#anyway enough blubbering

[paris-geller-was-straightwashed]

okay so, having now seen furiosa: a mad max saga opening night and having Ruminated on my thoughts, I am going to give my two-pence on the movie even though nobody asked or wanted it - you're getting it anyway!

but before going into the full thing, I actually re-watched fury road today, bc I just wanted to contrast it now that we know furiosa's full story that lead her to her trek in fury road, and I just had mad max on the brain (and also I love that movie).

spoilers under the cut below!!

first, I already knew before seeing the prequel, that that scene in fury road where furiosa breaks down after learning about what happened to 'the green place,' was going to now hit 2x as hard once we learn what really happened the moment she was ripped away, and...yeah, it's super painful to watch. it was already a very emotional scene, but now having known how much pain and struggle it costed her, how many times furiosa desperately made her bet to get back home and fell short - you can really feel her grief

funnily enough though, I was shocked to find myself tearing up not during that scene, but when furiosa was reunited with the last of the many mothers. having just watched her ripped away so unfairly as a defenseless child, her whole world destroyed and clinging onto this dream of one day, getting to embrace her family - you can't help it!! I started tearing up when the other woman rushed to furiosa, embracing her with the gentle touch of their foreheads, 'this is our furiosa' 😭 like..she did it!! she made it home!!! - also, I learned in the credits - that woman was actually the same little girl, valkyrie, in furiosa who was her friend!!! that girl saw her friend get snatched and pulled away from their home, and then finally, both grown, they reuinite! I just thought that was sweet

what max says to her about hope in the scene after they find the mothers, 'if you can't fix what's broken..you'll go insane.' - my mind immediately jumped to dementus. we get this glimpse that he once had a wife and child(ren) he loved, that were either taken from him or killed, and he tells furiosa in their stand-off more or less how that destroyed him mentally, further plunging him into this hateful madman who acts so cruelly to others. he couldn't 'fix' it by getting them back ('I want them back!!' 'I can't!!'), the one thing he loved that kept him sane, and so he lost his humanity.

I saw a post of someone saying how ricktus's death (immortan joe's son) is 10x more satisfying after having seen what he (nearly) did to child furiosa...abso-fucking-lutely (though, I think with that in mind, furiosa should've gotten a part in it..)

also, max & and furiosa's dynamic after knowing about her & jack...the parallels! the parallels!! their gradual bond of trust, how fluidly they work together to kill/fight the enemies of the citadel akin to her and jack vs. dementus and gang, etc.

this saga, of course, is about hope and redemption, alluded to in both fury road and the prequel. in fury road, max says (I think in his opening monologue) how he was once strived to be a 'righteous warrior', who could do good and help others. later, when one of the wives finds the warboy nux, he's distraught bc he thinks his chances for greatness are gone, but then she tells him that maybe, he's destined for something greater - and that would be, of course, later sacrificing himself to save her and the rest by crashing the rig into the war party. in furiosa, jack says how his parents were valiant warriors, and how he hopes one day, he could be the same - also, later, fulfilling that by sacrificing himself so that furiosa might escape dementus and the destroyed gastown. it's just such an amazing string of parallels - all three men, looking to do something great, and then, through furiosa, they're given that chance and achieve something good even amongst the destruction!! but it's only bc of furiosa, this harbinger of hope, that they do so - she's the tie between them all, the embodiment of that goodness!!! it's! just! so! good!!!

honestly there's probably way more parallels out there I'm sure ppl will bring up, but those were the things that struck me. now, onto my actual thoughts on the prequel.

--I'll start by saying I was unbelievably excited to see this movie. I'm annoyed though, bc despite knowing about it and wanting to see it once it was released, I literally only learned it was coming out a week before the release date. straight up, the press for it was so poor, not once did I hear about it before the trailer randomly crossed my feed one day - and considering how popular fury road is, I find that bizarre (but, I'll bet you a good couple bucks, that the press/hype was deliberately poor bc of the movie company execs, due to this being a female lead film 😠) - but it did mean I didn't have to wait too long, and that I did watch the trailer about 13 times on my own accord until then..

--having read the reviews, I do agree, it is a bit slower then fury road - but, that's really only bc it's a character story instead. fury road takes places in the current time of the film and the actions that follow, whereas the prequel is specifically about furiosa, so it's honed less to the action and more about a certain character, in my opinion. but it's just as good for a character story! it does an excellent job of unfolding furiosa's journey, and really, if you're gunna compare everything in the franchise to fury road, it's never gunna live up. that said, there's still excellent action and real nail-biting moments.

--I will say though, that I found it almost...darker, then fury road? fury road is definitely intense and there's of course violence, but it never openly tips into anything past pg-13; the darkness that is there, is more or less touched upon by the narrative (like, we can get a sense of what must've happened to the wives (ie assault) and why they escaped once we see how immortan joe regards them as property, the suffering furiosa must've went through by the pure vitriol look she gives him when their cars are side-by-side and later, 'remember me?' before killing him (my favourite scene)). but it's never explicit - furiosa is. from the torture of her mother, to that scene right after the max cameo when he drops furiosa off at the citedel's underground where I literally had to cover my eyes and ask my friend to say when it was done..there's an overtone of darkness that gives to the tragedy of furiosa, this child molded from pain (not to mention, again, that scene of ricktus and her as a child which to me, was the most nerve-wracking moment). fury road gives you a glimpse, but furiosa doesn't hold back.

--chris hemsworth, meanwhile, made an excellent villain. not just as an actor, but dementus as a character was fantastic. he's got lots of great lines and brings in a lot of humor - he's both deranged and erratic, while also clever and simultaneously childish, and mostly, cruel. he's wonderfully dynamic. bringing in a backstory of losing his wife/child was a great added piece to his story (I love a good backstory), and the way he takes the loss of his kid and tried to mold it around furiosa, tries to fill that empty piece inside, was a great choice in terms of their dynamic. it made him more then just a mad-man who stole a child for yuks - he had a deeper desire to tote furiosa around, almost as a security blanket in the same way the teddy bear also acts as one. his final monologue was great - the ramblings of a hateful man, but it was, in the end, what got furiosa to see past vengeance, and become better - to choose hope, and not destruction.

--anya taylor-joy did a great job I thought - while I wish furiosa had more lines, she made up for it in just the facial expressions and how full they were, really giving us a glimpse of what furiosa was feeling. even still, it would've been nice to have known what was going on in her head, or even hear her talk about her past - the green place, and then dementus, are the pure driving force of her character, yet she doesn't ever mention or grapple with her grief around these things, simply stays silent (except for the final confrontation with dementus). I would've loved maybe, if she had confided in jack, or maybe even one of the wives, to give more depth to her feelings.

--I also wish furiosa could've bonded with someone else besides jack, or at least before him. it would've been nice for to have had at least one ally, or, I dunno, a friend? like that war boy who had dwarfism - she seemed almost sad, when realizing after the battle that he was dead. instead, she's alone, but a fellow misfit friend could've been nice.

--speaking of jack, loved him! thought he was great! it's unfortunate his part was so short, would've loved delve into his background (also, I'm as gay as they come, but he's like..an objectively Good Looking Man, so well done all around).

--I was really nervous, for how they were gunna do the romance. I was against it initially, bc the great thing about fury road, was that romance was not at all forced into the narrative - you can read that between max & furiosa if you want, but for one of the very, very few times when a woman and man team up, romance wasn't forcefully wedged in, and instead they could be respected allies. so I was skeptical - and then I totally fell for them. they were so sweet! the two actors had great chemistry - their bond was just so soft. the way, after they crash and are caught by dementus, furiosa, who can barely stand, gently leans herself into jack's shoulder, sweetly muttering to each other as he leans his forehead back against hers, like 😩😩 it was so lovely, and so tragic. you could really feel the respect and care they had for each other; it was so organic, bc jack genuinely wanted to help furiosa. he respected her and asked nothing of her - he was a purely good man, and through that, furiosa was able to open up to him and trust him. it's the great curse of the mad max universe though - no romance can escape it's claws, same with how nux and one of the wives were torn apart. in my heart of hearts though, there lives a little AU fic where dementus doesn't catch them, and they make their way back to the green place and live happily ever after with a kid perhaps, and maybe, furiosa and him go back to later rescue the wives (they say, like they're not thinking of already writing that very fic...).

--one more thing about furiosa I wanted to mention, if I can call back to earlier saying how she becomes a beacon of hope for the various men that enter her life (and the women too, when you think of the wives..) - that, despite all this horror handed to her, at the very end of the rope, she gives into her hero's heart. time over, we see, even as the destruction of the wasteland chips away at her, furiosa can never quite betray her heart. she runs back to her mother even after being pushed to leave, she goes back for jack despite having the perfect escape to finally make it back home, and in the end, takes all her hurt and anger wrapped up in dementus, and turns it and him into something that can bring good into the world. it's about choosing good, above all!! a hero's heart, even in the darkest of worlds!!!

--the trailer really emphases the green place, but we only see it for like...a couple minutes? I was looking forward to more lore about it, maybe seeing some of it's inhabitants like the mothers. but furiosa is taken immediately and then her mother starts her hunt after her, and that's it. kinda a bummer.

--there's a couple inconsistencies here and there - like, when furiosa is first brought to where the wives are kept, there's gotta be about 20 women in there, roughly. but then, as she becomes a young adult, we see at the very end her approach the 5 wives from fury road (I was expecting a call-back, so loved that) and it looks like there's only them there - what happened to the rest of the women??? did they all die in childbirth?? also, when furiosa runs away and hides herself as a warboy/mechanic, how did no one know she was gone?? it seems odd, since immortan joe specifically picked her out and probably has a mental line-up of all his 'treasures', you'd think he'd notice. or how, later on, the new 'imperior' with jack looks oddly similar to that young girl ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

--also, I wanna know how furiosa got away with being the only female imperior - you'd think immortan joe might snag her away instead to be a wife bc she's young and viable, or that she'd be either dismissed or preyed upon by his sons/the other men. maybe because she was partnered with jack it was easier, but that was kinda confusing.

--final thing, bc this post is already too long - my last gripe is mainly about furiosa's dynamic with immortan joe. in furiosa, her revenge is purely motivated towards dementus, but then, switching to fury road, she now holds contempt and anger towards the warlord. part of what I wanted to see in the film, was her past with immortan joe; we didn't know initially how furiosa got to the citadel, but my interpretation, was always that possibly (because she was branded with the logo on her neck) she was brought on as a wife, inevitably abused by him, and then something happened where she was no longer useful as a wife (maybe an accident that cost her her arm) but was still useful as a tool. but, immortan joe isn't really looked at in the prequel; he's here and there, but doesn't show any particular cruelty or act towards furiosa that I was expecting. that vitriol she shows in fury road, and of course, 'remember me?', makes you think there was something there to fuel furiosa's revenge. instead, nothing really occurs between them - of course, furiosa is brought on to breed him children and then is expected to do his every bidding in getting supplies, so, I think we're supposte to assume that she has seen how cruel he is up close, and so acts against him. still, I was expecting something deeper there.

all in all, I loved it and had a great time. fury road will always be one of my favourites, but this is a great addition. fury road is great on all fronts; a fascinating world, great characters, amazing action, a well-made and clearly cared for story, but the thing I love most - is that it's about hope. it's about choosing, every day, despite the horrors around you, to get up and hope for something better. to do something better, even at your own cost. it's about hope and what we mean to each other when we extend it. and I just love that so much

go see furiosa! support it! it's a great time!

[realcube]

when you tell your favourite client he may not cum inside you, but he accidentally does it anyway, so he eats it out of you to make things right...

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

// tw creampie, vaginal, oral (f receiving), squirting, overstimulation

you told kenma beforehand that you were already bending the rules of the strip club by having sex with him. so, as to ensure there is no evidence, you insist that he cannot cum inside you — either put some rubber on or pull out; those are his options. and of course, he chose the latter.

but you knew his pull out game was weak..

yet, when he grips your hips and you feel his hot load spurting inside your sensitive walls, while he's blubbering all sorts of shit his under his breath about "i'm soso sorry— i just can't, you're just too — hah, tight.. 'm so sorry." , you're disappointed but not surprised.

but you weren't just going to lay there as an already overstimulated cumdump with his seed dribbling out of your cunt and down your thigh. no, you stood up for yourself and demanded kenma clean up the mess he made. to which, he obliged.

next thing you knew, he was laid down and you were sat on his face, pussy locked to his mouth as he furiously sucks at your cunt like it's the only meal he ate all day. your hands on his chest are the only thing bracing you as his insane mouthwork makes you weak in the knees.

his tongue digs into your tight hole viciously and repeatedly, like he's on a mission. and you still can't help but grind down on his face, desperately searching for more stimulation to take you right over the edge. he held you against him with his own hands, and let himself loose between your thighs. his lips weaved with your puffy, sticky labia and massaged your sensitive folds. while his tongue thrusted into you over and over, exploring your insides — albeit, there wasn't much undiscovered territory left as he's been at this for almost half an hour straight.

perhaps it was the fact your mind has been entirely hazed by your countless previous orgasms, or maybe it was due to the fiery one sneaking up on you now, but asking kenma to eat the cum out of you was starting to feel like a poor idea. it was quite futile; you were still stuffed with his cum, all his tongue really did was push it deeper inside you. plus, now you were slick with a bunch of other fluids too, like his spit and your own squirt.

"kenma.." you heaved, lazily grind your hips against his face as he was still engaged in a sloppy makeout session with your cunt. "haven't you had enough?"

his grip tightens on your legs to hold you in place, and he peers up at you from between your legs, "not really." he states bluntly.

[girlyhornywriter]

Pushing her buttons...

Imagine having a button you could press that magically makes you fatter, by like +1 pound. That'd be neat, right? I wonder where you would draw the line and finally stop pressing it.

I mean, the first dozen presses would just be so you can test if it's actually working. One or two probably wouldn't feel like much, but by the time you hit the double-digits of extra pounds gained, you'd probably feel the extra tightness in your pants. Maybe your shirt would ride up a little bit because your belly and tits have grown a little bigger, but it wouldn't be anything *crazy*. Even after 12 presses, you'd still basically feel the same. Maybe your balance would be a little off with the extra weight, but nothing you can't deal with. If you put a hand on your midriff, you'd notice it bulging out more, and that it's softer and fleshier than you're used to, but all in a good way.

Being realistic though, you wouldn't stop there, would you? You've dreamed of stuff like this. An opportunity to make yourself *so* much fatter is just too tempting for you to pass up. Maybe you'd try to resist the temptation for a while, but we both know you'd fold under the pressure and start pressing it again. Fast.

You'd get undressed and stand in front of a mirror so you could watch your figure swell with dozens of extra pounds of soft, pale blubber. You'd hold your belly in one hand while you press the button with the other. Press after press, you feel it push out just a little bit further. It'd feel softer and softer in your hands as your gut grows heavier and jigglier.

Now you're thirty pounds heavier than you started, and you're *really* starting to notice the results now. Your belly hangs over your thighs quite a lot further than you remember, and your ass is looking so fat when you get a good look at yourself from the side. Stopping now crosses your mind, but you quickly dismiss it; your tits might be bigger, but they're not really big enough yet, and you're still only at "BBW" size anyway. You can handle some more pressing.

Click by click, you feel yourself growing heavier. Your belly has gotten so big and blubbery that it starts to fold into two thick rolls, giving you a definite double-belly that you can't wait to show off to your girlfriend when she gets home. In the meantime though, you keep pressing the button. You've lost track of the exact number at this point, but you think you're somewhere around 60 pounds heavier than when you started (it's actually closer to 80). You look at your doughy belly and thighs being groped by your hand in the mirror, and notice how much pudgier and softer your hand is starting to look. Nothing is immune to the weight you're piling on, and that just makes you even hornier. You resume clicking it.

Another thirty pounds make their way onto your figure when you stop again, this time because your gaze drifted upwards towards your face. Your cheeks look so much fuller now, giving your face a decidedly rounder shape. Your double-chin is much more pronounced than it used to be; your jawline is completely buried under a thick layer of chubbiness at this point, and you can't help but smile about it. It feels so good to be so much more... *plush*.

You tell yourself that you'll give yourself twenty more presses, then you'll quit. But once you get there, you decide... maybe just a few more. So you press it *another* ten times. Then you notice how close your breasts are to touching when you're sitting down, and can't help but want to see them finally become big enough to rub against each other as you walk. So you keep pressing it. Not really paying attention to the number any more, just to your breasts, as they get heavier and softer and rounder with every click.

Finally, it happens.

Not your breasts touching, like you were waiting for. The chair you were sitting on breaks instead. You hadn't heard it creaking as your fat ass grew ever fatter and heavier with every click of the button. It just hadn't crossed your mind that your furniture had already been struggling against your mass before you got this button. Now though, it had finally given up...

You decided this was your sign to call it quits - you should dust yourself off and think yourself lucky that you didn't do something stupid and make yourself absolutely massive. You drag yourself up onto your feet with a lot more difficulty than you expected, then push the shattered remains of the chair aside with your foot. You check your ass and thighs for any damage, but aside from the massive amount of extra cellulite now occupying them, and the angry red stretchmarks that have suddenly become even more omnipresent across your body, you seem to be fine. You look down for the button, but can't see it anywhere among the debris. You look around the room, when you finally spot it.

Your girlfriend is in the doorway, holding it in her hand.

"I like what you've done to yourself, babe" she says with a smile, her gaze travelling up and down your now much fatter figure, eyeing your new curves and rolls with glee. She licks her lips. "I wonder how you got so big, so fast, princess... Could it be this, maybe?" She presses the button.

Maybe you could have denied the effect the button had just had on you, if it wasn't for the fact that at that moment, the panties you had been wearing finally gave up, shredded by your immense girth with an audible rip and leaving you exposed to your girlfriend in more ways than one. The smile on her face broadens.

"I think I get the picture... Well, shall we see what this thing can do?" She starts clicking the button as fast as her fingers are capable of. Ten pounds, twenty pounds, thirty pounds, you feel your body swelling with the extra mass second by second as she starts to giggle. You try to run towards her, but you're far too fat now to move so quickly, so all you can do is waddle gracelessly towards her as she easily evaded your attempts to grab the button from her hand. You reach the doorway and look down at your expanding body, in awe at just how much of the weight seems to be going straight to your belly rolls. Your thickening paunch slaps against your thickened thighs as you keep trying to pursue your mischievous girlfriend. She escapes into the living room, and you follow her, your steps growing heavier with every click that echoes through your ears.

By the time you corner her in front of the couch, the click count must be at 250 by now, and you're feeling every ounce of the blubber she has poured onto your body. You're exhausted and breathless from trying to catch her, and she can see you're close to collapsing. She speeds up the pace of her clicking, holding the button high above her head where you have no hope of reaching it. You make one final lunge, hoping to swipe it from her hand before you're too fat to stand...

But you miss.

You lose your balance and stumble towards the couch, where you drop heavily onto the straining frame. Your ass takes up far more of space than you're used to and you sink deep into the soft cushions, hearing creak as it settles under your immense bulk. Your girlfriend stands over you, victorious.

"I think that couch had a max weight rating of 800 lbs, didn't it? Shall we test that?"

As much as you struggle against your own fattened figure, you can't haul your fat ass and gut off of the couch. You're just too heavy, and only getting heavier as she presses the button over and over and over again. Your thighs press together even as you try to spread them as wide as possible; your belly fills your entire lap and just keeps spilling out further and further over the edge of the couch; and your tits keep swelling too, easily exceeding G-cups in size with no signs of stopping.

Eventually, inevitably, the couch gives way to your blubber-laden body. You sink down even further as the couch breaks right down the middle, leaving you in a V-shaped dip, helplessly trapped by your hundreds of new pounds of fat and cellulite. Your hands grope your thick rolls of flab and you feel a strange mix of horror and arousal at how soft and jiggly you are now, *all over*.

Your girlfriend looks very pleased with herself.

"I hope you're comfy, big girl, because you're not going to be doing much walking from now on. I was always hoping I could get you to fatten up for me, to turn you into my stay-at-home piggy, too fat to do anything but make herself even fatter. It was always just a pipe dream, but apparently, dreams really *do* come true...

"I'll let you stay like this until I can find us a bed that can handle the massive whale of a girl like you've become. Once I've got you settled there though, I'm going to give this thing a couple hundred more clicks.

"You'll be so helpless and useless, but don't worry, princess. I'll make sure you know how much I love every single inch of you."

[softbabybelle]

𝜗𝜚 c!w. crybaby!reader, a little blood, swear words, soft!rafe, suggestive

it wasn't often that rafe cameron finished dealing with business early. his feet passed through the doorframe of tannyhill where he expected to find you rumaging around the house, up to no good as you always were, despite such pure intentions.

however, the sound of little sobs and whimpers left him trailing upstairs.

"sweetheart? wh's wrong?" he slowly creaked the bedroom door open. he spotted you sitting in the bed decorated with frilly pink bedsheets, your choice of course, fat globs of tears rolling down your cheeks and swollen lips, burying your face into a pillow. "hey, hey, wh's the tears for, huh?"

"'s my leg." rafe watched as you sat up on the bed, showing the little gash on your left knee, a little blood trailing down your leg. "w-was on the ladder 'n then―"

but rafe cut you off, his brows raised. "on the ladder? what were you on the ladder for, huh? you were already told about climbing stuff when 'm not home." there was a mean etch to his tone.

you could only blubber. "'m sorry, r-rafe. 'm really sorry, j-jus wanted my lights up."

rafe sighed, agitated as he leaned over to the bedside locker where a little first aid kit was hidden. it was safe to say that you were prone to accidents. "shouldn't have been climbing a fuckin' ladder when i wasn't home." he grasped your leg, despite his harsh tone, his touch was gentle. "stop cryin', sweetheart, you're fine."

you felt him wiping an antiseptic wipe across your knee, collecting the trailing blood too. "rafe that h-hurts." another few fat tears rolled down your cheeks, stuttering over your words.

"you're fine, pincess." rafe couldn't help the low guilt swimming in his stomach. he knew you were dramatic, it was in your nature and by no means did it hurt enough for you to be sat in the bed crying your pretty eyes out. but nonetheless, he rolled his eyes and helped you up into your lap.

he was still learning with you, gauging your every response to his touches and his words.

a little comfort went a long way, apparently.

you eventually did stop crying, albiet in his lap and clinging around his neck. you were still sniffling quietly and rafe couldn't help but give in.

"relax, sweetheart, you're fine now." you nodded gently against the crook of his neck. "'s over, okay? 'want no more tears from you, alright?"

you could only nod again, saying nothing.

rafe only rolled his eyes. though they instantly fell on the little lights that were sitting up on the desk. they were in the shapes of pink stars and quite frankly, they were a little ugly. but you'd been talking about these damn lights with weeks, every day you's show him your phone, glittery nails shooting out to show him the tracking of your delivery.

"i'll put up your lights." he grumbled, watching as your head rose.

"you will?" you sounded all stuffed up and snotty from crying, eyes all red and face a little blotchy.

rafe sighed, knowing he was mean but he wasn't downright evil. "mm." he grumbled again in response, seating you off his lap and onto the bed. "but you stay away from this fuckin' ladder, y'hear?"

you nod happily into the pink pillows and watch him grab the pretty lights into his hands. "thank you rafey."

he didn't respond, only turning with the lights in his hands. "turnin' my room into a damn pink zoo." he glanced sideways when you didn't respond, you were too busy staring at your knee with your eyes filled with tears all over again.

rafe wanted to roll his eyes but he opted not to.

a little soft tone went a long way, too, apparently. "your leg hurtin', baby?"

you nod, sniffling as your fingers trace the cut. it's not bleeding anymore but rafe knew you'd end up putting some strange plaster on it later anyway, designed with something pink, probably.

you watched him lean down, with your leg in his hands as he pressed a gentle kiss to your knee, eyes looking up at you. "poor girl, jus' wanted her pretty lights up, huh?"

"mhm." when rafe pitied you, you started to pity yourself too.

"my poor girl." he reached up for you, pulling you down into a soft embrace as his breath fanned your neck. "'s okay, baby, rafe'll make it all better, won't he?"

your mind went all fuzzy and your body went all warm. "uh huh." you could feel his hand trailing up past your wounded knee, beneath your skirt.

"you jus' relax, yeah?" fingers attaching to your pretty panties. "let rafe take care of you.

[saosinn]

mac 'bought' you a special gift!

suggestive blurb under the cut!

mac is not subtle in the slightest, especially when it comes to you. a few nights ago when you were looking on some.. interesting sites, mac noticed something interesting, and they may or may not have added a surprise to your cart. you were too tired to notice the new item; when your account balance the next morning you chalked up the unexpected price to a fee you didn't notice before.

the day the package arrived mac was suspiciously giddy, practically bouncing off the walls when you sat down at your desk to open it. without hesitation, you opened the box and took a look it's contents. everything you ordered was there, wrapped in their own containers of plastic and bubble wrap, but to the side of the box there was a smaller container, one that you didn't recognize.

grabbing the container you quickly tore off it's plastic, eyes squinting as you read the packaging. remote controlled lover... what? you didn't order this, no way. the last time you ordered something remote controlled, it didn't live up to the hype. just as you were about to start the refund process, you heard a giggle from your monitor. you blinked, and it immediately clicked. a heavy sigh left you while you tried to fight back a smile, pinching the center of your brow.

...

since that day, mac has been tormenting you with this vibrator. you two got into a small argument about it, but they managed to calm you down and propose a deal : "if i can prove that it was worth the money, you can't be mad at me anymore." y'know what, fine, it'd be easier than trying to request a refund anyway. you agreed, which mac was delighted to hear, but this had to be done on their terms. they had to be the only one who got access to the remote, and the vibrator always had to be in your panties. seemed easy enough, right? wrong.

every morning when you come into your office, they "check to see if it works", and each time that they took great pleasure in that sudden lurch that shook your entire body. when you sat down and used the computer, it was on, their voice low while they taunted you. it wasn't just when you were interfacing with them, even if you were upstairs, the remote still happened to miraculously work.

talking with another dateable? they'd press the button, starting soft and slow. you know mac isn't exactly the jealous type, but if the object you're talking to gets a bit too flirty, they won't hesitate to crank up the setting. you don't get to cum though, not yet! mac has to drag this out, as an excuse to show you what you'd be missing out on if you didn't have it, but also as a little bit of payback for getting mad at them.

after almost a week of being edged, you reached your limit. that morning, you were even more sensitive than normal, almost cumming immediately when mac pressed the button. it was on for almost the entire day, at a certain point you couldn't even stand due to the overstimulation, teary-eyed as you bit the inside of your cheek at your cheeks at your own stubbornness.

finally, it was night time. you rushed to the office on shaking legs, becoming a blubbering mess as you fell to the floor in front of mac. they cooed at you, reaching down to pet your hair condescendingly. "aww, baby, what's the matter? i thought you said you could handle it?" you shook your head no vigorously, hot tears running down your cheeks. "you win! y-you win, it wasn't a waste of money, please just let me cum."

they crossed their right leg over their left, holding up the remote as they looked at it curiously. well, you had been behaving this entire time, and you did finally concede, maybe mac should give you the release you so badly craved. you pathetically clung to their leg, rubbing your head against their knee as you peered up at them through bleary eyes. "you were good," they looked down at you with a slight smirk, the all to familiar sound of that button breaking the silence. "so i think you deserve a reward."

— 𓈒 ❤︎︎ ࣪ ˖

7/16/25

THIS WAS BUTT I'M SO SORRY i'm half asleep and my eyes hurt from crying over skips, but this is more than likely gonna get a part to HUZZAH I HOPE U ENJOY

[tojisth3rdwife]

BabyDaddyToji didnt react to your positive pregnancy test the way you expected him to. He was surprisingly chill about it despite all of the conversations the two of you had in the past about him not wanting anymore kids. Megumi was school-aged and wasnt nearly as bad as Toji made him out to be but you could understand his standpoint. Kids are a big deal. Theyre expensive. Theyre loud. They smell. They amplify your anxiety to the nth power. So yeah, you got it.

But for someone who didnt want any more kids, Toji wasnt that great at doing things to prevent them. He hated condoms and you understood birth control wasnt 100% effective, but there he was nutting you every night anyway.

So naturally when your period never came and your started to feel strange, your mind went straight to those conversations and how he would react if you were indeed pregnant.

He surprised you though. It was actually him who encouraged you to get a test because he’d noticed the change in you. And when you were sitting on the closed toilet seat, staring at the pee stick in shock with trembling hands, it was him kneeling in front of you with his huge hands resting on your knees.

“Tell me what it says.” he said calmly, his thumb skimming over your skin soothingly. Your jaw clenched and your eyes stung with the flow of tears threatening to coat them. Taking your silence as a response, Toji takes the pregnancy test from you and flips it to see for himself. When he sighs, a knot forms in your stomach and you brace yourself for the worst as his hard expression never changed.

“Toji..I..Im..” you begin, not even sure of what you wanted to say. Your voice shook with emotion, the sound making Toji’s cool green gaze jump from the test to your face. Before you could blubber anything else, the pregnancy test was set aside and Toji’s arms were pulling you from the toilet to join him on the floor. He stumbles back so that he’s seated with you cradled in his lap, rubbing your arm and cupping your cheek. You were crying by now, coherent words impossible as you sobbed into his chest.

“M’s-sorry..” you huffed and Toji furrowed his brow in confusion.

“For what? Im the one that did it..” he chuckled, though you didnt see what was so funny. You pull away just enough to brave a look at him, chin trembling pitifully.

“You…Youre not mad?” You blink, fat tears rolling down your face. Toji sighs at the sight of your sadness, feeling his heart was being squeezed and twisted just from looking at you. His expression remains stoic though, apart from the soft smirk on his lips.

“Nah..” he shakes his head. Your eyes flutter shut as Toji’s thumb rubbed over them to wipe the freshest tears away before continuing.

“Why would you think that, pretty girl? Hmm?”

This wasn’t part of your plan at all. Not that you were the traditional or conservative type but you at least wanted to be further along in your relationship with Toji before something like this happened. It had only been a few years of you being in a relationship, less than a year living together. Megumi was just now getting used to you being a consistent presence in his life and now here you go bringing a baby into the picture, someone else he’d have to tolerate and get used to.

And then there was Toji. He didn’t seem like the type to cut and run out on you over an unplanned pregnancy but would he resent you? Would he treat you differently now that things were about to get even more serious than they were?

Thinking of it all overwhelms you to the point of hysterics, and you hide your face in Toji’s neck to keep from facing the disappointment you just knew you’d find in his eyes.

If only you know how the only concern he had was comforting you.

“I just know this isnt what you wanted…I feel so stupid..” you find the strength to say between maintaining a steady breath, and Toji hugs you tighter. He kisses your forehead and exhales heavily, resting his cheek in your hair.

“It’s all good baby. None of that matters. Im here. Not goin anywhere, I promise.” He assures you, keeping you in his steady embrace until your breathing was no longer shuddered. You’d been quiet for a few minutes before Toji’s deep voice cut through the silence.

“Whew..hormones fucking you up already, huh? Damn…” Toji jokes half heartedly, earning him jab in the abs that he laughs off as he continued to hold and console you.

So boom. There you were. Pregnant af with Toji’s baby.

Much to your relief, Toji didnt change the way he treated you as the weeks passed. He was still sweet , in his own way, and very present. He went with you to the first appointment to confirm everything and make sure you were ok. He held your hand when your blood was drawn and watched the large monitor on the wall with interest when you were probed with the transvaginal ultrasound device.

“And there we are...” the OBGYN mutters distractedly as the probe stalled in a particular position inside of you, showing the small cavity of your womb and the little bitty bean nestled inside of it. Your eyes widen at the wiggly blip and it’s tiny heartbeat, your own starting to kick up in pace. Toji says nothing but he watches your reaction to seeing evidence of life growing inside of you. A life the two of you created.

Damn.

“What the hell...” you exhale, making Toji chuckle.

“Yep! Theres your baby. Id say youre about 9 weeks. Projecting your due date to be around...” the doctor pauses, typing something into the keyboard quickly.

“May 17th.” she finished.

She withdraws the scope and hands you a box of tissues to clean yourself, leaving for a minute to give you some privacy. Once alone with Toji in the small room, you looked to him with mixed emotions clear in your eyes. His expression is as stoic as it usually was but there was a warmth in his gaze that you found comforting.

He smirks.

“Looks like I knocked you up good, huh?” he jokes and you giggle.

“Yeah. It would appear so..”

You sigh as you sit up to get dressed and Toji sits back to watch you wiggle your booty back into your jeans. A magic trick if you asked him. You turn to him as you zipped your fly, uncertainty still clear on your face.

“What you thinking bout over there?” Toji asks, his eyes falling from your face to your trembling hands that worked over the button of your jeans. You exhaled a nervous laugh, shaking your head.

“Im honestly still in shock. Seeing the baby moving didnt bring me the feeling I expected it would..”

“What were you expecting to feel?” your man asks and you shrug solemnly.

“I dont know…Like I’m not making a huge mistake, I guess.” You chuckle humorlessly, blinking to resist that stupid urge to cry.

Toji’s head leans slightly, his eyes panning over you with concern. He sits up in his seat, offering you his hand.

“C’mere , mama..”

The irony of his usual pet name wasn’t lost on you but you were too emotional to be amused by it.

You walk towards him to stand between his legs and his hands come around to rub the backs of your thighs over the denim. He looks up at you with a softness that immediately disarms you, causing the tension in your body to melt away on contact.

“You cant worry about all of that shit right now. This is all gonna feel weird and new and scary but bright side is, you wont be going through any of it alone. Lucky for you, Ive kinda been through this before. Well..not being pregnant but..you get what Im saying..”

“I get it..” You smile at Toji stammering and lift a hand to cup his cheek, sliding it back to tug on his ear affectionately. Toji leans into the touch, grunting softly in reaction.

“Good. I also have some dad experience under my belt. Megumi survived a whole 3 and half years before you came into the picture and you see how he is. So you’re not just dead in the water here, babe. Ive got you.”

The image of Toji struggling with Megumi as an infant on his own comes to mind. You didnt know him then, only having his stories of that time to paint the picture for you. You couldn’t imagine how hard it must have been for Toji to cope with the fact that person he thought he’d be spending his life and raising his son with was gone, leaving him to take it on alone. The sleepless nights and tearful days, with very little support since she was all he had.

You never told him, but there was a soft spot in your heart for Toji’s deceased wife, since she was the one who taught him how to love in the first place. And it was her love that lived on in him and Megumi that was allowing you to step in. What a privilege that was, that you didn’t realize until this very moment.

Of course he wasnt going to tell you that he was terrified. Terrified of history repeating itself. Terrified of him not being able to save you. Terrified of fucking up royally and leaving another gaping hole in his chest that he wouldn’t allow anyone else in to fill. He’d never show you his fear when he saw the amount of it you were already battling.

With a soft smile and another squeeze, this time on your ass, Toji pulls you into a hug you wouldn’t dare refuse. His head rests against your chest and he inhales the scent of your perfume.

Youre pulled out of your moment when a few knocks at the door have you both turning to look just as the doctor is peaking her head in.

“You two ready to come back in the exam room for a consult to go over everything?”

You look to Toji and he gives you a wink and a soft pat on the butt before he’s standing.

“Yeah Doc. We’re ready.” he responds before you can, giving you a tiny smile of reassurance as he encouraged you to walk ahead of him.

Part 2

[jjmeii]

♡ — biker! toji that picks you up from your shifts at the sketchy bar on the outskirts of town because your stubborn ass refuses to quit and let him provide for you. he makes it a point to introduce himself to every single fucker in that shithole, and lets the scars and massive built do the rest of the talking.

and the gun. polished. loaded. in plain sight.

the first time he flashes it at the poor regular that’s been waiting for a turn with you, you roll your eyes and tell him to cut it out. “i can take care of myself.”

to which your overly smug boyfriend responds with a cock of his brow, a tilt of his head and a very poignant, very attractive slow crossing of his muscular arms.

“yeah? ‘s that so, sweetheart?”

the mocking tone of his deep voice leaves your cunt soaked, thighs rubbing together, desperate for friction. but you refuse to back down. and he refuses to give in to the notion his protection is not needed. because if you don’t need him? if he’s not able to take care of you the only way he knows how—violently, physically, life on the line—what does he have left?

he’s never been the emotional type, has no fuckin’ clue how to get close to you if it’s not in between your thighs, buried to the hilt in your warm, contracting pussy. he doesn’t know how to be anyway else for you, too stuck in his own ways, too old to change now.

what he’s trying to say—he cares. too fucking much. which, in his line of work, is reckless and unheard of and will most likely get him killed.

and it’s fine. he’s made his peace with death a long time ago.

so, please; let him be big and scary. if he dies, might as well leave someone behind that knows his name. that’s seen him.

♡ — biker! toji who smokes like a chimney waiting for you to get off. that makes sure you wear your helmet and zips your jacket all the way up, a well-versed routine, making sure your hair doesn’t get caught in the zipper in the most nonchalant way, following the gesture with a bruising grip on your thigh once you’re curved around his broad back, arms locking around his waist.

“no fuckin’ games tonight, menace. behave.”

riding with you always makes his dick hard. it’s the way you’re shifting against him, your hands tight on his torso at first, pretend-careful but then trailing, always fucking trailing, driving him insane, thoughts spiraling, damning. toji’s got his hands full with you.

you’re a goddamned brat that’s constantly testing his patience, his limits, and you know this. you hate being told what to do, except when he has your face shoved in a mattress, stuffing your misbehaving hole full of cock, reducing you into a sobbing, blubbering mess. it’s the only way you’ll listen. the only fucking way.

tonight’s no exception. he knew when he smelled alcohol on you. “who the fuck let you drink on the clock?”

“just a couple birthday shots. no big deal. i’m fine,” but you’re palming his growing erection and dry humping the expensive leather of his bike.

toji grips the handle bars tighter, knuckles whitening, and curses under his breath, all the blood flowing away from his thinking head. you smell fucking delectable, panties no doubt drenched, cunt aching, tits pressed up against the muscle on his back and those damned fingers unbuckling, eager, hungry, so fucking hungry, and he’s missed you, it’s been days, he’s been busy—

“careful before you do something you regret, baby.”

“what could i possibly regret from this?” his girl wants a challenge.

he chuckles, a million different ways he could bent your tight little body flashing through his mind. you’re so naive sometimes. you think he won’t push.

oh, but that’s what he loves doing the most.

the roads leading home are dark, the area desolate aside from the occasional car, and toji’s not about to be fucked with without returning the favor. a quick lick should do it with you. just enough to put you in your place before he can properly have his way with you.

he stops the bike on the shoulder, heavy boots coming down for balance and taps your knee twice. you whine but comply, unmounting, helmet off to reveal a flushed face and a mischievous glint in your pretty eyes.

towering over you even while seated, toji studies the way you’re trying to appear unaffected, and fingers the short hem of your dress, bringing you closer. you bite your lip, the silence thick with sexual tension.

he cups your mound in one swift, blunt motion. wet. of course. his cock twitches, tongue swiping over dry lips, preparing.

you grind on his hand and he loses it.

“‘s that how you’re gonna fuckin’ be? huh?” he shoots up from his place on the bike, kicking the stand down, and lifts you up onto the seat, hold possessive but steady, reprimanding yet safe, as he kneels in front of you a mad man, lifting the fabric separating him and your naughty fucking pussy, pulling down the pathetic excuse of lace and bow covering what’s his and diving right into where you need him most.

where he wants most to be. when you cry out he knows he made the right call. slurping the tiny bundle of nerves right into his mouth, he attacks your clit with a fervor bordering painful, jaw digging in just the right way right above your pulsing empty hole, making you jerk forward, fingers digging into his dark hair and pulling.

“so—goddamn—impatient,” his words vibrate into your pussy and cause your head to fall back in ecstasy, knee locking behind his head, keeping him in place, bringing him closer, closer, your hips bucking forward, riding his face, mind of their own. “fuck me.”

“please,” you moan out, high off the mental picture of your monstrous boyfriend eating you out on the highway, where anybody could see. “yes, yes, yes—”

his forearms come over your hips, and dip underneath, thick fingers digging into your ass as he dives deeper into your sex, tongue flattening in between your folds, lapping your juices, lewd sounds that make your stomach clench, your hole ache.

“wanna fuck you,” he mumbles, dropping wet kisses on the insides of your legs, before you feel fingers plunge deep inside you unannounced, in and out in and out, fast. “wanna fuck this pretty pussy. you gon’ let me, baby?”

he looks up at your through thick lashes, face glistening from your slick, and you can do nothing but nod, desperate, already turning in his hands, already itching for his cock to pistol into you and make you come again and again.

it’s exactly what he does. brutally, bruising. it’s always exactly how he gives it to you. buried to the hilt. so deep you swear you feel the tip of his long, fat cock in your belly, bullying your insides, rearranging them.

toji cums inside every time, then digs right back in between your slick pussy lips, licking you clean. tasting his desire on you. tasting yours.

“damn you,” he says hoarsely, forehead resting momentarily on the inside of your thigh, catching his breath. “every time i think i’m teaching you a lesson—you fuck me up, sweetheart. you.fuck.me.up.

“‘m the one learning. can’t live without this pussy. fuckin’ love it. wanna marry it.”

[kanyerealdaughter]

— ★ STILL TIRED ?

sexual content , cussing , intercourse , breeding , cowgirl , praise kink , slight anal , nipple play , (nagi seishiro x fem,reader) want more blue lock content.!

—————————————————————————

your boyfriend nagi who only does three things: sleep, eat, and play soccer… on a good day. hell, he’s even sleeping right now after all he did was play his video games for four hours straight while he barely gave a glance at you after that he went right to sleep.

" sei?" you say as you poke a side of his cheek but no movement was made which wasn't really that surprising since he’s a deep sleeper.

“ seiii..” you groaned, getting irritated that he wasn’t going to wake up any soon while still poking his cheeks nonstop.

“ come on say something-“ you cut yourself thinking of something much better instead of trying to force him to wake up.

“ i’ll ride you if-“ you didn’t even have to finish your sentence before nagi woke up, oh what a miracle.. nagi’s ears perk up slightly at your suggestive words out of nowhere, his eyes halfway open before flickering at from his phone screen briefly. 

" huh?" he grumbles sleepily, his voice cracked and tired as he rolls onto his back to face you. 

" you'll ride me?"

“ you heard me.”

" mmh..." he hums softly as he removes his glance from his phone and onto you, his eyes watching your body hungrily. he spreads his legs slightly, his boxers already tenting from your suggestion. 

" come here." he mutters softly, his voice deeper than before.

“ are there any more condoms..?” you asked him, praying that there is at least one since nagi sucks at pulling out. you hovered on top of him still with your panties on.

" no..." nagi groans softly at the sight of you, his eyes roaming over your body hungrily. he reaches up to grab your hips, pulling you closer to him as he lifts his hips slightly, grinding his hard length against your lace-covered cunt. 

" fuck it."

“ fuck… then just pull out okay.?” you mumbled seriously, not trying to take no risk.

" mhmm..." he nods unconcerned, his hands sliding down to your ass, gripping each cheek tightly. pushing your panties to the side. he spreads your legs wider with his knees, positioning you above him. he pushes down his boxers enough so his harden length can spring free. 

" lower yourself." he orders softly, you huffed faintly at his demanding words, but anyway you push his throbbing light pink mushroom tip between glistening sticky folds.

nagi gasps softly at the feeling of your hot, wet folds wrapping around the tip of his throbbing member. he bites his lip, his fingers digging into your backside as he lifts his hips slightly, trying to push himself deeper inside of you. 

" fuck, you feel so good without a condom..."

“ m-mngh..” you moaned, starting to get filled up by his long cock and the grittiness of it wasn’t making it easier stretching you out with every second as you sunken into his twitching cock inside you moving slowly.

his breathing becomes heavier as you slowly take him in, the feeling of skin against skin making him groan deeply. his own. hips involuntarily lift, meeting your slow movements, desperate to be fully sheathed inside of you. 

" gosh fuck..." his voice breaks as he grips you tighter.

with a final thrust upwards, he fully sheaths himself inside you with a shudder, his cock throbbing deeply within your slick walls. nagi throws his head back against the headrest, eyes squeezed shut as he focuses on the exquisite sensation of your bare pussy gripping him like a vice.

“ s-shittt.. mm sei you make me fill so full..” you blubbering just with that final thrust he’s all the way inside you almost touching your cervix.

" fuck yeah, you take me perfectly." he grips your ass harder, spreading you wider for his view. his hips lift slightly, testing how deeply he can reach inside you.

" you're so fucking tight..." he starts moving slowly, wanting to savor this bare feeling.

you let out a moan, getting caught in the pleasure as your hands went to the back of back unclipping your bra. nagi eyes lock onto your newly freed breasts as they bounce slightly with each slow thrust. he reaches up to grab them, kneading the soft mounds possessively as he pulls you down onto him deeper. 

" damn it, you're making it hard to last long.." he groans deeply, his hips moving faster as he speaks.

 " mm fuck you feel, so fucking good wrapped around my cock. so wet, so tight... i could cum just from this view alone..." he murmurs as he squeezes your breasts harder.

" and these.." his thumbs brushing over your nipples before going down to your hips helping you ride him.

“ s-shit seishirooo going to cum!” your mind going hazy on the edge about to cum any second. nagi breath catches at your orgasm face. his grip becomes almost bruising. 

" fuuck.." he grunts as his movements become more urgent, hitting deeper with each thrust. 

" you look so fucking sexy like this." his voice becomes strained. “ are you close too? fuck, tell me you're close..."

“ m-mhm yesss! so closee..!” you nodded eagerly. he groans loudly, his face buried between your bouncing breasts as he helps you bounce faster, his thick length hitting your g-spot with each thrust. he can feel his orgasm building rapidly. 

" fuck, fuck, FUCK!" his movements become erratic as he nears the edge. feeling your body tense, nagi glances up with lust-darkened eyes, noticing how close you are. a wicked smirk plays at his lips as he realizes your sweet spot. without hesitation, he presses his thumb firmly against your asshole, circling it teasingly.

 " gonna cum already hmm.?" you were to fuck out to respond, so you nodded eagerly. the pressure around his cock turns his groans into outright cries, his thumb pushing more firmly against your asshole as his cock hits your g-spot. between your clenched walls and the taboo sensation of his thumb, he loses control completely. 

" fuck, i'm cumming!" the raw vocals from throat, moaning loudly and arch your back as his tip touches your g spot. he licks and flicks your nipple harder, and you cry out his name nonstop as you came, undo. he pulls away from your nipple, watching as your body trembles as you ride out the waves of your orgasm.

“ w-wait wait shit seishiro pull out.!” you tried to warm him last minute, but it was too late. he lets out a deep, animalistic groan as your orgasm triggers his own. his fingers dig into your ass cheeks roughly as he shudders, throbbing pulses of cum shooting deep inside you without any barrier. his thumb continues circling your asshole, milking every drop from both of you.

he just now freezes at your words, his mind registering your words. he tries to pull out quickly, but he's already released half his load inside you. 

" shit..." he watches as more white streaks shoot out, coating your inner thighs as he finally withdraws completely. 

words - 1.1k

» , ᴀ ᴋᴀɴʏᴇʀᴇᴀʟᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ

copyright ©️. ᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ . «

[m-robinavitch]

#26? For Pope or Robby?

<3 <3 <3

Pairing: Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x Reader

Trope: Marriage of convenience

Warning: Some medical procedures and mentions of wounds.

Thanks to @velvetmel0n because she put my ideas into words and helped me with this 😭💕

“Okay, lunch is in here and please try to eat more than a few bites Robby,” smiling as you had him the lunch bag of leftovers from the dinner you made last night. “But just in case you can’t sit down for lunch I threw in a sandwich and some protein bars.” This time Robby smiled, throwing his bags over his shoulder before leaning down to your level.

“Thank you sweetheart,” a kiss to your cheek- chaste, soft, but so much love he’s forcing back. “I’ll be home at six but if not I’ll call you okay?” His hand was light at your waist, ghosting against you really but it’s the only thing he allows himself to touch. Because the sweet smile you give him isn’t real. The gentle way you kiss his cheek before bed or before he leaves for work isn’t real. But the way he looks at you with so much adoration and affection? That’s real. Because six months ago you weren’t married, you only knew each other by name and few words when Robby would come in to the diner for breakfast before his shift. Six months ago you just had a little crush on the tall, handsome, older man, because he smiled at you with something akin to affection and listened to you speak about your interests and left you more than necessary for a tip. Six months ago you burned your hand at work and came into his ED with tears.

“Hey, hey don’t cry, this is nothing okay?” Robby tried to console you, holding your hand gently before rubbing the ointment along the raw skin. “I’ll get you patched up and you’ll be back to making those pies that made me gain 10 pounds in a week.” You laughed between the tears, hiccuping a bit but- it wasn’t the pain that made you cry. No, it was the thought of the hefty hospital bill and days off you’ll have to take for your idiotic injury that made you blubber in front of the attractive doctor you only knew for a few weeks at this point. You were struggling, making less than enough for paycheck to paycheck. Student debt was crippling you, you had no insurance and didn’t even have a car because you couldn’t afford the gas to take you from place to place. Maybe it was the pain meds but you started to unload all of this onto Robby. He doesn’t know what came over him. Maybe it was the pretty girl he’s started to think about more than appropriate, crying in front of him and maybe begging for help even if she didn’t outright ask.

“I- I have good insurance. It goes to waste usually anyway and-“ his face was red, burning as he stuttered out more selling points and words and- was he saying what you think he said? Was he?

“What?” Was all you asked, tear stained face and wet eyes looking up at him through those pretty lashes that made him melt. Was he really saying-

“Just, think about it kid. I know you’re struggling. And- this can be just on paper, in name only.” The weight of what he said finally came down on him, he refused to look at you while he started to wrap your hand. And maybe it was the pain meds again, but marrying Robby for the benefits of insurance and financial stability? Not the worst idea you’ve had. He told you to think about it. To call him if you decided but if not- then this conversation never happened and you can go back to being whatever it was you were before. You sat on the idea for three days before you called him. Within the week you were both at the courthouse exchanging words and vows.

And after you send him off this morning with his lunch and a smile- a few hours later you find yourself standing in line at the ER your husband works at.

“It’s nothing, I sliced myself with a knife making lunch,” you told the triage nurse who smiled, handing you off to Whitaker and Mel for sutures. Only while being sat- Dana went to go ask Robby about the stray Robinavitch on her list. He strides over to you quickly with his large gait, throwing back the curtain and rolling Whitaker away from you while he asks what happened- taking the bloodied dish towel from your hand to inspect the wound. “Robby it’s nothing. I promise. You know I’m just- clumsy.” Honestly the attention made you flush, flustered because of all the medical professionals in the tiny curtained off room and clearly everyone is aware that you must mean something to Robby.

“We need to watch for infection, nerve damage, muscle weakness-“ Mel was spouting off about potential issues with your wound but stopped when you started to tear up. Anxiety starts filling your gut and you’re so stupid and-

“Hey, hey- it’s okay- I’m gonna watch you okay?” He takes your face in his, making you look up into his eyes so you can relax. “No tears- don’t cry. It’s going to be fine- I promise.” He kisses your forehead- ignoring the looks of everyone in the room because his wife you were crying and needed him at this moment. Dana absolutely will be asking him about this later. Because not once has he mentioned anything about you and he didn’t answer her when she asked how you were related but that doesn’t look like a kiss that you give to a relative. Especially when he takes the suture kit from Whitaker and all but begs Dana to sew you up because he loves his kids but like hell he’s having them suture you. The only other one he trusts would be Jack since Robby legally can’t do it himself- he’s already playing jump rope with insurance fraud. “Let Dana stitch you up, I’ll be right back sweetheart.”

“So how do you know Robby?” She asks, cleaning the blood before she starts working on the gash and-

“We’ve been married for 6 months.” You say as if that wasn’t the biggest plot twist she had ever heard. And she’s so good with her poker face that she nods- continuing to work on you hand and thinking if a million questions she has. There will be an interrogation as soon as you leave.

[tk-duveraun]

peach tree spirit sy who gave SJ peaches but then caught fire during the escape and had to ruin his cultivation to transform into a child that could run away and then wyz tells SJ his little friend is going to die from those burns anyway and raising his sword so sj kills him early and then they go to CQM together but sy is barely hanging on and qjp master immediately clocks sy as a spirit and they rush to help with the qcp lord but sy refuses to let them help him until sj is accepted as a disciple

SY is then coaxed into returning to his real form and planting himself on QJP. His cultivation is badly damaged and he's still wounded from the fire. A shed is built next to him to house the tools the healers use for him and SJ breaks in every night and sleeps there to be away from the dorms

SJ heard about the qdp head disciple leaving seclusion after a year and then ANOTHER scandal as he immediately fucks off the mountain without a word to anyone only to return a few days later

Then SJ is introduced to YQY who crumples immediately bc he thought SJ was dead and hasn't had any time to process it and since it's not on the heels of a life of death situation he's not in shock and instead just blubbers about being late but ofc SJ saved himself

(he doesn't explain Xuan Su - sj knows he was in seclusion but doesn't know enough about cultivation to question it any further)

What Peak Lord sqq builds the bamboo house around SY's tree. Eventually sy can manifest puppets in human form but they can't leave QJP and of course aren't his real body

SQQ is just living his life when LQG comes to harass him on his peak, meets sy and decides he's going to court the tree

Oh no, sqq has dibs, fuck off.

[junkuna]

| choso comforting you after a bad day

@whorishminds ᵗʰⁱˢ ⁱˢ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘ !!

you don’t even mean to slam the door, but the echo bounces through the apartment like a warning bell anyway. your bag drops with a dull thud. keys rattle on the counter. and you just stand there — in your shoes, in your coat, in all the weight of the day you couldn’t shed. it clings to your shoulders, makes your eyes burn, your chest ache.

“hey,” choso’s voice drifts from the hallway. quiet, already tuned in. “you’re home early.”

you don’t answer right away. you toe off your shoes, shove your coat off your shoulders like it offended you. and you feel it — the sting rising up, all the stupid frustrations that built up like pressure behind your eyes.

he pads into the room, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, hoodie sleeves shoved to his forearms. hair loose and mussed. no judgement in his face — just that calm, steady gaze like he sees right through your silence.

“bad day?” he asks gently.

you nod once. not even sure if you can get a word out without crumbling.

and he just opens his arms. doesn’t press. doesn’t ask. just opens up like he always does — safe and solid and warm.

you walk into him like gravity pulled you there. like you belong. his arms come around your back, one hand sliding to your head, cradling it like something precious. your cheek presses into his chest. the first exhale you’ve really taken all day comes out of you like a shudder.

“you wanna talk?” his voice rumbles in your ear. not demanding. just offering.

you try — you really do. your lips part, and something like a word tries to push through. but it just breaks, dissolves into a soft, choked sound that gets swallowed in the fabric of his hoodie.

“okay,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “not now. it’s okay.”

his hand rubs your back in slow circles. big, warm palm anchoring you. it’s quiet, save for the rhythm of his breathing and the dull thump of his heartbeat against your cheek. and it’s enough. more than enough.

he pulls you toward the couch, tugs you gently down onto his lap like you weigh nothing. your legs fold over his, and he holds you close, tucking your head under his chin.

you’re still crying, small and tired and leaking all the overwhelm you’d been trying to hold in all day. and he just holds you through it. one arm wrapped tight around your waist, the other cradling your head against him.

eventually, the sobs taper off. not completely — but enough for him to lean back a little and meet your eyes.

“can you tell me what happened?”

you open your mouth again, and this time it starts coming out — but not clearly. the words bump into each other, break halfway through, dissolve into a sniffle or a hiccup or a watery “i-i didn’t mean— it was just— and then—”

he hushes you gently, thumbs brushing under your eyes.

“breathe,” he murmurs. “just breathe. i’m listening.”

you try, but your voice still breaks as you ramble — something about a mistake at work, someone being rude… he thinks? the way everything felt too loud, too much. it all melts together into blubbering, incoherent pieces. but choso listens like it’s gospel. nods softly, holds you tighter when you need it.

he lets you talk — or try to — for as long as it takes. when you finally quiet again, he presses a kiss to your forehead and says, “you’ve had enough. let’s get you out of that.”

he helps you up with infinite patience, like he’s holding glass. leads you to the bathroom, flipping on the warm light. your reflection looks wrecked — makeup smudged, eyes swollen, your lip trembling despite your best efforts.

“sit,” he says softly, guiding you to the closed toilet lid. he crouches in front of you, rummaging gently through the drawer to grab your remover pads, your cleanser, your moisturizer — every little thing you use, all of it memorized.

“close your eyes.”

you do. his touch is impossibly gentle. the pad glides over your lids, down your cheeks, catching the salt-streaked mascara with reverence. like you’re sacred. like even this version of you — red-eyed, exhausted, unraveling — deserves care.

he doesn’t say much. doesn’t need to. it’s all in the way his fingers cradle your jaw, in how he smooths moisturizer into your skin with both palms. he dabs a little too much under your eyes. kisses your temple as a silent apology.

“there,” he murmurs. “all clean.”

you don’t even realize he has one of his softest shirts in his hands until he’s tugging it over your head, peeling you out of your work clothes with all the care in the world.

“lets get into bed, okay?” he says, guiding you to the bedroom and pulling back the covers. he tucks you in, crawls in after, and pulls you into him like a heartbeat. like muscle memory.

and with your face buried in his chest, fingers curled into his hoodie, your breath finally evens out, your hiccups and sobs placated by choso’s presence.

that’s where you think the night will end — but then choso shifts a little, arms still snug around you, and murmurs softly into your hair.

“can i ask something?”

you hum, low and sleepy, face still tucked into his chest.

“what… or who made you feel like that?”

you blink. his tone isn’t angry — it’s still soft, careful. but there’s something beneath it now, something a little sharper. not directed at you. never at you. but it simmers under the surface, quiet and protective.

“i already told you.”

“i couldn’t understand you through the blubbering,” he teases, tucking a strand of your hair behind you ear.

“very funny.”

“was it work?” he prompts again, nose brushing your hairline. “someone said something to you?”

you nod a little. “just… everything. i don’t know. like i messed everything up and i couldn’t fix it and then people were mean and—” your voice thins again, but he rubs your back, grounding you. “i just felt so small.”

his arms wrap tighter around you, like he’s trying to hold all the broken pieces together.

“you’re not small,” he says into your crown. “you’re everything to me. if i could carry the world for you, i would.”

that makes your throat ache again. “you kinda already do.”

he huffs a breath — half a chuckle, half a sigh — and pulls back enough to look at you. “well. i’ll keep carrying it, then.”

your fingers find his, threading together beneath the sheets. his hands are big, warm, a little calloused — but gentle as ever.

“you didn’t mess anything up,” he adds, brushing your cheek with the backs of his knuckles. “you did your best today. and i’m proud of you.”

your breath catches. that word — proud — hits different coming from him. it settles somewhere deep and sore and soft.

“i’m serious,” he says, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. “you got through the day. you came home. you let me hold you. that’s everything.”

you nod again, pressing your face into his shoulder to hide the fresh sting of tears.

he pulls you even closer — if that’s possible — until your limbs tangle and your breathing syncs, until all that’s left is warmth and safety and his thumb brushing lazy circles into the small of your back.

a beat passes.

“…you wanna cuddle me to sleep or you want me to talk to you till you knock out?” he asks, lips at your ear now.

you laugh quietly. “both?”

“spoiled,” he teases, voice soft and warm.

“you love it,” you whisper, grinning into his chest.

he doesn’t deny it.

instead, he kisses your hair again, settles his chin above your head, and starts talking — low and quiet, about nothing and everything. the grocery list, a weird dream he had, the way you snored a little last night and he didn’t tell you because it was cute.

your eyes flutter shut to the sound of his heartbeat.

and finally — finally — you feel okay again.

—

taglist - @whorishminds @besidesjustmyamour @throatgoatgeto

[damneddamsy]

falling | joel miller x fem!oc

E P I L O G U E

word count: 11,000 + warnings: literally all fluff. like painful, smothering fluff. Choking, blubbering, fitful angst. Sorry, not sorry. See you on the other side, everyone, hope you enjoyed 'Falling'!

The following is a series of artefacts belonging to JACKSON RESIDENTS recovered from their homes.

J. MILLER LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT - JACKSON, WY

If you’re reading this, or find this, I’m probably dead.

I’m okay with that. Would’ve preferred to go out old—grey-bearded, asleep on my porch swing in the summer, maybe a hundred and twenty with bad knees. Quietly. Got my fingers crossed, hoping that I do.

Because that ain’t how men like me go. I’ve lived hard. Killed more than I ever want to count. Broke things I couldn’t fix. And loved people I didn’t deserve. That’s the whole truth of it.

And now, sitting here writing this, I keep thinking about what the hell I’m really leaving behind. What is my legacy, anyway? Some folks leave behind land. Leela is going to leave behind her math and her inventions. Y’all’s names are clean enough to go on school buildings.

I live in a house that isn’t mine. My money’s long gone. And my name is a goddamn graveyard. So why am I doing this?

Look... I need you someone to know I tried.

I tried to be better. To build instead of destroy. To try love without losing control. I used to think all I was good for was surviving. Guarding. Holding the line until it all gave out. And yeah, maybe that was true once for a long time.

But then came my Ellie. Then came my Leela and my Maya.

I raised two three girls. THREE goddamn girls. More beautiful than me (thank god for that), more hardass-er than me, more stubborn than me, and that’s saying something. Ellie is the fire. Sarah was the storm, and Maya is the spring that comes after. I didn’t make them—but I kept them alive. Loved them the best way I knew how. Think I did a pretty good job.

That’s my legacy.

You can burn the rest of it. The guns, the patrol records, the guilt. Let it rot. The only thing worth anything now is what I loved.

Tommy. Maria. Brother, we never did things the easy way, did we? We fought like hell, and still came back. I know you two gave me a hard time some days, but you were the people I always knew had my six—whether I deserved it or not. Guess that's what siblings do. So don’t go getting all soft now. Just keep doing what you do best: being affectionate assholes and occasionally dumb as a pile of rocks. (Kidding. Mostly.)

Leela… darling, you had loved saved me. Over and over. By staying, letting me in, looking at me like I wasn’t the monster I saw in the mirror. You are my quiet, my reason, my damn backbone some days. I didn’t know it could be like that with someone. I didn’t ask you to forgive me, but you did it anyway, every time I came home to you a little more broken. I’m sorry for the parts of me I couldn’t fix. I know I said that too much—or not enough. Also—and I mean this with all the love in my tired bones—take your time, but don’t forget I’m waiting on those insane koftas over here. So when you finally get your fine ass to me… bring me some baharat (and those strappy little tops of yours because they really drive me wild.)

Ellie (hoping the above didn't throw you off, sorry). Here it is. I saved my world that day in the hospital. Yours. You. I’m not gonna pretend it was easy or righteous. It wasn’t. But I did it so you’d have more time with me—more chances to grow with me, laugh with me, hate me. I wanted that for you more than I ever wanted it for myself. I am sor I'd do it all over again. You might never have needed a father, but you got one anyway. You got me. And I’m proud of you, kiddo. Proud as one of your own. I LOVE YOU. There. I said it. I love you, Ellie.

And. Maya. Baby girl. If you’re reading this someday—well, shit, first off: did you get glasses? How else are you reading this with all that squinting? Eyes open, sweetheart. Ha, got you.

I want you to know it plain and simple: you are my everything. My girl. I loved you the moment you opened your eyes to me that night. You’re mine in every way that counts. Grow slow. There’s no prize for getting older, other than back pain. Be good—but not too good. Break some rules. No one likes a smartass. Don’t run too fast. Tie your shoes. Wear your damn socks, I MEAN IT. Don’t be scared of the world, even when it earns it. And take care of everyone, even when it hurts. And when you miss me (if you do), go sit with my guitar (be nice and share with Ellie). Sing to me. Hum. Cry. Talk out loud like I’m listening, because I swear I am.

I never had much. Still don’t. Got a couple of guitars, ammo, boots, a few busted knuckles, and a face that looks worse every year.

What I do have—what’s worth a damn—is all of you.

I was always the buffer. I thought that was the job. Keep everyone breathing, keep the world out. I don’t regret that. But it took me a long damn time to learn why I was doing it. It was never for survival.

It was for you. Always for you.

Signed, Joel Miller.

X

L. MILLER MAYA DEVELOPMENT LOG – VIDEO FILE #1 TIMESTAMP: 19:48 | Reed Residence, Living room SUBJECT: Maya Miller, aged 2 years, 5 months CAMERA: Tripod, static, handheld. Low lighting. Floor lamp turned on. NOTES: Observational recording for cognitive development + emotional awareness + language formulation.

[CAMERA CLICKS ON. The video begins with a slightly tilted angle. The couch sits behind them, a soft quilt thrown over the edge. A toy horse lies abandoned on the floor. The room is warmly lit. LEELA adjusts the lens, sitting cross-legged, her voice focused but affectionate. JOEL is off-screen, behind the camera. Both their voices carry the sleepiness of a late evening.]

LEELA (softly, almost to herself): Okay... steady. This is important. (adjusts the lens) This is the first video entry in Maya’s development log—

JOEL (from off-screen, dry): Which is entirely unnecessary, 'cause she’s got a brain like a bear trap.

LEELA (half smiling): This is to test her cognitive flexibility, emotional regulation, and social interaction—

JOEL: C’mon, sweetheart. Listen to yourself. She’s fine.

LEELA: (glances at him behind the camera) I need to know she’s normal, Joel. Not just sweet or clever. Normal brain functioning.

JOEL (pauses, then gentler): She’s a goddamn miracle, Leela. Beat me at cards yesterday. Straight face the whole time. You think I let her win? (mimics a girlish voice) “Go fish, Daddy.” She’s hustlin’ me already.

[LEELA exhales, lips twitching, and nods. She angles the camera a little to the left. The frame shifts. MAYA is now sitting on the rug beside her mother, wearing denim dungarees over a cotton shirt with a stitched grasshopper. She waves at the camera like she’s greeting a friend.]

MAYA: (sends a flying kiss.) Hi.

JOEL (laughs): Hi, baby.

LEELA (gently): Alright, there we go. Baby, what's your name?

MAYA: (pointing) Daddy, video.

LEELA: Yeah, he is. Can you say your name for the video?

MAYA (taps her chest): Maya. Maya, Maa-yaa.

LEELA (laughs): Okay. Hi, Maya. And what’s your full name?

MAYA (mumbles): Maya… Miller.

LEELA: That’s right. Good girl. Now—can you please look at Mama for a second while we talk?

[MAYA is fully occupied with the brass buckle on her dungaree strap. She keeps flipping it open, then closing it, tongue sticking out slightly in concentration.]

MAYA (without looking up): I fix this first.

LEELA (gently redirecting): Hmm. But if Mama wants to talk to you first, what would the polite thing be?

MAYA (quietly): …Wude.

[She lets go of the buckle and looks up, her knees drawn close.]

MAYA: Okay. I listen now.

LEELA: Thank you, baby. Ready?

MAYA: Yup.

LEELA: How old are you, Maya?

[MAYA holds up two fingers. Then she thinks, frowns, and adds a third finger halfway. Then reconsiders and puts it down.]

LEELA: That’s right. Two, almost three. And what’s Daddy’s name?

MAYA (giggles): Ha-wd-ass.

LEELA (gasps): No!

JOEL: Gonna kill that little shit Tommy.

MAYA (with her fist in her mouth, grinning): Joel.

LEELA: Joel, right. Maya… can you tell me: have you ever been angry at Daddy before?

MAYA (quickly): No.

LEELA (tilts her head): Never ever?

MAYA (frowning): ...mm, he took me home from park. He—he said... no. (points to the door) We go home now.

JOEL (off-screen, defensive): Hey now—it was a hundred degrees. I didn’t want you melting out there.

LEELA (clears her throat): Alright. And what did you say when he said that we have to go home?

MAYA (matter-of-fact): I said “NO! Not going home.” Then Daddy pick me up. We go home.

LEELA: And then?

MAYA: Then I... cried.

JOEL (mutters): Meltdown.

LEELA (to Maya): And when you get upset like that... what helps you feel better, Maya? Do you want to run away, or—do you need to yell? Maybe throw something?

JOEL (warning tone): Leela.

LEELA (ignoring him, soft but intent): Or maybe… do you just need a hug? Do you want someone to hold you?

[MAYA pauses. Her fingers fidget. Her chin tucks slightly, and her voice is very small.]

MAYA: I need hugs.

[LEELA looks up at the camera now. Her expression is softer, more tired. Her hand rests on Maya’s back.]

LEELA (to camera): So—we’re observing that when Maya experiences emotional dysregulation, she doesn’t act out violently or retreat, but reaches for physical reassurance. (pause, voice softening) Which is… significantly better than what I feared.

[MAYA turns and throws herself into Leela’s lap.]

MAYA: I love hugging Daddy.

JOEL (gravel-voiced, warm): Right back at ya, baby girl.

[MAYA now leans sideways into Leela’s lap, visibly drowsier but still engaged. A thread from Leela’s jeans has caught her attention, and she tugs it gently. LEELA hums quietly, drawing her back into the moment.]

LEELA (sing-song): Maya… now, were you really angry at Daddy that time?

MAYA (shakes her head, thumb brushing her lip): No. I just… don’t wanna go home.

LEELA (empathetic): Oh, well, I understand that. If I were having fun and someone told me it was time to go? I’d be mad too.

MAYA (nodding): Yeah. I wanna play more.

LEELA: So, do you have a lot of friends? Is that why you don't like leaving?

[MAYA looks up for a second, big, brown eyes shining, then shakes her head.]

MAYA: No.

LEELA (gently): Then why do you want playtime?

MAYA: I like big sandbox. Ellie helps me on the slide.

LEELA: What about the other kids?

MAYA: Only me, mama.

[LEELA hums again, stroking her hair slowly. The thread is forgotten now. MAYA leans closer.]

JOEL: Now, she ain’t alone. Ellie’s there, I’m there. The other kids... they're just older. And there are no other kids like her in town.

LEELA (shoots him a look): Joel—you're confusing her.

JOEL (scoffs): Fine. Shuttin’ up.

LEELA (focuses on Maya again): And how does it make you feel, baby girl? When you're alone? Are you scared? Or angry?

[MAYA’s brows furrow. She picks at her sock this time, quieter.]

MAYA: Sad.

LEELA (slight shift in posture, softer): You feel sad? Do you feel sad a lot?

MAYA (tiny nod, small voice): Yeah. I cry.

LEELA (quietly, not alarmed, just listening): You cry a lot when you're sad? When Mama isn’t around?

MAYA (sniffles): Mhm. I don’t like alone.

LEELA: Oh, my love.

[MAYA's face twists, and she rubs at her eye. A pause. JOEL’s voice is low and irritated from behind the camera at the sight of her hurting.]

JOEL: Okay, stop. You’re upsettin’ her.

LEELA (shaking her head, gently): No, we’re understanding. (She turns back to Maya, her hand brushing through tangled curls.) She’s not upset. She’s being brave. Aren’t you, baby?

[MAYA’s eyes flick to LEELA’s. She nods faintly.]

MAYA: I wanna be brave. Like Daddy.

LEELA: And you are. Angry and sad make you brave and real. Real people feel things. And they cry. Even big people. Even Daddy... (stage-whispers) in the shower.

[MAYA lets out a little giggle through her tears.]

LEELA (tucking a strand of hair behind Maya’s ear): Baby, you know… if you ever feel like it got dark around you, you can tell us. If you’re mad, you can stomp your feet. If you’re sad, you can cry in my lap. You don’t have to hide it or hold it in your belly, okay?

[MAYA shakes her head firmly this time, her lip wobbling just slightly.]

MAYA: I don’t wanna be mad, Mama. Don’t like it.

LEELA: No, honey. It’s okay to be mad. I get mad. Daddy gets mad all the time.

[A brief, audible scoff from JOEL.]

JOEL: Yeah, alright.

LEELA (grinning): All the time. And when he does, what do we do?

MAYA (perking up): Time-out!

LEELA: Right. And do we yell at him?

MAYA (giggling): You hug him.

JOEL (mock indignation): It's brutal.

[LEELA laughs softly, then leans forward again, face almost fully in frame now. Her voice drops to that warm, instructional tone again.]

LEELA: So next time, baby, when you feel mad or sad... what do you do?

[MAYA’s brow knits as she thinks. Then her eyes brighten.]

MAYA (low to loud): I say, 'Mama, I'm sad.'

LEELA (laughing): Very good. And then what happens?

MAYA (repeating back): You hug me.

JOEL (quietly): Every single time.

[There’s a long, peaceful pause now. MAYA rests fully in Leela’s lap, three fingers in her mouth, eyelids fluttering closed. JOEL finally appears in frame again, crouching beside them. He presses a hand gently to Maya’s back and gives Leela a tired, fond look.]

JOEL (murmuring): We should probably stop here. She’s running on fumes.

LEELA (sighs): Yeah, okay. That concludes entry one—emotional processing and response. Maya is responsive to guided questioning, able to self-identify emotions, strong associative memory.

JOEL (grins at Maya): Translation: she’s a little miracle.

LEELA: She’s Maya.

[JOEL leans in, kisses the top of Leela’s head.]

JOEL: You’re doin’ real good, mama.

[LEELA swallows and nods, visibly emotional. She lifts her hand to turn off the camera.]

[CAMERA CLICKS OFF]

X

E. WILLIAMS TRAVEL LOG #2

(The camera jolts to life with a brief blur of sunlight. A rhythmic thud-thud-thud of hooves on dry dirt is heard beneath the image. The view steadies to show Ellie, sweat glinting on her brow, holding the camera at arm’s length. She squints at the screen, then grins.)

(Ellie, to camera) “Okay, we’re rolling. This is Travel Log number two—because apparently Leela thinks we’re NatGeo now.”

(She wipes sweat off her nose with the back of her arm, then flips the camera around. It bounces before settling on the riders behind her.)

(Ellie, off-screen) “Maya, say hi!”

(The camera catches a horse trotting beside Dina’s. Joel rides a little behind, Maya seated snugly in front of him on the saddle. Maya is grinning so wide it looks like her face might split open.)

“Hai!”

(Ellie laughing) “And how the hell are you outside of Jackson, missy?”

“’Cause Daddy let me. And now we’re gonna catch fish!”

“Oh yeah? Wanna tell everybody how old you are?”

(Maya proudly holds up three chubby fingers, but two of them are smushed together.) “I’m th-wee.”

(The camera pans shakily to Dina, who rides up alongside, squinting against the light. Her hair is pulled back to that familiar topknot, sweat matting her face.)

“And there’s my gorgeous girlfriend. Babe, say hi.”

(Dina groans, ducking her head.) “I look like shit.”

“Yeah, but like—hot shit.”

(Dina flips her off. Ellie cackles. The camera swerves toward Joel, who is too focused on keeping Maya safe and the horse steady.)

(Ellie snorts.) “Could be worse. Look at this dumbass.”

(Joel, gruffly) “You better get that thing outta my face.”

“No can do. I’m under strict orders. Your wife told me to document everything. I’m just being a good citizen.”

“Christ. Just watch your step, kiddo.”

(Ellie, to camera now) “So, for the record: We’re taking baby girl on a late fishing trip for her birthday, which was all the way back on Christmas. And—this is the troop.”

(The camera zooms in briefly on Maya, who is now humming some nonsense song and patting the saddle horn. Joel looks down at her, and for a second, the camera catches him smiling.)

(Ellie, softer) “Not bad, right?”

(Static crackle as the image shakes again. Ellie flips the camera back to herself.)

“Alright, let’s go catch some fuckin' fish.”

—

(The footage stutters into motion with a high-pitched whine of static. The screen shakes wildly for a moment—just flashes of sky, pine, and boot—and then jolts into focus. A rough hand fumbles across the lens. Joel grumbles.)

“How the hell do you—? Goddamnit.”

(He shifts the camera. The image stabilises. Now it’s looking out over a sunlit rocky ledge above a wide, glittering creek. Ellie, Dina, and Maya are perched in a row on the flat of a sun-warmed boulder. Three rods poke into the air, lines drifting lazily into the current. The only sound is birdsong, water, and distant giggling.)

“Ellie, keep your arms around her. She’s jumpy as a damn frog.”

(Ellie snickers.) “Relax, old man. I’ve got her.“ (Then to Maya:) “You’re good, gremlin. Just hold it still and wait.”

(Maya squeals, standing up.) “I saw a fish! I saw one!”

(Dina teases.) “You’ve said that like ten times.”

“This time it smiled at me!”

“Liar!”

(The camera zooms slightly. Joel’s breathing is close in the mic, still focused on the trio. Maya suddenly gasps and yanks her tiny rod.)

“Mine's moving! DINA, I GOT ONE! I—!”

(Her footing slips. She screams with a quick splash—then chaos.)

“Maya, no!”

(The camera jerks wildly—Joel’s dropped it. It lands half-sideways in the dirt, still rolling. We catch fractured glimpses: Dina throwing off her jacket, Ellie lunging forward, Joel already in motion, boots thundering past the lens.)

(Ellie hisses.) “Shit—Maya!”

(A splash. Then another. Then silence but for the rush of water and muffled voices underwater, distant and panicked. Joel's frantic voice is the loudest.)

“Maya! Maya, can you hear me?”

(No answer. Just the hiss of the creek and thrashing limbs. The lens catches the churn of boots and panicked motion, but no child. Ellie surfaces empty-handed, wiping water from her face. Dina calls out, chest-deep and scanning rocks.)

“Anything?”

“Nothing—babe, she was right here, she was right here—”

(The lens catches motion as Joel barrels downstream. The camera misses his face, but his actions are sharp, driven. He throws himself into the current, shoving aside reeds, slipping on wet stone. He shouts again.)

“Maya, just come up, baby! Listen to my voice!”

(Nothing. Just the creek roaring louder. Ellie glances toward the far bank, silent now. Dina exhales hard, treading water. It’s been a full minute now. Then two. And—Joel stops.)

(He buckles—doubles over with both hands on his knees, soaked to the chest, breathing too fast. For a second, he’s motionless, like this short-circuited inside him. He grips his thigh, grounding himself. Then, barely audible—)

“God, please… please.”

(Dina turns toward him, voice gentler now but firm, trying to cut through the spiral.)

“Hey—hey, Joel. Listen to me. It’s gonna be okay. We’ll split up. I’ll head up the rocks, Ellie’ll sweep back toward the reeds. You keep to the bend. Okay? We’ll find her.”

(Joel doesn’t respond. His hands twitch at his sides, clenched and unclenched. He’s not hearing her. Or he is, but it’s bouncing off armour.)

“I should’ve—fuck, I should’ve—I looked away, just, just one second—”

(Ellie moving closer.) “Joel. Joel. Look at me. It's fine.”

(She’s within arm’s reach now. His jaw is set, neck tight, eyes scanning but not seeing. Ellie softens.)

“She can't have gotten far. We find her. You with me?”

(He blinks hard—once, twice. His hand comes to his mouth like he’s trying to hold something in. Then hoarsely—)

“Not again. Not her. Not…”

(He trails off. He doesn’t finish the sentence. Ellie’s eyes flicker, understanding more than he says. Behind them, Dina is waist-deep and staring at the far downstream bend. Her hand goes up slowly, pointing.)

“Wait. Wait—do you—?”

(A faint, distant voice echoes from downstream—bright and bubbly.)

“Daddy, Dina! I got it! I got the fish!”

(Joel doesn’t move at first. His head lifts slowly, like he’s afraid to believe it. Then Ellie breaks into motion and he follows—trudging through water, stumbling once but not stopping. The camera is still skewed, but it catches a tiny shape emerging from the trees further downstream, waterlogged and barefoot, holding something overhead in both hands.)

“It was hiding! I chase it!”

(Joel’s breath catches. His arms drop slack, then he’s moving faster, boots pounding the muddy bank, sloshing up toward her.)

“Maya. C'mere, baby.”

(He drops to his knees in front of her, grabbing her by the shoulders and then crushes her into a hug, flapping fish and all. Maya giggles, not understanding the terror that had settled in his chest just moments ago.)

“You scared the hell outta me. Thought I lost you.”

“But I got it!”

(Joel clutches her closer, water dripping down his face—unclear if it’s from the river or his eyes. His voice is barely a breath now.)

“Don’t ever do that again. You hear me? Don’t ever…”

(He cuts himself off. Kisses the top of her head, pushing the wet hair off her cheeks and neck. Behind him, Dina rubs her face and exhales, laughing through leftover adrenaline. Ellie just drops backwards into the creek with a splash, limbs splayed like a starfish.)

(Ellie sighs and looks up to the sky.) “I'm never fuckin' babysitting this little demon again. Not without a goddamn leash.”

(Maya beams.) “I was tracking! It went under the rocks, so I had to go up the side like Dina said!”

(Joel shakes his head.) “Not without tellin’ me, you don’t.”

(Ellie picks up the camera—mud-smeared and dripping, but still running. She holds it at a crooked angle as the group sloshes back to shore, all soaked, all laughing in that shaky, post-crisis way. Joel’s doesn’t come yet—but he’s still holding Maya.)

“Update: Joel has aged twenty years. Maya met a fish. And none of us are allowed to breathe ever again.”

(Maya, off-camera, all chipper.) “I wanna swim!”

(All three, in perfect unison—)

“Nope.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Never happening.”

(The camera catches one last frame of Maya proudly cradling the flopping fish, her curls plastered to her forehead, Joel’s arm around her protectively. Ellie’s laughter trails off as the screen fades into soft static. Cut to black.)

X

J. MILLER HOME VIDEO #3

(Video begins mid-jostle. The camera is unsteady, jiggling as Joel tries to lift it above the crowd. Boots thump on the wooden floors, fiddle music screeches with jubilance. String lights swing in the rafters, and there’s distant whooping over the band’s tempo.)

(Joel’s voice mutters, amused.) “Can’t see nothin’ in this damn barn…”

(Camera finds its focus, finally sweeping over the packed dance floor, shakily pushing through arms, backs, and half-finished pints. Then the camera locks in on Maya, spinning into dizziness in the middle of the floor. She’s in denim overalls, her sleeves rolled, curly hair bouncing, boots two sizes too big. People are giving her space, clapping in rhythm.)

(Tommy, off-camera, hoots.) “Look at her go!”

(Maria coos, off to the side.) “Shit, I wanna bite her little face off.”

(Camera zooms and shakes slightly. Joel laughs.)

“Go on, baby girl!”

(Maya notices the camera. She gasps, hands on her cheeks like a cartoon character. Then waves with both hands.)

“Haiiii!”

(She dashes forward, expertly weaving between dancers, laughing the whole time. Camera wobbles as she leaps at Joel, arms flung wide.)

“Let me hold it! I wanna be the camera girl!”

“You got butterfingers. This thing’s older than Ellie.”

(Maya whines, bouncing in protest. Joel tips the camera up and away as she tries to jump for it. A waitress sidesteps her, chuckling. Joel lowers the lens, steadies it again.)

“C’mon, help me find your mama. She better not be—”

(Sudden distant yell.)

“WOOOOOO!”

(Camera swings wildly again—searching. Finally, it lands: Leela, up near the band. Her cowboy hat's tipped too far back, one boot missing, one boot on. She’s shimmying with total abandon to the beat, singing along loud and off-key to a song she clearly doesn’t know.)

(Tommy cackles.) “'S happened again.”

(Joel groans. The camera jolts down, then upward—now Tommy is holding it, laughing breathlessly.)

“Grab it. I gotta go fix this.”

(Tommy lifts the camera to zoom in as Joel pushes through the crowd. Ellie briefly appears beside Tommy, leaning in to whisper.)

“Is that one boot on, one boot off? Iconic.”

(Maria snorts.) “She drinking out of her boot?”

(Camera zooms in—Leela indeed holds a boot like a goblet, sloshing something suspiciously dark and fizzy inside. She twirls—and nearly slips.)

(Joel reaches her just in time. He grabs her arm with both hands. Leela gasps, delighted.)

“There he is! Husbaaaaand.”

(Joel is clearly trying not to laugh.) “You stink.”

(Leela puts on a fake cowboy accent.) “That’s called love, darlin’.”

(Her arms loop around his neck, hat slipping to one side, planting a kiss on his mouth. Joel—half laughing, half exasperated—obliges, but only briefly before pulling back.)

“You’re gonna break your neck out here.”

(She sways her hips in an invitation.) “Dance with me, Daddy.”

(Ellie groans from off-camera.) “Ew, what the fuck?”

(Joel groans, pinches the bridge of his nose. Crowd laughter builds in the background.)

“Jesus, don’t call me that in public. You’re gonna confuse the hell outta people.”

(She uses a finger to beckon him.) “C’mon.”

(He plants both hands gently on her waist to steady her.) “You gotta sober up, sweetheart. You already lost a boot.”

(She pouts. He sighs. Then offers his hand.)

“Just one.”

(The music softens into a slower tune—harmonica over strings. Leela leans into Joel, wrapping her arms around his neck like a sleepy kid. They sway awkwardly. One-booted. Out of time. Joel mutters something we can’t hear. Leela giggles like it’s the funniest thing in the world.)

(Camera pans down: her bare foot rests on his boot. He just lets her lean.)

(Ellie whispers nearby.) “Stop filming. They’re so gross.”

(Tommy snickers.) “They’re happy.”

(In the far right of the frame, Maya appears again, now holding Ellie’s hand and tugging hard.)

“Dance with me, Ellie, c'mon!”

(Leela turns mid-dance and waves dramatically at Maya, then does a very poor spin that nearly sends her into a table. Joel catches her mid-fall and dips her, exaggerated, one arm around her waist. She shrieks with laughter.)

(Camera pulls back. The saloon lights flicker overhead. Everyone around them is dancing, drunk, or both. It’s messy and warm and joyful—a pause in the noise of survival.)

(Frame lingers on Joel and Leela, pressed close. He murmurs something into her hair. She closes her eyes. The song fades to the final note—violin and steel guitar.)

X

TELEPHONE RECORDING #1 DATE: SEP. 26TH | TIME: 04:03 A.M. LINE: INTERNAL, JACKSON, WY PARTICIPANTS: J. MILLER, L. MILLER, M. MILLER

[Distant, metallic click. Faint static hum. A long pause. Then—a shrill ring, not the synthetic tone of modern cellphones, but an old, analogue bell. Faint rustling. Something thuds lightly against wood—maybe a hand fumbling in the dark.]

J.M. (groggy, disoriented): …the hell…?

[Rustling sheets. A creak of the bedframe. He fumbles for something in the dark.]

J.M: …No way.

[Another ring. Then a hesitant click as he answers. Silence.]

L.M. (warm, amused): Hi, can I speak with the birthday boy, please?

[Long silence. A faint creak.]

J.M. (cautious, stunned): Leela?

L.M. (giggles): Joel. Can you hear me?

J.M: I’m not dead, am I? It’s four in the damn morning… and the phone that’s sounds like a death knell just rang.

L.M. (sing-song): Surprise!

[A beat. Then, Joel exhales a sharp, stunned laugh. Fabric shifts as he sits up.]

J.M: Holy shit. Leela. Darlin’… Holy shit. This is real.

L.M. (whispers): Happy birthday.

J.M (laughs again): I—I can’t even wrap my head around this. You’re on the phone. Like actual… static and everything. How the hell’d you pull this off?

L.M: Well... I rewired the internal comms grid. Boosted a small solar cell relay through the southern outpost lines. Then I cross-fed it into the restored switchboard. Et voila, eight months later, it works just in time.

J.M: …Y'know, I only caught about two words of that, right?

L.M. (smiling through): I said I missed your voice.

J.M: Goddamn. All that for a call to me?

L.M. (gently teasing): You’re not that hard to miss. But yeah… first working phone in Jackson. Figured it should go to the man who hates birthdays and attention. Two birds.

J.M. (grinning now): You gonna make the whole town use this thing?

L.M: Eventually. For now, I serve as both operator and technician. Thought I’d test the system on someone who doesn’t mind me, er.... rambling.

J.M: That right? Hell, I’d listen to you read out the damn dictionary, baby. You always made even the hard shit sound soft.

L.M.: Don’t go sweet-talking me now. It’s your birthday. I should be the one getting all the mushy.

J.M. (lower, softer): You already gave me everything I wanted.

[A faint click in the background—a loose wire, or a shift in signal. Then Joel clears his throat, as if trying to recover.]

J.M: So tell me—now that I’ve got you on the line… You reckon this thing could handle what the kids used to call phone sex?

L.M. (incredulous laugh): Joel!

J.M.: Come on, darlin’. I’m just sayin’—voice like yours in my ear? Might short out the tower.

L.M.: Stop. I’m recording this call for research.

J.M.: Whatever. I’m the birthday boy. I get one pass.

[They both laugh. Then, a faint stirring. A tiny yawn. The faintest whimper.]

M.M. (sleepy): Daddy…?

J.M.: Hold on. Trouble’s wakin’ up.

[He shifts. The mattress creaks. A soft scritch of his beard brushing her cheek. A kiss to her forehead.]

J.M. (instantly gentle): Hi, baby girl. You’re okay. It’s just the phone.

M.M.: Phone?

[Joel adjusts—the rustle of movement, soft fabric, a creaking mattress. Then, the faint sound of a small body being shifted, carefully.]

J.M.: Here. I want you to listen to someone special.

[Receiver shifts slightly. Then—]

M.M. (suspiciously): Mama?

L.M. (audible intake of breath, voice trembling slightly): Hi, baby girl. Hello.

M.M. (in awe): Are you inside the... box?

L.M. (chuckling): Sort of. The box can carry voices through the wires and air.

M.M. (gasps): It’s a magic box!

J.M.: Damn right it is. First call of the new world, and it went to you.

M.M.: Mama… where are you?

L.M.: Still right here, baby. Just downstairs, in the hall. But this box lets me kiss you goodnight without moving.

M.M. (soft giggle): It is magic.

[A tiny yawn. Then the gentle shuffling of her curling into Joel’s chest. The receiver shifts again.]

J.M. (hushed): She’s driftin’. You still there?

L.M. (sniffles): Always. Did you like your surprise?

J.M. (low chuckle): No phone sex? Hardly a surprise.

L.M.: Your daughter is literally five inches from your face.

J.M. (snickers): And you’re missin’ five inches in yours.

L.M. (shocked gasp): Joel, what is wrong with—

J.M. (grinning): You made it too easy. Alright, I love you. Now hang up… and come over here.

L.M. (quiet smile in her voice): You hang up.

J.M.: Mm-mm. Not playin’ this game, darlin’. Been dead for twenty years, I intend to keep it that way.

[Silence lingers. Then—]

L.M. (whispered): Good night, birthday boy. See you in a minute.

J.M. (just above a murmur): Night, baby.

[Click. The line goes dead. Faint hum fades out.]

X

E. WILLIAMS HOME VIDEO #16

(The footage opens with a bit of bounce—someone's adjusting the handheld camera. There is a gentle sound of cards shuffling. Ellie is clearly behind the camera. Her steps are slow as she moves into view of the dining table, where Tommy sits across from Maya, elbows on the table, scattered with half-finished custard, eyes narrowed in concentration.)

(Ellie, off-camera, voice playful) “Alright, it’s dead silent in here. What’s goin’ on? Poker night?”

(Tommy, gruffly, not looking up) “It’s war.”

“With a three-year-old?”

“She’s up four hands and counting. I ain’t here to play. I’m here to win back my dignity.”

(The camera pans to Maya, sitting squarely in Leela’s lap, her tiny brows furrowed, lips pursed. The cards look enormous in her little hands, but she’s manoeuvring them with sharp, deliberate movements. Leela’s not helping—just holding her arms up as Maya goes through them.)

(Maya, serious, without looking up) “Your turn, Uncle Tommy.”

“I know, kid. I know. Just thinkin’.”

“Don’t think too long. That’s how Daddy lost.”

(A beat. Then a snort of laughter from Ellie.) “Oh my god. Joel lost to Maya. Comedy gold.”

(The camera zooms in a little as Tommy lays down his card—then, slowly, Maya lays hers. A moment passes. Tommy exhales through his nose.)

“Son of a—”

(Maya squeals, grinning wide.) “Yay! Mine’s bigger!”

(Tommy grumbles.) “Damn right it is.”

(Leela gently warns) “Maya…”

(Maya is still triumphant.) “I said bigger. Not a bad word, mama.”

(Ellie, laughing) “I dunno, Tommy. You sure you’re not lettin’ her win?”

(Tommy holds up both hands.) “You see me foldin’? Hell no. She’s counting cards. I ain’t got a chance.”

(Maya, too gleeful) “That’s ‘cause I remeh-mber them.”

(The camera wobbles as Ellie doubles over laughing. Tommy just leans back in his chair, pretending to wipe sweat from his brow.)

“Leela, honey, what are you feedin’ your child? We all get the same goddamn rations.”

(Leela with a small smile) “Books. Puzzles. Joel.”

(Ellie heaves a breath.) “Well, that explains the poker face.”

(The camera zooms once more on Maya, who now holds up her cards dramatically toward the lens, fanned out—wrong side forward.)

(She stage-whispers to the camera.) “No one can sh-top me.”

(Tommy shakes his head.) “I gotta start cheating.”

“That’s against the ruuuuules.”

(Leela giggles.) “Tommy, she will never let you live it down.”

(The camera lingers on Maya’s proud little face, cheeks puffed out as she shuffles her cards again—badly, sloppily, adorably. Leela helps guide her fingers, whispering numbers, which Maya repeats under her breath. Across the table, Tommy looks both defeated and weirdly proud.)

(A beat. Then, off-camera, Joel’s voice cuts in—gentle, curious.)

“You wanna be like your mama when you grow up, baby?”

(Maya pauses mid-shuffle. The cards slip out of her hands and scatter. Her eyes go wide—and then she lets out a shy giggle, immediately burying her face in Leela’s chest.)

“Mmm…”

(Leela laughs softly and brushes back Maya’s curls.) “What? What is it?”

(She kisses the top of Maya’s head. Just then—sharp, tinny brrrring! cuts through the moment—the patched-up rotary phone on the wall rings. Everyone in the room glances over, startled.)

(Maya gasps, squealing) “Aaaah! I got it! I got it, I got it!”

(She scrambles to her feet, almost tripping on her feet, and makes a beeline for the phone. Joel chuckles and reaches out instinctively to steady her as she races past.)

“Easy, trouble.”

(She hops up on the table by the wall, lifting the receiver with both hands like it’s treasure. Maya speaks in a serious tone, copying someone she has seen.)

“Jackson outpost. Maya speakin’.”

(Leela hides a laugh behind her hand. Ellie is already zooming the camera in as Tommy leans forward, amused.)

“Aw hell—she’s got a job now?”

(Maya, now pressing the receiver to her ear, trying to sound official) “Okay. Uh-huh. You got it. I tell Uncle Tommy. Stand by!”

(She covers the receiver with her hand and turns to Tommy with wide eyes.)

“Uncle Tommy, they sayin' the lookout spotted smoke near the ridge. You check it now.”

(Tommy is laughing but impressed.) “Well damn. Alright, little ranger. I’ll suit up. Thanks for the heads up.”

(Maya beams proudly and puts the phone down, then turns back to the group, chest puffed a little.)

(Ellie, mock-serious) “That’s it. She’s taking my side gig. I’m retiring.”

(Joel grins at Ellie behind the camera.) “Gotta get her her own call sign. Radio girl’s gonna run Jackson by ten.”

(Leela pulls Maya back into her lap.) “Where’d you learn to talk like that, huh?”

“I listen when you think I’m sleepin’.”

(Joel snorts.) “'Course she does.”

(Tommy raises his glass.) “To the youngest scout we got.”

“Maya Miller: card shark, signal scout, future queen of the airwaves.”

(Laughter ripples through the room. The camera catches Maya grinning bashfully, resettled between Leela’s arms, stacking her scattered cards again. A brief static flickers as the camera feed fades to black.)

X

M. MILLER RADIO RECORDING #48

[The broadcast crackles in—a gentle hum of wind in the background, maybe the faint clatter of boots on wood outside. Maya, aged TEN, runs the radio station in the mornings. A little jingle—probably something she made herself with Ellie’s help—plays, made up of a few clunky guitar notes and a whistle.]

M.M. (bright, chipper): “Goooood morning, Jackson! It's 7 a.m., the sun is shining, the wind is definitely tryna blow the roof off the stables, and you're tuned in to our very own radio station with your friendly neighbourhood deejay, Maya Miller, keeping you company as we ride out another day in paradise.”

[Short laugh—a little dry, but charming.]

M.M: “Okay, okay—maybe not paradise. But hey, it’s home. And here in Jackson, we’ve got chickens that lay, fences that hold, and people that don't give two shits about my radio station. That’s more than most.”

[A page rustles. She taps her book—maybe a list.]

M.M: “We’re keepin’ it light today, folks. A couple of songs, a couple of stories, maybe one or two terrible jokes if you're lucky, thanks to Ellie. And if you're tuning in from the outer fields, the boiler room, or the patrol tower—this one's for you.”

[Pause—her tone quiets, like remembering a note.]

M.M: “Oh! Big shout-out to Kenan at the forge. They just finished another batch of those wicked-sharp hatchets. If you scored one before the morning shift, buy 'em a cider at the Tipsy Bison. Or—I mean, at least carry their woodpile for a week.”

[She laughs, a little sheepish now.]

M.M: “And... yeah, I know it’s been a little rough out there lately. More sightings than usual. One of the patrols spotted a runner near the Gulch—again. But look—we’re still here. Still standing. Still singin’.”

[A breath, then her voice perks back up.]

MAYA: “Alright, alright, no more of that serious stuff. That’s not what you tuned in for. Let’s play something for Bill, who requested ‘Mr. Sandman’—says it reminds him of ‘before.’ I don’t know if that’s sweet or depressing, but I’m rollin’ with it.”

[‘Mr. Sandman’ begins to play softly underneath.]

MAYA: “This one’s for you, Bill. And for anyone else out there, remembering a time when the world made a little more sense. You’re not alone. And hey, if anybody wants to drop in and say 'hi', I'm right by the main hall, and it's a pretty sweet setup. I don't bite. Anymore. I promise.”

[Music fades back, plays for a few moments, then cuts softly as the mic picks up again.]

MAYA (a little mischievous): “Alright, folks, you’re in for a treat. We’ve got a very special guest in the booth today. Resident genius and best mom in the world. Wanna say hi?”

LEELA (off-mic at first, reluctant): “Uh. I’m Leela. Her—your mother. Hi.”

MAYA: “Hi, Mama.”

LEELA (dryly): “You forgot your lunch bag. Again.”

MAYA: “I was... on the air. Y’know. Broadcasting to the entire colony. Essential work.”

LEELA: “Mhm. Well, now your sandwich is cold. Again. Good luck with that.”

MAYA (laughing): “Wait! Wait. Sit down. Just one question. It’s a good one.”

LEELA (sighs): “Maya, I’ve got to look at the turbines at the dam today—”

MAYA: “Please. Please-please-please! C’mon. For the people.”

LEELA (defeated): “Fine.”

MAYA (suddenly mock-serious): “Okay, Jackson, here’s today’s philosophical corner: If you could say one thing to someone or something you’ve lost—what would it be?”

[Silence for a second. Then, deadpan:]

MAYA (hisses): “Mama, you have to answer.”

LEELA (after a pause, dryly): “To someone I’ve lost? …I’d probably have a word or two with my patience. Wherever it went. Please come back.”

[MAYA snorts with laughter.]

LEELA (murmuring): “And now I really do have to go.”

MAYA: “You’re the worst.”

[A kiss lands audibly—Leela kisses the top of Maya’s head, just off-mic.]

LEELA (softly, already stepping away): “Have a great day. I love you, baby.”

[The door clicks. Faint sounds of her leaving — boots on wood, the wind again. Then silence. Maya exhales like she’s trying not to smile.]

MAYA (quietly, into the mic): “She says that every time, like she doesn’t mean it. But she does. Every single word.”

[She clears her throat.]

MAYA: “Okay, back to the music before I start cryin' on air. This next one’s for y'all weirdos with too many feelings. Stay safe, stay sharp, and stay with me.”

[The song fades in.]

X

L. MILLER MAYA DEVELOPMENT LOG – AUDIO FILE #12 TIMESTAMP: 11:03 | Reed Residence, Dining room SUBJECT: Maya Miller, aged 3 years, 8 months NOTES: Observational recording for emotional awareness _ identity formation.

(Soft rustle. The recorder clicks on. Leela's voice enters soft, tired, but affectionate, as though she’s easing into the moment.)

“Development log twelve. Maya, aged three years and nine months. Today I want to check in on Maya’s social-emotional patterns—how she plays, how she relates to other kids. Observation notes: Today, she built a “rocket ship fort” with our laundry basket. Declared herself commander. Declared Ellie the alien. She delegated roles. Pretty assertively.”

(There’s a quiet chuckle from Leela, followed by a long exhale.)

“It’s been... remarkable, watching her become her own person. She’s started giving things names. Stories. Feelings. People. I just want to see where her head’s at.”

(She sets something down, the soft clatter of a ceramic mug. Then gently—)

“Hey, baby girl. You wanna come sit with Mama for a second?”

(There’s the sound of soft running feet on hardwood, followed by a tiny huff of breath as Maya sits down. Fabric rustles. Maya’s voice is sweet and happy.)

“I was building a big zoo for you, mama.”

“A zoo? Wow. What animals did you put in it?”

“Three horses, one tiger, two bunnies, and a T-Rex.”

(Leela laughs.) “Now that’s a very inclusive zoo.”

(A pause. Then, casually but purposeful—) “Maya, can you tell me about your friends? Who do you play with the most?”

(Maya, without missing a beat) “Carter.”

“Oh, he's a nice boy. Remind me, who's Carter?”

“Silly.” (She hums.) “He lives next door!”

“Mhm. And what’s Carter like?”

“He’s funny. He let me use his green crayon even though it's his favourite. And he pushed me on the swing so high I almost touched the sun!”

(Leela, gently teasing) “You have a lot of fun together?”

(Maya giggles.) “He’s my boyfwen.”

(There’s a beat of silence. A soft click as Leela sets down her pen.)

(Leela sounds more careful than amused.) “He's your boyfriend?”

“Uh-huh. He shared. And I kissed him on the cheek. So now we’re... boyfwen and girlfwen.”

(Leela’s quiet laugh slips out—surprised, warm.) “And how did he feel about that?”

(Maya, cheerfully) “He said I smelled like apples.”

“That’s a pretty sweet thing to say.”

(Then her tone shifts—slower now. She softens it without losing the thread, like a hand on Maya’s back.)

“Baby, can we talk about something important?”

“'Kay.”

“You know how hugs and kisses and holding hands can feel really nice, right?”

“Yeah. I go like this—mwah!”

(There's a small pause.) “But you always get to choose. Nobody gets to touch you unless you want them to.”

“Mhm.”

“And if someone ever tries, and it makes your tummy feel funny, like a scared feeling, or like you want to get away—you tell Mama. Or Daddy. Or anyone in your family.”

(Maya, quietly) “Even if they’re nice?”

“Even if they’re really nice. If you don’t feel good about it, that’s enough. Your body is yours.”

(There’s a pause, like Maya is working it out in her head. Something taps gently—Maya’s fingers on the table, maybe. Then her voice returns, brighter again.)

“But I wanted to give him kiss, mama.”

“That’s okay. It’s good when you want to. That’s how we know something feels right. But you should know it’s always okay to say no, too. Even to kisses. Even to Carter.”

(Maya hums, a beat later) “What if I change my mind?”

“Exactly. Then you say, “No, thank you.” And he has to listen. And if he doesn’t, you come straight to me, alright?”

“I think he listens.”

“Then he’s being a good friend. That’s what matters most. Being safe and kind.”

(Silence. Then—)

“Mama?”

“Yeah, baby.”

(Her voice is shy.) “Can I kiss you?”

(Leela laughs, breath catching a little—caught off guard.) “Of course you can. Gimme a big one.”

(A pause. A kiss lands—a loud little mwah. Then giggles.)

“You smell like Daddy.”

“And you smell like apples. Go on now, go build your big zoo.”

(Tiny footsteps patter away. The door creaks faintly. The room settles. The faint hiss of the windchime and the occasional tick of the cooling kettle fill the space. Then—soft, almost absent-minded—Leela begins speaking again.)

“Um, well... Maya shows increasing um, verbal complexity in social interactions. She uses ownership language—“my boyfriend,” “my zoo”—which aligns with expected identity formation at her... stage. Shows initiative in emotional reciprocity—physical affection, shared play, verbal acknowledgement of care...”

(She takes a quiet breath, then shifts.)

“Omigod... what happens when those interactions aren’t safe? When someone nice isn’t good?”

(Another breath. This one is shakier.)

“I don’t know how to teach my daughter the difference between fear and instinct without giving her...” (A soft gulp.) “...my history. I don’t want her carrying mine. I want her to know the world. But how do you prepare someone for what you survived, without letting that become the shadow they grow up under?

(A long pause.)

“My baby, she’s so soft. And that’s a miracle. I didn’t know softness could survive me. I didn’t know I could still hold it, let alone raise it.”

(Her voice lowers again, almost as if she’s talking only to herself.)

“I watch her love so freely, and it's starting to terrify me again. Because there’s always this part of me that thinks: someone's going to take it. But another part, the one that clings to Joel, assures me that she's safe. Maya knows how her father is and how a person should be.”

(Silence. Then, quietly, with that same gentle steadiness she gives to Maya—)

“She knows she can say no, and that she can run home to me. That’s… a start.”

(Click.)

X

M. MILLER RADIO RECORDING #49

[Mid-broadcast—music fades out. The soft hum of the station returns.]

MAYA (into the mic, mock-serious): “And that was Fleetwood Mac for the third time this week because apparently we are a town of heartbreakers. Thanks for the request, Esteban—erm, next time, maybe something that doesn’t make me want to bash my head against the wall for two hours.”

[She shuffles a cassette case, clicks it shut.]

[The studio door creaks open. Footsteps, then a long, familiar sigh as someone flops down onto a chair.]

ELLIE (off-mic, relaxed): “Damn, it’s cosy up in here. Look at this! Did you get new pillows? Wait, that one's mine.”

MAYA (groans): “Oh no. No, no, no. Ellie—you’re not cleared for entrance. You gotta go.”

ELLIE (snorts): “Relax. I’m just hangin’ out. You got snacks? You always got snacks. Leela's fuckin' sinful pretzels.”

MAYA: “This is a professional environment. You can’t just—”

ELLIE (into the mic, sing-song): “Psh, you're like ten. Did your professional environment know you’ve got a boyfriend who—”

MAYA (shrieks, cuts her off): “NOPE. Nope. Don’t you dare! You always do this! Get out!”

ELLIE (cackling): “What! I didn’t even say—Carter!—Come and—ow, hey!”

MAYA (wrestling for the mic): “Get! Out!”

[There’s a scuffle, laughter, the sound of a chair scraping back. Ellie’s voice is fading as she’s being half-dragged.]

ELLIE (calling out): “He sees her through his window, Joel’s gonna—!”

MAYA: “OH MY GOD!”

[Just as Ellie is shoved out the door—]

MARIA (stern, from the hall): “Girls. Too loud.”

[Silence. The studio door eases shut.]

MAYA (breathing hard, mutters): “…Gonna kill her.”

[She takes a second. Then clears her throat and speaks calmly into the mic again, regaining her radio persona like nothing happened.]

MAYA: “Apologies for the brief turbulence. We now return you to your regularly scheduled programme. Here’s one for anyone with nosy sisters and no locks on their doors. This is ‘Don’t Stand So Close to Me.’”

[Music kicks in—The Police.]

X

MILLER HOME VIDEO #16

(The footage starts mid-motion—jostled slightly as someone fumbles with the handstraps. A soft clatter in the background, tools on wood. The screen settles, coming into focus on Joel at his workbench, his head bowed, the muscles in his forearm taut as he files the edge of a half-finished guitar body. Sunlight spills across his shoulders. There’s a quiet hum in the room: dust in the air, the faint buzz of wind outside, the rasp of wood shaving down.)

(Leela, off-camera, dryly amused) “You done pretending I’m not here?”

(Joel doesn’t look up. His voice is slow, roughened with focus.) “If you’re filmin’ me again, I’m chargin’ a fee.”

“Mm. That so? Well, I've got money to spare.” (A pause as she zooms slightly, catching the flex of his hand as he turns the wood. She goes into a deep voice.) “Joel Miller. Documented in the wild. In his natural habitat. Look at the precision. The grace. The muscle.”

(Joel snorts. Still doesn’t look up.) “For real?”

(She laughs quietly behind the camera.) “I wish I were more artistic.”

(He finally lifts his gaze, catches her through the lens, then returns to his work with a little shake of his head.)

“You are. You just get mad when it ain’t perfect.” (A beat. Then he sets the file down, reaching up to flick the collar of his flannel toward the camera.) “Like this. Tell me this ain’t art.”

(The camera zooms in. There, stitched along the collar’s edge in slightly uneven thread, is a pair of deer antlers—wobbly, charming, clearly handmade.)

(Leela laughs.) “That was not for public display!”

“Too late. It’s on record now.” (He grins, clearly enjoying himself, and lifts his palm next—dark ink visible along the base of his thumb.) “And this?”

(Camera focuses on his outstretched palm. A swirl of dark brown ink stains the skin—rust-colored henna, slightly cracked with drying. The design isn’t excellent, but in the centre are the small, careful initials: L & J. The camera dips just as quick.)

“Ugh, you're proving my point. It looks terrible.”

(Joel studies it for a moment.) “Looks perfect to me. Show me yours.”

(The shot wobbles as Joel takes the camera gently. A moment of black, then the image refocuses—now it’s Leela in frame, sitting cross-legged on the floor, light pooling behind her in the corner of the woodshop. She gives a reluctant grin, her hands resting in her lap, then slowly lifts them.)

“Happy?”

“Look at that. Real pretty. Like you.”

(Camera zooms. Her palms are detailed with dark henna—delicate vines, tiny dots like stars, and soft spirals, uneven in some places but clearly done with care. Her ring sits amid it, gleaming bright against her skin.)

(Joel’s voice is soft behind the lens.) “What’s this called again?”

“Henna.”

“Right, henna. And you did this because...?”

(She gives him a pointed look.) “Because I got married.”

“That you did.” (A pause, then:) “Poor bastard.”

(Leela laughs and throws a scrap of fabric at the camera.)

(Joel lowers the camera a bit, just enough to see more of her—not posing, just being.) “And in two days. I get to see all this goodness in a pretty white dress.”

“If you shave a little.”

“I’ll consider it.”

“And wear a tux.”

“Now that’s pushin’ it.”

(She tilts her head, lips pushed to a frown.)

(Joel clucks his tongue.) “We’re not even having a real ceremony, baby. Just some pictures. No one’s wearin’ a damn tux.”

(She narrows her eyes playfully.) “Then why should I wear a dress?”

(Joel pauses.) “Don’t, then. Even better.”

(Leela looks away, but her mouth curves.) “Put the camera away, Joel.”

(A beat. Joel mumbles something inaudible to catch.)

(She gasps.) “Turn it off! You can't just say that while—”

(She exhales a quiet laugh, then reaches toward the lens—fingers outstretched. The footage shudders as the camera is lowered, turned. Just before the image cuts out, there’s a blurred shot of Joel’s boots stepping toward her.)

—

(The footage flickers back on. The camera shifts wildly at first—then it steadies, slightly tilted, capturing a low, intimate view of the workshop floor. The frame settles on Leela.)

(She’s sitting with her back against the wood-panelled wall, knees drawn up, a guitar resting haphazardly in her lap. Her hair is tousled, her nightdress clinging loosely with two buttons undone and one sleeve halfway off her shoulder. There’s a lazy satisfaction in her posture, it's obvious—she is freshly fucked. She’s grinning, biting her kiss-bitten bottom lip as she awkwardly tries to strum.)

(She nods to the camera.) “Nice, you turned it on. Say it again for me.”

(Joel, off-camera, voice sheepish) “You wish. I turned it on because future historians are gonna know what beautiful means.”

“Uh-uh. You have to say it. For the record.”

“There ain’t gonna be a record. This thing’ll get eaten by squirrels or somethin’.”

“You just said—”

“Changed my mind.”

(She laughs, eyes flicking up toward the lens, fingers still plucking uncertainly at the strings.)

“So, Joel said—and I quote—‘If I die, you have my blessing to move on, but not to someone with bad grammar or a weak chin.’”

“I was jokin’.”

“No, no. This is legal documentation now. You’re on record.”

“Fine. You got it on tape. But it’s a one-way deal. No replacements. I die, you mourn forever. Become a ghost widow or some shit.”

(Leela snorts. She strums a wrong chord and winces.) “You really think I’d let you die?”

“You plan on goin’ first?”

“Someone’s got to make you dinner in the afterlife.”

(Joel sighs.) “Hate it when you talk like that.”

(She softens then, gaze dropping back to the strings. Her voice stays light, but there's something underneath it—like the edge of a sigh.)

“You’re not gonna die anytime soon, Joel. Remember your guarantee?”

(He grumbles.) “Hundred-and-twenty years. No refunds.”

“Precisely. You’re only halfway through.”

“Still got time to pick up bad habits.”

(Leela flashes him a smile.) “You already did. Me.”

(There’s a beat of silence. You can hear Joel shift off-camera, maybe leaning closer. When he speaks, it’s warm, almost shy.)

“At least I get a cute girl outta the deal. And then some.”

“And I haven’t even started greying yet.”

“You won’t. Not for another decade. Still a damn teenybopper.”

“Right, right. I’m seventeen, Maya doesn’t exist, and I met you at my high school prom.”

“That’d explain the dress this weekend.”

“It has stars on it. Maya drew it.”

“Look, I’m livin’ long enough to see that girl bring home some cocky little bastard, and when they knock on our door, I’m gonna be sittin’ there with this guitar, cleanin’ it like it’s a shotgun.”

(Leela breaks into quiet, delighted laughter, leaning her head back against the wall. Her fingers fall still on the strings. She looks up at the camera and lifts one brow.)

“Will you at least put on your shirt first?”

“Hell no. Ruins my intimidation tactic.”

(She groans, mock-horrified. The camera tilts just slightly as Joel chuckles, and the screen catches a blurry glimpse of his knee before the feed goes shaky.)

“Alright, movie star. Gimme that thing before I start filming your bald spot.”

“Such a little—”

(A blurry shot of her smirk as he dodges a playful swipe. Then—black.)

X

M. MILLER RADIO RECORDING #50

[The last notes of a mellow track fade out—Simon & Garfunkel’s 'The Only Living Boy in New York.' The needle lifts. A breath of quiet static. Then, Maya’s voice, soft and clear through the mic.]

MAYA (into the mic, thoughtful): “Going along with our question for the day... I always wonder what the old world felt like. It's something I lost. Y’know, the one before the fences and the patrol schedules and the rules about not going past the orchard without a grown-up.”

“My dad and mom—they tell me stories. Sometimes funny ones. Like the time Daddy got stuck in this thing called an elevator and thought he was gonna spend the rest of his life in there.” [laughs quietly]

“And sometimes they tell me the coolest stuff. Like—did you know Leela Miller was supposed to inherit a jet? One of those fast-flying things that important people used to ride in. A private jet, she said. With soft chairs and teeny-tiny pretzels. You should’ve seen Daddy’s face when she told me. He just went real quiet and blinked a bunch.”

[Her voice quietens.] “Sometimes the stories are sad, though. Ellie told me once about the stars and how people used to ride rockets into space. She said if she had the chance, she’d go straight to the moon and never look back. I didn’t even know the moon was close enough to touch.”

[A soft pause. You can hear her thumb tap the desk, just once.]

“And every Thursday, I help my ma make dinner. It’s, like, our thing. She says people used to do that—pass down recipes and stories while peeling potatoes or whatever. Last week, we made these round stuffed cookie sandwiches called Oreos. Black and white. Sounded fancy. Tasted like… chalk? Ugh.” (giggles) “I don’t know why people were obsessed with them. Daddy ate five just to prove he liked them. Then he made this face like he’d swallowed his boot.”

“And then there were the M&Ms. Uncle Tommy found this old sealed jar when he was out on patrol. Tiny little colours, all shiny like beads. I thought they’d taste like cardboard. But… they didn’t. They melted in my mouth. Like, hmm… I don’t know. Crunchy happiness? I didn’t even care if they were a hundred years old. I wanted three more jars.”

[Her voice quiets. More space between words now.]

“Sometimes… I think I’m never gonna know what that world felt like. The one with school buses, and oh! These ice cream trucks that played music? With movie theatres and cereal aisles that go on forever. Where you could drive a car just because you felt like it. And move to a whole continent in a few hours.”

“I live in a world of rationed rice. And fences. And watchtowers. A world where you grow what you eat. And you don’t go out unless you have to...”

“But it’s not all bad.”

[She inhales, like she’s grounding herself in the now.]

“It’s actually kinda nice here. I wake up and check the berry bushes with Mama. I get to see the horses every day with Ellie. I help Daddy in the shop—he lets me sand the soft wood and shows me how to oil the hinges so they don’t squeak. When we walk through town, people wave. They know my name. The Miller kid.”

[A beat. Then she smiles, almost audibly.]

“Maybe the old world’s gone. But this one’s still growing, right?”

[She hesitates. Then leans a little closer to the mic. Her voice goes small—sincere.]

“If I ever had to pick between all the shiny stuff, the Oreos and M&Ms, the old world… or having this, my family, the lake, and my town?”

“I’d pick this. Every time.”

[There’s a quiet moment—just the hum of the equipment and a flick of a switch.]

MAYA (soft): “This next one goes out to anyone who's building something new in a world that’s still figuring itself out. Hang in there. Here’s “Here Comes the Sun” by The Beatles. Stay warm, Jackson.”

[Music begins.]

X

T. MILLER HOME VIDEO #3

(The frame opens with a slow zoom onto Joel, standing in front of a small bedroom mirror, trying—and failing—to get his cufflinks to sit right. The golden sun highlights the pressed lines of Joel's jacket. Tommy's teasing voice comes from behind the camera.)

“Look at that. Goddamn. Joel Miller in a tux. I never thought I’d live to see the day.”

(Joel doesn’t look up. Just mutters a curse under his breath and keeps wrestling with the cuff.) “Terrible timing.”

“Oh, c’mon. Give us a spin, would ya?”

(Joel doesn't even glance over.) “Fuck off.”

(Tommy chuckles behind the camera. The lens zooms in—just slightly too close—as Joel adjusts his tie. The suit fits better than expected: crisp, black with a subtle grey lining. He looks good, clean, handsome, and uncomfortable. Someone has ironed the outlaw right off him. He finally gets the tie straight, eyes narrowing at his own reflection like it just insulted him.)

(Tommy, drawling, mock-formal) “Big brother’s gettin’ married today. Real event of the year.”

(Joel continued centring his tie.) “It ain’t a wedding. It’s pictures.”

(Tommy ignores him.) “There’s a bride. There’s a groom. She’s in white. You’re in a tux. There are rings involved.”

(Joel snorts. He fiddles with the small boutonniere Maria had pinned to the lapel earlier. It’s a single thistle and a white wildflower. Subtle.)

“Ain’t about the pictures or the suit. I… wanted a day that Maya could remember. So that’s what we’re doin’.”

“That’s a wedding, dumbass.”

(Joel gives him a look. The kind that would’ve stopped most people from speaking again. Tommy is not most people.)

“If you fuck this up for me, I am puttin’ your head through a goddamn wall.”

(The camera pans awkwardly to the bed, where Maya, three years old, is sitting cross-legged in a blue dress with a sash, hugging her stuffed bear. Her hair is braided in two neat ropes on her shoulders. She’s watching Joel with the kind of reverence only little kids have for their dads.)

“Hey, squirt. You seen your mama?”

(Maya beams at the camera.) “Yeah, she looks like a pin-cess. She got tattoo on her hands, and flowers in her hair...”

(She falls back onto the bed, kicking her feet in glee. Joel turns at the sound, a smile creeping over his face.)

“Well, now I gotta see her.”

(From off-frame, a calm voice answers, warm and amused—)

“Look no further.”

(The camera swings again, a little too fast, before it steadies—catching Leela standing in the doorway. She’s radiant in a simple flared white dress, tea-length with delicate lace sleeves. Her long braid is swept over one shoulder, tucked with tiny wildflowers. A string of pearls graces her neck, and white heels click softly on the floorboards as she steps in. She’s not done up like a fairy tale—she’s real, alive, smiling, glowing like one.)

(She smooths a hand down her stomach.) “Is it fine?”

(Joel doesn’t say anything at first. He just stares. His brow softens. One hand comes up to rub the back of his neck, the way he does when words fail him.)

“You look...” (He exhales a short breath through his nose, still watching her like she’s walked out of a dream.) “Yeah, darlin'. Yeah, you look... more than fine.”

(Then he snaps his fingers at Tommy without breaking eye contact.)

“Out. Take baby girl with you.”

(Tommy groans.) “Aw, c’mon, Joel. Get a grip.”

“Get. Out.”

(Maya squeals as Tommy dutifully scoops her up. The camera jostles a little. A final glimpse of Joel reaching for Leela’s hand before the door begins to close.)

(Maya, off-camera, giggling) “Bye, Mama! Bye, Daddy!”

(Just before the recording cuts, there’s a quiet moment—Leela stepping close, Joel’s hand brushing along her waist, his head dipping against hers, and the soft click of the door behind them.)

X

M. MILLER RADIO RECORDING #51

[The tape clicks on—there's a fuzzy hum of silence, then the creak of a stool. Maya exhales. She’s clearly resting her chin in her hand, voice small and low.]

M.M (quietly): ...you're tuned in with me, Maya, where the stars are out and everyone else is asleep. Except me. And maybe that one rooster that doesn’t understand how time works.

[A pause. The chair creaks again. She exhales, this time longer. Her voice grows softer—almost like she’s talking to herself now.]

M.M: No one came down here tonight. Not even... Carter. And he said he would. Boys are so dumb. (Then quickly:) Also, he's not my boyfriend! I hate his stupid guts!

[A long silence. Just the faint sound of a wire humming. Then, her voice, low and a little sad—]

I guess... if anyone’s still listening… thank you. [Her voice tightens. She’s holding something back. Then—] Okay. That’s enough sadness. Up next is the sound of me flipping through my songbook until I find something good.

[Just as she starts to rustle the pages, there’s a knock. Soft, deliberate. Her head lifts slightly. Another knock. Then Joel’s voice—]

J.M. (off-mic, gentle): Hey.

M.M (muffled, burying her face in her arms): Hi.

J.M.: How'd it go today?

M.M: Super. No one came. Or called.

J.M.: I came.

MAYA: You don’t count.

[A beat. The floor creaks as he steps inside, sits beside her. A long silence between them—companionable. Then—]

J.M: Well. You sure do like talkin’, huh?

[Maya mock gasps—like he’s insulted her most grievously.]

MAYA: Dad. Talking is important.

J.M. (teasing): Didn’t say it wasn’t. Just wonderin’... you ever run outta words?

MAYA (proudly): Nope. Never. Not even once.

[Joel lets out a low chuckle.]

J.M: Alright. But why the radio? What is it, your diary?

[Pause. Her tone pivots—still Maya, still full of sunshine, but now there’s a thoughtfulness underneath. Like she’s been waiting for someone to ask.]

MAYA: No. Because it’s... magic. You talk... and the words go somewhere. You don’t know where or who’s listenin’. But it’s out there.

[Beat. The chair creaks as she swings her feet.]

Mama said sound keeps goin’ even after we stop hearin’ it. Maybe it bounces off the sky or floats forever in space.

[She lowers her voice now—a hush, like telling a secret.]

So what if someone’s out there in our town, and what if they’re sad and alone... and then poof, they hear my voice. They know I’m real.

[Joel doesn’t answer for a second. You can hear the emotion get caught somewhere between silence and breath.]

J.M. (soft): That’s a mighty big heart you got.

MAYA (shrugs): It’s just talking.

J.M: Nah... ’S more than that.

[A rustle—Joel moves closer, maybe rests a hand on her head. His voice lowers.]

J.M.: Why don’t I answer your question tonight?

[A soft shuffle—maybe she’s lifting her head just slightly.]

MAYA: You will?

J.M: Shoot.

MAYA (a little more awake): Um... today it was: if you could say one thing to someone or something you lost… what would you say?

[Joel doesn’t answer right away. The mic hums gently. When he speaks, it’s soft—like he’s not sure she should hear it, but says it anyway.]

J.M: I’d say… I’m still here. Still tryin’. Doin’ better. And I’d say I love you very much. Took me a while to come back. (A pause.) That’s all.

MAYA (humming): Was it… a person? Or your guitar?

J.M (snorts softly): Ain’t the guitar.

MAYA (after a beat): Then I think I know who she is.

[He doesn’t deny it.]

J.M.: You got a song picked out?

MAYA: Not really.

J.M. (with a little smile): Well, you know mine.

MAYA (grinning): Future Days?

J.M: Mind if I play it?

MAYA: Well, no one's listening to put up with your singing anyway. Go ahead.

J.M: Smartass.

[He reaches for the old guitar case he brought with him—the latch clicks faintly. The strings hum as he tunes without thinking, hands practised, voice low.]

J.M. (gravel-voiced, playful): “This next one’s for the late-night crew. All one and a half of you.”

MAYA (giggles): Hey!

[He starts to play. A few soft, familiar chords. The mic catches it, carries it. Maya leans into his side. You can hear the soft brush of her hair against his jacket. Her voice, sleepy now.]

MAYA: Thanks for coming down here, Daddy.

J.M (quietly): Always will, darlin’.

[The song fades in.]

X

PHOTO LOG — SPRING | “Unwedding” Filed: L. MILLER, personal archive Roll #03, camera serial A-081 [TRIPOD RECORDING – VIDEO & STILL INTERVAL] CAMERA: ACTIVE

Frame 001

JOEL & LEELA, centre frame. They’re standing side by side in front of the big white house. Leela holds a handful of clipped sunflowers from her garden, stems wet and crooked. She’s smiling widely, the grin still growing. Joel gives the camera a suspicious look, then manages a half-smile, awkward, slightly off-centre.

ELLIE (offscreen, yelling): Joel, your face looks like you just stepped on a nail. Try smiling like you love her!

JOEL (grumbling): I do love her.

ELLIE: Then tell your dumb mouth.

Frame 002

JOEL & LEELA, closer. Joel’s arm slips around her waist, tugging her toward him. She stumbles into him, laughing, and the sunflowers drag a streak of yellow pollen down the front of his jacket. He scowls. She looks up at him, still laughing.

LEELA (cowboy accent): Guess I done marked you there, partner.

JOEL: Been doin’ that since day one.

Frame 003

JOEL, LEELA, & ELLIE. Ellie jumps into the frame, arms around their shoulders. She’s in a wrinkled black suit with a bright red tie, hair slicked back in a ponytail. Leela clutches Ellie’s hand with a smile that softens her whole face. Joel’s attention has shifted—he’s not looking at the camera anymore, just at Ellie, and there's something proud and bone-deep in the way he’s smiling down at her.

Frame 004

JOEL, TOMMY, LEELA, & MARIA. They’re bunched close, like they’re about to break into a group prayer or a brawl. Maria has her arm around Leela’s waist. Joel stands slightly behind, one hand on Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy’s got his eyes closed like he’s already regretting whatever Joel’s about to say.

JOEL (murmured): Don’t you dare put your scaly ass lips near my wife again.

TOMMY (winking at Leela): I got one more kiss left in me.

LEELA (laughs): Me, too.

JOEL: Don't encourage him, honey.

MARIA: Shut the fuck up and smile.

Frame 005

MAYA. She stands in the front lawn by her swingset, a sunflower tucked behind her ear, grinning so wide her cheeks nearly touch her eyes. She frames her chin with her little hands, posing like someone’s taught her pageantry. Her gaze is angled up—someone tall, probably Joel, is just off-frame.

Frame 006

JOEL & TOMMY. They're in a mild standoff, both half-turned toward each other and toward the camera, bickering with their eyebrows.

TOMMY: You go left. I go right.

JOEL: You ain’t ever been right.

Frame 007

MARIA & TOMMY. Maria’s head is thrown back in a real laugh, eyes crinkling. Tommy’s kissed her cheek mid-frame, smug. His tie’s crooked. Her blouse is wrinkled. They look like the only people who didn’t try and still somehow got it right.

Frame 008

TOMMY & MAYA. He crouches beside her, both of them duck-pouting for the camera. Maya quickly throws up bunny ears behind his head just as the shutter clicks.

TOMMY (growls): Little nightmare. C'mere, I'll yank your nose out. Can't have one good photo.

[MAYA squeals, running off.]

Frame 009

ELLIE & MAYA. Ellie lifts Maya up at the waist, both laughing like they’ve just shared a secret. Maya’s braid is lopsided now. Ellie's hair is blown upward by the wind. They don’t care; they erupt into laughter.

Frame 010

JOEL, LEELA, & MAYA. The final frame lingers. Joel holds Maya in his arms, her small hands looped loosely around his neck, her cheek tucked against his shoulder. His other arm is around Leela, drawing her in without hesitation. She leans into him, one hand resting gently over his heart, holding it there, the wood-and-gold ring twinkling in the sun. Joel doesn’t smile often, but he does here. It’s lopsided and big. It took a long road to arrive at this moment.

X

L. MILLER MAYA DEVELOPMENT LOG – AUDIO FILE #117 October 3rd, 10:12 P.M.

(Soft click. A breath. Fabric rustles. Distant sound of wind chimes, maybe a creaky chair.)

“Okay. Six years, four months.”

“Maya asked me today if the sky always looked this old. And I didn’t know what to tell her.” (She laughs.) “I am still thinking about it. She is absolutely incredible. Now I know how my parents felt.”

“She’s... sharp lately. Surpasses me in all ways. Picks up on patterns faster than I can redirect her. Her brain is restless—it wants to devour everything. Maps. Fire. Roots. Words she’s not ready for. Words I wasn’t ready to hear her say.”

“Transcend. Refract. Exquisite. And, ugh, gross. Which she gets from Ellie.”

“She is Joel’s mirror. Her eye-roll, the little tilt of her head, the way she leans. She wears his old shirts, tucked into her jeans, sleeves all rolled up. She still bolts out the front door at exactly four every afternoon, barefoot if I don’t catch her, just to meet him halfway, and grabs his bag like it’s hers to carry. She sings with him now, plays guitar with him, little fingers on the frets. She even talks with that same Texas drawl of his.”

“She’s started naming weather. Not just clouds, but moods—“grump-storm,” “whisper rain,” “sun that’s pretending.” I think it’s how she handles the chaos. Which makes sense. It’s how I handled mine.”

(A beat passes.)

“I have decided that this is the last one. The last log. Not because she’s finished—well, she’s just getting started—but because I think she’s moving beyond me. And that’s the point, isn’t it?”

“My brilliant baby girl doesn’t need me to define her anymore. She’s learning what kind of person she wants to be. All I ever wanted was to get her this far. Alive. Unbroken. Curious. Aspiring. And so damn beautiful.”

“I think… I think I did that.”

(A brief rustling, a soft clink of glass—maybe a whiskey. Quite out of character for Leela.)

“As for me...” (She clears her throat. A chair creaks as she leans back.)

“I’m still working. I finished my notes on the zeta convergence problem last week—well, finished for now. There’s a ceiling I keep hitting, but I’m trying to trick myself into thinking it’s just another kind of symmetry.”

“I never thought I’d leave anything behind of mine own that mattered. But lately, I’ve been helping Jackson map our winter grid—energy storage with the lightning battery, food supply routes, even water rationing patterns. We’re building a resilience plan that doesn’t rely on luck anymore. A bunch of futurists here.”

(She exhales.) “I drew up the town’s first curriculum guidelines last month—basic logic, analytic equations, geometry... Maria says we’re going to turn the old sawmill into a school next year. Joel says if I make him teach fractions, he’ll fake his own death.”

(A small laugh. She lets it fade.)

“But I think he’s proud. Quietly. Of me.”

(And here—she gets a little softer, thoughtful, speaking more to herself now.)

“I don’t know if any of this will last. The world still breaks more than it builds. But maybe we leave behind, um... enough blueprints. Enough questions. Enough people who believe something good is possible.”

(Silence, just the faint hum of wind outside. Then—)

“I keep the hard math separate from the home stuff. Thanks to my handy chore chart. Usually. But sometimes—like today—I sit at the window with my pen, and I think about proof, and beauty, and entropy, and how somehow we still made this little family work. Even after everything.”

(Beat. She takes a sip. The glass touches the table again.)

“I mean, I still get the nightmares. Can't stop it. Not every night, but some. Sometimes I wake up with the scream still stuck in my chest. Sometimes I can’t get near my daughter's room without remembering what was done to me. What I survived.”

“But I’m doing better than I ever was. I don’t flinch as often when Joel touches me. I like taking walks around Jackson with Maria. I like to listen to people talk. Sometimes I visit Joel at the contracting yard, just to wake him up a little. I still freeze when I smell bleach, but I tell myself I’m safe, Maya is safe, and sometimes it even works. And when it doesn’t... he holds me through it. No questions or pushing. Just waits for me to fall asleep, and is awake before I am to reassure me that I didn't disappear.”

(Her voice softens here—full, held together like something precious she doesn't want to break just by saying it aloud.)

“Being with Joel is... loving a faultline. It is too silent, too deep, and it waits there. Ancient. Worn. Presence over promise. There’s something in him that bends toward my grief without being afraid of it. He just knows it’s there.”

(A soft breath, like she’s amazed by her own truth.)

“I think I love him more now because I know he’s seen the worst of me. And somehow he still leaves coffee by my nightstand every morning and kisses me like I’m his gift.”

(A faint, amused exhale—almost a laugh. She sniffles.)

“God, I sound so corny. He’d tease the hell out of me for this.”

“I never thought I’d have this. But then Joel knocked on my door one night, and everything began again. I’m... still learning how to let myself have that. Which is the hardest goddamn part. Belonging.”

(She sighs.) “Anyway... that’s the... my everything for now.”

“Joel’s downstairs—hinge number six. Maya’s his shadow, as always. I’ll go to them in a minute.”

“If I never say anything else—let this be the one that stays. I'm still here. I’ll hold onto this as long as the world lets me.”

[Click.]

X

© damneddamsy

I think it took me a really long time to post this because I had to say goodbye. To everyone who made it this far, thank you. What a wild journey this has been! Round two starts here -> FALLING masterlist Or if you're interested in something else, it's here -> DAMS main masterlist

{taglist (my literal family) 🫶: @darknight3904 , @guiltyasdave , @letsgobarbs , @helskemes , @jodiswiftle , @tinawantstobeadoll , @bergamote-catsandbooks , @cheekychaos28 , @randofantfic , @justagalwhowrites , @emerald-evans , @amyispxnk , @corazondebeskar-reads , @wildemaven , @tuquoquebrute , @elli3williams , @bluemusickid , @bumblepony , @legoemma , @chantelle-mh , @heartlessvirgo , @possiblyafangirl , @pedropascalsbbg , @oolongreads -> @kaseynsfws , @prose-before-hoes , @kateg88 , @laliceee , @escaping-reality8 , @mystickittytaco , @penvisions , @elliaze , @eviispunk , @lola-lola-lola , @peepawispunk , @sarahhxx03 , @julielightwood , @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi , @arten1234 , @jhiddles03 , @everinlove , @nobodycanknoww , @ashleyfilm , @rainbowcosmicchaos , @i-howl-like-a-wolf-at-the-moon , @orcasoul , @nunya7394 , @noisynightmarepoetry , @picketniffler , @ameagrice , @mojaveghst , @dinomecanico , @guelyury , @staytrueblue , @queenb-42069 , @suzysface , @btskzfav , @ali-in-w0nderland , @ashhlsstuff , @devotedlypaleluminary , @sagexsenorita , @serenadingtigers , @yourgirlcin , @henrywintersgun , @jadagirl15 , @misshoneypaper , @lunnaisjustvibing , @enchantingchildkitten , @senhoritamayblog , @isla-finke-blog , @millercontracting , @tinawantstobeadoll , @funerals-with-cake , @txlady37 , @inasunlitroom , @clya4 , @callmebyyournick-name , @axshadows , @littlemissoblivious } - thank you!! awwwww we're like a little family <3

[sungbeam]

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞

dragon shifter!park seonghwa x f!reader

just because you're both dragon shifters doesn't mean this courtship thing is easy.

▷ 6.1k words, pg-13, f2l, dragon shifters au, urban fantasy, swearing, mentions of a big roach/insect, shoulder kiss, seonghwa goes shirtless once (1), mentions of courtship/mating traditions, the boys are implicit in shenanigans ofc, love in the form of jewelry, very mild jealousy, pining

a/n: this au idea was like ,,, 3 months in the making but i reopened the draft yesterday cuz i was tired of rotting 😭 anyways... i think shy, romantic seonghwa is cute ! (also very much hoping this isn't too boring jsfnkdnf)

Park Seonghwa was pretty sure he fell in love with you the day you met. 

It wasn't something he openly admitted to, especially since his attraction had come first when he saw you across the dormitory common room, and was struck dumb by the curve of your smile and the way the sunlight hit your irises to make them glint like jewels. While it was stereotypical to think that dragons only cared about appearances, it didn't come from nothing. It was part of the reason why Seonghwa didn't like saying it was love at first sight; it technically wasn't, by all definitions. He just thought you were beautiful. 

It wasn't until he finally worked up the courage (thanks to his best friend Hongjoong's encouragement (shoving)) to introduce himself to you that he realized what you were—a dragon shifter, just like him. It was no wonder he felt a pull toward you; dragon shifters were a dime a dozen, especially in the city where you both attended university. He told himself his fast friendship and bonding with you came from his excitement of being the same species, as well as learning each other's cultures and traditions, as you came from different clans. 

Though, that didn't account for the amount of times he daydreamed about adorning you in his family's jewels, as it was customary in courtship traditions to wear one's mate's gems. Neither did it account for the way his heart beat faster whenever you were around, the purring from his chest after that one time you fell asleep on his shoulder… It was complicated. 

“Everyone, let's load up the cars! Quick—off your asses. Let's move, people!” Hongjoong hollered like a drill sergeant, his hands cupped around his mouth before clapping too loud for six in the morning on a Saturday. 

Who in their right mind would be crazy enough to wake up so early on the Saturday of their last spring break? Only one demon in particular, and his name was Kim Hongjoong. 

Seonghwa was still half asleep, his eyelids droopy and his limbs even droopier. He nearly flopped face-first onto the pavement outside the apartment complex. He slung his duffle bag over his shoulder and slumped over to the passenger side of the SUV. It had taken all of his willpower to not trudge out in his Lego Movie pajama set.

“—and for goddess's sake, where is Yn?”

He jolted upright. “Yn?” He blubbered, head going on a swivel. 

Hongjoong peered at him weirdly with his hands on his hips, and Wooyoung snorted, then scurried past to avoid Seonghwa's scowl. “Yes, Yn,” Hongjoong said. “Are you awake, Hwa? We literally talked about Yn coming on the trip with us last night.”

Oh. Right. 

Seonghwa blinked his bleary eyes open and nodded sheepishly. Thank goodness he wasn't in his Lego Movie pajamas. “Y-yep, of course I remember!” 

He glanced away, nostrils flaring as he caught onto a familiar scent coming down the street. He could pick out the smell of apple blossoms, tangerines, and your particular musk from a mile away if he was more awake.

“Sorry, I'm late!” Then there came the voice. Your voice simultaneously jump-started his heart and made his heart swoon. If he was about to faint, it probably wasn't going to be from sleep deprivation. 

He couldn't believe he nearly forgot you were coming to the lake with them. 

Your form came into view, your hair a windswept mess and a sheepish sort of smile on your face as you wrestled with the duffle on one shoulder, your backpack on the other, and a paper grocery bag. 

Seonghwa practically fell over himself in order to drop his own bag on the sidewalk and rush over to you. “Here, I got it,” he murmured, taking the grocery bag and duffle bag away from you so he could hold them. 

Your smile widened at him, and he swore the soft morning light was purposefully making your eyes glow right now. “Thanks, Hwa. Very sweet of you.”

“Of course,” he said with a humble nod, pointedly ignoring all of the looks he was getting from his friends. 

“You're just on time,” Hongjoong greeted you with a small smile. “How were exams for you?”

You brushed a hand through your hair, a tired laugh falling from your lips. “They were… alright,” you opted to say. “Glad they're over now, and I'm so ready for this trip.” You gestured to the grocery bag Seonghwa held. “Oh! I brought snacks, by the way.”

Mingi stuck his entire upper body out of the passenger seat of Yunho's sedan. “Yn-ah! You're riding in our car, right?” 

Seonghwa's expression molded into something sour. “Where did you get that idea from?”

“Mingi, you should just give up now,” San chuckled. He sent a wink over to Seonghwa, then glanced back at the naiad who's head Seonghwa was currently trying to glare a hole through. “We’ve already claimed Yn for our car.”

You looked on in confused amusement. “I'll split the snacks between the cars, guys. And plus, the SUV will have more room than the sedan.”

“Exactly,” Seonghwa piped up. He marched over to the back doors of the SUV to safely deposit your things within. There was no need for you to be squished between Yeosang and Jongho in Yunho's comically tiny car, when you could be in the same car as him—no, wait. That wasn't what he meant—

“Well, this is just favoritism,” Yunho jested as he slammed his trunk shut. He shot you a sunny grin that made Seonghwa glance over at you for your reaction. Yunho's being half-siren always made his voice and gestures a little more silken and sweet than the rest of them. “Are you sure it's 'cause of the extra room and not because Wooyoung's cat is gonna be in that car?”

You chuckled, shrugging. As if on cue, a lithe feline in silky black fur trotted out from the bushes. She strutted over to you, purring as she wrapped her tail around your calf. “Okay, maybe you caught me,” you said, crouching down to pet Wooyoung's cat familiar. 

Seonghwa was not going to be jealous over a cat. He was absolutely not. Some sleep would screw his head on straight—yes, sleep did sound nice. He didn't know what was up with himself this morning. 

“Pretty sure she loves you more than she loves me,” Wooyoung pouted as he stuck his head out of the SUV's back window. 

You picked the feline up with your hands, and she gave a crooning meow as you held her up to her witch through the window. “I wouldn't mind adopting her if she wasn't permanently bound to you.”

Seonghwa's eye twitched at the same time he and Hongjoong made eye contact. 

The demon's mouth curled into a knowing, teasing smile—I see you. Seonghwa could feel the heat lift to the surface of his skin as he ducked into the car. He really needed a nap.  

The remainder of the time was used swiftly as everyone finished packing things into your respective cars, including your bodies. About an hour later, you were well on your way out of the city. 

As this was all nine of yours last year of university, this spring break needed to be a memorable one. Yeosang had heard talk through the grapevine of a collection of interlinking caves overlooking a small lake. It was located a few hours out of the city proper, but it would pose as a peaceful getaway for the week. Each of the small caverns were open facing, peering over the water's surface, and each was designed to be like rooms in a house. There would be enough for the boys to sleep two to a bed, with you getting your own. 

The drive out of the city was an easy one. Seonghwa slept nearly the entire time, only waking up to a near-quiet car, save for Hongjoong's choice of music playing softly from the radio. 

“'Morning,” Hongjoong murmured, taking his eyes off the road for a brief moment. 

Seonghwa yawned and turned his eyes up and outward at the world around him. Concrete jungle had become emerald green trees speared with beams of buttery sunshine. He bet it smelled glorious. “Morning,” he said back quietly. “Are they still…” 

His voice trailed off as he twisted around in his seat and took in the middle row behind him. You, San, and Wooyoung were squished arm to arm, thigh to thigh; Wooyoung's black cat familiar laid fast asleep in Wooyoung's lap, with Wooyoung's head against San, San's head against you, and your head against the car window. Seonghwa cooed to himself at the sight, carefully snapping a picture with his phone, before returning to face the front. 

The remainder of the drive was swift, and as you approached the site of your home for the next several days, you all slowly began to wake up. Seonghwa rolled his window down and braced his arm over the open sill, a smile breaking onto his lips as he greedily inhaled the clean, crisp air. 

His eyes flickered to the side mirror, locking gazes with you. For a moment, he held your eye contact. He watched your mouth curve into that pretty smile of yours that made his insides flutter, before you looked out at the forest again. 

When Hongjoong's and Yunho's cars broke out of the trees and into the next clearing, everyone's breaths stole away. 

“No way we scored this good,” San whispered in giddy excitement as he shoved his body between Hongjoong and Seonghwa to peer out the front windshield. 

Before you stood a wide lake, its waters so clear that one could see straight to the bottom. The caverns that you would all bunker up in were on the far shore, stacked atop one another in two layers with four openings on the bottom and three on the top. A waterfall curtained off two of the cavern rooms as it flowed from the rocky outcropping that loomed over the lake, and into the lake itself; the sound was not thunderous, but a dull sort of roar that was almost muffled. 

With the sun rising higher into the sky, its beams reflected off the cascading spray of water to create a small rainbow in the mist. Suffice to say, the view in front of you deserved its own magazine. 

“Let's get our spring break on!” Wooyoung hooted as Hongjoong pulled the car around the shore of the lake to reach the base of the caverns. 

As the day sank from late morning to early afternoon, you and your friends transferred all of your belongings from the cars and into the caverns. Rooms were decided by an efficient round of Rock Paper Scissors—you luckily scored first, and chose the most private room behind the waterfall for yourself. 

Once everyone was settled, it became a race of who could get into the water—

“WAAAAHOOOO!” SPLASH!

—first. 

Seonghwa peered out from the living room cavern on the second floor to see the bodies below take a running start into the lake. He chuckled to himself, leaning his hip against the wall with a can of soda in his hand as he watched his friends break the surface of the lake, one by one. 

“You're not swimming?”

Seonghwa nearly fell forward and out of the open cave, down into the water. His hand slapped against the wall to catch himself, his heart practically tumbling out of his chest anyway. 

To your credit, you looked apologetic, grimacing through a smile as you came to stand next to him. “Sorry. You didn't hear me come in?” 

You had changed out of your T-shirt and shorts from earlier into a cropped tank top and loose skirt, a silver waist chain winking up at him from where it linked around your belly. 

The thought shoved itself into his brain—that you would look terribly divine in his jewelry.

He swallowed, dragging his eyes up back to yours. “I didn't,” he admitted sheepishly. “Guess I was too focused on watching everyone else. Have you settled in alright?”

You had chosen the cavern bedroom right next to the living room, but it was the only bedroom on this level. 

With a nod, you turned your gaze outward at the ocean of emerald green trees surrounding this little oasis. “I have,” you said pleasantly. “You?”

“Same here.” He carded a hand through his hair. “It's really quite beautiful here.” But not as beautiful as you. 

You glanced over at him again, and he wondered if he could concoct enough things to say to keep your attention on him. “Oh, I definitely agree; it's a perfect paradise, really. The waterfall” — you inclined your chin to your left — “I think it'll be most beautiful at sunset.”

He lifted one of his brows and pushed off the cavern wall. “Oh? Why do you think so?”

“If the sunset faces us,” you explained, gesturing your hand out to the eastern horizon in the distance, “then it'll reflect its light against the waterfall. As the sun sinks down and lights the sky on fire, so too will it set the water aflame.”

Seonghwa could envision your words in his mind's eye as he took in the waterfall careening into the lake below. Its crystal blue waters were so clear that it undoubtedly would reflect the shades of the sunset, and become illuminated as you said—where water turned to flame. 

A soft smile came to his face. What a gorgeous image. 

“I bet it'd look incredible from the skies.” Your words drew him back to your face. You were already looking over at him, and his heart gave a loving lurch. 

Seonghwa cleared his throat. “I agree. Have you been able to stretch your wings recently?”

You hummed, tilting your head from side to side. “Not super recently because I was locked inside to study for the last week or two. You?”

“Same,” he chuckled and reached behind his back to scratch at the nape of his neck. Usually, he tried to shift into dragon form at least twice a week to keep his wings strong, but when life got busy, it was difficult to find enough time to take to the skies. “Would—would you like to take a flight with me sometime?” He stammered, fumbling over his words. “Just, y'know, like a casual thing.”

Excellent, Hwa. The spitting image of confidence. 

He sipped on his soda, already hearing Hongjoong's exasperated sigh in his ear. 

Your smile softened at the corners. “I'd love to. After dinner, maybe?”

His shoulders loosened in relief. “Sounds like a plan.”

“This is your chance! It's a sign!” 

Seonghwa frowned at his reflection in the vanity mirror as he played around with his dark curls. Tied up? Kept down? It really didn't matter; he was literally going to be a dragon for the majority of the time, but it never hurt to appear well-groomed before a potential… ahem, friend. A friend. 

Hongjoong slumped down on the foot of their shared bed, a deadpan on his face when Seonghwa continued to ignore him. “Park Seonghwa, so help me, I will plant one of your anklets in her jewelry box—”

“And if you do that,” Seonghwa drawled as he gave up on his hair and reached for the tube of lip gloss on the vanity top, “I will tell that elven girl you've become so fond of about how you—”

“Okay, I got it,” Hongjoong cut in with a scowl. “Aish, so touchy. I'm just saying that this trip is the perfect opportunity to let her know how you feel, and to court her.”

Seonghwa knew that; of course, he fucking knew that. The thing was that if anything went poorly, you would practically be stuck here with him until the end of the trip. He cringed to himself at the mere awkwardness of that potential outcome. “It's just a wing stretch,” he reasoned aloud to himself. He grabbed one of the bottles of cologne on the table to spritz around his scent glands. “It's not like I'm going to offer her a necklace.”

“Yes, because you need to smell nice for a wing stretch.” Hongjoong fell back onto the bed with a grumble under his breath at Seonghwa's stubbornness. 

Dinner had finished up about fifteen minutes ago, and while everyone departed to do their own activities, you and Seonghwa agreed to reconvene at the tops of the caves in five minutes for your planned flight together. The days were growing longer as spring waltzed toward summer, and thus, the sun reigned the skies for a lengthier period of time. The two of you would ideally circle back in time to watch the sunset hit the waterfall.

Seonghwa left Hongjoong to their quarters as he made his way up to the rocky outcropping at the top of the waterfall. 

You were already waiting for him, your bare feet standing in the shallow end of the river leading down to the waterfall. You still had on the top and skirt from earlier, and as a light breeze wafted past, it blew through your hair and your clothes like a dream. 

You glanced up at him. “Ready?”

“Whenever you are.” He grinned as the anticipation and excitement of breaking his wings free slowly bubbled up into his chest. It wasn't only being able to spend time with you, but simply the thoughts of being his dragon self that made him so giddy. 

You hopped out of the river and padded across the soil toward him. 

Once you were in line with him, Seonghwa flashed you a wide smile and sprinted toward the cliff edge. Your laughter followed him as he dove off toward the water below, eyes falling closed as he relished in the wind whipping past his skin. 

When he opened his eyes, he skimmed the water's surface with the edge of a veiny, membranous wing, before swooping back up toward the ripening sky above. His humanoid features had fully transformed into that of a creature nearly five times his human height. Scales of obsidian, gleaming a dark blue in the light, rippled across his back, his skin. He huffed steam from his nostrils and searched for you. 

A body of iridescent white, so pearly that you appeared a shade of light purple in the burning gold light, blurred in his periphery. 

He whipped his head in your direction, watching you soar around him in a loose circle. You wrapped around him and grazed the end of your tail against his, a caress. 

He didn't want to think too much about that. 

And then your irises, blue-purple in this form, were blinking at him. Northward? Your snout gestured in that vague direction. 

Seonghwa huffed his agreement, and the pair of you took off into the skies. 

A dragon shifter's courtship traditions were different from other shifters’ cultures. For one, the value of wearing a potential mate's jewelry was equivalent to acceptance of courtship; additionally, wearing one another's jewels essentially spelled out a long-term partnership. It was similar to humans’ exchanging of rings. 

Dragons dressed their mates in their own jewels as dragons were ruthlessly protective of their hoards of treasures, and a mate was even more precious than any jewel one could acquire. There were other rituals, too—such as dousing one another in dragonfire, performing a certain mating dance, consuming meals made by their mate—but the jewels had always been emphasized in Seonghwa's clan. 

It was why he stiffened when he saw a slim, silver chain wrapped around your ankle this morning. 

The piece of jewelry looked awfully similar to something he owned, except the one you wore was studded with an amethyst on the tail, whereas the one he owned was studded with sapphire. He struggled to swallow as he stepped into the kitchen, eyes pinned to your ankle. 

The way the light refracted off the gem made the article appear so much like his own jewelry; his heart could not take a scare like that so early. Perhaps scare wasn't such an accurate word—he simply hadn't had the time to mentally prepare. 

It didn't matter how long he'd fantasized about it. Seeing the real thing would likely bring him to his knees regardless. 

“Hwa,” your amused chuckle greeted his ears as you peered at him from over the rim of your coffee cup. “Good morning.”

He tried for a smile and forced himself to look at something, anything, other than your ankle. “Hi. Good morning.” Seonghwa grabbed a cup of his own to pour a helping of the brew into. “Sleep well?”

You rolled your shoulders back, followed by your neck. But as he blew on the hot coffee, he failed to notice the way your eyes watched his movements regarding the coffee. “Mhm, way better after we flew last night.”

Seonghwa hummed warmly. “Yes, same here.” Last night was a blissful night of deep sleep. The tension between his shoulder blades had lessened considerably. 

He took a gentle sip of his beverage, and the rich bittersweetness hit him as an alluring wakeup call. You were still watching as he took a larger gulp. 

His eyes met yours. “Something wrong?” He asked, licking his lips. 

Your eyes widened. “Nope,” you squeaked out. You coughed, setting your mug on the table to lace your fingers together. “Uhm so… thoughts on kebabs for lunch? I was gonna go hunting later.”

“Mmh.” Seonghwa drained his cup of coffee. “That sounds good. I can go with you—if you'd like,” he added swiftly. Sometimes hunting could be a therapeutic solo trip and he hoped he wasn't encroaching. Though, going hunting just the two of you sounded nice, too. 

“I'd love the company,” you said. When you smiled, his own widened. 

The brief moment of peace the two of you shared shattered as two bodies barrelled into the room, followed by another set of thundering footsteps behind them. 

“YAH! Choi Jongho, I know this was all your idea!” Wooyoung appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, drenched from head to toe with dark and damp bangs hanging in his seething eyes. A puddle was beginning to form beneath him as he glared at the two giggling imps cowering behind the opposite end of the counter. 

You and Seonghwa connected gazes across the chaos. Good grief. 

From behind Wooyoung's calf, another creature poked her head out to hiss at the perpetrators. Wooyoung's cat familiar looked akin to a wet rat, the poor thing. 

“Seonghwa hyung, do something!”

Seonghwa's eyes drifted over to Jongho and Yeosang, who flashed him a pair of sheepish smiles. “Aye… both of you. Now.”

“We didn't get water on San,” was what Yeosang offered with a shrug. 

That seemed to not be the answer Wooyoung was looking for. If the witch was a dragon instead, Seonghwa was sure he would be blowing steam out of his ears. “Are you kidding me? I am going to hex you so badly, you will never know a day of peac—”

Jongho suddenly yelped, startling everyone as he leaped a couple feet in the air and ran to crouch beside you at the breakfast table. 

“What, what? What is it?” 

Yeosang's eyes had widened to the size of globes, too, as he scurried backward to the edge of the cavern. His stare was still pinned to something on the other side of the counter. 

Seonghwa peered over the ledge and swore sharply. “That is the biggest fucking bug I have ever seen in my life,” he said with his hand pressed to his face, stressed. 

Wooyoung had magically disappeared, and his cat had retreated alongside him. If even the cat didn't want anything to do with the big hunk of insect—

“AH-AH! HYUNG, IT'S MOVING!” Jongho screeched and grabbed the back of your chair to hide behind you. 

Seonghwa paused at that action, but snapped out of it when he saw the legs peek out from around the corner. “Can someone get Yunho?”

“Ohhhhh, I'm too young to die,” the youngest whispered toward the ceiling, his face contorted in fear and anguish; it was a rare thing to see from Jongho. “Yn, please, flame its ass or something!”

You sputtered, curling your feet up onto your chair with you in case the bug came scuttling toward the table. “Uh no. Yunho would literally flame me if I did!”

“Screw what he thinks. He's not here right now.”

Seonghwa clambered up onto the counter and peered over the edge again. He slapped a hand over his mouth after seeing the bug for another time. “Okay,” he said carefully, “on the count of three, we're all going to run for the edge and jump into the lake.”

Three nods from around the room. 

“One…” Everyone shifted an inch toward the cave opening. “Two…”

The fuckass bug moved. 

The countdown was abandoned—Jongho ran for the opening and tackled Yeosang into the water. Seonghwa leaped over the remainder of the countertop in time to swan dive into the lake beside you. His body sliced into the water like a hot knife through butter, and the lake's cool temperatures engulfed him in a refreshing embrace. 

Your head popped up right beside him and you shot him a laughing grin. “Well, that's definitely one way to start off the day.”

He laughed alongside you, slicking his wet hair back and out of his face. “I mean, we were gonna end up in the water at some point,” he mused. 

“True.” Your eyes zeroed in on something just below his jawline. You swam a little closer, and Seonghwa's heart catapulted into his throat. “You have a little, uhm, watercress…”

Your fingers brushed over his collarbone as you gently plucked the strand of watercress out from the links of the necklace sitting on his sternum. You lifted the plant up as if to say, 'Ta da,’ before pausing at your physical proximity. 

Seonghwa watched as a drop of water dripped down the middle of your face, down the slope of your nose, and slipped over your plush lips. Woah…

He had half the mind to reach out and thumb it away. 

“Two dragons, a fae prince, and a water mage couldn't handle a fucking roach?” 

You and Seonghwa jolted away from each other like similar poles of a magnet, heat rushing up to the surface of your skin. You both tilted your gazes up to the caves and saw Yunho appear at the mouth of the kitchen, a wide grin on his face as he held the bug up between his two fingers. 

“That sounds like a joke I've heard before,” San laughed as he walked up next to Yunho. He waved down at the lot of you in the water, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. 

Wooyoung peered out from behind San. “Instant karma!” He hollered. 

“Come down here, and we can talk about instant karma,” Jongho threw right back up at him. He flicked his wrist and sent a jet of lake water up to the cave mouth, hitting Wooyoung square between the eyes with scary accuracy. 

San howled in laughter as his friend hissed from the friendly fire. 

Seonghwa loosened a warm chuckle before turning toward you—wait. Where did you go? He twirled around in the water, eyes scanning the lake for where you'd gone. 

“Hwa!” You were by the far shore, raising your hand up to wave him over. 

He didn't hesitate to swim over toward you. The two of you swam over to the furthest edge of the lake, far from the others. The morning sun had not yet crested high enough to penetrate through the trees here, and that left you both in a patch of dreamy shade where long leaves dripped into the water like Mother Nature's curtains. 

Seonghwa clambered out onto the bank and yanked the hem of his shirt up and over his head. The material had stuck to his skin like glue, and he was a lot more comfortable without it on. 

Behind him though, he swore he heard your breath hitch. 

The corner of his lips curled upward in satisfaction. He continued to feign ignorance as he wrung his wet shirt out, arm muscles flexing as the water trickled out of the fabric. “You coming up, love?” He asked casually, peering over his shoulder at you lingering in the water. 

You cleared your throat as you pulled yourself onto land. “Y-yeah,” you said, covering your stammer with a breathy laugh. 

“Cold?” He teased, finally turning his body to face you in full. 

You passed him an expression of playful exasperation. “Freezing,” you jested back. It was difficult for dragon shifters to be cold; the amount of heat either of you generated on your own was enough to keep you warm all the time. After all, you did spew fire from your mouth on occasion. 

Seonghwa whipped his shirt out in front of him and blew a breath of steam through it. The fabric dried up fast, but instead of putting it back on, he slung it over his shoulder. 

An idea plunked itself into the forefront of his mind. “Shall we hunt?” He asked and extended a hand out to you. 

He saw the flicker of blue-purple in your irises—like lightning—as you brushed a lock of hair from your eyes. You took his hand, your fingers and palms slotting together like matching clasps of a chain. “We shall.”

Seonghwa sat at the vanity table in his and Hongjoong's room. The world beyond the mouth of this cavern was a dark sapphire, embroidered with small diamonds in its fabric—the night sky and its stars. The muffled rush of the waterfall nearby played in the background as he sifted through his traveler's chest of jewelry and gemstones. Hongjoong had half fallen asleep in the hot spring somewhere behind him, so Seonghwa was taking this time to pick out what he wanted to wear to… tomorrow…

His hand movements stilled as something caught his eyes in the chest of shiny stones. He held his breath, carefully withdrawing a silver chain out by its amethyst stone. There was no question about what it was and that it didn't belong to him. 

Your fragrance still lingered on the metal, though cool from being away from your body heat for a while. 

Seonghwa breathed out loudly through his nose as he stared at the article in his palm. 

He could hear Hongjoong emerging from the hot spring pool. “Something wrong, Hwa?”

“Did you” — Seonghwa's brows furrowed and he twisted around on the vanity stool — “steal her anklet?”

Hongjoong frowned, wrapping a towel around his waist before coming to stand beside his friend. He peered down at the article, reaching out to touch the anklet. 

Seonghwa moved his hand away and his chest rumbled with a low growl. 

A soft huff of amusement fell from Hongjoong's lips, and he settled his hand on Seonghwa's shoulder instead. “No, I wouldn't dare. I don't want to face a dragon's wrath for stealing from their hoard, thank you very much.”

“Hmph.” Seonghwa considered the article in his palm once more. If Hongjoong wasn't pulling his leg, then the logical answer was that you put your anklet in his jewelry chest. But why would you do that, and when did you? He would have smelled your scent lingering in this room if you had, and he couldn't pick up on any of his friends’ scents either. 

A flower of hope blossomed in his chest as he thought about the implications of this gesture further. Maybe it didn't matter how it got here, only what you thought about it being here in his possession.

“It's a sign,” Hongjoong giggled, squeezing his shoulder. He trudged away to go find his sweatpants to sleep in. “Your move, Park!”

Seonghwa slowly wrapped his fingers around the chain, a small smile flitting onto his face. In the mirror, his cheekbones burned the color of the rubies in his jewelry case. 

His move, indeed. 

In the morning, Seonghwa rose before day broke the dawn. 

It had come to him like a strike of lightning last night as he laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling, weighing the option of wearing your anklet like a lovesick fool or returning it to you in the morning. What he'd remembered, instead, was something you told him about your clan's traditions. 

While his family held a lot more emphasis on adornment for mating traditions, your family clan put more importance on the act of making a meal for a potential partner. Consuming said meal was an acceptance of courtship and love. 

As he hunched over the kitchen countertop pouring over a recipe on his phone, he marinated on how to go about this. Presenting you with breakfast—that he only made for you, might he add—was not a subtle move in the slightest. Perhaps slipping your anklet into his things could be interpreted a couple ways, but it wasn't a glaring neon sign like this gesture was going to be. 

Nonetheless, Seonghwa got to work. He was counting on his friends to stay the fuck asleep. 

About an hour later, he was just finishing up when he picked up on the sound of your bare feet padding across the hallway toward the kitchen. Your perfume followed next, carrying into the room on an invisible breeze. Seonghwa drummed his fingers against the countertop as you strolled into the room, eyes wide and bright when you saw him there with food made. 

“Well, something smells yummy,” you said warmly. “Should I go wake the others?”

“No!” He laughed nervously, breaking into a bashful smile. “No need. This—this is just for you. I mean, I made breakfast for you.”

Your eyes seemed to grow even wider. “Break—breakfast for me? Just me?”

He nodded and wrung his hands in front of his body. “Just you… if that's okay.”

“Of course, that's okay. More than okay, really,” you murmured, eyes turning shy. The implications were too blatant not to miss or deny. 

Seonghwa gestured for you to take a seat at the breakfast table and presented you with the hot and fresh plate of breakfast he'd just made. He claimed the seat across from you with his own plate, but didn't touch it yet. His nerves made his hands shake beneath the table as he watched you take your utensil and fork a bite into your mouth. 

Something warm burst in his chest as you swallowed, then took another bite. 

“It's really good,” you said to him between bites. Your mouth was pursed into a wide smile, a tenderness swimming in your gemstone irises. “I think though,” you murmured after swallowing, “that we need to talk.”

Seonghwa's stomach tightened, but he nodded. “Agreed. I, uhm, I found this in my jewelry case last night.” He pulled out the strand of silver and amethyst from his pocket. The metal and jewel glistened in the soft morning sunlight pouring into the open cavern. 

“Oh, you didn't wear it?”

He went doe-eyed. “I wanted to—I just wanted to be clear about intentions first, just because if I wore this…” He stammered, “Then you'd be mine and I'd be yours.” 

The wording of it made your pulse skip, but it was exactly what you wanted. All of this stumbling around each other, falling over yourselves, was for this purpose. 

“Is that right, love?”

You nodded, as the two of you shared a smile in the glow of early morning. “That's right.”

He would be yours, and you would be his. 

Breakfast was dined upon in peace with quiet murmurings exchanged between the two of you, accompanied by light laughter and loving gazes. It was a marvel none of it was interrupted by the other occupants of the lakeside getaway. 

There was another thing that had to be done in order to seal the deal, however. 

When breakfast was finished and cleaned up after, Seonghwa barged back into his and Hongjoong's shared bedroom. His demon best friend was nowhere to be found, but it was no matter. Seonghwa went over to the vanity table and carefully picked up the necklace he had laid out last night. It was white gold studded in fat, glistening rubies—his prized possession, and one of the few pieces he had saved for only his future partner to wear.

That giddy excitement curled in his stomach again as he took the necklace with him up to your bedroom on the second floor. You were there waiting for him, your foot braced on the vanity stool to fix his sapphire chain onto your ankle, as your amethyst one laid around his. 

“This,” he murmured as he came up behind you in the mirror, “I've been saving for someone special.” He locked eyes with you in the looking glass, a sweet smile playing on his lips as he draped the heavy gems over your sternum. 

Blood rubies were precious and harder to come by these days, which was why Seonghwa coveted them. It only made sense that they should rest now on a person he would also come to value even more. They sat perfectly upon your collarbones, like a tiara upon your head… like it was made for you. You were yourself a treasure. 

Seonghwa could hardly contain his contentment at the sight. He wrapped his arms around your middle as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, smiling against your skin. “Perfect.”

a/n: don't forget to reblog + comment if u enjoyed!

atz m.list

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[illovehaileesteinfeld]

pairing ~ bouncer!ellie x waitress!reader

little drabble / request from @scott1shabbyand3rson 💗

cw : nsfw , public sex , possessive ellie !! , mean!ellie (?) , consent is hot , orgasm refusal :3

you and ellie almost always had the same schedule at the bar you worked out, and nearly every shift she would catch you flirting with a regular. she hated it, you were hers.

today she had enough, waiting until you gave the regular her drink, deciding the bar was full enough to stop letting others in and making a show of distracting you.

"hm, cmere gorgeous, gonna show you something new to make" she muttered, pulling you away to a more secluded area; behind the bar, just in front of the employee bathroom.

she had a dark look in her eyes, clearly done with your shit. she would bring you into the bathroom, fixing your uniform so your tits weren't half out - something you always did for better tips - and pushing you against the wall.

"since you wanna act like a damn slut, giving a show to that bitch instead of me" she hissed, attacking your neck with rough kisses and bites, making it obvious you were hers.

you would whine, giving a weak attempt to push her off and make her wait until the end of the night, blubbering her name as chills went down your spine.

"ells.. fuck.." you gasped, her lips trailing down as she kneeled, placing a kiss on your belly.

"can i?" She asked, meeting your eyes as her hands touched the waistband of your skirt - which was far too short in her eyes, but she would never complain - you nodded, desperate for her lips even though you knew she probably wouldn't let you cum.

"say it, out loud pretty girl" she murmured, bringing your skirt and panties down to your knees anyway.

"please.. ellsplease" you whined, looking down at her as she brought her lips to your pussy, kissing your clit before whispering, her hot breath on your heat. "stay quiet, sweetheart" she said, attacking you with her tongue.

she had her face buried in you, her nose bumping your clit as her tongue was deep in you, your head tilted back and pleasured tears welling in your eyes, weakly attempting to move your hips against her face.

she had one hand on your hip, pressing you against the wall, the other holding your thigh and softly rubbing your skin as she ate you like a starved woman, your juices dripping down her chin.

she could feel you tightening around her tongue, smirking against you as it got harder to move around you. she pulled away, licking a stripe across your pussy before getting up from the ground, bringing your skirt back up with her as you helplessly whined.

"if you're good, you'll get more later." she stated, licking her lips and everything she could from her face, holding you gently as you pouted, mad she had taken your orgasm from you but so glad she had fucked you.

she kissed you gently, your own taste on her tongue as she rubbed her hand across your back, making sure you were alright in that moment.

she wiped her face, leaving you in the bathroom, knowing this would happen again next week, and the week after that; you really were a little slut.

_ WHAT HAPPENS IN THE BATHROOM STAYS IN THE BATHROOM.

[yaekiss]

goodness. how scandalous. anyways. babygirl kaveh 🫶

꩜ Room Content: Dom! GN! Reader x Sub! Kaveh, Kaveh wearing lingerie, handjob (reader giving), lmk if I missed out anything ! ꩜ A/N: how scandalous indeed....... man I love kaveh so much I wrote this with one hand... jk ꩜ Spin this wheel and submit a prompt + character for a quick blurb!

It's not exactly like he wanted you to see it.

So what if someone wants to wear a cute set under their clothing on a night out at Lambad's Tavern in case they got lucky, huh?

And why were you even looking there in the first place? Pervert!

Is what Kaveh would have wanted to say, if only he weren't melting under your touch right now. Each twist of your hand around his drooling cock only drags him further down into the murky depths of pleasure, his eyes glazed over and hazy as you coo absolute filth into his ears.

"Is this what you wanted, darling?" The blond seated on your bed squirms at your question. "Wearing such a cute set for me and leaning over the table so I could see it through your low-cut shirt, hmm?"

"N-ngh! No...!" He blubbers, brows furrowing when he sees that you don't exactly buy it. Just as he's about to argue, you pull your hand off of him, ripping a low keen from his throat.

The bed dips as you sit on the edge facing a full length mirror. When you pet your lap, Kaveh knows to shuffle himself over so that he's seated perched on your lap.

His face is scorching hot as he fixes his eyes on his clenched fists on his knees. As he feels your warm breath ghost his ear, he screws his eyes shut, and yet his cock twitches a little at the anticipation.

"Come on, you look so ravishing tonight, I can't be the only one admiring the sight," Kaveh feels your fingers tilt his head upwards but still, he refuses to look at his reflection. Suddenly, your fingers pull the waistband of his flimsy lingerie taut before releasing it. The snap of the string against his skin shocks him enough that his eyes fly open, and that's when he sees himself.

He looks utterly debauched, his impeccably styled hair a mess, and a dusting of blush spreading from his cheeks up to the tips of his ears. But most of all, he wasn't ready to see your expression as you take in the sight before you.

But how could you not desire such a beauty, one dressed in delicate white lace with tasteful red accent ribbons that tie the whole look together. Not to mention the patterned lace thigh garters that partially dig into the plush of his thighs as they hold up a matching pair of thigh-high socks. His nipples are already peaking behind the sheer fabric (barely) covering his chest. But as you drag our gaze downwards, it seems that your darling is still a little shy, pressing his thighs firmly together.

"Let me see all of you, hmm? Keep your legs apart for me?" You knead at his thigh, coaxing him to show you the full set. Slowly, his legs go to settle on either side of yours and you finally get to see it.

Kaveh's cock is straining against the pitifully small amount of fabric allotted to the bottom piece, his weeping tip peeking above the lace border of the garment. (How cute, there's even a little red bow at the front of the thong.)

But it seems as if you've taken a bit too long admiring your darling. He has grown impatient, turning his head to press sloppy kisses against your neck, pleading and begging for you to do something.

"I think a reward is in order for how lovely you've dressed up tonight, don't you agree?"

Extra nonsense :3

The next morning, Kaveh wakes up next to you pleased and thoroughly wrecked. "This custom set was sooooo worth it," he thinks to himself. When you wake up, Kaveh's already at a table and drafting up the design for the next lingerie set.

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

If you'd like to request a full fic of your own, do consider checking out my event post!

[sethsclearwater]

poly!paulxreaderxjared where they're just fucking her brains out and reader is whining about them being too big but they're not having any of it and fucking her senseless

these two are NUTS

...

"c'mon babe," jared mused with a laugh, taking your hips into his hands so he could manhandle you into straddling paul's bare waist, both boys already well aware of how quickly you had managed to fall into the subspace tonight.

paul chuckled when he saw the way you were looking at him, tears rapidly streaming down your cheeks as you tried to handle the frustration of not being able to cum.

both boys had managed to edge you all day long, each taking their sweet time messing with your head just enough to have you teetering on the edge of falling into the subspace so they could have their way with you tonight.

almost as soon as you had gotten home from emily's and they had you undressed, you were a blubbering sobbing mess as you tried to explain how badly you wanted to cum. neither boy was too phased by your tears, already beyond used to seeing you like this nearly every time they tag teamed you.

"'m comin' bun," paul reassured, grabbing his hardened cock and lining it up with your soaked entrance while jared held your hips up, both knowing you weren't in any kind of shape to be on top without their support.

before you could sob out something about him taking too long, jared was pulling your hips down and sheathing paul inside your pussy. paul dropped his head back with a groan, his hands sliding onto your thighs and gripping them tightly while you let out a loud gasp at the sudden intrusion.

you were immediately moving to lift your hips up but jared held you in place, "'s too much-" you blubbered, sniffling as you peeked over your shoulder to see jared chuckling and rolling his eyes.

"you're fine babe, takin' him so well aren't you?" he asked, sliding one releasing one of his hands' grips on your hip in favor of cupping your face in his hand, using the pad of his thumb to brush away some of the stray tears.

"good?" you repeated back to jared, voice barely above a whisper which had him humming and nodded, barely containing his laughter over how quickly you managed to change your mind about having paul's cock so quickly pressed inside your pussy.

"such a good girl," jared reassured, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead, "now lay down on paul, yea? i wanna fuck you too," he mused, laughing when you let out a low whine.

he released your jaw so you could turn your attention to the man currently buried inside you, "c'mere bunny," paul cooed, letting out a breathy laugh when you quickly complied and laid down on his chest, allowing him to wrap his arms around you tightly.

"your pussy feels like heaven," paul praised, pressing his lips to your hairline as he felt the way your tight walls were desperately clenching and unclenching around him as you worked to accommodate his intrusion.

"alright jared's comin' now, okay?" paul asked as jared finished lubricating his cock, pumping it a few times before he was teasingly dragging the tip along your stuffed entrance.

you let out a low whine, burying your face in the crook of paul's shoulder which had both boys laughing again, "you got it babe," jared reassured, both him and paul plenty confident in your ability to take them both.

"deep breath for me bunny," paul murmured, stroking one hand up and down your back soothingly as both boys waited for you to inhale, jared pressing his cock into your walls when you exhaled.

at the intrusion, both men let out a loud groan and you let out another loud, muffled whine into paul's shoulder which had both jared and paul rolling their eyes. you had quite literally been begging to have both boys inside you all day so to say you were being dramatic was the understatement of the year.

despite your dramatics, paul praised you anyways, "takin' our cocks like such a good girl, aren't you bun?" he asked, smiling when you sniffled and nodded.

you lifted your head from his shoulder for a moment, "bein' a good girl," you reassured, voice hushed.

jared offered your hips a gentle squeeze, "such a good girl," he cooed, leaning down to press his lips to your shoulder.