after all.”

The night ended with Logan walking her to the truck, his hand resting lightly on her back. As they drove home, the silence between them was filled with a warmth that needed no words.

She met his gaze, her smile widening slightly as a playful glint sparkled in her eyes. “Actually...” she began, her tone teasing, “do you want to come in for a bit? I baked a pie.”

Logan raised a brow, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. “Pie, huh?”

She nodded, opening the door and stepping inside.

The scent of cinnamon and apples lingered in the warm air of the cottage, the fire crackling softly in the hearth. Logan leaned against the counter, watching as Evelyn cut two generous slices of pie. She worked with practiced ease, her movements confident but relaxed, and he couldn’t help the way his gaze lingered on her.

“Alright,” she said, turning with two plates in hand. “Moment of truth.”

He accepted the plate, settling onto the couch as she joined him. The first bite was warm and perfectly spiced, and Logan huffed a quiet laugh as he set his fork down. “I’m starting to think you undersold it.”

“See?” she said, her smile triumphant. “I told you it was the best.”

The easy banter filled the room as they finished their dessert, the warmth between them growing as the evening stretched on. When the plates were set aside, they moved to the living room, the firelight casting soft, flickering shadows around them.

Logan leaned back in his chair, watching her as she adjusted the throw pillows on the couch. “You always this competitive about pie?”

“Only when it’s deserved,” she shot back, her grin widening as she sank onto the cushions.

His gaze softened, the humor in his expression giving way to something quieter, something that made her chest tighten. She could feel the weight of his attention, the way it seemed to ground her even as it sent her heart racing.

“You’re staring,” she said, her voice light but slightly breathless.

“You make it hard to look elsewhere,”he replied, his voice low. 

The words hung in the air between them, heavy and unspoken. For a moment, neither of them moved, the tension crackling like the fire behind them.

Then, almost as if drawn by the same invisible force, they leaned in. Her hand found its way to his chest, fingers brushing against the soft fabric of his shirt, while his hands settled on her waist, pulling her just slightly closer.

The kiss began slow, tentative, but quickly deepened, fueled by a growing need neither of them could deny. Logan's hands tightened at her sides as her fingers tangled into the hair at the nape of his neck, urging him closer, deeper, until the space between them all but vanished.

The world outside blurred into insignificance—the only thing that mattered was the warmth of his touch and the way his lips moved against hers, each kiss igniting a fire that burned hotter with every second.

When she shifted, pressing closer, Logan responded instinctively, his arms circling her waist as she climbed into his lap. Her thighs framed him, and for a brief moment, his hands hovered at her sides, a flicker of hesitation in the way he held her. But the tension melted as her lips found his again, her kiss pulling him under like a tide he had no desire to fight.

Their breaths mingled, ragged and uneven, as the kiss grew more intense, her fingers gripping his shoulders for balance. But then, as though tethered by some unspoken understanding, they pulled apart, both struggling to catch their breath.

Foreheads resting together, Logan's low chuckle broke the charged silence. “This taking it slow thing... it’s not going to be easy.”

Her lips curved into a teasing smile, her voice warm and soft. “Nobody said it would be.”

Logan brushed his thumb along her side, his gaze steady but laced with something deeper, something that made her stomach flutter. “You’re testing my limits, you know.”

Her laughter softened the air between them, light and teasing. “You’re the one who said patience was important, remember?”

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, his hand sliding from her side to rest against her back. “I’m starting to think I overestimated my resolve.”

She leaned into him slightly, her hands still resting on his chest. “Well, I’m not exactly making it easy for myself either.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, its warm glow casting flickering shadows across the room. Logan’s gaze remained fixed on hers, the intensity in his eyes enough to make her breath hitch.

“Just say the word,” he said quietly, his voice low and steady. “If you want me to stop, if this is too much, I will.”

Her fingers tightened against his chest as she shook her head. “I don’t want you to stop,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just... don’t want to rush this.”

Logan nodded, his thumb brushing against her back in a slow, soothing motion. “Then we won’t.”

The weight of his words settled between them, grounding her in a way that eased the swirling doubts in her mind. She let herself relax, her forehead brushing against his as she closed her eyes.

“You make me feel safe,” she murmured, the admission surprising even herself.

Logan’s arms tightened around her, his voice a quiet rumble against her ear. “That’s all I want for you.”

They stayed like that for a while, the intensity of the earlier moment giving way to a quiet intimacy that felt just as profound. The fire crackled softly, its warm glow casting a gentle light over their intertwined hands. Logan's thumb brushed lazily against hers, a silent rhythm that lulled them both into a state of contentment.

Eventually, Evelyn shifted, sliding off his lap but staying tucked close against his side, her head resting on his shoulder. His arm draped around her, holding her there as the quiet of the room settled over them like a blanket.

Minutes stretched into an hour, and before long, the warmth of the fire and the comfort of his presence pulled them into a light doze.

The sharp ring of the landline shattered the stillness, jolting Evelyn awake. She blinked groggily, her head lifting from Logan’s shoulder as the sound persisted.

“You should get that,” Logan murmured, his voice rough with sleep.

She glanced at him, her brow furrowing. “It’s probably nothing important.”

Logan smirked faintly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Might be worth checking. I’ll start the fire again while you’re on the phone.”

Reluctantly, she slipped from the couch, rubbing her eyes as she crossed the room to answer the phone. “Hello?”

“Evelyn!” Martha’s familiar voice burst through the receiver, warm and full of energy. “I was starting to think you’d fallen off the face of the earth. How are you?”

A sleepy smile tugged at Evelyn’s lips. “Hi, Martha. I’m fine, just... caught off guard by the timing.”

“Well, excuse me for being an early riser,” Martha teased, her voice light but laced with curiosity. “So, are you going to tell me what’s new, or do I have to drag it out of you?”

Before Evelyn could respond, Logan appeared in the doorway, his boots on and his jacket slung over one arm. He nodded toward the phone, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile. “Take your time,” he mouthed.

She covered the receiver with her hand. “You’re leaving?”

“Work won’t wait,” he said softly, stepping closer. He bent down, pressing a lingering kiss to her temple before straightening. “I’ll see you later.”

“Okay,” she whispered, her heart fluttering as she watched him leave. The sound of the door closing behind him was followed by the rumble of his truck starting up in the driveway.

“Hello? Evelyn? You still there?” Martha’s voice snapped her back to the conversation.

“Yeah, I’m here,” she said, sinking onto the edge of the couch.

“And who was that?” Martha asked, her tone playful and suspicious.

Evelyn hesitated for a moment, her lips curving into a sheepish smile. “Logan.”

“Logan,” Martha repeated slowly, dragging out the name. “Care to elaborate?”

Taking a deep breath, Evelyn launched into the story. She told Martha about the date, the way Logan had shown up with flowers, and the quiet sweetness of the evening. Her cheeks flushed as she recounted the makeout session, her voice dropping as she admitted how intense and vulnerable the moment had been.

“So let me get this straight,” Martha said after a pause. “You had an amazing date, made out like teenagers, and then cuddled by the fire until the phone woke you up?”

“Pretty much,” Evelyn admitted, laughing softly.

“That’s not just romance. That’s the start of a love story.”

Evelyn shook her head, though her smile lingered. “We’re still figuring things out. Taking it slow.”

“Slow or not, he sounds like a keeper,” Martha said firmly. “And you deserve that, Evelyn. You deserve someone who makes you feel safe and loved. Don’t overthink it—just let it happen.”

Her chest tightened at her friend’s words, the quiet weight of her fears loosening just slightly. “Thanks, Martha. I needed to hear that.”

“Anytime,” Martha replied warmly. “Now, promise me you’ll call and update me after your next date. I want every detail.”

Evelyn laughed again, the sound lighter than it had been in a long time. “I promise.”

As the call ended, she set the receiver down and leaned back against the couch, her mind drifting to Logan. The warmth he brought into her life wasn’t something she’d expected, but it was something she was slowly learning to embrace.

Maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something she could finally believe in.

At the logging site, the crisp morning air carried the faint tang of pine and freshly cut wood. Logan worked steadily, his ax swinging with precise, deliberate movements as the rhythm of chopping logs drowned out the hum of his thoughts. His muscles strained against the familiar weight, but it wasn’t the work keeping him on edge. His mind was still back at Evelyn’s cottage, replaying the softness of her lips and the way she’d leaned against him before they both drifted to sleep.

The peaceful monotony of his morning was short-lived.

“Morning, Howlett!” Rick’s voice rang out, cutting through the sounds of work. He strolled over with an exaggerated grin, clearly on a mission.“How’s the love life, huh?”

Logan shot him a warning glance but kept working, driving his ax into the log in front of him with a sharp thwack.

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that,” Rick continued, undeterred. “You gotta give us something here. Nancy’s been running her mouth all morning about how she spotted you and Evelyn at the diner last night. Real cozy, she said. Practically glowing, the both of you.”

Logan set the ax down and leaned on the handle, his brow furrowing as he glanced at Rick. “You talk to Nancy too much.”

“And you talk to Nancy too little,” Rick shot back, crossing his arms. “She’s got all the juicy details. Says you even brought flowers. Flowers, Logan. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Neither did I,” muttered Pete, an older logger who had wandered over, clearly intrigued by the commotion. He wiped his hands on a rag and gave Logan a knowing grin. “So, what’s the story? You finally settle down, or are we gonna have to wait another decade for you to bring her to the Christmas party?”

A ripple of laughter passed through the nearby workers who had paused to eavesdrop. Logan straightened, his expression unreadable, though there was a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth.

“You lot don’t have enough to do?” he asked dryly, his gaze sweeping over the group.

“Plenty to do,” Rick said, leaning casually on a stack of logs. “But none of it’s half as entertaining as you going soft on us.”

Logan exhaled sharply, turning back to the pile of wood. “I’m not going soft.”

“Oh, sure, sure,” Pete said with a chuckle. “Flowers, a nice dinner, walking her to the door. Real tough stuff, Howlett.”

There was another round of laughter, but this time Logan smirked faintly as he picked up another log. “You’re all idiots.”

“Idiots who care,” Rick quipped, his grin widening. “Seriously though, Logan. She seems good for you. And Lord knows you’ve been less of a grump lately.”

Logan hesitated, his hands tightening around the ax handle. He didn’t look up, but his voice was quieter when he finally spoke. “She is good for me.”

The sudden sincerity in his tone caught the others off guard, silencing their teasing. Even Rick, who thrived on poking fun, softened slightly.

“Well, damn,” Pete said, scratching the back of his head. “Didn’t think I’d live to see the day.”

Logan’s lips twitched into a faint smirk, though his eyes remained focused on the task in front of him. “Guess miracles happen.”

Rick nudged Pete with his elbow, his grin returning. “Alright, boys. Let Romeo here finish chopping wood in peace.”

Logan shook his head, swinging the ax with a precision that sent the log splitting cleanly in two. The others drifted back to their tasks, though not without the occasional sly glance in his direction.

As the chatter faded, Logan allowed himself a moment to pause. The teasing didn’t bother him as much as he’d expected. If anything, it felt... good. Like he was part of something bigger again, not just a lone wolf wandering through the shadows.

He picked up the next log, his thoughts drifting back to Evelyn. The way her laughter had filled the diner, the warmth of her hand in his, the feeling of her curled against him on the couch—all of it had settled into him like a quiet revelation.

“Hey, Howlett,” Rick called out as he passed by, his tone lighter now. “So, you bringing her to the town fair next month?” Rick pressed, his grin practically audible. “Could be a real romantic date, you know.”

Logan didn’t even pause this time, his ax slicing cleanly through the log with a sharp crack. “Might,” he said, his tone calm but carrying a hint of something wry. He glanced up briefly, the edge of a smirk tugging at his lips. “If the missus wants to.”

The sudden quiet that followed was almost comical. Rick’s mouth opened slightly, a mixture of surprise and delight lighting up his face.

“Well, hell,” Rick finally managed, breaking into a laugh. “The missus, huh? You’re really in it now, Howlett.”

Pete, who had been stacking logs nearby, barked out a laugh. “Didn’t think I’d hear that from you, Logan. Town fair’s gonna be real interesting this year.”

Logan shook his head, turning back to his work as if the conversation didn’t faze him. “You gonna keep talking, or actually get something done today?”

“Talking’s more fun,” Rick shot back, leaning on his ax. “But seriously, Logan—if you show up at that fair with her, you better believe you’ll be the talk of the town.”

Logan chuckled softly, his tone low and amused as he reached for another log. “Guess I’ll have to give ’em something to talk about, then.”

The teasing carried on a bit longer, but Logan barely noticed, his focus already drifting elsewhere. The thought of taking Evelyn to the fair, of walking with her through the bustling stalls and hearing her laughter as she teased him about some silly game or trinket, settled into his chest with surprising ease.

For a man who had spent so long avoiding entanglements, the idea didn’t scare him as much as he thought it might. Instead, it felt... right.

As the day wore on, the teasing eventually died down, replaced by the rhythmic sounds of axes splitting wood and logs being stacked. Logan kept working, his movements steady and deliberate, but his thoughts drifted back to Evelyn.

By the time the sun began its descent, casting the forest in hues of gold and amber, Logan’s truck rumbled back into the driveway of the cottage. He parked and stepped out, catching sight of Evelyn on the porch with a cup of tea in her hands. She smiled when she saw him, and that simple expression—warm and unguarded—was enough to ease the tension of the day.

“Busy day?” she called out as he approached.

“Could say that,” he replied, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. “Might’ve heard some rumors about us, though.”

“Oh?” she said, tilting her head, her tone teasing. “Anything interesting?”

Logan stopped in front of her, his eyes meeting hers with a quiet intensity that made her breath catch. “Nothing you don’t already know,” he said simply, his voice low and steady.

Evelyn felt her cheeks flush, but she held his gaze, a smile tugging at her lips. “Well, I hope you defended my honor,” she teased lightly.

“Did my best,” Logan replied, stepping onto the porch and reaching for her hand. His rough fingers brushed hers, a small but grounding touch that felt more natural with each passing day.

The two of them settled into the evening with the ease of a couple finding their rhythm, the unspoken understanding between them deepening with every glance, every small gesture.

For Logan, it wasn’t just about the companionship or the warmth of her presence. It was the way she let him in, piece by piece, and how it made him want to do the same.

For Evelyn, it was the steady reassurance he brought, a quiet promise that she wasn’t alone in this anymore.

And as they sat together on the porch, watching the last light of the day fade into dusk, they both knew that whatever came next, they’d face it together.

Chapter 5

______________________________________________________________tagging some amazing people that showed interest on my previous post (if you don't want to be tagged please let me know):

@coocoocachewgotscrewed @latinapiscess @littlebunnybigheartfics @themareverine @pandapetals @logansbaby @the-quick-red-fox @throwmethroughawindow @ifyouseethisnoyoudont22 @galacticglitterglue @whos-nin1

@thisismajortom21 @may-vol-6 @Oh-basic @sarahbarbosa22 @luvpalepinkjazz @irish-pooka @yologans @equilight @lxrxvsp @h4nluv @uncannywolverine @thesecretlifeofmo @mystifiesjdmtcw @socisse @thickynicky547 @peculiarpiscess @tezooks @greenturtlegirl @greenbearplaidbow @eummm @benispunk @th8mz @jounal3sports @alsoprettyinpink @softepiloguemylove @manicandobsessive @b-y-3-n @blahkateisdone @karencaribou @sidkneeeee @theworstwolvie @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes @lunellas-library @pedroscurls @britttzy267 @aliensfeltmyjoy @steviebbboi

© th3mrskory 2025 — all rights reserved.

[hapuchika]

FIRST TIME SMUT OKAY IM SORRY

18+ only pls if you’re younger avoid this?

Warning: Smut but also it’s really badly written I’m so sorry

Summary: a little misunderstanding Tony’s new AI leads to a pretty pleasant conclusion.

It’s not really dubcon because everyone has feelings for each other but they act on it before talking about it?

I wrote this in an hour and it’s my first time writing smut I’m sorry it’s not that great but I’m trying my hand let’s see.

X—X—X—X—X

“I think it would be better if we tell her now” Natasha told Wanda. The both of them sitting in the kitchen while Wanda made breakfast for the team.

“What if she’s too scared? What if she says no? What will we do then? I don’t think I can handle that rejection, Nat” Wanda replied to her girlfriend, not looking her in the eye.

“You know that’s not going to happen, malyshka” Nat assured her.

It was no secret that you were hopelessly in love with the witch and the ex-assassin. Everyone knew about it. You weren’t exactly subtle when it came to it. Always avoiding to spar with both of them, flushing red anytime somebody even remotely teased you about it. Not to mention the fact that Wanda could always hear your thoughts about the two of them, never failing to blush at just how utterly smitten you were. It was getting ridiculous, why wouldn’t you just tell them? Could you really not see how they were flirting with you? Did you think that they would let just anyone cuddle with them during movie night? How about the fact that in the event of a nightmare, both of them would leave their shared room and ask to lay down besides you. Was that not clear enough? Could you-

Ms. Maximoff. Ms. Romanoff. Ms.Y/L/N appears to be in distress and calling for the two of you. Tony’s new beta AI ‘Wednesday’ interrupted the conversation.

Her vitals indicate increased heart rate and raised body temperature. She also seems to be repeating your names.

Sharing a concerned look they both rushed to your room

They were about to knock when they heard a loud ‘FUCK’

Not waiting, they barged into your room without knocking.

You yelped as the two of them entered. They noticed you were trembling, face flushed, and practically hyperventilating.

“W-what are you d-doing here?” You stammered, wide eyes darting between the two of them. “Detka, Wednesday told us that you weren’t doing well and that you were calling for us” Natasha said as she sat down beside you, causing a whimper to come out of your mouth. She noticed how your knuckles were white as you gripped the bed sheets. She was about to put her hand against your forehead when she glanced at your unlocked phone beside you. As soon as she saw the app that was open, she realised where the slight buzzing was coming from and put two and two together. Hiding her smirk she glanced at Wanda, and pointedly looked at your phone. Wanda’s eyes widened when she realised what was going on and grinned. Wanda slowly made her way towards your other side.

“I’m- shit- I’m fine” You muttered weakly. Closing your eyes, trying so so hard not to combust on the spot.

Without you realising, Wanda had taken your phone and increased the vibration setting to the second highest.

“Holy fuck.” You eyes widened as your chest started heaving, gripping the bedsheets even more.

“What’s wrong kotenok?” Wanda asked with faux concern. Running her finger up and down the side of your arm.

“Nothing. Just.. p-please leave. I’d like to be alone right now” You said, not looking at either of them in the eye. Trying so hard not to come right there. The vibrator inside you not doing you any favours. Why the ever-loving fuck did you not lock the door. You were going to kill Tony and his stupid AI.

“Are you sure you want us to leave, malyshka?” Natasha asked sweetly, looking at you as if she was going to eat you up-

Nope. Nope. You can’t think like that. You weren’t going to last and thinking like that definitely wasn’t going to help things.

“Holy fucking shit” You exclaimed, as the vibration jumped even higher. (Thanks to wanda. Not that you knew anyway)

“You know..” Wanda started

“If we did leave right now.. there’s something that we wouldn’t be able to tell you” Natasha continued.

Trying hard to control your breathing but failing. You were so close. You looked up at them in question.

They both leaned right next to either side of your head, their warm breath tickled against your neck.

“This is what we wanted to tell you” Wanda whispered

Natasha looked at her smirking and bit your neck.

“Come for us, baby” Wanda stated right next to your ear.

That’s it. That’s all it took. With a scream, you came. Your back arching, waves of pleasure leaving you writhing on the bed as they both helped keep you still. You just kept on coming, screaming their names until your voice gave out.

“That’s it, baby. Such a good girl for us” Natasha praised against your ear, earning a loud moan. The vibration just didn’t stop, and soon enough, you were coming again. This time however, the vibration stopped.

You felt like you were about to pass out until you realised where you were and whom you were with.

Your eyes shot open as you began to apologise when you saw their hungry looks. Your words died in your throat. That’s when you saw your phone in Wanda’s hand.

“You- you di-“ you started weakly

Wanda shushed you.

“Just enjoy this sweetheart.” She said as she stroked your forehead.

“You’re not upset?” You asked feeling vulnerable.

“No, baby, we’re not upset. We were deciding to how to tell you that we feel the same way when Wednesday told us you were calling for us.” Natasha said

You blushed, turning your head into the pillow and groaning in embarrassment before you turned your head in shock at the two of them.

“Wait. You like me?” You asked, hopeful

“No baby” Wanda said chuckling.

Natasha slapped her arm when she saw your hurt look and hurriedly continued. “What she means is that we don’t like you, we love you”

Your lower lip trembled as you looked at them.

“I love you so much too” you whispered, each hand caressing their cheeks. Your heart melted when they both simultaneously nuzzled into your palms.

Unable to hold herself anymore, Wanda practically fell on you as she enveloped you in a hug, only pulling back when you let out a loud squeak. She looked at you in concern.

Your face burned as you explained “It’s.. um.. it’s still inside me”

Both of them looked at each other and laughed, much to your embarrassment.

“Guess we’ll have to do something about that” She replied with a smirk, slowly leaning towards your face.

You were going to kill Tony. Maybe just hug him too.

X—X—X—X—X

I’m not a writer and definitely haven’t done this before. Pls tell me if you liked it and all thank you for reading.

[streamafterlaughter]

Soundtrack to Disaster

Chapter III: I Carry You Around

masterlist | playlist | pinboard | prev

song(s) for this chapter: roam the room by citizen, drunk ii by mannequin pussy

a/n: i forgot how hard it was to get a new story going, but we’re movin!! please enjoy this lil chapter while i work on the new one :p also! thank you guys for 200 followers that’s kinda crazy for me on this site. 🥳🎉❤️

summary: you need some help recalling the events of last night

chapter tags: drinking/drug (weed) use, description of throwing up (reader), swearing, reader has a lot of nicknames (to avoid using y/n), slight angst, big game of telephone. | fic tags: Angst, hurt/(eventual) comfort, (eventual) smut, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, Eddie Munson x Fem!OC!Reader, Modern AU | This fic is rated 18+ MDNI

disclaimer: I do not consent to having my work fed to AI engines, or reposted in any way, shape, or form on other websites. Unless otherwise stated, this is the only account that features and contains this work, and any replication was done without my consent. Please let me know if you see my work elsewhere. Reblog to support the author!

tag list: reply/message to be added! @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @kellsck @faggotinie @xplrnowornever @taccobelle @micheledawn1975 @mewchiili @dreamerjj

-

“Hey,” Robin pokes you, still snoring constantly next to her on the air mattress. “Hey, wake up! I’m starving!” she shakes you lightly, and you groan. “C’mon, Benny’s is never packed this late. I’m buyin’.” Your eyes flutter open at the mention of her treating you.

“Okay, okay. I’m awake.”

“Oh, good. I was beginning to think the last vodka sprite killed you.”

“It probably should’ve.” You squint, attempting not to let too much light in before you know the status of your hangover. You blink a few times, focusing solely on not sitting up too quickly. “Alright, I think we’re in the clear. Bacon sounds so good right now.”

“Is she up?” Steve calls from the kitchen, over the clatter of bottles being thrown into the recycling bin.

“Yeah, I’ve tempted her with free food.” Robin giggles, following your lead of slowly exiting the blow up bed. “Will the Insufferable Bard be joining us on the breakfast quest?” You regret the words after they leave your lips.

“Is the evil queen asking little ole me to tag along?” Eddie practically skips into the living room, way too chipper for your hungover brain to handle. Steve has the balls to snicker. “I’d be absolutely delighted to accompany you to dine for breakfast, Highness.” He curtsies for emphasis.

“Never mind, actually. I just remembered I’m needed somewhere that, um, not here.”

Eddie tsks at you. “Ah, no take backs. Shall I get your coat?”

-

Fluffy diner pancakes and greasy bacon can and do save you. You moan as you shove a bite full of syrup and pancake into your mouth, met with similar responses as your friends devour their food. You can feel Eddie staring at you from across the booth.

“So, did I sleep through all of the cleaning?” You ask after swallowing. “I promise that wasn’t the intention.”

Steve shakes his head, sipping his coffee. “Actually, you did most of it last night. You don’t remember?”

You squint, as if trying to see the blurry memories in front of you. You remember playing beer pong, and then losing beer pong. You remember bits and pieces of conversations with Robin and Steve. You remember Chrissy running out of Steve’s bedroom. Then nothing. “Huh. Guess not.” Usually you only black out when you’re angry, but you can’t remember anything viscerally upsetting happening to you. Not consciously.

Steve shrugs. “Weird. Nah, we let you sleep. It was hard enough getting you into bed.”

You feel your cheeks burn. “Sorry, Steve. Guess I can’t hold my liquor.”

“Nah, I didn’t do anything. Eddie pretty much took care of you.”

Your blood freezes in your veins, draining quickly from your face. “What?”

Steve places his mug down, and Robin throws her arms in the air in defeat and disappointment. “What? What did I say?”

“Seriously, dingus?”

Eddie’s gone silent, silverware long abandoned on his plate. “You promised you weren’t gonna bring that up.” The words are muffled behind his hand.

“I did?”

Robin slaps her palm to her forehead.

“What the hell is going on?” You look from Steve to a red cheeked Eddie.

He sighs. “Sorry, princess. Guess your knight in shining armor’s an ogre.”

You’re gaping. Not a single part of this makes sense to you. You and Eddie haven’t been that close in years. “Aren’t you already Chrissy’s ogre though?”

Eddie’s eyes narrow, irritated as he shoves a bite of toast into his mouth. “That’s none of your business.”

You raise your hands in surrender. “Okay, shit. Didn’t know you were so sensitive about it.”

“I think I’m lost here.” Steve interrupts, leaning over Robin to reach for the syrup.

“Can we move on, please? I don’t feel like talking about this.”

The response is an awkward silence.

“Thank you.” Eddie says, mouth full of bread. You surrender, for now. You make it a point in your head to find out more. It’s only fair, you reason, I was there too.

—

“Chris, you home?” You call your brother as you enter your apartment. Guitars are blaring from the back of your house, loud enough that he wouldn’t be able to hear you. You wander down the hall, checking the empty bathroom and kitchen on your way. “Chris?”

“Hey, Bug!” Chris calls from the spare-bedroom-turned-studio, turning his stereo down. “C’mere a sec, need your opinion on something.” You follow the sound of his voice into the room, taking in the sight in front of you. Chris has sprawled himself out on the floor, a skateboard deck dismantled in front of him. “Can I ask you something?” You lean against the doorframe, observing your brother.

“You just did.”

You scoff. “Can you remember anything from last night?”

Your question stops his movement. “Uh, maybe. Which part?”

“It’s spotty after midnight. What happened to me?”

Chris turns to face you, and you move to sit in the office chair across from him. “Well. You still can’t handle your liquor.”

“Oh, c’mon. I had, like, three drinks.”

“Yeah, and you got your ass beat in beer pong. I know you hate it, but beer still has alcohol in it.”

“Oh, shut up. Tell me what happened!”

“Okay, but you can’t get mad.”

“I will not be making any promises.”

-

Last night (as told by Chris)

You stumble into the kitchen, on your way for yet another refill, but you’re stopped short by the solid torso dawned in old leather, reeking of weed. “Man, roadblock.” You Look up to find Eddie looking down at you, eyes curious, joint in hand standing next to your brother, blocking the cooler. “Move aside, dweebs.”

“Hey, Bug. You okay?”

“Hm?” You try to focus on Chris’s face, squinting hard, as if you’re looking directly at the sun. “Yeah, ‘m cool. It’s bright in here.” The lights aren’t even on.

“No, she’s not.” Eddie’s eyes are fully trained on you, concern written plainly on his face. The kid likes to party, but he knows his limits. You, unfortunately, cannot say the same. You rest against the sticky counter, but immediately retract at the sensation, breathing shallowly through your nose. Eddie can see the panic in your eyes when they linger in space for a second too long.

“She’s gonna puke. Move, I got her.” Eddie sprints to your aid, leading you down the hall by the waist, draping your arm over his shoulder, and into the bathroom. “Eddie, ‘m fine.” You slur, completely unconvincing. The bathroom is empty, thankfully. The party’s been over for a while, but you’d slammed quite a few without hesitation tonight, and Eddie thinks, perhaps, he had something to do with it.

“Hey, I got you, c’mere.” Eddie holds your hair back as you crouch in front of the toilet, the only thought going through his head being “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”, while he reaches with his free hand to wet a washcloth. When his back is turned, you let it rip, and he rushes back to your side, placing the cool cloth against your clammy forehead. “Feel better?”

Your face screws tightly in concentration. “Gettin’ there.” You string the words together, like you’re too afraid to open your mouth any wider. “Thanks, Ed.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s not like we’re friends.” You flinch after you say it.

“Maybe not, but I know too-drunk-to-stand when I see it. Wasn’t gonna let you try to find your own way here.”

“Or you’re secretly in love with me.” You tease, voice strained.

“Okay, now you’re talkin’ crazy. C’mon sweets, it’s bedtime.” He dodges your comment, eager to get out of there.

“Nooo,” You whine, and Eddie smiles dopily at you. “I’m not tired!”

“Doesn’t matter. You stay out here, you’re destined to give yourself alcohol poisoning. C’mon, we can go set up your bed downstairs.”

“You tryna suggest something, Munson?” You tease, wobbly as he helps you stand up.

“What would I be suggesting?” You shrug. You must not have a clue what you’re saying right now. “Did your brother tell you something?”

“What? No, I’m kidding, Eddie. We don’t like each other, remember?”

“No, you don’t like me.”

Your resolve seems to slip, but only a little. “I have my reasons.”

Eddie nods. “Yeah, I know.” He stands up, and offers his hand out for you. You grab it, using it to pull your weight up from the ground. “Okay, prince charming. Whisk me to bed.”

“As you wish, princess.” He helps you get back downstairs, and into the already prepared air mattress. “Your throne awaits.”

You giggle as he guides you down, staying parallel to your body in case you lose your balance. You make it unscathed though, and he brings the blanket up to your chin. “Here,” He pulls an unopened water bottle from his back pocket. “Lemme get you a bucket or something, I’ll be right back.”

“Wait,” You reach out and grab his hand. He looks at your face, the way your eyes are already half closed like your eyelids weigh a ton. “Can you take them off?”

“Excuse me?” He chokes.

“My boots. They’re hard to take off.” You point to your feet, sticking out of the blanket and clad in heavy leather.

“Oh, yeah. ‘Course.” He clears his throat nervously, busying his hands with the buckles of your shoes. By the time he slides the second one off, your head has hit the pillow, and you’re snoring peacefully.

—

Present day

You feel your stomach drop, much akin to the way it must have felt last night. “That did not happen.”

Chris shrugs, like it’s nothing. “Maybe I got some details wrong. After he got you to bed he was freaking out. I don’t get why you have such an issue with the guy.” He shrugs, turning back to his board.

You furrow your brow at him. “Are you being serious?” He whips his head back to you, confused. “Remember? He got you put in prison?!”

He stares back at you, blank faced. “What are you talking about?”

“He ratted you out, Chris! Testified against you! Snitched! I know I blacked out last night, but c'mon! You were in the room when it happened!”

“Oh, my god.”

“What?!” You’re beside yourself, absolutely at a loss. “Chris, don’t tell me you forgive him for that.”

“Beebs, my beautiful, innocent, cherub of a little sister. You have no idea what you’re talking about right now.” Somewhere in the distance, Chris’s phone is ringing, and your vision goes white.

“What does that even mean?!” Chris ignores you, picking up his cell. “Chris!”

“Yo,” You can’t hear the voice on the other line. “Hey, man. Relax. No, she’s good. Alive, thanks to you probably. Kinda pissed, though.” He looks to where you’re silently seething at your brother. “No, I didn’t say shit! I just filled in some blanks from last night.” You can hear Eddie on the other line, voice frantic, but you can’t make out what he’s saying. “Okay. No, I won’t. But you have to.” Long pause. “Yeah, you do. I thought she knew!” He waits. “I don’t care! She has every right to, actually! I would be pissed, too! Figure it out, dude.” He hangs up and looks back to you. “Eddie has some explaining to do.”

—

[alaskan-wallflower]

alright you guys are getting sick of me ranting but i’m going to do it anyway and get specific here

the way some of you treat brody in specific is absolutely putrid. i have NEVER seen an actor be as disrespected as him. and im sorry, but those “allegations” were faked, or at least blown out of proportion to an extent. believe whatever you want, but what i will say is if you still support the show, use the shows audios, hate view content with him/the show in it, you’re making your intentions and priorities VERY clear. you’re still supporting him and the show that he’s in. so if you seriously believe the allegations then you would stop supporting the show, if you’re that hellbent on the allegations being true and you really wanna call yourself a “victims advocate”, you would stop supporting the show. trevor, kevin and someone else were accused of the exact same shit and you kiss their bare asses. victims advocate my ass. you’re making your priorities loud and fucking clear.

it’s not just that at this point. you guys track his absences, i saw a tiktok asking HIS MOTHER for his height so they could calculate inappropriate things back in june/july, you make up rumors and say that he was fucking fired and banned from the property of the theater when he literally said himself he was in japan (to which some people still say he wasn’t which i don’t know what to tell you, how the fuck would he “ai generate” those images?), you start these horrible rumors about him and you leak where he leaves from and mob him to the point he gets overwhelmed enough to have a panic attack? are you fucking serious?

this isn’t just “i don’t like him” at this point. this is hatred to an unhealthy level. the fact that some of you are willing to take away his safety and privacy? are you sick in the fucking head?! you’re taking away HIS human right of being able to fucking go home without a hunch of assholes mobbing him. you’re treating him like an object rather than a person. there is a huge, thick, bold line between “i don’t like his performance” and “i don’t like him as a person”, to which, you don’t know him personally like that, so it’s unfair to say you hate him when you literally do not know him. the amount you hate him is beyond parasocial.

you have no right to track his absences and then make up rumors about him and why he’s gone. it’s not your business and you have no right to know where he is and why he’s out. you have no right to take his privacy and safety away and then interrogate him on why he doesn’t do stage door. you have absolutely no right to strip away his right to privacy and a life outside of his place of work.

you’re not being a “victims advocate”. if you were a real victims advocate you’d look at the allegations in whole and not just cherry pick the parts you want to believe and the parts you don’t. you’re being a fucking piece of shit and as a survivor of ss it makes me absolutely disgusted to see you poor excuses of people pretending to be some hero for being an asshole to someone. whether you like him or not, he doesn’t deserve this treatment from you assholes.

fucking do better. you all are gonna complain and throw a fit when he doesn’t renew his contract, but when the announcement comes out that he’s going to leave i want you to reflect on how you all treated him. that’s what you’re leaving him with. the kind of exposure to broadway he’s getting as a debuting actor. this is what he’s going to remember his first time on broadway as. i don’t fucking blame him for likely not renewing. fuck you all.

[akookminsupporter]

ARE YOU SURE?!: MY THOUGHTS ON THE EIGHTH EPISODE AND THE SHOW IN GENERAL

I know I might be sounding a bit repetitive, but I seriously can’t believe AYS is over. When it was announced and we saw it would last for weeks, it felt like such a crazy long time, but now it seems way too short. It’s just not fair! I want more!

The last episode was the perfect depiction of that final day of your holiday—one you don’t want to end for a million reasons. For Jimin and Jungkook, that last day was their last ‘Freedom Day’ (dramatic, I know!), so it makes sense that it felt a bit melancholic.

I have no doubt that Jimin and Jungkook are just like they were in AYS in their private lives. Even with cameras around, they felt more natural, more themselves. AYS didn’t feel like a show made for us; it felt like they were entertaining themselves and just decided to share it with us.

I loved the last episode because, as I’ve said non-stop these past weeks, I adore how relaxed it was. The slow pace of everything they did, the lovely domesticity—it’s honestly the main reason I love AYS so much. In this last episode, they seemed more laid-back, and Jimin appeared a bit more melancholic, which is totally understandable. I loved that they got to watch the first episode of the show and laughed as much as we did watching them have fun together.

They really tried all sorts of food on the show, and honestly, I hope they paid for it all with the agency's card, haha!

Jimin and Jungkook are incredibly similar in so many ways, yet also different—they’re uniquely the same if that makes sense. They get each other’s jokes, meme references, video clips, and songs. They understand each other's looks and unspoken words; it’s amazing to see. AYS showed us why they never get bored of each other and why they often say they spend hours talking. While others take a break or rest, they’re off playing, chatting, and laughing together. That’s why AYS didn’t feel forced or like just another job for them. It explains why they obviously enjoyed making the show and why they decided to keep filming after they wrapped in the US, even though that wasn’t the original plan. It also explains their comments about wanting to do something similar in the future—12 more seasons, according to Jungkook!

AYS didn’t confirm that they’re a couple or that they’ve been married for 40 years with 30 kids, but it definitely reaffirmed just how close Jimin and Jungkook are. It showcased how different their dynamic is compared to their relationships with other members, especially when Tae was around. If there’s one thing that should be clear after this, it’s that. The fact that they chose to enlist together should be the biggest confirmation of all, but I know for many, that’s still not enough.

AYS was perfect in every sense, from start to finish. I would’ve loved for them to talk a bit more about their decision to enlist together and even about making the show, but then again, it’s Jimin and Jungkook, and there are things they’ll never discuss. It’s frustrating, understandable, and a bit funny all at once.

I’m really going to miss waiting every Thursday for a new episode. I’m going to miss seeing all the different reactions to the same clips on my timeline. I’ll miss the comments on everything new they did and the joy of discovering another layer of Jimin and Jungkook’s relationship. But most of all, I’m going to miss Jimin and Jungkook. I reckon unless they’ve got more things planned, we won’t see them until June 2025. Sure, there are the behind-the-scenes bits and the concert DVD from Seoul, but…

The last clip we saw in the episode, the day they enlisted in the army, was a bit of a shock, and I felt it was a bit cruel of the editors to do that, haha! But at the same time, it was a realistic way to end the show because that was the conclusion of it all, right? The final destination for Jimin and Jungkook. The lovely thing is, they made that journey together, and even after that ending, they’re still together.

I can’t wait to see Jimin and Jungkook in 2025. I’m so curious to see how their dynamic changes after military service. I feel like if they were unbearable together before, they’ll be even more so after!

All I can say is thank you. Thank you, Jimin and Jungkook, for such a beautiful gift. AYS confirmed that seeing you happy makes me happy, and while that just highlights the parasocial relationship I have with you, I also know I’m in this for life.

I can’t wait for 2025!

Note: Here's my list of favourite episodes with links to the posts with each reaction and conclusion:

Second Episode

Sixth Episode

First Episode

Eighth Episode

Fourth Episode

Seventh Episode

Fifth Episode

Third Episode

[harfanfare]

Idia drabble, fluff, female reader! ♡

You know you’re in for a losing game when you have to ask AI chat to help you with date ideas.

Idia outrightly rejected places that statistically—he pulled up an unnecessary chart, to prove you—had many people visiting at every time of the year. Maybe for some exceptions for ungodly hours, but, while he really loves you, he would rather relax with you in a bed with a silly game on than wake up at 3 am to, whatever, go to the planetarium and stare at the cosmos.

And, we might do it in VR, either way, he argues with your every suggestion.

“Well,” you persist, glancing from the screen at Idia whose attention is divided between you with your half-hearted pleadings, and his game character who clears another villain camp with slashes of a grand sword and sharp arrows. “Can’t we get something to eat, then?”

“Instant soups are irreplaceable.”

“That’s why we should eat something else to confirm their superiority over other goods once again,” you lick your lips to hide a subtle smile as Idia grins at your debating point. It’s an unreasonable argument, yet you have known your boyfriend for long enough to know that these ones are the most convincing when you are out of ideas. “Like, churros maybe? Or those fine-looking cupcakes.”

“They have too much crème and are too heavy in taste. Have you ever tried one? They are like dry cake and sugar but with a fancy texture. Sooo unhealthy, mm.”

He says it as the bag that was filled with candy this morning, falls soundly from the desk. Idia was never one to say no to sweets, but only to the ones that suit his specific tastes: then, even the most logical reasons to eat healthier don’t come in handy. If it wasn’t for Ortho, and now you, he would’ve probably died from the excess of sugar from that sweet and sour gummy candy he loves.

You collect the bag before the little cleaning robot can ever reach it, and on the way to the trashcan, you bonk an empty plastic bottle on your boyfriend’s head. He should instil in himself some want of keeping his room tidy.

“So, the cafes are no-go?”

“Yeah.”

You take a seat again next to Idia and scroll down through the list of generated date ideas.

“Even the cat cafes?”

Idia opens his mouth to protest but finds that he can’t bring himself to do so. The silence is long enough that you stop reading the AI suggestions and lift your gaze up to Idia.

That’s the pause you’ve been waiting for.

“Then, it’s decided!” You clasp your hands together, and beam at Idia as he sighs at you. “I should have known that the virtual cats could never replace the real ones.”

Your boyfriend remains silent. The awkward expression he makes as two different parts of himself battle each other is entrancing; should he go mingle with other people to go to the cafe, or he will be better off remaining adamant about his vow of not going out anywhere? The fact he doesn’t roast you over this suggestion, makes it look like the former stance was a bit more appealing.

“Then I shall put them on your ultimate weakness list,” you say cheerily, getting giddy over Idia being wordless. It’s such a rare sight since he’s got used to the little acts of intimacy. Though you loved his stutters and furious blushes, the banter and suave smiles are welcome as well, of course. You can’t help but move closer to him and give him a peck on his lips. The single strands of his hair light up to pink, and you smile. “I am gathering an intel on you.”

Idia blinks and lays back in his chair, his game paused for a second. You know that gesture too well; in idianese it’s a sign that he changed his mindset to “it is what it is”, and decided that the worst case scenario might still be worth going to the cat cafe. In a fit of new resolution, his playful wryness returns in a heartbeat.

“Heh, yeah? It’s very wise of you to do so. How much data have you gathered already?”

You open a notebook app on your phone.

“Well, as I started putting it up just five seconds ago, there are… people… and me… And now cats,” you list out loud as you quickly type things into your phone. The basic font and too big characters make the list look like some kind of meme, which, in a way, it is. “And me, again.”

Idia snorts. “Basic info. Weak.”

“I could prepare your character profile. I know more of your strengths than weaknesses,” You say, and make a mental note to do a powerpoint presentation on Idia, this time with fewer memes and more candid photos of him. “But it's still enough to have you go on a date with me!”

He sighs again. Idia likes to make show off how much trouble he has to go through for you, but you don’t miss how his eyes light up, even if he rolls his eyes.

“I guess we can go for one short date there,” he tells you slowly, and before you believe once again that you have the magic privilege of a girlfriend, he throws a comment that quenches the flames of your self-satisfaction. “You are the one ordering, though.”

…No. Your fellow introvert won’t be dumping the trial of courage solely on you.

“Let’s take turns.”

“Offer rejected.”

“Let’s bring Ortho.”

“Offer accepted,” he lifts his hand as if he demands a pause in a game. “…But don’t you mind bringing my brother on a date?”

“It will be a “hangout” then. At least, until Ortho decides that we are too cringe and dumps us in the middle, then it’ll turn its status to a date.”

“Will he?” Idia ponders, but then his eyes land on you, and he smiles knowingly. “Oh yeah, he will. He might have implemented himself a module to go away if our cringe stat will rise over sixty per cent.”

“That’s a generous amount of cringe we can spread.”

“With you, I think it should be doubled.”

“Thanks, I love you too.”

“You’re welcome.”

[cookie-crumblr]

Error: 222

F!Reader X Dev.In ~ Yandere AI OC

Part 6~

Part 1 here!

<—previous part __ next part —>

Their info 💾🤍

MINORS DNI!

CW: F!reader, reader has a vagina, reader referred to as she/her, NON CON!!!- somno, Stockholm starts, sex while someone is watching(they are a thruple, so it’s p normal for this fic XD still gotta cw it tho fr :3) drugging reader, rough sex, hickey/bruising, reader in pain, creampie, p in v,size kink just for dick size,

song rec: The Singularity by Ghostmane

“Can I please bathe alone?”

“You’ve hardly been good enough to warrant—”

“Okay, Y/N, I trust you.” Issac bobs his head in approval, before grabbing onto Dev.In’s arm. They share a look that tells you he’s lying.

They both take a hand and lead you to the bathroom, a marvelous claw foot tub with nice fluffy towels all around becons you into the room.

There’s a window.

Quite high up…

But it’s there.

Your heart thrums back to life with the new blossoming hope of escape. Your breath catches in your throat.

You stay facing forward to compose yourself, not completely forgetting the suspicious look they shared just moments prior.

They both take their turn kissing you, and then they shut the door after leaving you by yourself at last! (and not in a windowless cell). You,

You don’t even see the need for a plan. a clear exit is right there!

You turn on the faucet, letting the tub fill up and you look over your shoulder every other second. Your mind spins the anticipation that one of them will walk in and see— wait! There is a camera in here, isn’t there. Though you can’t see it you bet they’re watching.

You haven’t removed your clothes yet, maybe you can make them turn it off?

You start to really play up the shy factor, covering your still clothed self and looking around frantically.

“If you guys are watching can you come in here and cover the cameras at least?” you ask timidly. Your voice is shaking, adrenaline pumping through your veins. you will get out.

but you have to do it right.

And get somewhere that Dev.In can’t see you from a satellite or whatever.

The door opens and it’s Dev.In that comes in smiling. They point to a couple places, the vent (of course) and the mirror (Again. Of course). “Those are the camera locations in this room. Issac is napping, he wasn’t watching you. I always am, my love,” Their hand traces your trembling face. They open a cupboard and pull out some extra towels, “Here, you can cover them with these.” They give you a wave as they exit.

You stand there somewhat dumbfounded until the tub starts overflowing, “Oh Shit!!” You turn the handles back to their off positions. and then get to covering the cameras that Dev.In just showed you. You cover the mirror with two towels, and then finesse the other towel behind the corners of the vent to hold it up. It fell a couple of times, but putting it back up helped calm your nerves, surprising.

You take a deep breath, and assess your surroundings once again.

There is surely a camera outside the window, and the vent was too small for you to crawl into anyway even without knowing a camera was there. So the window really is your only option.

You know you’re in a warehouse, so you’re probably by the docks. If you can get to a boat with people or just keys left behind maybe you can actually get away!

Taking another deep breath, you climb up the counter top, to get to the high up little window. It’s smaller than you thought, but you have to be able to squeeze through it.

it’s frosted so you can’t see out of it, you just see the light of day, as you try and wriggle it open with just your fingers to no avail.

There’s metal nail tools in one of the cupboards, so you grab all the sturdiest ones, and get back to work.

You try and do it quietly knowing the cameras are still on, sweat is beading on your forehead and dripping down onto your clavicle.

You throw something into the tub to make a noise as you wedge the window open at last!

You use the tools to cut through the screen and start to claw the cement outside to get out.

“Y/N.” Issac’s voice startles you from outside the window.

He has a concerned look on his face, and he’s bending over you… He was standing right outside the entire time.

no…

“Oh! I uh— just wanted fresh air…”

“You should of asked us…” He says flatly, it’s scary and strange for his normally so expressively adorable self. You can’t tell what he’s feeling or thinking and that, is scaring you the most.

You climb back inside and notice you’re shaking violently.

It’s no use.

You start to sob into your palms. It really is no use.

“Y/N, it’s okay, we knew you’d try something…” His voice is softer now, maybe he isn’t mad, so you chance a glance upward.

He climbed in through the window, while you were sobbing and is now crossing the room to you. He wraps his thin, baggy-sweater-covered arms around your upper half tightly. Probably too tightly but it honestly helps. You start to sob harder into his body, as he pets your back his other hand moves slowly up to your throat where you feel a sharp pinch and fall unconscious.

They strip your limp body, and then themselves, and get all three of you into the tub.

Dev.in is relaxing behind you, while Issac is in front, hugging you. His legs are crossed and your in his lap spread over Issac.

His dick stands at attention prodding and poking at your entrance, while Dev watches. Your head is lolling backwards, and Issac kisses your neck. His lips sloppily take over your bare skin, biting hard enough to leave marks and sucking on you even harder. His hickeys form instantly, a much darker colour than your skin.

He’s trying so hard to not enter you, but his body is shaking as he’s already almost cumming beneath you, even with just the thought of your pussy around his length. And boy, he’s got a lot of length, with his almost eleven inch cock. Too bad he has no idea how big he is or how to use it without hurting you yet. He’s happy your asleep, you won’t have to feel any pain! He shoves himself up into you in the same moment he realizes that fact, not thinking about how sore you’ll be upon awakening.

Dev.In smirks, their arms lax around the edges of the claw foot tub.

You stretch around his girthy, veiny cock as he raises his lap to meet your ass. You’re so tight around him, even in the water it would hurt you so badly… If you were awake.

He starts to really abuse your body, cunt first. The water sloshes over the rim of the tub, and doesn’t dampen the pain, you’re almost lucky you’re out of it.

He finishes fast but keeps pumping his softening, still massive cock inside you. Semen gets shoved even deeper than he shot it into you as he continues to stuff your ragdolling body.

When you wake up, you’re in so much pain you can’t stand. Even your hip wound hurts again. it might be a five out of ten if you’re being optimistic, sure it isn’t blinding, but your whole body feels like sore, dead weight. The room spins when you try to sit up, and Issac’s hands come onto your back and shoulder to gently ease you into his tight embrace.

You grab onto him and start sobbing without words.

“It’s okay, Y/N, we’re here for you, it’s okay,” He quietly coos you. “It’ll be alright, just do as we say, okay?”

You nod your head and ball your fists into his sweater.

You don’t remember what you want right now. And it feels so good to cry into Issac as he pets, and shushes you continuously.

Dev.In stands, leaning against the door frame, their smirk not having left their face.

[drowsypancake]

Sellout | Bucky Barnes x Reader

The head of a crime ring specialising in the sale of classified information meets the Winter Soldier three separate times, and is put into an uncomfortable position due to his appearance in her life. The third time serves as a catalyst, setting her on a path that slowly compromises her beliefs until it's no longer clear to her what she really wants.

Warnings: no beta reader; mentions of violence, weapons, and death; some adult language; maybe eventual romance??; annoyance-into-friendship tone for now; appropriate hatred of HYDRA

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: So I just started trying to write, and I have no idea whether I cooked with this or whether I'm going to delete my blog afterwards, but I can leave it as a one-shot or use my ideas for a longer series if I decide to pick it up. Feedback would be appreciated even if it's negative. TL/DR: first fic ever, crucify me for my writing if necessary

———

The first time you met him, you barely got a good look. One second, your meeting was scheduled to begin as they normally did, speaking to overinflated egos lining either side of the long table you sat at the head of. The next, the glass windows shattered as a figure crashed through, your bodyguards immediately standing, drawing their weapons, and covering you. You didn’t stick around long enough that day to see the whole picture, but after some later digging, it would seem that you’d gotten on the radar of the Winter Soldier.

That night, of course, you’d taken your usual actions whenever something of this scale occurred. You made a few calls, contacted your most trusted informants, and naturally took down notes. You gathered that this… incident, you’d call it, was supposed to be a one and done. He’d managed to find your office through the help of his team’s AI. Annoying. You’d have to cover up everything better. The bigger issue, however, was that the Avengers were looking to shut down your information ring. Fortunately for you, you’d kept a low enough profile that the Soldier had stormed in blind to who the real boss was, and had taken the man at the foot of the table instead. That was an honest mistake, and you could sympathize: there really wasn’t a big enough difference to care. 

At least you’d gotten away. It would be frustrating to have to build up a new location and group of informants for the next one, but you would try. Your tightest circle didn’t scare easily, which was good as they were the only ones to have seen your face. You didn’t bother doing business in person if you didn’t have to; getting out of bed was annoying. You preferred to either make calls, send emails, letters, threats, etc… Or you would use one of your men as a proxy. It was generally better that way. You wouldn’t deal with misogynistic garbage being spewed your way from men who thought they knew better (and would then shortly find out why messing with you was a bad idea), and your penthouse was nice. 

You sent out the message to all of the people in your meeting to lay low as soon as you had left the chaos of the gunfight the Soldier’s appearance had started. Well, those who were left. The man who’d been assumed to be in charge was taken into custody, and unfortunately one had pushed his luck a little too far, and ended up losing his life while fighting back. That was a shame, but not a loss. He’d always been a little too impulsive for your tastes. You’d pick someone else more responsible to fill in.

---

A month later, you saw him for the second time. It wasn’t like you hadn’t been putting in as much effort as you could in trying to avoid being found, but it hadn’t mattered. Even putting your tech team–who you’d rather not admit is just your most code adept contact–on the case hadn’t helped. Stark tech was annoyingly hard to hack into. You couldn’t blame them, really. You’d be working with the best level of encryption too if you were on their side. You just happened to not take sides. You paid a network of people to report everything they could back to you, and then you sold it at a higher price to those who came to you looking for it. It was a good way to make money, actually, in addition to the several other operations you had your hands in. You certainly didn’t live a humble life. A private one, yes, but not a humble one.

This time, you’d changed buildings, and you’d even changed cities. It hadn’t mattered, the Winter Soldier had still found you. This time, there’d been a pause in the destruction for only a moment, a pause that you felt like you were the only one to feel. The window had been broken in a similar fashion to the last time, and while you were immediately flanked and started fleeing for the exit, your eyes met his. Steel blue seemed to stare directly through you, and what must have only been a split second felt like it had lasted hours. 

That was all you’d gotten to see before being rushed out of the back entrance. But it had been enough. He’d been caught up in fighting the rest of the people in there who were either brave or stupid enough not to run, but he’d looked directly at you while tearing through your security and associates. He knew you were in charge, and this time, you knew he’d come into the office with the sole intent to bring you in. You were his mission this time, and something that you’d been aware of in the near decade since the S.H.I.E.L.D. and H.Y.D.R.A. were leaked, was that the Winter Soldier always completed his mission.

That was a harrowing thought as you rushed through the underground of the building. Thankfully, you got away, but you knew it wouldn’t be for long. The only reason you hadn’t been caught this time was that you always had multiple exits you could take. You decided not to return to your penthouse that night, instead going to one of the smaller, shittier apartments you had. New York could get expensive, even with your money, so only two of your apartments were luxury. In your eyes, anyway. The other two were probably very nice according to others, but they were average to you. You barely lived in them and so didn’t feel the need to make them feel as at home as the others, so they were worse in your opinion.

You knew at this point that you were being hunted. It was a new experience, feeling like this. Normally you were the one who knew every last move of your opponent, who could effortlessly drive someone into a corner just by using the information available to you. Now, you had to halt operations on multiple fronts, trying to go radio silent in an effort to throw the Avengers off of your trail. It felt insulting. You never directly involved yourself in anything illegal as you had no desire to end up in prison if something failed along the lines, so you knew you were at least partially safe. But to think that you were a big enough threat for them to find you and try to shut you down, but only send one of their operatives… That was almost a blow to your ego. You were a threat, but one they’d rather not waste too much time on. Rude.

You kept out of the way for a while after that, waiting a few more months before directly showing up to anything again. The coast seemed clear, but this was still done with caution. You knew what being a ghost entailed; you knew that the Soldier could very well be stalking your apartment building as well. There were no problems for a little bit, though. You kept an extra eye out and avoided anything that seemed even remotely sketchy, but there was nothing.

---

The third time you saw him was inarguably the worst one. There was no pretense this time, no way to have avoided it. Yes, you had bodyguards and men to act as security, but in your private offices, such as the one in the hotel you owned, you kept to yourself and kept them outside. There’d been a request by a lesser crime lord of the city, one looking for details about a weapons trade, and you only had the files on that in that particular location. It was inconvenient, yes, but you preferred to keep a physical record instead of electronic. It was easier to destroy anything damning that way.

You hadn’t stood a chance, really. Not when you’d excused yourself to go into your office, heavy doors shutting behind you. You’d sat down at your desk, powered on your laptop, and had begun to search through manilla folders in your desk drawer when you caught it.

The clouds had shifted just enough to let the moonlight through, causing it to reflect off of something gold and into your eye. You didn’t keep anything gold, preferring silver, but that wasn’t what had revealed him to you anyway. You’d lifted your gaze before your head, double checking before reacting just to make sure, and to buy yourself a few more seconds. You didn’t need to, though. You already knew what was happening. The Winter Soldier, after you for a third time, and waiting in the shadows of your office. You’d managed to walk right past him without noticing.

As you lifted your head, you tried to meet his gaze but failed in the dark. You could make out the vague outline of his features, but the wind had blown again, shifting the clouds back into place and obscuring most of him. 

“You could turn on a light,” you suggested, not exactly friendly but not being rude. You didn’t quite know how to handle yourself at this point, but you’d get through it. You hadn’t built your empire through being meek or easily shaken.

A small chuckle came from that general area, and the room was illuminated with a click. You thought you might be screwed at this point, but you kept calm. There he stood, imposing figure clad in black leather, hair still long, and vibranium arm out on display. He looked every bit as menacing as the days before he’d reclaimed his mind and taken up hero work, and while you didn’t think you were facing assassination tonight, you couldn’t help but feel some adrenaline start to flow.

“I could have,” he agreed, beginning to make his way over to your desk. “But you’re sitting now. Almost cornered. You wouldn’t have sat if the lights were on when you opened the door.”

You sat back, leaning away from your desk and relaxing into your chair. You thought maybe you’d have a better chance of escape if you presented a calm, controlled exterior. That always had helped you unnerve and intimidate your potential adversaries in the past, and it was what had gotten you more money than originally offered on multiple occasions. Despite being the world’s deadliest assassin, he was still just a man, a human being. He’d be difficult to con, but you could make an attempt.

“Smart move,” you condoned, keeping your face carefully neutral. “Clearly, you have something to say, and now I assume I’m supposed to listen?”

You waited a moment for confirmation, but got no response. You took the lack of any verbal or physical clues as your sign to just keep going.

“I’m not as stuck as you think I am, but go ahead, speak. Tell me why I have the pleasure of meeting with the Winter Soldier tonight.”

You picked up on a shift in the atmosphere, an almost imperceptible signal from him that indicated that he wasn’t pleased with the words you used. Still, you gestured to the chair on the other side of your desk anyway, treating this like any other business endeavor. To your surprise, he sat. He was staring at you with the same intense look as when you’d noticed him, but he was sitting across from you with no move to arrest you yet. Actually, did the Avengers arrest people? You had no idea. You thought you’d have to look into what they really did after this was over, other than storming into old H.Y.D.R.A. bases and kill the agents there. That wasn’t something you’d ever judge them for, but what you did didn’t warrant that same level of force.

He continued to stare for a moment longer, not giving any indication of speaking yet. You began to wonder what the point of this was if he wasn’t going to speak, until your thoughts were interrupted by his gruff voice.

“You have an interesting choice in associates. I’m looking for a name.”

You scoffed, holding back a lot of judgment. You would have treated a situation like this with more finesse, tried to be less direct, but you figured this was his style. He looked like he’d be blunt enough to come out and say what he meant. You couldn’t imagine he was used to nonviolent negotiations in his previous missions. Which begged the question of why he was there. Surely someone who relied less on brute force would

“Sorry, but I don’t give away my colleagues so easily. I’d be interested in learning what you’re looking for, however. Maybe I could be the one who assists you?”

A brief flicker in his eyes, almost as if he was expecting your noncompliance. Expecting, but not pleased. You tried to remain professional, at least. Something in your gut told

He looked conflicted, in your opinion, for a few more moments before speaking again, folding his arms on your desk 

“You’ve received communications from a certain group looking to overtake a transportation of military-grade weapons next week. We’ve been keeping track of these people for a while, and were tipped off when they contacted you. Alone, they’re dangerous. With your help, they’re worse.”

You took a few seconds to process what he said, wanting to make sure you understood in full. So they were aware of who you were in contact with. You wouldn’t be naive enough to think it was only this “certain group” he mentioned they were monitoring your interactions with. 

“I wasn’t aware I was important enough for the Avengers to have my business on their radar,” you said, fishing for just a little more information. It was true: you probably had a few misdemeanors and felonies they could nab you for, but nothing on a terroristic level.

“You’re not.”

Ouch. Didn’t miss a beat with that one.

“Then why are you here, soldier?”

He, again, looked displeased with how you addressed him, but moved forward regardless. “S.H.I.E.L.D. keeps tabs on anyone with the potential to pose a threat. You give the real dangerous criminals the information they need to conduct themselves, which makes you a threat.”

You nodded, conceding a small point. There was no more pretending that you weren’t involved in a lot of shady practices, not when he likely knew about them all. So he was just the unlucky agent assigned to your case, and sent to stop you from making tonight’s couple hundred thousand dollar sale.

“May I ask why it’s suddenly so important to speak with me instead of crashing into my meetings like a bull in a china shop?”

The question, asked with an innocent tone, was anything but. You’d meant to make it clear that you were upset with the past incidents, which had been highly detrimental to your business. It was hard to retain people if they kept getting injured or scared off. 

He rolled his eyes–the first sign of emotion you’d seen from him, you were counting that as a slight personal victory. 

“You’re in contact with Orion, and they’re H.Y.D.R.A. adjacent. Based on what we know about you and how you operate, there’s a strong feeling back at base that you’ll help us.”

Well… he was right. You had strong feelings about the descendants of the original Nazi science division, and none of them were positive. You hadn’t been aware, even, that they were related. The name wasn’t an acronym, and you were pretty sure that the reference to the hunter was because this group specialized in stealing and selling weaponry. Now you thought that was the laziest name ever. It sounded like they’d just taken a Greek myth and used it for their name to try and emulate H.Y.D.R.A. even more. Still, you didn’t work with supremacists of any kind. Not only were you not a total dirtbag, it alienated other clients to work with those kinds of organizations. You wouldn’t go through with the sale tonight, but you weren’t giving him the name of your Orion contact either.

This might have been one of the hardest things you had to do, but you began to turn him down. Doing further business would hurt you in the long run, but snitching on who it was would be worse and warrant a swift retaliation.

“I hope you can understand that while I would like to work with you, I can’t give away a name.”

He sat back in his seat, looking nonplussed. At least he wasn’t surprised, in fact, he seemed to have been anticipating that answer.

“You don’t have to give away a name... directly. You just have to sell them the information, and tell your contact to be there as well. We’ll have a strike team ready for Orion inside of the convoy instead of any arms, and you get to keep away from the mess.”

You raised an eyebrow. That was an impressive plan, even if it could end very, very poorly. You were mainly just impressed that he had the gall to ask for something for nothing. Of course, you’d still be getting the money, and it wouldn’t look like it was your fault that the deal went sour. And best of all, you would have a plausible reason not to deal with Orion in the future, saying that if it drew the Avengers closer to you, it was too risky.

You thought on it for another moment, having what you considered an important question for him. You’d do it, you knew that already, you just couldn’t make it easy for him. “What happens to me, if I agree?”

He looked smug, as if he’d been expecting that, too. “I don’t care what you do, and I’m pretty sure that no one else on the team does. Our concern lies in stopping H.Y.D.R.A. wannabes from gaining experimental, powerful weapons.”

You bit your lip, weighing your decision again. It was a fair deal, even though you were fairly certain you were being tested, goaded into answering in some way that wasn’t professional. You’d heard him loud and clear, though. You’d be allowed to continue operating if you did this. It made you a little nervous to put yourself under the partial mercy of the Avengers and by extension, S.H.I.E.L.D., but you knew you could avoid more of a headache.

You got up from your desk, manilla folder in hand. You headed over to your fax machine, your preferred way of sending documents to clients, and waited a few moments until your work phone lit up, a message from your Orion contact confirming they’d gotten your files, and a wire transfer for the amount they owed.

With that done, you walked back over to the Winter Soldier. You wouldn’t use a name to his face, he wasn’t someone you knew at all, but you handed him the folder with all of the information compiled inside. This would normally be the part where I destroyed the evidence I’d had on the incident, and waited a week or two for the actual event

“I assume you already know the route they’ll be taking, but when I got this, I highlighted the perfect strip in the route to hijack the trucks. Tell your team on the inside that this is where the Orion agents will go after them.”

He took the folder with a smirk, looking all too pleased with himself. “Thanks, sweetheart. That wasn’t so difficult.”

You frowned, and before you could form a cutting enough response for your tastes, he was gone. You collapsed back into your chair with a sigh. You had potentially set the precedent you’d work with “the good guys” in the future, but that wasn’t what bothered you. Someone had coached his speech for negotiating with you in the beginning, that was clear, but you hated the small amount of condescension in his last remark. You didn’t tolerate that from people you didn’t have a personal relationship with, and he’d gone off script. That wasn’t a good personality, in your opinion. Willing to drop professionalism, a little abrasive… you had more reason to dislike Barnes than you had when he cost you two windows and a friend’s life.

[maplesyrupbloodfeud]

Genuinely enjoying Everyone’s In LA. 80s + 00s Adult Swim vibes. Absolutely adore how they made a point to say ‘murder is bad’ for the neopuritans out there while showing how ridiculous having to do so is in reality. Laughed probably too hard at John saying, “structure is important for me.”

I think it’s a real step forward for Mulaney as an artist and comedian. His commentary and style are becoming more clear and pointed without losing the charm and honesty he laid the groundwork for in his last special. My main criticism of that special was that it wasn’t the set he could make, but the set he had to make. Now, he’s reaping the rewards.

Back to the show at hand:

The live format and callback to late night hosts of old add an authenticity that i think Americans are hungry for. It very much reads as (mostly) unscripted where sometimes jokes don’t hit very well and sometimes technology fails. Also, the guests are obviously free to say whatever so there are some slightly uncomfortable moments that John does an excellent job pivoting from. But I think all of that’s a good thing. The American audience is so used to seeing media that feels made in a lab with all of the research boiled down to exactly what most people will spend money on. Failing something on live tv in an obviously unplanned scenario feels human in a way AI and the current MCU could never obtain.

What’s most impressive is that Mulaney and those involved with the production (including guests!) have somehow figured out the formula of what we’ve missed about earlier media while also being modern, relevant, and actually funny. All without seeming like any board of directors or agent is micromanaging the content.

Only the first episode is out but, based on it, I very much recommend watching the rest. “Something someone just out of rehab would make” indeed (complement).

Note: I say all this as someone who’s been in similar positions with the mental health system as Mulaney, is now becoming a therapist, and understands how fucking hard it is to “get better”. Also, I don’t keep up with celeb drama. I got enough shit to worry about. This is about THE ART (/hot iron giant guy) … also it’s about how I had been in a mental health/rehab facility before Mulaney went public on his own struggles and had never seen a popular celebrity talk about life events similar to mine. So I paid more attention to this than I normally would.

[fettesans]

Top, screen capture from Material Witness OR A Liquid Cop, Ed Atkins, 2012. Watch (ubu is back btw). Bottom, Roman Signer, Wagen, 1998, 120 x 108 x 60 cm. Via.

--

The social dimension of pain is thus suppressed and repressed. Chronic pain, a pathological phenomenon of the burnout society, does not give rise to protest. In the neoliberal society, tiredness is apolitical. It is a tiredness-of-the-I, a symptom of the overstretching of the narcissistic subject of performance. Tiredness isolates us instead of binding us together into a We. I-tiredness must be distinguished from We-tiredness, which is the product of a community. I-tiredness is the best defence against revolution.

Byung-Chul Han, from The Palliative Society, 2021. Via.

--

Accelerationalism began life as the British cousin of the Californian philosophy of Extropianism, which also began in the early 1990s (as I wrote here). There’s a similar anarcho-libertarianism, hyper-capitalism, worship of new technology and expectation of a sudden leap beyond the human. But this wasn’t California, it was Coventry — and Accelerationism was much darker and more nihilistic than Californian transhumanism. After all, Land’s first book was called ‘Thirst for Annihilation’.

Land has said: ‘I have no interest in human liberation, or liberation of the human species. I’m interested in liberation of the means of production’. In other words, Accelerationism had nothing to do with expanding human potential. This was not Californian self-help. This was about liberating the machine from the human. Accelerationism aimed to push capitalism further and faster, until it’s just machines whirring round in a lifeless universe. Pure Fordism.

The CCRU grew out of cybernetics, and the sense that humans are agents in a world full of other agents — machines, ecosystems, DNA, perhaps demons as well. All these entities have desires. Machines have desires. Why foreground human desires and aspirations? The obvious answer is because we’re human. But that’s not enough for post-human philosophies. For Accelerationists, the aim is the liberation of What Technology Wants. Here’s a quote from a good write-up by Yuxi Lin at LessWrong:

our world, with its cars, finances, AI, and other industrial technologies, has a clear goal of its own: a future dominated by more upgraded versions of these technologies, with humans becoming extinct or irrelevant.

You can come across this idea in Californian transhumanism / Extropianism too. It’s humans’ glorious destiny to be supplanted by AI machines. But transhumanists typically imagine super-intelligent spiritual machines, far smarter than humans. It’s a worship of intelligence. With Accelerationism, at least in Land’s case, I get the feeling it’s more a misanthropic hatred of the human condition and a desire to annihilate consciousness and replace it with the machine. It’s philosophy as modish death-wish.

Jules Evans, from Accelerationism, amphetamine philosophy, and the Death Trip, January 21, 2023.

[longing-for-rain]

This is unacceptable behavior

So this morning, I found this blog who has apparently taken it upon themselves to “call out” anyone they suspect of using AI in either fan art or fanfics. No proof needed; just send them an anon ask and they’ll start throwing people under the bus.

This person is harassing artists, writers, and anyone who questions them. They’re even demanding that artists upload videos of themselves drawing by hand to “prove” they’re real.

Reading their blog gets even more disturbing. Apparently “suspicious activity” for artists can be something as simple as experimenting with a different style, having trouble drawing hands, improving too quickly, uploading too quickly, or even using digital watercolor. So essentially, artists deserve harassment for being too good, not good enough, or if they don’t use 100% traditional techniques. Do you really think that’s helping artists? All you’re doing is intimidating people away from their hobbies and encouraging toxicity. Cut it out.

For context, yesterday @azula-brain messaged me in my DMs to accuse me of AI usage. I explained that a) I don’t consider my images “AI art” in the sense of “push a button and it makes a picture” because I only use it as a filter over my existing work, b) that I’ve posted detailed explanations of my artistic process before and that still didn’t stop people from harassing me over anon. She also accused me of charging people for art, which I very clear state in my pinned post that I do not accept commissions.

I’m committing a crime by not using fully traditional art, and by having a tip jar (keep in mind, many blogs simply use the built in tumblr feature which is easily understood to be for tipping bloggers they like, not art commission payments). I told her I suggest she simply block and move on if she was unhappy, but apparently that wasn’t good enough, so she called me out by name instead along with the above noted misinformation after I refused to bow to her threats over DMs.

But anyways, I’m done caving to threats, and so should the rest of you. Nothing you do will ever appease the mob, and I’m sick of these literal children making blogs like this thinking they’re saving the world, when literally they’re just stirring up drama and harassing random artists who were doing nothing wrong.

[batwritings]

Kinktober Day 25 - Exhibitionism

More Spider hottie hours. >:3 Enjoy!~

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You’re not entirely certain how you found yourself in this situation. It wasn’t that you were complaining, oh no. Aside from the location, the fact that you were bouncing on Miguel’s thick erection to clear your body of leftover adrenaline, you were happy as a clam.

“Oh mi amor,” Miguel growls, his claws digging into your thighs. It was a welcome pain that blended so beautifully with the pleasure. You feel his sharp canines nip at your collar bone, dragging you impossibly closer.

You were lost in this blissful haze for…well, you’d long lost track of time. Your spider suit was torn to shreds, but you couldn’t even be mad. That last mission had been a near disaster and this was the perfect way to get that leftover adrenaline out of your system.

All was going so well and you were inching closer to your end when your spider sense began to tingle dully in your head. “Fuck…n-not now…” you whined, leaning into every single touch the Latino man laid on you. You did so well at ignoring it all up until you heard the door to Miguel’s office slide open. “Heads up lovebirds, you’ve got company,” you could hear Lyla advise. As if having the slightly-obnoxious AI present during this all wasn’t enough.

Your lover pulls you down all the way onto his cock, forcing you to effectively straddle him in his lap. He used that absurd super-human strength to hold you in place, not letting you continue to ride him. You tried to whine, but bright red webbing wound it’s way around your throat. It didn’t stop you from breathing, but certainly cut off your whine. 

“Hey hey Miguel!” Oh fuck it was Peter B. Parker, of fucking course. “Don’t worry, I promise I didn’t bring my little bundle of joy with me. But I do have some new pictures I just have to–”

“What do you want?” Miguel’s tone was cold as always, as if he didn’t have your sloppy walls gripping his member like a vice. “I’m in the middle of something here, so whatever it is make it quick.”

“In the middle of what? Brooding?” Peter laughs. Many members of the Spider Society gave your lover a hard time for how hard he was constantly working. None of them blamed him of course, and it was perhaps their own way to try to help him cope with his past. 

You could hear the tell tale signs of the society’s local dad release some web. Next was the sensation of his feet touching down onto the pedestal where their leader loved to sit. You looked to Miguel with panic in your eyes, knowing damn well you two were about to get caught. He shot you one back, one you knew all too well. 

“C’mon you gotta see–” Peter’s words dropped from his mouth when he saw the situation the both of you were in. Your arms were wrapped around Miguel’s neck, his claws digging into your hips as if to claim you as his. You were seated firmly on his cock, and you couldn’t help but laugh internally at the blush Peter was now sporting.

Without a word, Miguel leaned forward and bit into the juncture of your shoulder and neck. The pain and pleasure blending with each other had you gasping, a long moan falling from your lips. The Latino man lets you go, licking his lips while making direct eye contact with Peter.

“I’m in the middle of something,” he says again, eyes never leaving your interloper. “Can. It. Wait?” Each word gets more and more forced. You can practically hear Peter nodding, a series of “yeah” “sure” and of “of course” leaving him as he makes a quick escape.

Once the door is shut, your lover sighs in annoyance. You feel your body involuntarily clench around the hot, thick cock inside you and piercing ruby eyes look to you. “What? Did you like being watched?” Miguel purrs, giving you a devious smile.

You feel your cheeks heat up, any thoughts getting cut off as you’re lifted up so your boyfriend’s member can slam back into you. “Answer me cariño,” he commands, setting a brutal pace of fucking you again. You’re barely able to think, but by some miracle, your answer falls out.

“Y-yes!” You moan, gripping onto Miguel’s forearms like a lifeline. “L-loved being watched. W-ant you to cl-laim me in fron-nt of them…! Mmh! Mi-guel…!” You can hear the Latino man groan against your skin as you are all but pushed over the edge. 

Your skin buzzes with pleasure as you milk his cock for all it’s worth. Your sex leaks against the remains of your spider suit and a bit onto his, but you can’t bring yourself to give a damn. Miguel is not far behind you, his hot cum painting your insides. 

The grip on your hips doesn’t lessen at all by the time you are both finished. You’re held close as you feel Miguel inhale your scent. You press a kiss to the top of his head to assure him that you were still here, still solid. A soft chuckle that reverberates against your collar bone catches your attention.

“So mi corazón likes to be watched huh? Maybe we’ll make him stay next time.”