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fragmentaryremains · 1 month ago

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Huh. Well, I said I was curious about what the deal with the compass is, and it looks like we're getting more information about it. It's interesting to get the opinion of someone who actually has a point of reference in regards to what's "normal" as opposed to sailor. I don't believe he's ever commented on the fact that he's hearing his own voice inside his head. I also like our first good look at the actual compass itself. It's interesting that all of the directions have a face—though it does feel very fitting given the general character of this world (this is a place where boats regularly come to life after all). I think my favourite face is Mr. ^W^ on the west.

Definitely an appropriate face for the W on our compass to be making, uwu!

As for the mermaids, poor Bob. You definitely do a good job establishing her character of being the sheltered, naive, timid and abused friend who follows the others more out of a sense of obligation than any real desire to be like them. I mean, yeah she wants some kisses like they do. But I don't think she really means that in the malicious way that the other two mermaids do? Although I don't know that Sailor can appreciate that right now. I had to laugh at his expression in the cage at the end.

I get the feeling that Sailor is just staring blankly ahead as he tries to figure out what the hell his life has become. Either that or he's doing his best to disassociate from everything that's happening right now. Poor Sailor may have a bit of trauma related to kissing after this.

…though for the sake of Calibani, I hope he doesn't have it for very long. Come on Calibani! Sailor's counting on you!

At Sea Without a Map Pt. 41

As she opens the compass, Calibani regards it at first with fascination, then with a revulsion that grows into horror when she feels it talking in her head with her own voice.

"Those aren't my words. That's my voice, but those aren't my words!" Calibani shouts at the trinket. "How are you doing that? What are you?"

The compass, of course, says nothing. If you were there, you'd be able to tell her that a compass doesn't answer questions - that's what magic eight balls and smart phones do. A compass simply gives you direction on where to go and what to do. It can't do anything more than that. The four pairs of eyes in your compass look at each other, then at Calibani, each at a loss before they mutually decide to repeat their advice, which only makes Calibani shout her questions at them louder.

This goes on for a little while.

~ ~ ~

As Calibani argues with your compass, you remain in the clutches of the three mermaids. "Come with me, little human," the blonde one, Helyne, says as she grabs your shoulders and lifts you higher into the cavernous main chamber of their lair. You look up and see a big cage made of twisting coral. "We've got the perfect place to keep you, where you'll be nice and safe!"

Her two minions follow after you, giggling as Helyne forces you into the cage and twists the door closed around you. "There now, isn't that comfy?" the blonde mermaid says with a swish of her long pony tail. "Now we'll always know where you are so we can give you a kiss to keep you from drowning!"

She swims back to join her two henchmen, and for a moment the three mermaids sit and regard you silently. They're smiling at you in an adoring way, but specifically the way one would smile at a nice painting or a fancy vase, like you're just some rare decoration on display.

The brunette, Bob, speaks up. "Should we introduce ourselves?"

"Oh, right!" Helyne says before swimming above her two peers.

"I'm Helyne, of course," the blonde says with another swish of her long ponytail. "I'm the most beautiful and intelligent mermaid here, which is why I'm in charge. I'm also something of a human expert, which is good for you, because that means you'll live a long and happy life!"

The redhead pipes up, "She's really good at taking care of humans. That's why she gets to give the most kisses."

"It's true, it's true!" Helyne says while bowing her head in feigned modesty. "My red-headed friend here is Clio. She's quite a beauty herself, but a bit dim."

"Guilty as charged!" the redhead says as she swims up to nearly but not quite reach Helyne's level. The brunette begins to rise to join them, but Clio quietly places a hand on her head and pushes her down. "But it's fine, Helyne's smart enough for all of us."

"Well, almost," Helyne says, looking down at the brunette mermaid. "The third member of our troop here is named Bobbulynne, but we just call her Bob. She's neither pretty nor talented, but she's good for a laugh so we keep her around."

"It's true!" Bob says as she allows Clio to push her down. "I'm pretty much useless!"

"And then there's you," Helyne says as she swims around your cage. "What should we name our new human? How about... Johnny?"

Clio frowns. "You got to name the last one, Helyne. I want to call this one Orlando!"

"I got to name it because I'm the leader and the human expert!" Helyne snaps.

"But it's not fair!" Clio shouts. "I should get a turn! Let me name him!"

"We could just as them what their real name is," Bob suggests.

"SHUT UP, BOB!" Clio and Helyne shout before going right back to bickering with each other. Their argument goes from screams to shrieks as they begin slapping at each other and pulling each other's hair, all while Bob stealthily swims up to your cage.

"Hey, human," Bob whispers, "If you need a kiss, just motion to me, ok? I don't get to give the kisses very often, but I'd really be glad to. We can do it real quick so the others don't see." She stops and glances at her friends to see if they're still fighting before adding, "Even if you don't need one, if you just, say, want to be topped off a bit on air, or just... um... want a kiss for fun, just let me-"

"Bob!" The brunette mermaid freezes and turns to see Helyne bearing down on her. "Are you trying to cozy up to the human while I'm distracted?"

"Of course not!" Bob says as she darts away from Helyne and cowers behind you. "I was just reassuring them-"

"What have I told you, Bob?" Helyne glares daggers at the brunette as she swims up to you and grabs your face in her cold, slender hands. "I get first dibs on kisses." To prove the point, she reaches into the cage, grabs your head, and plants a big wet one on your lips. "Then it's Clio, and then it's you. Pecking orders must be preserved, Bob."

The brunette lowers her eyes and nods. "Yes, Helyne."

Clio, meanwhile, is staring at you in dreamy sort of way. "How young is this one, do you think?" she asks Helyne.

"Oh, no more than a few months old at most," Helyne replies. "Probably just emerged from his boat, poor thing."

"Is that what boats are?" Bob asks. "Human eggs?"

"No, no, they're animals in their own right," Helyne explains. "Humans just parasitize them."

"That's how it works?" Clio asks.

"Yep! Humans tear open a boat's chest cabin and lay their eggs inside. Depending on the size of the boat, they can lay anywhere between one and a couple thousand eggs!"

"Wow!" the other two mermaids say in unison.

Helyne nods sagely at their amazement. "Yes, nature is beautiful, isn't it? Of course, it's a flawed survival strategy. Boats may be large and capable of feeding a human for a few months, maybe a year if they're lucky, but they're fairly weak animals, and easy prey for others." She looks at you sweetly and kisses you again. "That's why these sweet little parasites need our help. They need a mutually beneficial symbiosis, and a mermaid is such a better host than a boat."

Clio scrunches her nose up in disgust. "It's not going to lay eggs in us, is it?"

"Cool!" Bob says with a demented grin.

"Oh no, don't worry," Helyne says. "They can only lay eggs in boats. Trying it with other hosts makes the egg dissolve into a sticky paste." She pinches your cheek. "Our new pet is quite harmless, I assure you!" Once again she swims up to your cage, grabs your head, and forces you to kiss her. "Aren't you, pet? Besides, if he weren't - if he misbehaved - why, he's miles below the surface of the ocean! All we have to do is leave him alone and he'll drown in minutes!" She smiles sweetly, but it doesn't reach her eyes as she stares you down. "And we wouldn't want that, right?"

"Course not, Helyne," Clio says.

"They seem like a nice human, we'll be sure to give them plenty of air!" Bob adds.

"If he behaves," Helyne says.

"That's right, Helyne!" affirms Clio. "So long as he behaves!"

As you sit in your cave, you realize that you really, deeply miss Calibani.

~ ~ ~

After a few minutes of fruitless arguing, Calibani tosses the compass to the ground in frustration. "Wait, shit, that's Sailor's!" she shouts before scrambling to pick it up. After looking it over to make sure there are no scratches, she sighs and opens the trinket again. "You told me to save Sailor," she says to the compass. "How? Do you know where he is?"

And like that, she consults your compass once again.

#At Sea Without a Map #audience choice #choose your own adventure #sailor #sea monster #(sailor's head is just full of dial-up noises and the sounds of bluescreening computers right now)

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inkedmoth · 2 months ago

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Chapter Twenty-Seven Posted!

“I’m here because I feel I may be able to help Théodred Prince. Although I freely admit my healing knowledge is limited, but what I do have, is a herb that may help mitigate the poison of infection,” Rhosynel explained carefully, “it’s not a guarantee of his survival… but if it helps his own ability to heal…” Those pale blue eyes hadn’t shifted away, had barely even blinked, watching Rhosynel with a keenness that even Aragorn would have struggled to match. Wariness, distrust, and far too much doubt. How long had Lady Éowyn spent weighing and testing every word spoken to her in recent years? How often did she have to dig though the layers of meanings and intentions to find the truth? How often, did she had to guard her own words? “What is this herb?” the Lady asked finally. “Kingsfoil, but the elves call it Athales.”

Rhos continues to be bad at pronouncing Sindarin, so any spelling mistakes there are intentional lmao

honestly these chapters are some of my faves, but my MOST fave is chapter 30 and I'm raring to post it early 😂

#On Swift Wings #Moth Fic #FotFics #lotr fanfic #lotr fanfiction #lord of the rings fanfiction #boromir lives #boromir lives au #boromir x oc #boromir fic #*bluescreen noise as i try to remember other tags*

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saveyourblood · 14 days ago

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Roll the Dice (Buddie x Reader)

Summary: Buck makes a humming noise, rubbing his lips in thought. “I could do it.” You and Eddie share a look. Eddie is the first to test the waters. “Do what?” “Give someone a lap dance.” The one where you're best friends with Buck and Eddie, the three of you are drunk, and the topic of lap dances comes up.

Word Count: 2.4k Prompt (from @happyhauntt): buddie and reader are hanging out and drinking maybe and maybe they're watching magic mike as a joke or they had a call to a strip club earlier that day and buck asks reader who they think would give a better lapdance, buck or eddie, reader bluescreens and they both give a demonstration. A/N: This was such a fun write! Thanks for letting me steal your idea, Ollie! You can find their work on AO3 too. :^) Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays everyone! Warnings: Spice (not smut), drinking, mentions of vomiting

It started with beer.

Well, it started with the boys drinking beer.

You’ve never been a big fan of beer. You’ll occasionally indulge in something on tap at a fancy bar, but other than that, it isn’t your drink. And that cheap shit that Buck buys at the corner store? Absolutely not.

So, it started with the boys drinking beer and you drinking a canned cocktail.

See, Buck may have bad taste, but he has a good heart. He always has a 6-pack of cheap beer in his fridge, but since you started coming over, you notice he always has a 12-pack of ready-to-drink canned cocktails. You know he doesn’t drink them; he buys them for you.

You really don’t drink that much, in terms of both frequency and amount. It takes a singular drink for you to feel a nice buzz, and really, that’s all you need. You’ve never had the desire to get blackout drunk, and more than three drinks gives you a raging headache in the morning.

You were only going to have one, maybe two drinks, just like you usually do.

But then Eddie found the fucking tequila.

“Where’d you even get that?” you giggle. You'd be embarrassed by the sound if you were even a little bit sober. Thankfully, you’re halfway through your second can, and any sense of embarrassment is filled by the warm pool of alcohol in your stomach.

“Maddie made margaritas the night I moved in,” Buck says, raising his beer bottle to his lips.

The boys are both on their third beers, but between the lower alcohol content and their stronger tolerances, they aren’t as drunk as you are. Hopefully, the tequila will even the score.

“Where did she buy it?” Eddie laughs as he inspects the bottle.

It’s cheap: you can tell that much by looking at it. It’s a 1.75 liter plastic bottle — not exactly top shelf. You expected nothing less from Maddie, since she doesn’t strike you as a girl who sips high-end tequila. No, she’s more like the girl who makes way too strong margaritas and bullies her brother into taking shots in the kitchen.

Buck shrugs. “Grocery store, probably.”

Eddie starts looking through the cabinets. “You got a blender?”

Buck snorts. “I have shot glasses.”

“I’m not doing shots,” you laugh. “Tequila shots and I have… a bad relationship.”

Eddie gives you a look. “What type of relationship?”

“Whatever type ends in me throwing up in someone’s sink.”

Buck tips his head back and cackles. “You did that?! You?!”

“I just graduated from the Academy and went out with some classmates to celebrate,” you explain, cheeks flushing as you smile. “It started with bar hopping and ended with tequila shots at someone’s house.”

“Sounds like it actually ended with you throwing up in someone’s sink,” Eddie points out.

“And you’re trying to make it happen again!” You accuse as Eddie continues scouring the kitchen. “Shame on you, Diaz!”

“Hey, it would be nice to see the most professional member of the 118 get a little crazy,” Buck says.

You snort again. “I’m the most professional member of the 118?”

“Professional isn’t the right word,” Eddie says, finally finding a cocktail shaker.

“Formal?” Buck proposes, looking to the other man.

Eddie hums in consideration as he fills the shaker with ice, leaving the tequila on the island. “Classy?”

Buck shakes his head. “No, that’s not it either.”

Eddie sets the shaker, now filled with ice, on the island. He then opens the fridge door and comes back with lime juice. “Proper?”

“Proper,” Buck agrees, leaning his hip on the island. His body is turned towards Eddie, watching him as he pours the ingredients into the shaker.

“Proper,” you echo, your lips wrapping around the word as you say it. “How exactly am I proper?”

“I don’t know,” Buck says after taking another sip. “Just… the way you carry yourself, I guess.”

“How specific.”

Buck flicks a beer cap, previously sitting on the island, at you. You try to catch it, but it slides off the table before you can catch it. You flip him off.

“Not so proper anymore,” Eddie remarks.

The tequila takes you by the hand and leads the three of you into Buck’s living room. You’re on your second margarita on the rocks, courtesy of Edmundo Diaz. The boys decide to take two shots each, back to back, and simply watching them kind of made you sick.

“You are so full of shit!” you yell.

You don’t know much at this moment, other than the fact that you’re completely and entirely drunk. Not wasted, not blackout. You’re in that sweet spot where you’re sober enough to know that you’re being obnoxious but too intoxicated to care. As someone who normally presents as ‘proper’ (apparently), it’s a combination akin to fire and kerosene — absolutely ruthless.

“I am not!” Buck laughs.

Buck claims he’s never had a lap dance, and you don’t believe him for a second.

You’re not entirely sure how you got on this topic. It definitely didn’t start like this, that you’re almost entirely most likely probably sure of. It had something to do with the ‘old partners’ discussion. Or maybe the ‘craziest night out’ swapping of stories. It’s hard to tell — you’ve cycled through several topics tonight, and you’ll be lucky to remember half of them.

“Eddie, do you believe him?”

Eddie chuckles as he raises his hands. “I’m staying out of this one.”

Like you or Buck would let that happen.

“What about you, hotshot?” Buck asks, cocking an eyebrow. “You ever had a lap dance?”

Eddie’s eyes narrow slightly, almost like he’s sizing up Buck. It makes the alcohol in your belly burn a little warmer.

“Once,” Eddie eventually answers.

You turn your head to the side like a curious dog. “Oh?”

“Do tell,” Buck says, leaning forward.

“It was at my shitty excuse of a bachelor party,” Eddie explains, taking a sip of his fourth beer. “One of my friends in Texas insisted. We went out to a strip club, he paid for it, and… that’s it.”

“He paid for it,” you echo. “What a gentleman.”

Sitting in the armchair, Eddie gently kicks your leg on the coffee table. You giggle, pulling both your legs back onto the couch. Buck, at the other end of the couch, puts his feet in your lap.

“You’re being awfully quiet,” he observes. “Have you?”

You snort. “Have I ever had a lap dance?”

“Or given one.”

You press into the nailbed on one of Buck’s toes using your thumb. He yelps and pulls his legs back.

“Half an hour ago, you were calling me ‘proper.’ Now, you’re asking if I’ve given someone a lap dance,” you recall. You turn to Eddie. “Can you believe him?”

“Absolutely not,” Eddie says as he shakes his head. “...Have you, though?”

Buck cackles as you kick Eddie’s leg.

“I’ve never given anyone a lap dance,” you answer loudly. “I almost got one, though.”

Both the boys raise their eyebrows.

“Do you remember that call we went on a few months back? To a male strip club?”

“Yeahhh,” Buck says. At some point, he replaced his beer bottle with the tequila bottle, which he’s now cradling like a baby. “What was that place called? Thirsty?”

“Just Thirst, I think,” Eddie remarks. “The one where a dancer rolled his ankle, right?”

You nod. “One of his buddies offered me a dance for being such a great first responder.”

Buck smiles and takes a swig of the tequila, wincing as it goes down. You nudge his knee, then pull your fingers towards yourself, gesturing for the bottle. Buck’s smile looks a little more cocky, but he hands the bottle over anyways.

“You didn’t accept, huh?”

You sip a little more of the tequila than you should. You can’t help it — it goes down so easily, leaving nothing but fuzzy warmth in its wake. You’ll regret it tomorrow, but for now, you’re basking in it. “Not really my thing.”

“Not even for the story?” Eddie asks.

“You don’t get to be the ‘proper’ one by doing something ‘for the story,’” you counter.

Eddie makes a face of contemplation as he reaches for the bottle. “Fair.”

“You are really hung up on that word,” Buck notes.

“It was… surprising, that’s all,” you chuckle.

Buck makes a humming noise, rubbing his lips in thought. “I could do it.”

You and Eddie share a look. Eddie is the first to test the waters. “Do what?”

“Give someone a lap dance.”

You can feel your face get hot. You swallow the lump that suddenly took residence in your throat.

Meanwhile, Eddie laughs. “You’ve never gotten a lap dance, but you think you can give one?”

Buck shrugs, leaning one elbow on his knee. “Why not? I’ve seen Magic Mike.”

“You’ve seen Magic Mike but never gotten a lap dance,” Eddie continues after taking a swig of liquor. “That makes sense.”

You reach for the bottle, which Eddie grants you. You take a long drink, gulping a few times. Pulling the bottle back, you use your thumb to wipe your bottom lip. “Do your worst, Buckley.”

He turns his head to stare at you. He huffs out a laugh, looking at you the whole time. “What?”

“Let’s see what you’ve got,” you continue, leaning back in the couch. You prop one arm on the back and the other on the armrest, the tequila bottle hitting the end table in the process. “You’ve never given a lap dance, I’ve never gotten one. We’ll pop each other’s cherries.”

You’d never say any of this sober. Shit, you’d never say any of this two drinks in. You’re in so much deeper than that now; between the margs and the sips, you’ve had at least 6 shots. You can practically feel the alcohol in your blood. It’s hot, thick, and wanting.

You're 100% throwing up in Buck's sink tomorrow.

You blink, and Buck is on top of you. His hands press into the back of the couch, holding his weight so he can be face-to-face with you. If the booze in your veins is hot, then his breath on your lips is fucking scalding.

He lifts his hips and brings them back down in a rippling motion: he’s grinding on you. You giggle, high-pitched and shameless. You move your hands to cover your mouth. You can’t wrap your head around the idea that this is actually happening.

Buck sits up straighter in your lap. He’s careful to keep his weight on his knees, which are on either side of your legs. He puffs his chest before rolling his shoulders forward and his ass backwards on your thighs in a fluid motion. You can feel the friction of his pants on your bare legs. You thank your past self for choosing to wear shorts.

He gently takes your wrists, moving your hands from your mouth to his chest. He’s fully clothed, so you’re dragging your hands down his sweater. Still, you can feel the rippling of his muscles under his shirt. You throw your head back in laughter at the sheer ridiculousness of it, but you know the burning in your stomach is no longer entirely thanks to the liquor.

“Not bad,” Eddie critiques from his seat.

You laugh harder.

“What, you can do better?” Buck challenges.

Eddie narrows his eyes again before smirking. He pushes himself out of the chair, shooing Buck away with his hand.

Buck raises his hands in surrender, turning on one knee before flopping on the couch beside you.

“This isn’t happening,” you laugh, shaking your head like you’re trying to wake yourself up from a dream.

You’ve had a crush on both of them since the first time you saw them. How could you not? They are completely and utterly gorgeous men. When you realized how funny and caring they both are, it just sealed the deal. You never, in your wildest imagination, pictured yourself in a situation like this with either of them, let alone both of them.

Not that you’re complaining, of course.

Eddie takes Buck’s place, only he’s towering over you since he’s standing instead of sitting. He puts his hands on your sides, trailing down to your thighs. You shudder under his touch, hoping it isn’t noticeable. The way the corner of his mouth turns up tells you that it’s definitely noticeable.

Eddie’s hands reach your knees, which he loops his fingers under. In a swift motion, he pulls your legs up and presses his body against yours. You yelp in surprise and wrap your legs around his back, somehow pulling him closer.

His hands move to your back, and he picks you up. You yelp again, astonished by the ease he can lift you. You shouldn’t be so shocked, considering his career. When his grasp moves from your back to your ass, though, he’s no longer Firefighter Diaz; he’s Eddie, the man you have a crush on. And the man who’s currently holding your ass.

Eddie turns on his heel and carefully lays you on Buck’s coffee table, which makes you cackle again. Your laughter dies in your throat when Eddie places himself over you again. Your chests are touching, as are your noses.

You look into Eddie’s eyes, and it’s as if you can suddenly read his mind. “Dancers aren’t supposed to kiss the clientele.”

Eddie smiles again. It’s the kind where only one corner of his mouth curls up, and his lips shift to the side. “Good thing I’m not a dancer.”

His lips meet yours, and it’s nothing but heat. He tastes like a mix of cheap beer and tequila, and if you weren’t already, you could get drunk off of it. Your tongues meet and separate like lovers on a dance floor. When you’re out of breath, you wonder if you could suck the air out of his lungs, just to keep you connected to him for a little longer.

Eddie pulls away first, his chest heaving desperately for air.

“You lose,” Buck remarks.

“How did I lose?”

“It was a competition?” you interject.

“It’s called a lap dance,” Buck points out. “That wasn’t in her lap.”

Eddie rolls his eyes fondly. They eventually settle on your mouth. “Eh, I think I won.”

#911 abc #evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #911 show #911 on abc #911 reader insert #evan buckley/reader #eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz #evan buckley x eddie diaz x reader #Buddie x reader #buddie x reader #i can write

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funforahermit · 2 months ago

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Rhys Darby is really the wildest amalgamation of jock and nerd I've ever seen. It defies comprehension.

He'll be like "wanna hear about my special interest?" then turn around and go "now look at my perfect legs". He'll insist on making funny noises even if nobody's around who actually wants to hear them. He looks like a greek god and he knows it. Sometimes his brain will bluescreen in the middle of a sentence and he'll still somehow be the coolest person in the room. He's so lame. He's so brilliant. He makes and paints tiny models. He works out. He plays D&D.

I got whiplash.

Not to say that it's somehow bad or "not allowed" to be both, not at all! It's wonderful! It's just, with him, the contrast feels so extreme.

Or maybe it's just because I find it hard to organise my hormones. The fluffy "he's so cute and fun and dorky i'm love him so muchh" hormones constantly clash with the less fluffy "please sir may i **** **** **** i'll be good please" hormones. So yeah.

#turns out this post was about me after all #sorry about that #rhys darby

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willsimpforanyone · 7 months ago

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what about a percabeth x reader kind of smut kind of hurt/comfort where the three are having a spicy moment (where annie and percy are doms, r is a sub) and r is gagged, but perce and annie start getting a lil too harsh and r is protesting through the gag and then just a bunch of comfort and fluff coming from beth and percy?? 🫶🏼

i can definitely do this and i will remember this time that its percABETH c'mon brain don't bluescreen this

WARNING! the reader is in distress in a sexual situation for the first couple paragraphs but percy and annabeth immediately stop once they realise, and there is no actual smut

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It's getting to a point where I'm not having as much fun as I think I should be.

I'd wanted this, I wanted to be restrained and gagged and all that, I'd asked for it, quite literally. But it was feeling... not as good as I'd hoped.

My wrists hurt in a bad way and my jaw aches from the gag in my mouth. I can't concentrate on what Percy or Annabeth are doing I'm so distracted by the now-unwanted sensory feelings.

Annabeth slaps my thigh and I make a noise of genuine pain that stops both of them in their tracks. I blink up at them, glassy-eyed and spitting muffled words through the gag. I don't want to do this anymore, I'm not having fun, this isn't what I want anymore.

They glance at each other, clearly trying to understand what happened, until Annabeth snaps into action. She snaps her fingers at Percy and points to the door. "Go, water and snacks, now."

Percy does as he's told, rushing out the room. With gentle fingers, Annabeth undoes the gag from behind my head and eases it out of my mouth with a worried, tender look.

"Hey, baby, are you okay?" She asks softly, grey eyes wide and careful.

I'm panting slightly and tears well up in my eyes, shaking my head.

It visibly looks like her heart breaks, but she focuses on untying my wrists and ankles. I curl up my slightly aching limbs, sitting up from the bed and wrapping my arms around myself.

"Can I touch you?" Annabeth asks, voice soft and slightly wobbly as if she's on the verge of tears.

I nod my head vigorously, reaching out for her and she falls onto the bed with me, gathering me up in her arms as best she can. "I'm so sorry," she whispers, pressing her lips against my head.

Percy returned with about 6 bottles of water and the entire snack basket from the kitchen. Despite myself, I laugh hoarsely. "How many people do you think are in this room?"

"I panicked!" He dumped the water and snacks onto the bed, clambering over to me and Annabeth. "What happened? Are you okay?"

Taking a deep breath, I rub a hand over my face. "I'm... I'm okay, just... it got a bit much, y'know?"

Percy takes one of my hands, kissing my knuckles affectionately and smoothing his fingers over the skin of my wrists. "Was it something we did?"

Annabeth's arms tighten protectively around me, and I feel her lips pout against my cheek. I rest my other hand on her leg, trying to be reassuring. "You didn't do anything I didn't initially want you to do, I just no longer wanted to do it," I explain quietly, looking between the two. "I'm sorry, it just felt wrong, it wasn't what I wanted anymore."

The response is a pair of shaking heads and Percy opening one of the bottles of water. "No, don't apologise," Annabeth whispers, somehow trying to get even closer to me. "Don't you dare, you did so well, telling us you wanted to stop."

Percy hands me the water, laughing slightly as he eases Annabeth's hands away from me for a moment so I can actually drink the water. "Maybe next time we either do the restraints or the gag, so it'll be easier for you to communicate?"

I pout- when I asked for both, I'd meant it, and I don't like the idea of never doing it again. Percy raises his eyebrow, looking serious for a moment. "Don't give me that look, we're going to have a conversation and come up with a solution that is good for everyone."

Annabeth reaches for a bag of crisps, opening them for me and setting them in my lap. "Drink the water, eat the snacks, all of it, I'm going to start a bath." She gestures to Percy, and they high five. "Tag in for me."

They change positions, Annabeth heading to the bathroom and Percy snuggling up to me, kissing my cheeks. "Hey, you," he hums, stroking up and down my arms. "You feeling better?"

I nod, leaning into him and popping crisps into my mouth. "Mhm, I appreciate having my limbs back."

He laughs, squeezing my middle slightly. "Limbs are good, glad you're feeling okay."

"Thank you for stopping," I say quietly, kissing his cheek warmly.

"Always," he replies, tilting my head to kiss me sweetly. "Always, baby."

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