#swimming stroke correction

[moonstruckme]

hello i’m not sure if you are taking requests but i have binged all of your emt marauders and absolutely loved them. i was wondering if you could do one where the boys get a call in for an emergency and turns out the reader called for it and by the time they get there they find the reader unconscious.you can chose the reason for why reader is passed out. also have an amazing day and yeah <3

Thank you for requesting lovely!! Slight deviation because reader doesn’t call them herself

cw: fainting, hospital mention

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You wake to a firm tapping on your face and the din of too many voices. 

“Y/n?” The tapping persists. You try to unstick your lashes. “There you go, sweetheart, open your eyes for us.” 

You try harder. 

“Good girl. I’m just going to shine this light in your eyes, keep them open…” 

“Sirius,” you say. Or try to say. Your mouth is a desert, and your lips move without much sound coming out. 

Sirius seems to hear you anyway. His businesslike tone softens into something more tender. “Hi, baby.” When he clicks off the light, you can see that his eyebrows are set close together, hooking upwards. “How are you feeling?” 

“M’okay.” 

A little grin. “Try again, sweetness.” 

You blink. It feels like it takes ages. “My head hurts.” 

“What kind of hurt, angel?” Another familiar voice, and you look up to see James crouched above your head. He gives you a quick smile, too handsome for your fragile heart to keep up with, before he tilts your head back the way it was and starts feeling about your scalp with gloved hands. “Is it like a headache, or do you think you might’ve hurt yourself?” 

“Um.” Your head swims. “Like a headache.” 

“Okay, thanks. Wanna roll onto your back for us?” 

“What’re you doing here?” 

James’ hands slip from beneath your head. “You fainted,” he says. A gentle touch on your shoulder, pressing downward. “Roll over, okay?” 

It takes more effort than it should. You feel like you’re moving through a thick sludge, your head pounding and a hint of nausea at the back of your throat. 

“Some space, please. We’ve got it from here.” Remus comes into your field of vision, looking vaguely irritated. Some of it melts away when he meets your eyes. 

“Hi,” he says softly, crouching beside you. He takes your hand and gives it a squeeze. Looks at Sirius. “Any signs of a concussion?” 

“No,” he says. “Her pupils look fine, and there doesn’t seem to be a contusion on her head. Yeah, Jamie?” 

“Yeah,” James agrees. He puts something cold underneath your neck. “I think falling onto the grass probably helped.” 

Remus nods, stroking the side of your thumb absentmindedly. “The woman I just spoke to thought the same, said the way she fell sideways had to have kept her from hitting her head.” He sounds wry. “She had a lot of opinions, actually. You had quite the group of concerned spectators looking out for you, dove.” 

Remus is giving you a small smile, but his words finally register the sheer amount of people standing near you. They’re spread in a loose circle around you, random pedestrians who just happened to be walking by when you apparently crumpled like a tin can off the edge of the sidewalk and have since stuck around to watch the show. Your head is still too fuzzy to muster up any response that feels correct, but you know you don’t like it.

James picks up on your unease first. “Don’t worry about them, sweetheart, just focus here, yeah?” He gives Sirius a look, and your scariest boyfriend gets up, going towards the nearest onlookers. James takes his place at your side. “I need to put these ice packs under your arms, so I’m going to reach up your shirt, okay?” 

“You do that all the time,” you mumble. Remus snorts. 

“True,” James admits, chuckling as he slides the ice packs up one side of your shirt, then the other, “but I’m fairly sure I’m supposed to maintain some degree of professionalism while I’m on the job.” 

Your bones seem to melt where the ice packs cool your skin, which doesn’t make any sense because you’re fairly sure you’re already as melted as a girl can get. You feel much more at ease with your boyfriends here to handle things, and you’ve been tired for so long it feels like forever now. You close your eyes. 

And then Remus sprays you with water like a misbehaving cat. 

It’s surprising, but nice. James laughs again at your expression when your eyes open, and Remus too is smiling to himself as he sprays several points on your body with the fine mist. 

“You’re right,” Sirius says to Remus, returning, “that one woman was fucking pushy.” 

“Purple glasses?” Remus asks. 

“That’s the one.” 

He hums complacently. 

Your eyes have slipped closed again. Sirius thumbs at your cheek, prompting them open. 

“You ready to get out of here, pretty girl?” 

“Yeah,” you sigh. Talking is easier now. “Where are we going?” 

Sirius’ grin goes a bit sheepish, as if he knows you won’t like it. Remus breaks the news instead. 

“We’re taking you back to the hospital with us,” he says. “You’re dehydrated and overheated. You should be on fluids for a little while before you go home.” 

A petulant sound rises from the back of your throat. You’re too exhausted to be embarrassed of it. 

“Oh, come on, it’s like take your girlfriend to work day!” James grins at you, squeezing your upper arm bolsteringly. “You can just relax and recover for a few hours, and when we get off we can all go home.” 

“I don’t like your work,” you complain, even as James and Sirius move you onto the gurney. 

“Crazy coincidence, because I don’t like seeing you at our work,” Sirius teases. He pinches your chin meanly. “Honestly, doll, could you do us a favor next time and drink water? I almost threw up when we got here and saw it was you. And I’ve never seen Remus move that fast in his life. He vaulted over a park bench.” 

“I went around it,” Remus says, rolling his eyes. “There was no vaulting involved.” 

“And if I’d thrown up, and Remus had broken his ankle performing athletic feats,” Sirius goes on, “then our poor Jamesie would’ve had all three of us to deal with! Really, my love, try to think ahead next time. There’s more on the line than just you, you know.”

[leonw4nter]

Ex-Swimmer!RE4!Leon

In his childhood, his grandparents wanted to find an activity to get his high energy down. They tried gymnastics but it was too expensive for both of them to cover, poor Leon was really excited to swing and twirl in the air like the rest of the kids in the better side of town. Fortunately for his grandparents, his school teacher recommended swimming classes— they were more affordable for him and also, Leon seemed happy to take the classes.

Leon excelled highly in swimming. He was a fast learner and eager to try new techniques for swimming and breathing. He would help other kids who were having a harder time, giving them tips, and uplifting encouragement to keep them going. The coaches, the teacher that recommended swimming for him, and his grandparents saw that he was doing exceptional, like he’s destined to be an accomplished swimmer. After being convinced and encouraged enough by his support system, he decided to train for a local competition— his first of many.

His first competition was memorable— not in the way that he won a medal, he did not, but he enjoyed the feeling of competing with others. Post competition, he gave everyone a hug and congratulated them on their wins. Of course he felt bummed out but he didn’t let that stop him— he just felt even more motivated.

That night, he lay awake in bed as he figured out what he wanted to do: be a professional swimmer or pursue his lifelong dream of being a police officer. Both of these things made him immensely happy— to feel his body cutting through the water as his arms and legs drove him forward, to be able to stand up for those who couldn’t and protect them. By the morning, he decided to keep swimming in his heart as a hobby and keep chasing his dream of being a police officer.

As he grew older, he still competed in competitions and did his best to win cash prizes to surprise his grandmother with. However he had to put a halt to swimming when he got in the police academy; he needed more time to focus on his studies and had to lessen expenses, classes weren’t that cheap anymore.

After Raccoon City, he no longer had any police duties to consider. He’s now under extensive government surveillance and most of his decisions are made with the consideration of what the government can do with Claire and Sherry, fellow survivors of the incident. During days where he’s allowed to see both of them or at least one of the two, he talks about how he missed swimming and feeling the electric thrill of competing. He rambled on and on about how the chlorine smell of the pool reminded him of when times were normal, he thought about the adults that guided him when he was a boy.

On very rare occasions where he got to sleep during his military training, he had dreams of the pool, of cheering, of feeling light in the water. Usually, it was followed with him drowning despite knowing how to swim or the water turning red with blood, flotsam scattered on the once blue surface. He hated that the horrors of bioweapons even tainted the treasure he kept deep in his heart wherever he went.

His therapist recommended swimming again, not necessarily competitively like back then, but as a manner of relaxation. He thought about it and rejected the idea until he decided to cave in. The next morning, he looked for pools around town. He didn’t jump in straight to a full on pool and start paddling around, he stayed in a plunge pool and let the cascading water gently sway his body.

After exposing himself to water again and slowly getting over the fears and worries that held him back, he began performing swim strokes— front crawl, trudgen stroke, backstrokes galore. He knew that his form was slightly off but quite impressive for someone who hasn’t done this in 6 or more years. The familiarity of childhood swimming breathing techniques and the sloshing water gave Leon a sense of peace, even for a moment. He practiced dives and swam fast, hard. In no time, his form felt much more correct in the water though he knew he was far from the precision his younger self had.

He was underwater when he heard faint steps approaching his position, rushing back to the surface to check who the footsteps belonged to. It was an old man, with a clipboard on his arm. Leon approached and the man explained that he wished to scout Leon and train him professionally because he could see the potential in him, the chance for athletic greatness. Leon declined, stating that he’s not too well to train professionally and besides, he has a full-time job that demands a lot from him already. The man smiled and gave Leon a pat on the shoulder, complimenting his skill before making his way out and observing the other swimmers with him in the natatorium.

He drove home that night, the chlorine smell still lingering on his person like an old memory. He was frustrated at himself for turning down an opportunity that presented itself to him, it was so close. All he had to do was say a few words and soon he’d have a schedule to go back there and practice. It would be nice to compete again, to swiftly slice through the water but he was tethered to a job he’s blackmailed into, a job that he never wanted in the first place. He’s not even sure he can reach the levels of athletic skill his younger self achieved, he thinks he’s not quite right in the head anymore after all he’s seen, heard, felt, and done.

That night and many nights onward, he dreams of two things: the horrors of the now decimated city with its snarling undead lunging at his warm throat and what could’ve been his Olympic debut, if he was given time to fully hone his talent. He wanted to appease the little kid inside him that wanted to swim in new natatoriums, hear the crowd scream in exhilaration, and feel the weight of a cold medal on his chest but he can’t. In his visions behind shut eyes each night, he apologizes and hugs the 10-year-old Leon who always asked about his dreams because all of them— to live a happy life, swim competitively, and help people as a police officer— were all a distance too great for Leon to swim towards.

NOTE - So I'm back. But I'll also be gone soon :3 Sorry if it's a little too short, I still don't have any idea what to write but this felt like an idea too good to pass up so why not pen it down yk :) While I was gone I've been watching the Olympics and lowkey is this what patriotism feels like... like bro why am I suddenly so passionate and shedding tears of national pride. Also it's incredibly obvious that I've been keeping up with the swimming events by the theme of this post... Also, as of writing we're 7 followers away from 500 followers so I'll prolly do something for that milestone! Anyway, thank you for reading my fics!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I <33333333 UUUUUUUUUUU

The chain divider is made by @cafekitsune , the images are colored by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[justwinginglife]

A Man Worth Fighting For

You'd heard the whispers about the Vice Captain of the Third Division when you were in the Fourth. You heard about how he was one of the only sword-wielders in the entire Defense Force but though that statement sounded like high praise to an outsider, it wasn't. No, the whispers were more like- "Do you think he's just desperate to be good at something, anything, because he's so shit with a gun?" or "How long do you think it'll take him to croak at the hands of a kaiju?" or "Who in their right mind would trust a whole division to him?"

But when you'd transferred over to his division yourself, you'd known right then from the moment you met him that all that gossip was bullshit. All that gossip was garbage spoken from the mouths of people who had never met him or met him but couldn't see him for who he truly was. He was an inspiration. A force to be reckoned with. And easy on the eyes as well. In your opinion.

The day you met him, you noticed right away how members of the Third Division rallied around him. How they bantered with him and begged for his advice. How they stood up straight with pride at being able to serve under him. And he was so supportive of them all- he encouraged their strengths and corrected their weaknesses with no judgment, no condescension, nothing but sound advice. You just hoped to god you could be an officer worthy of him one day. And maybe more than an officer to him one day.

It wasn't hard to fall in love with him. Sometimes you pretended that you were the only one he praised whenever you upped your combat power or got the upper hand on him in a fight. Sometimes you pretended not to notice when he'd offer to train other officers, thinking to yourself that you were the sole person he'd spend his time with. And then somewhere along the way, your little game with yourself started to border on reality.

He had stopped training other officers privately, now it was just you. And when the two of you were alone, he'd tell you things that he wouldn't tell anyone else.

You'd both be collapsed on a training mat, panting, and you'd say something like, "God, I could go for a swim right now," and then he'd reveal something like he'd never been to the ocean before or he once almost drowned as a kid, and slowly all of the little bits and pieces of himself that he had been hiding away underneath that tough Vice Captain exterior were being given away to you as little gifts to show he appreciated your time together. And you loved it. You'd give him some secrets of your own, both to make him feel more comfortable about all of his secrets being kept inside you, and because you just wanted him to know you better like you wanted to know him better.

"So you really got a tattoo on your lower back where no one could see it, huh? Interesting. Never pegged you for the type to get a revenge tattoo just because someone said you'd never do it." He says to you now. You both got the late night munchies and decided to skip over the private training session tonight in favor of raiding the kitchen together.

You nod slowly and then say, "Wanna see it?"

His eyes widen and you know he's dying to say yes but he doesn't want to come off as eager so he pretends to think for a moment. "I mean sure, why not?" He says casually. He's not subtle.

You laugh and then turn your back to him, slowly pulling up the bottom of your shirt.

You can't see him, but you hear the way his breath hitches in his throat and you swear you can hear his heart bounding out of his chest. He reaches a hand out before he can even think twice about it and runs it across your lower back.

"Wait a minute." He murmurs, tracing your skin, causing you to shiver. "I know these swords. Did you tattoo mine on your back?"

You nod, glad he can't see your face now.

"Why?" He steps closer, his breath hitting your neck now, while his hand continues to stroke the skin on your back.

"Because you always my back. And I wanted something to represent the person I admire the most. I might've gotten the tattoo to spite someone but I still wanted it to be meaningful."

His breath disappears from your neck and you wonder why he's pulling away and if you said something wrong but seconds later you find his hands gripping your hips as his lips press to your lower back, right above the tattoo. Your head arches back involuntarily at the sensation.

"Sorry." He says suddenly and pulls away, getting to his feet.

You turn to face him and grab his hands. "Don't be sorry. I'm glad you liked the tattoo. Would've been awkward otherwise."

He laughs, glad you're still able to joke about what just happened. Then he looks away. "To be honest... it made me really happy to hear that you admire me because sometimes I wonder if I'm really the right man for this position." He admits.

You notice he won't meet your gaze but he hasn't pulled his hands away from yours. You give his hands a squeeze and then move upwards to start rubbing circles on his forearms with your thumbs. He looks back at you, surprised. He doesn't seem to be disliking it so you continue.

"Hey. Don't ever say that, okay? I knew from the moment I first met you, that you have more right to be here than any of us. In fact, not only do you have the right to be here, but none of us could do what we do without you. Everyone looks up to you, not just me."

He's stunned. "You-you really mean that?"

You smile at him and bring a hand up to cradle his cheek, both to comfort him and to keep him from looking away again as you say this, "Everyone knows how hard you work to support us, so let us support you, okay? You're amazing. Don't ever doubt it."

You think he might pull away from your hand but he relaxes into it, pressing the warmth of his flushed cheeks up against your skin.

"Maybe I'll get a tattoo of you next time." He mutters under his breath, half joking.

You laugh. "Can I kiss that one too?"

He pulls away from your hand, rolling his eyes, but the bright color still clings to his cheeks. "It was involuntary, okay? My body moved before I could even think about it."

You wink at him. "You could stand to do it some more. I wouldn't mind." Then you feel a little bold, having had so many of these little shared moments together that you think you might be able to get away with it. "In fact, if I had known you were going to react like that, I might've tatted up my whole body." You tease.

He coughs. "That's 50 push-ups for improper conduct."

You groan. "We're off duty, Vice Captain."

"I said 50."

You roll your eyes and get down to the ground. "I know you're just doing this to see my shirt ride up so you can get a better view of the tattoo." You mumble in between push-ups.

You can't see him, but you're pretty sure he's blushing again.

"Make it 100."

"Anything for you baby."

He chuckles again but then his voice gets softer. "Hey. Thanks again. For cheering me up."

"Anything for you baby."

[syrma-sensei]

→ Rugrats, Pool, and Grilling Techniques.

pairing: soldier boy x wife!reader.

rating: smut, fluff.

warning: domestic soldier boy, dangerously smitten ben (oocish), established relationship, daddy ben, breeding kink, dirty talk, daddy kink, non-canon complied.

word count: 2k

summary: soldier boy is surprisingly an amazing family man.

tagging: @zepskies

→ masterlist | ao3

“Ready. Go!”

As soon as your husband's whistle blows into the air, a loud splash follows when Jamie and Maggie hopped into the pool. Inheriting their father's super stamina and endurance, the two swim swiftly and with the agility of dolphins, while your husband's voice encourages them both. However, out of your twins, Maggie is the faster swimmer, whereas Jamie is quicker on land.

Bathing in the sun beam, you lay on the sunlounger next to Ben's, watching the trio having fun together in the pool. You plan on joining them in a bit, but you let them play on their supe level before you hop in, because after all, you're just a human. For the time being, you're sufficed with your feet dipped in the water at the rim of the pool.

“Haha, that's my girl!” Ben's face beams with a wide smile when Maggie, as expected, beat her twin to the other side of the pool.

“Cheater!” Jamie yells at his sister whom sticks her tongue out at him.

“No, you're just slow, Jay,” She retorts haughtily, a trait she caught from her dad.

He rolls his eyes, “See you on land, sis, 'coz you'll be dragging your ass behind me there,”

Ben bursts out laughing but he stops when you throw him a berating glare with a chiding tilt of your head. Your husband clears his throat.

“Oh, woah, manners young man,” Ben scolds, “You better watch that mouth, you don't speak to ladies like that.”

“Like she's one!” Jamie grouses, propelling his hands into the water, “She took on three children at school the other day.”

“Because they're bullies, and they had it coming!” Maggie replies heatedly.

Once again, a proud grin stretches Ben's lips from ear to ear. You shake your head hopelessly at him.

Maggie swims towards her father, saying, “Bullies are bad, aren't they, Papa?”

“That's right,” Ben agrees, stroking a strand of Maggie's hair away from her face, “You go kick their asses, kiddo.”

“He said it!” Jamie gasps.

“For the love of God, Ben, watch your language in front of the kids!”

He ignores you, “Our daughter, my daughter here is going to be a badass chick.” A grin is plastered on his mouth before his kisses her cheek.

Maggie giggles at her father, “What does badass mean, Papa? Is my butt bad?”

Ben hurls his head back with a laugh, “No, cupcake, your butt ain't bad. It means you're cool as f—hell.” He glances at you momentarily, then he corrects again, “As heck, cool as heck.”

Jamie swims towards his sister, slyness contorts his face, in that moment, you're in stupor at the way it resembles Ben's visage.

“Cool or not, Dad's not gonna allow you to go out with boys,” Jamie says, “Are you, Dad?”

One would expect Maggie's eyes to widen, to look horrified, and her to look at her father urgently, silently begging him to deny what James just said. But the little one swims to her father and wraps her tiny arms around his neck. “I don't need boys, Jay.” She replies with sass, “I'm daddy's little princess, right, Papa?”

While you swoon at Maggie, you smile amusedly as Ben grows a bit perplexed at the sudden affectionate admission from Margret. So, you decide you rescue your husband by climbing down into pool.

“Of course, sweetheart,” You say, swimming towards the three, “Daddy's always gonna be here for you,”

Maggie tilts her head and kisses her father's temple. Ben's grin falters; you can read the uneasiness written on his face.

“Love you, Papa,” she whispers.

“Love you too, princess,”

Maggie's giggles warble around, and Jamie rolls his eyes again.

The four of you play together in the pool, swimming and tossing the ball, after you've divided into two teams; you and Jamie against Ben and Maggi.

During the game, you pick up on the lethargy of his moves. He's not being himself at the moment, for normally, his competitive spirit would more eager to win, even if it were a mere game. You frown a bit when you hurl the ball to the other side of the pool only for Maggie to catch it with dexterity. She throws it back with her supe strength to your side, but Jamie baulks it with his supe speed.

“Close enough, sis, but you're being sloppy,” He teases.

“You wish!”

Jamie flings the ball to the other side again, and Ben blocks it with one large hand.

“Uh oh.” You hear Jamie whisper when he sees his father's smirk. Ben draws his hand backwards then darts it in Jamie's direction. It dashes through a blurry, white flash before it bashes into the water by you, the bolt makes your hair sway.

“Nicely-done, dad!” Jamie cheers.

“Hey, what side are on, Jay?!” You frown, grousing.

Your son only shrugs, “But it was awesome!”

“Ah, cut the kid some slack, would ya?” Ben makes an amused sound, raising his hands in a gesture, “Not my fault I'm the favourite parent here.”

“We' shall see about that, Mr. Gilman, we shall see.” You squint, lips puckering up in a playful curl.

The game ends with a draw; James and Margret aren't so crazy about the result. And they start to squabble about it when you decide to call it a day in the pool and climb out of it.

After having a quick shower, and wearing fresh clothes, the four of you embark on preparing lunch. You and Maggie are to prepare the table, and Jamie is to help his father with the grilling labour.

While Ben teaches Jamie the grilling technics (which you originally taught Ben, because the man didn't know to cook shit when you first met) you chopped the vegetables that Maggie rinsed for you into the salad bowl. The meat odorous smell tickles your nostrils and makes your mouths water.

In the evening, you take another shower, but more thoroughly this time. You don't want the smell of barbecued meat and the reek of coal to stick to your body when you go to bed.

When the plates are laid out and the meal is ready, the four of you encircle the table, and enjoy what you made together with the spirit of your extraordinary family.

You step out the bathroom with a fluffy towel wrapped around your body after thirty minutes. You find Ben sitting at the foot of the bed, his brown hair is still drenched from his shower. He's wearing a grey shirt, and a matching grey sweatpants, with a towel on his head.

His gaze instantly softens when his green eyes land on your figure, a tender smile visiting his lips. You smile back at him, taking the spot next to him on the bed.

“Today was great,” You say, your hands on his strong arm, massaging his muscle, “Thank you, Ben.” Again, he freezes when you reach out to kiss his temple.

Ben nods, the he draws his head back to gaze at you, his large hand cupping your cheek. “No, thank you, baby, for giving me all of this.”

You tilt your head, chewing your lower lip, “Well, you're most welcome, Daddy.”

You see something wicked swirl in the green of his eyes, and the sly smirk on his lips makes your heart skip.

“I was thinking...” Ben scratches his beard with a drawl, eyes predating your body, “The twins are seven now.” He reaches out a hand to tip your chin up, his lips are dangerously close to yours, “What do you think of a third one? Fuck, third and fourth and fifth too.” He thumbs your lower lip gently, “I want to make children with you as many as possible. I want our place to be full of those rugrats.”

A fierce blush rises up to your neck as his breath fans your face, and the flesh between your legs twang in delight. You like it when he talks like that.

Your answer comes as a crushing kiss, and a moan from your throat. Ben's hands trail down to your sides and he lifts you up to his lap. One of his hands roams down your back and loosens the towel, and you're gorgeously naked for him.

“Atta girl,” He praises, “Ready to take what I want to give her.”

He kneads your breasts just right, pinching and caressing where you like, and his lips leaving open-mouthed kisses on your neck. You moan his name, and you feel his cock beneath you coming gradually to life.

You grind your bare cunt on his nourishing cock, and his hand grasps your hair to pull your head. “Behave,” he warns with a chuckle, “Fucking eager, aren't we?”

“Ben, please,” You roll your hips again, your arousal is already glistening on his crotch, “Give it to me, fuck me please, please, please, Daddy, make me carry your babies, please make me your breeding slut.”

You can hear his breath hitch before he sears your lips shut with his, hands resting on your buttocks, his blunt nails digging on the flesh of your crack while you cup his bearded cheek.

Ben hoists you up sharply and flips you, splaying your body wide on the bed beneath him. Quick as the supe he is, he takes off his clothes and graces you with his naked glory. He grabs one of your legs and pulls you down impatiently. You giggle playfully.

“Oh, baby, you have no idea,” He cups your mound with a possessive hand, his thumb flicking your clit “How much I want to fucking breed this slutty cunt full,”

You spread your legs further for more friction, “Please, Daddy, please, I want your cum, I need your seed.”

“Fuck, baby,” He grumbles, “Needy, little whore...” Your toes curl at the word, more arousal oozing out if your cunny.

His hands grip your thighs, while lining up to your pussy. You yelp and laugh sporadically at the vigour of his thrust. His hands reach out to yours on either side of your head. Your fingers entangle as he paces up his moves.

Your back arches, and words spilling incoherently out of your mouth as he fucks your brains dumb. You hear him swear and spit in the most vulgar language you've ever heard, and it makes you squeeze him more.

You like that dirty tongue of his, how it makes you feel a flagrant whore yet an unstoppable queen.

“Ben, Ben, I'm so close!” You cry, closing your eyes shut.

“Come to me, baby,” He says, bringing his thumb to your clit.

You hang your arms on his strong back as you feel it coming. Your nails graze his flesh when your orgasm sweep over your being. Your inner drawers clamps down on his cock in a tight hug.

Ben growls in your ear, animalistic and primitive, as he twitches sharply inside of you, painting your insides white.

You take your time to calm down. Breathing gradually placating to normal before he rolls on his back beside you. You snuggle up to his chest, and he holds you close with his arm. You feel his seed leaking into your thighs, and your cunt still throbbing through the throes of your orgasm.

You close your eyes and relish in the moment in silence.

“You're a good dad, Ben.” You say after several minutes, looking up at him.

He gazes down at you, hand playing with your hair, “I try not to be like my old man.”

You smile, “I know you do, and you're nothing like him. The kids adore you.”

His Adam's apple bobs up and down, sneering, “Well, that's good to hear. Not to be a fucking disappointment in someone's eye.”

You peck his lips, pride flourishing within your chest; it took you ages to convince Ben that opening up and expressing his feelings to someone he trusts doesn't equal being a sniveling pussy.

He might be the greatest supe, the hero of heroes, an asshole to some and a god to others. But to you, Ben is just Ben, a doting husband, and a perfect father. And you'd stand against the world for him.

Kissing his forehead you say, “You never were one to me, Ben.”

[palioom]

call me mommy

summary: your boyfriend's mom has never liked you much. so who could've imagined her to be so... nice.

pairing: claudia flores x f!reader word count: 745 warnings:18+ content; no use of y/n (but a lot of nicknames) ; mommy kink, fingering; squirting, implied age gap

a/n: so, pedro as mrs. flores rotted my brain and i whipped this out at 4am, enjoy

• masterlist •

She didn’t know how exactly she had ended up on the kitchen table of her boyfriend’s mom, her legs spread wide open and the older woman’s thick fingers buried deep inside of her. All she did know was that the sounds echoing in the kitchen were borderline obscene, the wet squelch of her fingers driving in and out of her only drowned out slightly by their voices.

It was insane. Her own boyfriend’s mother was better at using her fingers than her boyfriend was.

Despite the fact that it had always seemed like Mrs. Flores hated her. No matter what she did, it never seemed to be enough for the older woman. 

The wrong flowers, the wrong cookies, she wasn’t dressed nicely enough or she was dressed too nice. It went on and on, making her dread coming over every damn time.

But all that didn’t seem to matter right now, the woman curling her fingers in a way that made her cry out. Only to be shut up with a rough kiss, smudging the pink lipstick all over her own lips, her beard scratching her face.

Muttering something in Spanish that she didn’t understand, but it made her pussy clench around the thick fingers anyways. Something that didn’t go unnoticed by Mrs. Flores, smiling into the kiss and curling her fingers up again.

So damn close, so much faster and feeling so much better than Luis ever made her feel. Fuck, how could she look his mother in the eye ever again after this?

How could she look him in the eye ever again?

The fingers had her delirious, knowing exactly where to touch her to draw out her weak moans and pants, her own fingers curling into the rough surface of the kitchen table she was trying to hold herself upright on.

“Oh- Fuck, I’m gonna-” She moaned, looking down at the fingers pumping in and out of her at a rapid pace.

Suddenly her chin was lifted by two fingers, making her look into the older woman’s face, just inches away from her own. A sweet smile on her face, crinkling the corners of her eyes behind those glasses of hers. Holding a certain intensity to them.

“No swearing in my house.” Claudia said almost too calmly, repeatedly stroking that spongy spot inside her that would have her falling apart too soon. “Not even that you can do right. Are you even good enough for my fingers, cariño?”

A whimper left her, too damn turned on by what was happening.

Her mind was swimming, like she was floating on a cloud.

“Sorry, mommy.” 

It had just slipped out, surprising herself but somehow liking how the word felt on her tongue. And Mrs. Flores seemed to like it, too, smiling and pressing her thumb against her clit, making her see stars as her orgasm crashed into her.

Again.

How fucked up was it that her own boyfriend’s mom was better at this than he was?

Fuck, she even made her squirt. All over the damn kitchen table and floor.

Legs trembling with the intensity of it all, the wet dribble leaving her embarrassed.

Claudia pushed her through until the last waves were ebbing off, leaving her twitching from the aftershocks, spent but satisfied.

Slowly Mrs. Flores pulled her fingers out, actually seeming somewhat impressed by the mess her cariño had caused.

And the name? Mommy?

Maybe all it took to get this girl on the right track was a bit of correction and reward from her.

“¿Te gusta llamarme mommy?” Claudia asked, holding up her glistening fingers to the younger woman’s lips, raising a brow at her. 

You like calling me mommy?

The blush on her face told her everything she needed to know, watching how she sucked her fingers clean, keeping the eye contact.

There was something incredibly hot about all of this, something she hadn’t even known she wanted before all of this had even happened. It definitely made her pussy throb, needing more of this.

“Maybe you need mommy to take care of you?” Claudia said, brushing some hair out of the younger woman’s face. “¿Mi buena niña?”

The whimper that left her was something she couldn’t have stopped even if she had wanted to.

Licking her lips and nodding, her eyes still hungry.

Oh, she would do anything for Mrs. Flores if it meant she could experience this again.

The next family dinner would be very fucking awkward, though.

[karasukarei]

Wind Breaker Drama CD vol. 1 – Fuurin, Memories of a Summer (Part 2)

Part 1 here!

Translation masterpost here!

Scene 3 – 5:00~6:48

Ume: Whew! The sea feels great!

Sakura: It doesn’t feel as cold as I expected, it’s more like lukewarm.

Ume: It’s already considered hot like this! One of these days it’s going to be as hot as a bath! (t/n: I’m not quite sure if this line is correct, feel free to let me know if there’s a more accurate translation!)

Hiiragi: When you go deeper it can suddenly get cold, so be careful there.

Nirei: There’s also quite a lot of fish!

Sakura Ume (edit: thanks @/pikiiro!): Oh, really! *licks lips* They look delicious…

Tsuge: … I’m catching it. *virtuous splashing*

Hiiragi: If you do that they’re not going to come.

Nirei: Hm, where’s Tsugeura-san? We were together just now.

Sakura: Huh? I don’t know.

Hiiragi: Isn’t Tsugeura doing that?

Tsuge: *virtuous splashing* RAWRRRR BURAH BURAH BURAH BURAH

Sakura: He’s swimming really seriously…

Ume: Ohhh! He’s really good at the butterfly stroke!

Tsuge: *very virtuous splashing* RAWRRRRRRRR

Nirei: He’s really fast at the backstroke too!

Tsuge: *extremely virtuous splashing* RAWR! RAWR! RAWR!

Sakura: Now is the breaststroke…

Hiiragi: He’s the first guy I’ve seen doing 50m laps in the sea.

Ume: Great! I’m gonna try too!

Hiiragi: Don’t go so deep into the sea! (Edit: I think this is more accurate than the original translation)

Nirei: What should we do? Hmm… Sakura-san! There’s a banana boat there!

Sakura: Huh? Why is the boat in the shape of a banana?

Nirei: Why… I never thought about it before, but it’s not well-balanced. The boat is pulled by jet skis, and it’s really hard to make sure you don’t capsize!

Sakura: … Is that supposed to be fun?

Nirei: Yes! It’s pretty fast, so it’s very thrilling! Hmm? Do you want to try?

Sakura: Huh?! Trying it out? It’s not like I wanted to do it! (t/n: I can literally hear Sakura blushing LMAO)

Scene 4 – 6:48~8:24

Nirei: Yeah!! The banana boat is so fun! (t/n: just an FYI, banana boats are pretty popular amongst couples in Japan ^_^)

Sakura: Well, it wasn’t as bad as a I thought-

Nirei: You say that, but weren’t you screaming a lot?

Sakura: asdjfhiafh shut up!

Nirei: Hehe! Oh, Sakura-san, your shoulders are really red, are you ok?

Sakura: … It stings a little.

Nirei: Did you not put on sunscreen?

Sakura: I don’t have any. Eh, what’s that?

Nirei: Where our stuff is? Yes, there seems to be something built there…

Sakura: What’s this huge thing?!

Nirei: It’s a sandcastle! And it’s so detailed!

Suo: It’s well-made isn’t it?

Kiryuu: Welcome back both of you~ (t/n: the way he says this is so CUTE)

Nirei: Did the two of you make this?

Suo: Nope, Kiryuu-kun did it!

Kiryuu: I was bored after I finished my login bonuses!

Nirei: You’re so skilled!

Sakura: Amazing…

Kiryuu: Ori? Are you perhaps… complimenting me? (t/n: so cute…)

Sakura: I-I’m not complimenting you!

Kiryuu: I’m not being serious~ (t/n: I’m not actually sure if he’s referring to himself or to Sakura; it can also mean that Sakura is not being honest about his feelings)

Umemiya: Oiiiii~

Kiryuu: Oh, Ume-chan senpai and the rest are back!

Tsuge: Hey hey, look at this!

Suo: That’s one nice watermelon!

Nirei: What happened?

Hiiragi: Umemiya won this from a beach flag competition. (t/n: I think it’s something like capture the flag)

Sakura: Beach flag?

Nirei: As expected of Umemiya-san!

Sugi: Of course.

Sakura: What are you doing here?

Sugi: Huh?!

Kiryuu: How are going to cut it?

Ume: Wait hang on, since we’ve come out all the way to the beach, let’s do it! Watermelon splitting!

Scene 5 – 8:25~11:46

Hiiragi: We’ll tie it here… Right, that’s good.

Sakura: I, I can’t see anything.

Suo: The first person trying will be Sakura-kun!

Nirei: Sakura-san! You can do it!

Sakura: I just need to hit the watermelon with this right?

Ume: The supporters will be me and Tsugeura. Let’s do our best!

Tsuge: Sakura-kun, we’ll direct you to the watermelon, so listen caaaaarefully!

Sakura: Ououo, yes, got it!

Nirei: Are you ready? Start!

Ume: Sakura! Straight, straight! Just keep going straight, like dadada!

Sakura: Straight? Dadada??

Tsuge: Daaa, not there! Sakura-kun, first go pyoi to the right!

Sakura: Huh? Right? Pyoi???

Kiryuu: Ahaha! Sakura-chan is going the wrong way! (t/n: WHY IS HIS LAUGH SO CUTE HEREEEE)

Hiiragi: These guys can’t be supporters.

Nirei: They’re just using onomatopoeia…

Suo: If they were compatible with each other that would’ve been great!

Ume: Left over there, then go zuitto kankan in front!

Tsuge: More guwottto to the right!

Sakura: Hnghhhhh…

Nirei: Sakura-san seems close to snapping…

Ume: That’s right! Gyatto in front, then go pyon to your right!

Tsuge: There to your left, just go bwatto!

Sakura: DAAAAAAAAA I CAN’T DO THIS *rips blindfold off*

Nirei: Ahh… He removed his blindfold…

Suo: Right, Sakura has failed!

Ume: Man, we were so close!

Sakura: Aren’t you guys too lousy at giving instructions?!

Tsuge: Sorry about that Sakura-kun!

Ume: Next is… Sugishita!

Sugi: Hmph! (t/n: you can hear the sparkles in his eyes) Yes!

Nirei: Wow! He’s taking part!

Suo: But, he seems quite scary!

Kiryuu: Waow, when Sugi-chan is holding the stick, it looks like a weapon! (t/n: thanks Felix for the correction!)

Hiiragi: Sugishita, stop holding the stick like you’re helping with the plants, it’s scary. (t/n: I’m not sure if this line is correct; if you have a better translation feel free to let me know!)

Suo: The supporters will be me and Kiryuu-kun!

Kiryuu: Yoroshiku~ (t/n: so cute…)

Ume: Are you ready? Start!

Sugi: *grunts*

Suo: Sugishita-kun! First let’s start by going straight!

Kiryuu: Ohh, it seems he’s listening! Sugi-chan! Go a little to your right!

Sugi: *grunts*

Sakura: He’s going in the wrong direction.

Kiryuu: Orya, he can’t hear?

Suo: Sugishita-kun! To your right, your right!

Ume: Ah, seeing the first years work together, really makes you think!

Hiiragi: Working together, huh? By the way, can he really not hear anything?

Kiryuu: Eh, isn’t Sugi-chan coming this way?

Tsuge: He’s walking straight without any problems at all.

Suo: It’s like he can completely see.

Nirei: It feels like he’s walking towards Sakura-san…

Sakura: Wh, what are you- Don’t come here!

Sugi: Hngh *swings bat*

Sakura: WAH! That was dangerous! What were you thinking of doing?!

Sugi: Tch.

Suo: Missed by a hair’s breadth, as expected of Sakura-kun!

Kiryuu: If he got hit that’ll be bad~

Nirei: Can Sugishita-san really not see?! That was on purpose wasn’t it?

Sugi: One more try. Hngh-

Nirei: AHH! Stop, stop! STOP

[babblingbookends]

Writing prompt: Bruce teaching a Robin of your choice (or Cass) how to swim

For this I had to google three things: 'how deep are in-ground pools', 'how tall are twelve-year-old boys', and 'basic swimming strokes'. Hope you like it!

~~~

“We went to the beach one time when I was a toddler, but I was too young to remember it, and a membership to the city pools cost too much. When would I have learned to swim?”

“I thought maybe at school.”

Jason crossed his arms. So maybe he was feeling a little defensive; sue him. “All the schools I’ve been to, I’ve been lucky if they have free lunches, forget about a pool.”

Bruce shrugged, like it was no big deal that Jason was poor and never learned how to swim. “Well, Alfred will be opening the pool next weekend, so we’ll have swimming lessons then.”

“Isn’t it going to be cold?” Jason asked warily.

Bruce winked. “It’s a heated pool. Perks of being wealthy.”

Okay, so maybe Bruce didn’t care that he didn’t know how to swim. That was Bruce though; no problem he couldn’t solve. “As long as it’s warm,” Jason agreed.

~~~

Bruce explained to him about different strokes, about holding your breath, about buoyancy and physics and a bunch of other stuff that Jason had tuned out five minutes ago.

“C’mon, B, just let me do it,” he said, impatient. “I’m not going to learn by just standing here.”

“Alright,” Bruce said, ruffling his hair. “Let me get in first, and then you.”

“Jeez, I’m not going to drown on the ladder,” Jason said, but he let Bruce get in first. “Is it cold?” he asked, eyeing the water. Bruce wasn’t acting like it was cold, but knowing him he’d probably taken swimming lessons in the north pole or something and thought a cold pool was warm.

“Nope, it’s a perfect temperature.”

Jason dipped his toe in. “I don’t know, it kinda feels cold.”

“Jason, two seconds ago you were telling me to hurry up, and now you’re stalling. Get in.”

“Fine!” he said, tossing his hands in the air. He stepped onto the first step, the water coming up to his ankles. “Okay, you were right, it’s not cold,” he said begrudgingly. He stepped down further into the water, until he was off the ladder. With his feet on the ground, the water level came up to his neck.

“The shallow end is four feet, and the deep end is eight feet,” Bruce said. “We’ll stay in the shallow end until you’ve got the basics and then you can do some laps if you want.”

“Cool,” Jason said. He bounced in the water. “Hey, this is pretty fun!” So maybe he’d been a little nervous. But just a little! But that was dumb, because the water was pretty nice, even if the air was a little cold. He splashed at Bruce, and spluttered when Bruce splashed back.

“Alright, let’s get to it,” Bruce said fondly.

~~~

Bruce demonstrated the basics of the front crawl stroke, and then slowly Jason began to practice it as Bruce corrected his form. Eventually, he’d figured out enough of the motions that he’d gotten a bit of a rhythm and Bruce wasn’t giving out so many corrections.

“Can I try some laps now?” Jason asked eagerly, when Bruce made him stop for a drink.

“Sure, son, if you’re not too tired.”

Tired? How could he be tired? He could do this all day, he was having so much fun!

“Yeah, I want to. Obviously,” he said, handing his water bottle over to Bruce and jumping back into the water, ignoring the way Bruce rolled his eyes.

He pulled his goggles back on and started at the shallow end, kicking and stroking his way across the pool, turning his face out of the water only to breath, just like B had shown him, and when he got to the other end he stopped for a moment to yell back to Bruce, “Look, B, I’m doing it!”

“You’re doing great, Jason, keep it up!” Bruce called back from where he was watching at the other end, and Jason beamed and started back towards him.

He was maybe a quarter of the way back when his leg cramped, and he missed a stroke, and he fell under the water further than he was expecting.

Panic grabbed him and he sunk, his whole body falling beneath the surface of the water. He kicked, trying to get to the surface, then twisted when the cramp in his leg throbbed worse.

His face broke out of the water. “Oh god,” he garbled, spitting out a mouthful of water and trying to get a breath in before he sunk again.

Arms suddenly wrapped around him, pulling him out of the water. He immediately latched on, wrapping himself around Bruce.

“Don’t let go! Don’t let go!” he gasped, frantic.

“I’ve got you, you’re fine, stop choking me,” Bruce wheezed. “I’ve got you.” Reluctantly, Jason loosened his grip around Bruce’s neck. Bruce carried him back to the side and set him down on the edge.

Now out of the water, Jason felt slightly more calm, but that meant that his brain was now focusing on the sharp, painful cramp in his calf. “Ah!” he winced, pressing his thumb into the cramping muscle, trying to get it to relax.

“Are you okay?” Bruce asked. Jason wiped the water out of his eyes and looked up at him. B looked almost… scared, but it was a look Jason had never seen on him before, so he couldn’t be sure.

“I’m fine, B,” he said, breath catching as he massaged the muscle. “It was just a leg cramp, it caught me off guard.”

“Here, let me,” Bruce said, brushing Jason’s hands away and beginning to rub out the muscle with smooth efficiency. Jason wondered how many time Bruce had rubbed out his own cramps, or if Alfred had done it for him.

“Hey, Bruce?” Jason asked.

“Hmm?”

“This was really great. Well, up until I almost drowned.”

“You weren’t even close to drowning,” Bruce grumbled, and yeah, maybe Jason hadn’t recognized that look on his face but that sure was a familiar tone of voice. Bruce had been scared, at least a little.

“Sure, boss,” he said cheerfully, trying to make sure Bruce knew that he was okay, physically and emotionally. “Whatever you say.”

Bruce stopped rubbing out his calf and flicked his forehead.

“Ow!” he complained, but it didn’t really hurt.

“Fine, you almost drowned. But you get to tell Alfred about it.”

“Uh, never mind,” Jason said, backtracking. “I wasn’t really that close to drowning. We don’t need to mention anything to Alfred.”

Bruce grinned at him, and Jason for sure recognized that look: partners in crime.

[fafnir19]

A swimming lesson

It was another typical day at school, and as usual, I found myself in the crosshairs of Mr. Coachman's disdain. My name is Tristan, and I am what one might call an "unsporty" student. Thin, nerdy, and full of useless facts, I was the kid who always got picked last in gym class. Mr Coachman, a former athlete turned sport and philosophy teacher, had no patience for my know-it-all attitude. He believed that my incessant need to correct everyone was hindering the class and, quite frankly, his sanity. One day, Mr. Coachman approached me after yet another unnecessary correction during PE. He offered me a chance to improve my abysmal grades in sports by taking extra swimming lessons with him. Reluctantly, I agreed, desperate to boost my overall GPA. At our first swimming session, Mr. Coachman handed me a peculiar-looking swimming cap. He claimed it would allow me to hear and see his instructions directly in my head. I thought he was out of his mind, but upon putting on the cap, I realized it actually worked. It was a surreal experience, feeling Mr. Coachman's voice and visual cues echoing in my mind as I swam. The instructions were crystal clear, making it easier to perfect my stroke and improve my technique in record time. Weeks later, Mr. Coachman, noticing my progress, approached me with a new pair of swim goggles. He said they would help me focus better in the pool. Skeptical yet willing to try anything, I put them on and dove in. As soon as the water enveloped me, I felt a heightened sense of concentration. The outside world disappeared, and all that mattered was the water beneath me. Mr. Coachman's voice became a distant echo, guiding me through each stroke and turn. It was as if the goggles had transformed me into a single-minded swimming machine.

Mr Coachman observed my newfound dedication and satisfaction. I was exhausted from the intense swim training, which left me with no energy to display my usual know-it-all tendencies in class.

Several weeks later, Mr Coachman's next request gave me pause. He presented me with a slim blue Speedo and promised that it would enhance my speed in the water. There was just one catch—I had to shave off all my body hair. He argued that professional swimmers did it all the time for better speed and reduced resistance. I protested vehemently. "Shave off all my body hair? Are you out of your mind?" I exclaimed, my voice filled with disbelief. Mr Coachman, with a grin on his face, replied, "Of course not, Tristan! It's a small sacrifice in pursuit of greatness. Trust me, you'll thank me later." I crossed my arms stubbornly, determined to resist this outrageous demand. "Absolutely not! I'll wear the Speedo, but I draw the line at shaving my body hair. It's like asking a caterpillar to give up its fuzzy coat!" Mr Coachman's smile didn't falter, and he simply said, "Suit yourself, Tristan. But just remember, the pros do it for a reason." His words lingered in the air as an internal struggle waged within me. The temptation to conform and become the ultimate swimmer clashed with my natural inclination to rebel against such absurdity. In the end, though, curiosity won over. I figured, if I could endure the grueling training and wear these magical swimming items, what harm could a little body hair removal do? With a hesitant sigh, I finally agreed to Mr. Coachman's request. Trudging to the bathroom, I grabbed a razor, examining its gleaming blade with trepidation. As I stood before the mirror, thoughts of caterpillars and metamorphosis floated through my mind. I wondered if shaving off my body hair would truly transform me into a swimming powerhouse. With each stroke of the razor, I felt a mix of excitement and unease. Whiskers and hairs fell, leaving behind smooth, hairless skin. Trapped in my thoughts, I couldn't help but wonder what my friends would say or how they would react when they discovered my newfound aquatic obsession and hairless body. Finally, once all the hair was gone, I took a long look at my smooth reflection. It was a strange sight, almost otherworldly. I felt a mix of vulnerability and exhilaration, like a sea creature shedding its scales and emerging anew. Standing tall in my hairless glory, I slipped into the slim blue Speedo. Ready or not, I was about to dive into the next chapter of this bizarre journey, hoping that my shaved body would indeed prove to be a worthwhile sacrifice in the pursuit of greatness. Emerging from the water for the first time in my stylish Speedo, I had transformed. My physique resembled that of a Greek statue, not an ounce of body fat in sight. I was an athletic swimmer, a force to be reckoned with.

With my old clothes no longer fitting, Mr. Coachman outfitted me with a tight beige chino and a light blue shirt.

As I squeezed myself into the outfit, I couldn't help but complain about looking like a preppy dork. However, Mr. Coachman assured me that it was all about how I wore the clothes. Skillfully, he rolled up the sleeves of my shirt, unbuttoned the top buttons, and stood back to appraise his handiwork. "Aren't you a handsome devil?" he remarked with a satisfied grin.

Surprisingly, I found myself thanking him, swallowed by a sense of excitement and self-confidence that I had never experienced before. Something about Mr. Coachman's approval made me feel alive and validated, even if I couldn't pinpoint exactly why I had become so susceptible to his influence. And thus, Mr. Coachman's cunning plan had come to fruition. Those magical swimming accouterments had not only transformed me into a skilled swimmer but also had slowly but surely chipped away at my once-sturdy resistance. When I wore all three items—cap, goggles, and Speedo—I was utterly beholden to his every command, a true embodiment of the "perfect student-athlete" he had envisioned from the onset. Now a member of the swim team, I had gone from a nerdy outcast to a charming and good-looking athlete, the joy of all my teachers. But deep down, I couldn't help but wonder if Mr. Coachman's methods were entirely ethical. Regardless, I was living proof of his success, and the sensation of hearing Mr. Coachman's voice and visualizing his instructions while wearing the cap and goggles had left an indelible mark on my perception of swimming, forever changing the way I experienced the water.

[woncon]

☼ summer tales

once upon a time there was a hybrid, a demon, a merman, a vampire and a fairy who fell in love with you on one summer day.

☼five drabbles with each txt member and you

☼bunny hybrid!soobin, demon!yeonjun, merman!beomgyu, vampire!taehyun, fairy!kai

☼summer themes, fluff, kissing, cuddling, comfort

☼special thanks to @honeytwo for helping me translate this into english, correcting my grammar and other mistakes. thank you for everything! °♡̷•.

☼finally, it's summer! i'll have more time to actually write & chill. 🥹

☼txt masterlist | main masterlist

SOOBIN

The carrot cocktail turned out terrible. Showered and changed, you're chilling in the coolest corner of your apartment, just like before you thought about making the refreshing drink, only with one more failure.

Soobin lifts his head from your belly, your fingers ceasing their movement in his hair as he looks at you with a sad, remorseful look, as if it's his fault that you can't handle the basic ingredients for a cocktail and the blender.

"You'll get it right another time. Don't feel bad about it," he gently nudges your wrist with his nose, then seeing you flash an unconvincing smile, he gets up so that your faces are at the same height.

"It happens to everyone." He strokes your face reassuringly. His voice is soft, kind and hopeful. You'd believe him if it weren't you, the mess of the kitchen.

"It's always likes this with me."

"You'll practice, and you'll get it right. It wasn't bad, by the way."

"What? You tasted it?"

"You made it for me, of course I tasted it. It was good."

"Carrot pieces floating in water..." You frown at the not very appetizing image in your mind.

"Shh," Soobin kisses you softly, then leans away with a smile, flashing his sweet bunny teeth. His lips taste like carrots, and you'd rather remember that later than the cocktail so you gently pull his fluffy ears, pulling him back to your lips.

YEONJUN

Yeonjun is having a great time in the sweltering heat. Where he comes from, thirty-four degrees is just pleasant weather. You, on the other hand, find it terrible.

"It's hot as hell!" You whine as you fan your stomach with the bottom of your leotard, your nose wrinkling into a grimace as the fabric sticks to your skin.

The boy stretches out on your bed and chuckles. You tilt your head in anger and resentment.

"Do you think this is funny? I'm dying!" You raise your arms to the sky, as if you're about to burst into flames and be consumed by your own body with self-magic, then stagger out of the room to get a glass of water with ice-cubes.

Yeonjun follows you, sneaking closer with deliberate, soft steps, and when you've finished your refreshing, cool sip then sigh, he decides it's time to wrap his hands around your waist and lean his forehead against the back of your head. You can feel the friction of your skin against his horns too.

"I'm sorry. You're just adorable when in despair."

"That's a very weird compliment." You groan and peel off his embracing arms. "And you're awfully hot."

"Sorry. I can't cool you down, only warm you up. But I'll run down to the store and get some ice cream, if that helps."

"Thank you!" You smile at the caring words, and press a kiss to the demon's cheek, indicating that your anger is only temporary, and that it's a very short period of time if he's out for ice cream for your sake.

BEOMGYU

Beomgyu is looking up at you with a demanding gaze, but you're closed-eyed, enjoying the sunshine in your bikini, dangling your feet in the pleasant water. He swims closer to you, his golden-yellow tail snaking softly. He rests her head on your thigh, webbed fingers gripping your naked calves.

"Swim with me!"

"Won't it be very cold? My skin's super warm..." You smile down at him uncertainly. Your shoulders shine in the light.

Beomgyu smiles, dives into the water, and returns a moment later with a butter-white twisted shell. He proudly brushes his hair out of his face. He fills his treasure with water, then asks your permission with a soft gaze.

"May I?"

You nod, lean down a little. The boy gently drenches your shoulder with the cooling water. You shiver as the drops trickle down your arm, but as the next little one hits your skin, you slowly get used to it.

Eventually you can plunge into the water without difficulty through the Beomgyu fountain. As soon as your shoulders touch the water, Beomgyu wraps you in his arms and happily rubs his nose against yours. He was looking forward to hugging you.

"Won't we swim?" You cling to his neck, caressing his skin gently. It wouldn't be bad if you guys stay like this, it'll be perfectly fine.

"We will. I'll carry you, just let me."

"Okay."

Beomgyu kisses you on the cheek. But instead of swimming he only cuddles you in one place, while his muscular tail slaps the water to keep you from sinking.

TAEHYUN

The blades of the little fan are spinning at max speed, you hold your face in front of it, trying to imagine that it's cool and it works, but in the end you always look longingly towards the closed door. You yearn for your boyfriend's embrace.

Whining, you turn off the machine, the paddles slow down, then stop with a sigh. It needs rest, and you need a good snuggle with Taehyun.

You open the door quietly, sneak into the completely darkened room and deftly dodge the clothes and other rubbish strewn on the floor to get to the bed. The boy lies on his side, hugging a pillow. His chest does not move. He is not breathing. It's not just like he's dead, he's literally dead.

You climb up onto the mattress, grab the cold wrist, take the pillow, then dive into his arms. Sliding his hand to your waist, you sigh happily at the pleasant sensation, for Taehyun's embrace of your warm body is like holding a refrigerator to your chest.

But unlike the fridge, Taehyun can hug you back, and kiss the tip of your nose, and caress your side. Right now he's squirming a little, gently stroking your waist under your shirt, making you shiver.

His red eyes squint dreamily at you.

"You feelin' hot?"

"And not just a little." You hug his waist, burying your head in his chest, where you hear nothing but your own breathing. “Do you feel it?”

Taehyun caresses your back and rests his chin on your head. His fingers brush softly against your artery.

"Your blood is a few degrees warmer than usual. But I'll cool you down, don't worry."

You giggle as he slips his leg over your thigh, wraps it all the way around you, and then lavishes you with sweet little kisses. He locks you in the coffin of his body, and there's nowhere else you'd rather be.

KAI

You are curled up on the recliner, disappointed. The cushions are soft under your hands, the wind whispers sweetly of summer, bringing the nostalgic scent of mown grass and the distant sound of a lawnmower. The sun shines pleasantly. It's your favorite season, yet you're so sad.

"I'm late," that's what you say to your boyfriend when he sits next to you and asks you what has got your ever-excited self this time of year.

"What are you late for?"

"The cherries. I remembered too late to check. It's completely gone bad, but it's so good to pick and eat!"

Kai gently strokes your arm. You lean gratefully on his shoulder and sigh. The boy studies you for a moment, looking off into the distance, then pats your back and stands up. As you look questioningly towards him, he flashes you a kind smile and promises to be right back.

He then walks to the cherry tree behind the house. He rests his palm on the trunk of the tree, feeling the pulsing life energy inside. He asks the plant not to store up all its energy for next year, but to harvest on this day. The tree is a bit reluctant, worried about how it will survive the winter and how much energy it will have to produce next summer, but the boy reassures it that he will take care of it. The tree doesn't want to say no to a fairy anyway, so eventually buds sprout on its branches, white flowers bloom, and juicy cherries dangle from the branches.

Kai smiles in satisfaction and goes back for you.

"Come, I want to show you something." He takes the slightly puzzled you by the arm and leads you to the back garden, where the sun is perfectly focusing on the cherry tree.

"But... Just now... How?" You can barely speak, blinking at the tree then the boy.

You don't understand how it is that, while you were being laughed at by withered, ugly witches, can now look at you with mature, red, laughing, alluring eyes.

"Summer miracle." Kai smiles and presses a kiss on your cheek, which is made cute by excitement and disbelief, and makes you forget to blush by the soft gesture. “So we pick cherries?”

You nod, and your boyfriend reaches for the basket propped up against the trunk, then tucks it into the crook of your elbow. You look gratefully at the boy who made this possible. You know he did it, even if you can't put your finger on how. What is certain is that Kai is special.

You saw his translucent wings one early morning.

[bizbat]

And I Wake Up Alone.

~ Bruce Wayne x Black!Fem!Reader

~ Mild Smut

~ Angst

~ Wc: 880

~ The first part in a series based on Amy Winehouse's discography

~ Crossposted to AO3.

~ You can find more of my works here.

~ It's hard loving Bruce.

It's okay in the day, I'm staying busy.

Tied up enough so I don't have to wonder where is he.

Got so sick of crying, so just lately,

when I catch myself, I do a 180.

I stay up, clean the house, at least I'm not drinking.

Run around just so I don't have to think about thinking.

It's not hard to love him.

It's not hard to care about him, he's probably the most selfless man you've ever met. It's not hard to be comforted by his presence, there's something so soothing about his muscular arms wrapped around your waist. It's not hard to find him beautiful, even the parts of his skin that have been marred with scars still get soft kisses whenever he's shirtless in your presence. It's not hard to love Bruce. It's just hard to be in love with him.

It's hard knowing that some nights, he won't be coming back to bed. That one night he might not come back at all. And it's not too much different during the day. So you stay busy. In the morning, you get dressed, wake up Damian and Duke, and together you go eat whatever Alfred's made for breakfast. Then you go to work. Throughout those eight hours you keep yourself occupied, sometimes with work that's not even due till next week, just so you have something else to focus on.

Then, when work is over, you go home. You help with whatever homework Duke is pretending (for your sake) to struggle with, watching documentaries with Damian where he will correct the narrators, and having tea with Alfred after dinner.

That silent sense of content that everyone gets

just disappears soon as the sun sets.

It's almost perfect.

He's fierce in my dreams, seizes my guts.

He floods me with dread,

soaked in soul, he swims in my eyes by the bed.

Pour myself over him, moon spilling in.

It's almost perfect when he slips into bed beside you, the alarm clock on the dresser beside you reading 3:49 AM. It's almost perfect when his scarred hands brush over your soft, brown skin, caressing your sides and pressing chapped kisses to your neck and shoulders. When his hands and tongue give you all the love he neglects from you during the day, kissing, and sucking, and stroking. When he holds you to his bare chest, your hearts beating in tandem with one another. When he holds you tightly, as if he's trying to consume you in the sweetest, gentlest way possible.

And I wake up alone.

It's not perfect when you dream of him. When you can so vividly see the announcement of his death on the front page of The Gotham Gazette. Or when you see him laid in his casket, his face and hands red with blood and dark with bruises, ready to be buried beside his parents. It would be a nightmare if it wasn't so prophetic, if it wasn't true.

If I was my heart I'd rather be restless.

The second I stop the sleep catches up and I'm breathless.

As this ache in my chest, as my day is done now,

the dark covers me and I cannot run now.

My blood running cold, I stand before him.

He, surprisingly, is still there when you jolt awake. He's there when you're rapidly breathing in and out, terrified at the prospect of what will likely be his future.

It's not the feeling of his cold hands rubbing "comforting" circles into your skin, or the almost robotic way he tells you to breathe, or the sip of icy water he gets out of bed to get for you that calms you down.

It's the feeling of his weight in the bed beside you, his strong thigh lightly pressing against your own, the warm concern in his eyes that brings you back to Earth. He pulls you into his chest and you just breathe him in. All of him, the clean scent of his skin after his shower, the flowery detergent that you insist on using for your bedsheets, the smokey scent that seems to always accompany him no matter what. Once he sees that you've calmed down, once your heart returns to beating at its normal pace, he asks what’s wrong.

It's all I can do to assure him.

"Nothing."

When he comes to me, I drip for him tonight.

Drowned in me, we bathe under blue light.

He doesn't believe you, he's not stupid, but he knows it's not something you want to talk about. He can't blame you. He never wants to talk when you ask him what's wrong. So he won't make you. Instead he lets his gaze linger on your own, his lips press to your own, lets you love him. Let's you be in love with him. He lets you be soft against his muscles. And you let him be firm against your plush body. You let him love you back. Still wrapped in his warm, slightly sweaty, embrace, the both of you drift back off to sleep, legs intertwined and bonnet slightly askew. 

And I wake up alone.

And I wake up alone.

And I wake up alone.

[hiemaldesirae]

Thorn here:

Oh...ohhh!! Vox arrives in hell but instead of legs he just has a Shark's tail! He has a TV head and a Shark's tail and Alastor is instantly smitten.

He gathers this new sinner up, protectively taking him to his house/radio tower and setting up aquarium and putting Vox in it, eyes warm.

Vox isn't amused. Why is this weird stag demon nuzzling him and calling him his muse? Vox is no one's anything!

Alastor adores how his muse attempts to shock him! (He has to buy shock resistant glass and he learns Vox does much better in salt water then fresh-(he brutally killed the Imps at the pet store that told him sharks would do fine in fresh water. His poor mate's gills were messed up for days!)) He is a bit irritated on how His beloved muse prefers only fish (fish sinners, but what his precious mate doesn't know won't hurt him)) but he can get past it.

HAS NO ONE TAUGHT ALASTOR NOT TO PICK UP RANDOM ANIMALS HE SEES ON THE STREET ????????? oh my god . this little FREAK i cannot believe he sees a pretty fish on the street and immediately takes him home. i really want to pry his head open and study him

i might snatch this concept to make mermay oneshots if ur okay w that btw. and im STILL working on the killer au i prommy i just have. wayyy too many wips and work to do irl lmfao. but for now. Snippet of writing because i love you /p(arasocial and platonic) (that first part is a joke. legally)

"You still haven't told me why you decided to keep me," Vox frowns as he hangs over the edge of the tank, watching Alastor steadily as he prepares a cut of sinner meat for the shark demon.

"Frankly, my dear, it was a burst of sudden inspiration on my part," Alastor hums. "It isn't every day you see someone as unique-looking as you, after all!"

"Is this about the TV head?" Vox frowns deeper.

"Well, not exactly--"

"It's about the TV head, isn't it?" Vox ducks underneath the water of his tank when Alastor doesn't reply, taking the others silence as an affirmative answer.

The deer demon sighs as his companion's body slowly becomes too ensconced in the murky depths of the tank for him to properly monitor, focusing his efforts back on making sure the fish sinner's corpse was prepared properly for Vox to ingest easily. Keeping a pet was much harder than Rosie had made it out to be- but in fairness, it was a burden he had decided to take upon himself.

After all, the day that Vox had appeared in Hell, it had been *his* arms that the sinner had fallen into- a stroke of luck, truly, as he had been vicariously gesturing to Rosie the motions he'd made for a recent and more theatrical hunt and been in *just* the right position to catch the poor dear- which was clearly a sign that Vox was meant to be his. And now, with the fascinating darling having been swimming around in the expansive tank of his living room for more than six months now, Alastor could confidently say that he had never made a choice more correct in his life.

Well, maybe not. Killing his father in cold blood had also been a pretty correct choice- maybe he should amend that to *afterlife*? Yes, that would work.

Alastor hums as he finishes the plating of the fish sinner, turning around to the tank with the finished meal in hand. He knocks on the glass wall- not expecting an answer, he goes to place the tray down next to the little window next to the bubble of air, only to be met with a much more- *human* looking face than expected.

Two glowing eyes, one the striking blue of larimar and another the rich brown of axinite, meet Alastor's own. Glowing marks stripe along the remarkably human face, as the shark sinner in front of him grins nervously. "I got rid of the TV. Will you let me go now?"

Alastor blinks.

Once, then twice. In the silence, he can see the nervous hopefulness on the demon's face flicker slightly as he breathes slowly, carefully setting the tray of food aside as he traces the outline of the other's face in the glass.

"Let you go, my dear? ...Oh, dear. I think I've been quite misconstrued. You aren't going anywhere, my lovely siren."

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Part 18

This chapter breaks our record at 3.3k words :O

comment and reblog!

MASTAPOST

Damian awoke from sleep. He felt his body squish underneath the weight of Danny’s. The older boy had insisted the previous night, citing Damian’s body being unable to regulate temperature in the cold water at night. This had Damian begrudgingly agree to this arrangement, although he had made his displeasure very clear.

He tried to push down the comfort it brought him. Tried to focus on other things.

Like the fact that he was riding a whale. An entire whale. He even had a harness tied to his waist to stop him drifting behind, the rope wrapping gently around the mammal’s fins and around its body snugly.

This moment? This moment right here was the highlight of his young life. Unconsciously, his chest rumbled and purred as his heart pounded with affection for the beautiful creature.

The whale called out to its pod. It seemed the boys had landed on the largest of the pod, a female (he had checked) and likely the mother of the younger members. Damian rubbed the whale’s skin in soothing circles, its blubber smooth to the touch. There, there, big girl. You are doing an exemplary job.

Each stroke of the whale’s body, undulating through the sea send small shockwaves down Damian’s lateral line, a testament to the size and power of the world’s largest animals (although not the largest organism. That title belonged to Pando). After a while, the rhythm settled into Damian’s bones, like a second heartbeat.

He would have to paint this moment when he got home.

Damian looked behind him. Danny was still out cold after the extensive swimming they had done. It was worth it, though. If Damian’s estimates were correct, they were only a week or less away from Panama. Danny’s swimming speed was nothing short of incredible. It was almost like he was intangible, gliding through the waves with barely a hint of water resistance. Damian had feared it would take a month or longer to get to Panama, considering a dolphin’s long-distance swim speed was only around ten miles an hour, but Danny’s celestial navigation suggested they’d covered about seven hundred miles by the time they hitched a ride with the whales.

Panama was so close… From there it would be smooth sailing, or swimming.

Until then?

Damian untied the rope harness. How many of his family could claim to swim alongside a pod of whales? Using his small, streamlined body, Damian launched off the leader’s body, and dashed in front of her. Despite himself, he gave her a small wave. The whale cooed. Despite not understanding her call, Damian could feel a wave of affection, like a caress through the water.

Damian glanced back at Danny, still fast asleep and snoring. Good.

Looking back at the whale, he focused on their deep, bellowing tones. Opening his mouth, Damian repeated the call as best he could, although it sounded much, much higher pitched than the original.

Much to his surprise, the pod leader called back. Damian smiled in a rare unfiltered grin. The whale answered him!

That was it. He needed to learn to speak whale at the soonest possible convenience. This was of the utmost importance. As a regular human, his vocal cords could never hope to reproduce the calls of a whale, but as a siren, a unique opportunity was granted to him. And he would take it, as befitting his bloodline.

As he contemplated how he would proceed with this plan, his fins slackened, and he found himself lagging behind as the leader swam past him. Damian watched in awe as her shadow fell over his body. He trailed underneath her white underbelly, catching the currents cast by her massive fins, and counted the colonies of barnacles occupying them.

He swam back to circle around the other members of her pod. The baby whales (there were babies too!) crooned to him, and he responded in turn, not sure of what it meant, but wholeheartedly delighting in taking part of a world he’d once considered closed off to him.

A mischievous baby, one he christened Dorothy, bumped him with her nose. The force sent him rearing back. He took a moment to rebalance himself, before she came back for more, playfully nudging him. Hah! Two could play that game. Damian bopped her on the nose, then dashed away. Dorothy gave chase, but Damian was smaller and nimbler.

He twirled in the water, diving underneath an older whale’s belly as Dorothy nipped at his tail. He went up and over the elder’s back. Damian dashed underneath the larger whale’s dorsal fin. Peeking stealthily over the edge, he spotted Dorothy in a state of apparent confusion as his seeming disappearance into thin air, or water.

Serves her right for challenging a master of stealth.

Damian’s lateral line spiked. He turned around just in time to spot a second baby coming for him. Damian tutted. What an amateur. He would have to show them how to properly chase a target. Using his vertical mobility, he launched upward and out of the way. Dorothy spotted him again, and continued her pursuit. Now with two pursuers, and more joining in, Damian laughed gleefully as he led them in twists and turns, using the larger adults as obstacle courses, much to their chagrin. At least that was what he assumed the annoyed-sounding squeaks were.

As much of a fast learner as Damian was, however, he was still new to his body. Damian’s fins flexed at the wrong angle, and his arms bend too far forward, causing him to overshoot his left turn. The green and golden siren crashed head first into the pod leader, briefly floating belly up as stars flashed in his vision.

Immediately the babies descended upon him. Dorothea nudged his body with her nose, sending him floating into her friend, who passed him to another baby just as quickly. Soon the babies formed a circle as they passed Damian’s limp body between them like a game of volleyball. Their actions unfortunately only exacerbated his dizziness, and after a few rounds, Damian was about to test whether sirens could vomit underwater.

A striking croon filled the water, causing Damian’s fins to spike up. However, it seemed the call wasn’t for him, as the baby whales scattered and returned to their parents. Dorothea chittered and gave him one last bump before returning to her own mother’s side.

Damian slowly regained his faculties. He shook off the last of the nausea. That could have been dangerous. They were wild animals, and could have seriously injured him. His father would have been furious.

And he wanted to do it again.

“Yo, Damian!” Danny’s voice called out.

Damian flipped his tail and returned to their miniature mobile campsite in a blur. Danny was snacking on some fish from their last raid. Damian frowned. Their food stashes were already running low.

“Breakfast?” Danny offered him a bundle of seaweed, or kelp. It had a pale yellow colour and sported round sacks along its stems, like bladderwrack.

Damian poked warily at the plant matter. They did not pack this in their supplies. “What is this?”

“It’s sargassum. Plant stuff that floats on the surface. Come try it!”

Damian squinted. He found his stomach stronger than it was as a human, capable of eating untreated raw fish (as much as he would rather not) without so much as a stomach ache.

Damian look a strip of sargassum, feeling the texture between webbed fingers. It was slightly slimy, but soft. He poked one of the bladders, causing its air bubble to pop and float to the surface. As he thought.

“If you’re not gonna eat that, I will. I just swam 700 freaking miles and I’m staaaarving.” Danny whined, a childish gesture.

Damian threw it down the hatch. It tasted… salty (but what didn’t taste salty in the ocean?). The texture was tolerable enough. It was no Caesar salad, or Pennyworth’s casserole, but it would do.

“Hand it over.” Damian gestured for the rest of the plant, and his companion obliged.

Damian chewed absentmindedly as he watched Danny unfurl the map they had ‘acquired’ from the Atlanteans. “So we’re somewhere here.” Danny pointed to a spot in the middle of the blue sea, just off the coast of California. “If we keep going south, we’ll be in Mexican waters, and then it’s smooth swimming to Panama.”

A lump of air pushed up his throat. Damian burped. The beginnings of a snicker were on Danny’s face. The smaller boy held his head high, choosing the high road this time, and maintaining dignity.

“As you were saying?”

“AHEM.” Danny coughed. “We’ve got a bit of a food problem.”

He held up the satchels that they had been using to store their provisions. It was worse than Damian had thought. The bags were practically empty, with maybe a snack and a half between all of them.

He chewed on another stalk of sargassum. Its bubbles popped in his mouth and exited through his nose.

“You cannot swim long distances without sustenance.” Energy could not come from nowhere, after all. The same rules applied for many metas, especially the infamous Flash family. They had left their last stop with bundles of supplies, quickly consumed in the matter of hours.

“We need to hunt again.” Danny concluded. “And get some more seaweed.”

Tut. Damian’s fins drooped a fraction of an inch. It was a shame to leave the whales behind already, but they were always going to go off on their separate paths. He just wished they could stay a little longer.

Danny shifted his sitting position. “To be honest, I’m still getting cramps in my tail. 700 miles.” He said breathlessly. “I never knew I had it in me.”

“So our goal is to recuperate, and resupply.” More quality time with the whales! A couple air bubbles slid out from underneath his gills, the ticklish sensation sending him shuddering.

“Yeah pretty much. Now if you don’t mind me, I’m gonna take another nap.” His companion curled up into a large circle, using his tailfin and arms as a pillow, and closed his eyes.

Damian gaped open. “But you just woke up!”

“700 miles, Damian. 700 miles. We can hunt when I wake up.” With that, Danny was out like a light. Even Damian nipping at his sail could not convince the teenager to awaken.

Damian turned around. The baby whales had returned, hovering just out of reach, apparently having been watching the conversation aptly. He supposed this arrangement had its benefits. Damian whistled, and launched off again.

Satellites.

Her parents had fucking satellites.

That answered how they were going to track Danny. Jazz stared wide-eyed at the computer screen on the deck of the SAV, showing a digital rendition of the entire globe. Off the coast California, about a thousand miles south of their current location, a dot blinked black and white. Jazz’s blood went cold. They had her brother’s hydro-signature. They could track him wherever he went. There would be no hiding, except by turning back into a human, but how could she tell him? And how could he accomplish that goal in the middle of the sea?

Jazz could only gape slack-jawed while her father ranted endlessly about their new radar system, a genius innovation created by her mother in just a day. Isn’t she amazing, Brucie? I’ve got the most beautiful, brilliant wife in the world. Just look at the wiring in this baby.

Bruce Wayne nodded dumbly, remaining silent for the most part, occasionally scratching his head and asking a question. He was listening very intently. No one else could hope to endure her father’s rants. She’d seen very strong-willed individuals awkwardly make excuses and shuffle away, only to be roped back in at the last second. No. Bruce Wayne wanted to be here, and he wanted to learn everything he could.

She imagined thousands of drones printed with WE logos scouring the ocean for a scared teenage boy. No Jazz, no catastrophising. She took steady deep breaths, and counted things she could feel with each sensation.

She needed to focus on what she had to power to do right here and right now. The positives: her parents had very wisely chosen not to sell their most useful tech to the GiW. Her mother never trusted them, and her father was still upset at the government organisation for not having recognised them earlier in their career.

That meant no agents in white suits going after her brother, assuming he’d managed to lose them (which was likely).

Her parents also believed she was here to hunt Phantom. That was another positive.

Their new tech had been whipped up in a fever dream-like haze over the course of two days or less.

That meant an easy excuse if any of them malfunctioned.

The bad news? Bruce Wayne could possibly sniff her out, and snitch on her to her parents. That would severely limit her ability to slow them down.

She turned back as her dad began showing off their miniature sonars, eagerly boasting of their range and precision. Bruce Wayne nodded, and asked about their hardware. How they overcame issues with affecting marine life, how they could compact it into such a small case.

That was good news. Arguably. She did not very much like the idea of the world’s richest man funding a crusade against an entire species. But infallible he was not, and all she needed was plausible deniability and a distraction to grant her brother hours. Even days, assuming she even could distract the enigmatic billionaire. There was the very public, very visible himbo dummy persona. What lay underneath the skin was another story entirely.

Then there was the question of how she would even know what to do in the first place. If she just took a wrench and started whacking, it would be made extremely clear who was responsible. If she wasn’t careful, she might even sink the boat. And she refused to put her family in danger. Jazz was going to do this right, and make sure everyone got home safe.

That meant she would need help.

“I’m getting a little dizzy, guys. I’ll head to my room if that’s ok.” She told the conversing men. Their goodbyes floated in the space behind her, distant to her ears.

She entered her little cabin in the SAV. Well, it was her and Danny’s, but for now she was alone. Jazz closed the door shut and locked it. The cabin consisted of a comfortable bunkbed and two desks for the both of them, as well as a (heavily reinforced) window looking out into the vast blue sea. Although not as densely decorated as her room at Fentonworks, it still carried personal affects dotting around its shelves and walls. A picture of Danny’s first beach day here. A photo of them fishing in Hawaii there. An old scented candle sat at the desk, a relic from when she’d tried to get the smell of fish off the SAV when she was ten.

Jazz had no time to waste. Her mother had noted off-handedly that they were already going a hundred miles an hour. That was insane. They’d catch up with Danny within the day.

Jazz calmed her nerves, and collected herself. She swept the room for bugs and listening devices, something her father had taught her once to ward off the feds. Something told her the screaming IRS agent running away from her house did that plenty, but that was neither here nor there. Once done, she threw the sheets off the bunk beds. The mattresses came off and found a new place shoved up against the wall. As sound-proofed as she could make her room, Jazz recited opening lines in her head.

She pulled out her phone, and dialed. It was time to bust the hatch open.

“Hello?”

“Hello Mrs Foley!”

“Jazz! It’s great to hear from you. I’m so sorry about Danny, I-”

Jazz cut her off. “Actually, about that. Can I please speak to Tucker? I’d like to have a word with him.”

A pause. “Sweetie. Tucker’s been grounded until further notice.” Mrs Foley’s voice ground out at the last two words. It didn’t seem pretty for Danny’s friends.

“I know, but this is urgent.” Jazz stressed.

“He supported Phantom, Jazz. My baby boy committed computer crime for that monster. I just- I just don’t know what’s going on. No. Tucker needs to serve his punishment. And then after- after- after that I don’t know.”

“I know you’re in shock, Mrs Foley. So am I. But have you considered that he might be in grief, too?”

The line went quiet.

“Danny isn’t just my little brother. He’s Tucker’s best friend in the whole world. Tucker’s an honorary little brother to me. Doesn’t he deserve to know what’s going on with him?”

Mrs Foley took a moment of silent deliberation, and sighed. “You’ve got a way with words, Jazz. Fine. I’ll call him down.”

“Oh, and Mrs Foley? Can we have a bit of privacy as well? I think Tucker will need some space for this conversation.”

A minute later, Tucker showed up as promised. “Oh sweet technology. How I’ve missed you so…”

He sounded tired. Incredibly tired, despite his open relief about being able to touch a phone. Not only that, but it sounded inauthentic. Almost performative. “Tucker, stop caressing the phone. I have news about Danny.”

Tucker’s breath hitched. “Do you know where he is?”

Jazz took a deep breath, forcing her shoulders to relax. The moment of truth. “I know what happened to him.”

“Jazz I swear Phantom had nothing to do with it, you gotta-,”

“No Tucker. I’m talking about six months ago.” Jazz looked behind her, listening for any footsteps outside her door. “I saw him in the water three months ago. I saw him changing.”

Her brother’s life was at stake. She chose her words very, very carefully, as vague as possible.

Tucker gasped. “W-what do you mean? D-Danny goes swimming all the time. Wait a minute-”

The line went dead. Panic threatened to tilt Jazz off course. Did she just blow her only chance? No. Think rationally. Tucker was a smart kid. A genius with tech. He probably realised anyone could listen in on his house’s landline. That boy went through PDAs like old clothes; he had to have a few burners spare.

Her phone rang again, and Jazz could have cried in relief.

“What are you gonna do with Danny’s secret?” Tucker hissed, accusation plainly audible.

“My parents have a radar to track him across the world. They have a dozen new weapons to fire on him with. They have an engine that can accelerate the SAV to a max speed of 200 miles an hour. I need you to tell me how to sabotage each and every one of them.”

Tucker choked on the line. “You s-serious?” He said, nakedly vulnerable, like she was about to pull the rug out at the last moment.

“Danny’s my little brother. I’d do anything for him. And I’ve always critiqued my parents’ obsessions as unhealthy. Tucker, I don’t know what half of this stuff does. You’re my only hope. You’re Danny’s only hope.”

Her honorary little brother gulped. When he spoke next, it was like his resolve had been dipped in liquid steel. “I’m right on it.”

She heard thunderous clacking through the line. It looked like Mrs Foley’s punishment was not as airtight as the woman thought it was…

[maluuustrawberry]

write more of the el dorado series please 🙏🏾

"My biggest treasure"

(Tulio X Fem! Reader X Miguel)

(The Road to El Dorado Fanfiction)

{Part 3}

{Part 2}

{Part 1}

N/A: As you wish baby heheheheheheheh. I'm back my readers! If there are any errors in the fanfic, please correct me. Good reading! ❤️

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

~{Pov} Y/n:

After a long time, night came and all the men were going to bed. I was still awake and already sneaking food into the rowing boat. I had to at least find something to keep me awake so we could set off when everyone was asleep. I took a short break to eat the apple I was saving.

For God's sake, Y/n! You're helping two thieves and you're going on a trip with them?! What if this town doesn't exist? What if they betray me? Of course Miguel promised me, but I'm not sure I should trust him, I don't know how seriously he takes promises. I can't believe I'm practically throwing everything away to find this city... Ah Dad... What I won't do for you...

I came out of my thoughts when I was eating the apple and Altivo gave me a little push to get my attention. That horse was very intelligent:

“Hey boy.” He kept his eyes on the apple I was eating. “I know what you want, you know your owner won't let you, but I'm good...”

I handed him the apple and he ate it, then kept asking me for a cuddle:

“Ok boy, I've got to go now.” I said as I stroked him. “There's a lot ahead for me... and for those two clumsy boys too.”

I added and laughed as I said it. I moved away from Altivo and went to check that everyone was asleep before calling Miguel and Tulio, and they were, it was now. I went to the lower deck where the cargo was and where they were hiding. I approached the barrels:

“Come on, they're all asleep, it's time.” I said and immediately they came out of the barrels.

“Finally, did everything work out?” Miguel asked and I nodded.

“For a moment I thought you were going to betray us and leave us here.” Tulio said in an attempt to annoy me.

“I'm not like you.” I returned the taunt and he looked me up and down.

“Come on, guys...”

I went ahead, the boys followed me off the deck, I saw Miguel putting something away in his shirt, but I didn't see what it was. We got out, Túlio and I tied the boat to the rope to lower it into the sea while Miguel watched to see if anyone was coming:

“Make sure you tie it up properly.” Túlio spoke with mockery, I couldn't resist and made the famous middle finger sign. “That's not something a lady does... Oh I almost forget, you're not one... you're just pretending to be a man around” He sneered.

“Keep believing I'll care about a thief's opinion, Tulio.” I said as I climbed into the rowing boat and, still holding the rope, prepared to go down, just waiting for him and Miguel.

Túlio climbed into the boat, looking at me disapprovingly and I just ignored him. Miguel walked up to us on tiptoe so as not to make any noise, but Altivo went up to him and gave him a little push to get his attention. For God's sake, don't let that horse make any noise...

“Oh Altivo...” Miguel said as he stroked the horse, but it didn't seem to want any affection, it was sniffing around for something in Miguel's blouse.

“Come on Miguel!” Tulio whispered impatiently. “Stop wasting time, this is a workhorse, not a poodle!”

Miguel quickly went to the boat, I was going to lower the ropes so that the boat would go out to sea, but he stopped me:

“Y/n, let me do it, you've already done too much.” He offered, holding out his hand.

“Oh, all right...”

I handed him the rope and sat in the boat while they went down. I confess I was quite scared of the water, I can't swim, there's that, but I don't think anything bad will happen... I hope... Altivo was neighing low and grumbling and he looked at us as we lowered the boat into the sea. Damn, that horse is going to wake someone up:

“Shiii! Altivo...” I whispered to him and signaled silence, that horse was smart, but he kept stubbornly neighing.

“Arg! What does that horse want?” Tulio asked angrily.

“He wants the apple.” Miguel laughed as he took out the apple that was hidden in his clothes. That's what he had stolen.

“Then give it to him before he wakes up the whole ship!” Tulio impatiently took the apple from Miguel's hands and threw it back into the ship, the horse soon falling silent.

As I was sitting down, I took the opportunity to take off the rest of my disguise, since I was without my false moustache, I took off my hat and let my hair down. After a few seconds, the apple that Tulio had thrown came back and fell into the sea:

“How this?...”

Before I could finish the question, the three of us were startled by Altivo jumping into the water to get the apple, which was very unexpected:

“Altivo!”

Miguel shouted, letting go of the rope and jumping into the sea to save that horse. As soon as he let go of the rope, the boat became unbalanced and fell into the water, I almost fell into the sea and Tulio became a little unbalanced too:

“Miguel!” Túlio shouted as he rowed over to the blond who was trying to help the horse.

I held out my hand for Miguel to take and climbed back into the boat. Holy shit, how are we going to save him and that horse?!

A caravel passed right by our rowing boat, and the wave it caused caused our boat to capsize:

“Oh no!” I exclaimed frightened and nervous as I held on to the boat, I didn't know how to swim. “No! No! No!”

We shouted as soon as the boat capsized, I couldn't hold on and fell straight into the water, desperate, I was trying to keep myself afloat, flapping my feet and hands anyway:

“I can't swim!” I said as I tried to breathe, but the water was entering my mouth and nose, suffocating me. “Help!”

The boys managed to swim to the overturned boat and climbed in, then saw the situation I was in:

“Hold on!” Túlio held out his hand. No fucking way!

“No!...” The water went straight into my mouth and I choked. “I'd rather drown!”

“Miguel, wrap the rope around the horse and pull on three!” Tulio said, handing Miguel the rope.

“But what about Y/n?” Miguel asked, but Tulio interrupted.

“Just do it! Quickly!”

I knew I shouldn't trust them. Gradually I sank and lost air, I still wasn't giving up and I was desperate to get to the surface, but it was no use, my nose started to sting and the water started to invade, my vision gradually blurred and I blacked out.

~ {Pov} Tulio:

Miguel and I pulled the boat and managed to get it unstuck with Altivo inside, we climbed exhausted into the boat:

“Where's Y/n?” I asked and Miguel pointed, a little dizzy and catching his breath.

I looked where Miguel pointed and saw only the girl's hand, she was sinking. I wasted no time and jumped back into the water, swimming over to her, who was passed out. I dived in and luckily managed to catch her and swam back to the boat, holding her:

“Oh my, Y/n...”

Miguel was very worried when he saw the fainted girl and helped me get her back into the boat. I climbed in, and the first thing I did was to put my head on her chest to listen to her heartbeat, but it was impossible because of her bodice and the large number of bands she was wearing on her breasts, I think because of her disguise. I can't believe I'm going to do this...

I lifted her clothes a little and took off the straps and bodice, which were squeezing her body. Miguel looked at me reproachfully as if to say "What are you doing?", but I ignored it, I'm just trying to save her. I mean... I won't deny that it was nice to see her body and a bit of her breasts, after all, she is attractive. I put my head on her chest again, I could hear her heart:

“She's alive.” I said as I patted her face to wake her up. “Come on... come on, Y/n... Breathe!”

I kept doing this and after a few seconds she woke up. I didn't want to admit it, but I was quite relieved.

~ {Pov} Y/n:

I woke up, regaining consciousness, coughing and spitting out the water that had gotten in, my breath was burning and I was trying to catch my breath, they really had saved me?

“Y/n!!!” Miguel hugged me tightly. “I thought you'd left us!”

“Less, Miguel...” Tulio said and the blonde slowly let me go. “Let her breathe, you'll end up killing the girl that way.”

“W-Who...” I tried to speak, but I was still coughing.

“Is there any food left at least?” Túlio asked, catching his breath.

“Ah... yes and no...” Miguel replied. The food had gone into the sea and Altivo had eaten almost everything else they had salvaged.

“Oh no!” Tulio lamented and put his hands on his head.

“Tulio, look on the bright side, it can't get...” Before he could finish speaking, the heavy rain suddenly started.

“Would you say 'WORSE', perhaps?!” Tulio asked him angrily.

“No, I wouldn't...” Miguel lied.

“No?” Tulio asked again.

“No, seriously, I've already reconsidered my optimism...”

I just watched them, sitting next to Altivo and controlling my breathing, after all, I had almost drowned. I found it strange that I was breathing better and didn't feel "tight", and that's when I realized that I was without my corset and my sash, which I had tightened on purpose to hide my breasts in the disguise... so wait a minute... no, they didn't do that... I felt my face heat up a lot, how embarrassing, I hope they didn't see anything. Still sitting down, I put my knees in front of me and hugged my legs, I wasn't wearing anything underneath and my clothes were wet, almost transparent:

“I told you it wouldn't be a good idea to take her!” Tulio said angrily to Miguel and pointed at me. Hey, wait a minute! “Women are always a bad omen at sea!”

“Arg! shut up!” I said, still sitting down. “I had nothing to do with it, it wouldn't have happened if that horse hadn't jumped into the sea.” Altivo neighed, complaining. “Sorry, boy.”

“Before I suspected you were a curse, now I'm sure!”

“Oh really?!” I asked sarcastically and moved closer to him and Miguel. “I've barely started raising hell in your life yet! What do you want me to do now? Throw you to the sharks?”

“Better than living on this trip with you!”

“Guys, please...” Miguel butted in and approached us. “Stop it, of course we're going to have a lot of obstacles on this trip, but we'll manage. Relax.”

He moved away from us, picked up the oars and started rowing:

“I'm starting to regret taking part in this...” I mumbled to myself as I tried to calm down and put my fingers on my eyebrows, I'm going to avoid fighting with Tulio just for Miguel.

“Yeah, me too.”

“You bastard.” I muttered to Tulio.

“Stubborn.” He muttered back.

“Stupid.”

“Liar.”

“Little fucking thief.”

“Masculine.”

“Guys!” Miguel scolded us.

“All right!” Tulio and I said angrily in a chorus.

We were shivering after diving into the sea and the cold water from the heavy rain that was falling on us. I hope the sea doesn't get too rough with this storm...

Continue...

[kybercrystals94]

Racket

Read here on Ao3!

Summer of Bad Batch | Week 8 | Swimming Lessons

Rated: G | Words: 1000 | Summary: Omega faces a bully on Kamino.

Omega tugs at the collar of her wetsuit. It is a little tight and small, her wrists and ankles exposed. Biologically, she is the same age as the cadets standing next to her against the wall facing the training pool; however, she is slightly taller physically. Nala Se didn’t think it was necessary to have a custom wetsuit made to fit since Omega will only be taking swimming basics, the lessons extensive and lasting less than a week.

“Where’d you come from?” the cadet on her left asks, eyeing Omega suspiciously.

Omega smiles and avoids the question. “I’m Omega,” she says instead.

The cadet frowns at her. “Why are you here?”

“Same reason you are,” Omega says, shrugging.

“You don’t belong here,” the cadet sneers, “You’re not a soldier.”

Now Omega feels annoyed. She’s being friendly, so why is he being so rude? “Well, you’re not one either,” she tells him. “You’re only three cycles. You can’t be a trooper until you’re nine.”

The cadet sticks his tongue out at her, crosses his arms, and turns to face the water again.

Omega learns that the cadet’s name is Racket, which suits him. He is loud and annoying. And bossy. And a bully.

Omega loses count of the number of times he shoves her underwater. While he never holds her there, it is always unexpected, causing Omega to sputter and gasp when she comes back up.

He takes her floatation device and throws it out into the middle of the training pool. The instructor gets it, scolding Omega for letting it get away from her. She tries to explain what happened, but the instructor interrupts, “I don’t want to hear your excuses.”

When they’re swimming laps, Racket grabs at Omega’s legs or arms as he passes her to throw off her strokes, leaving her floundering to recover.

When the lesson is finally over, Omega finds Nala Se waiting for her with a towel and change of clothes. “How was your lesson, Omega?” she asks.

It is all Omega can do not to cry when she asks, “Do I have to come back?”

“That is the intention,” Nala Se replies, guiding Omega to the private changing room usually reserved for the instructors. “Why? Did something happen?”

Omega glances across the room and sees Racket watching her, a cruel smirk on his round, young face. He might be a bully, but Omega is not a tattletale. “No. I just didn’t like it.”

“Hmm,” Nala Se hums. “I thought you would benefit from interacting with individuals your age; however, if you feel it is not a positive experience, perhaps private lessons would be more beneficial.”

***

“Oh, look, a little lab scrabber,” Racket sneers when Omega walks into the infirmary with AZI.

Omega ignores him, keeping her pace to show she doesn’t care. However, AZI stops to look at the clone sitting on the edge of a medical cot holding an ice pack to a developing black eye. “I must correct you, CT-1051811. Omega is not a lab scrabber. She is a medical assistant.”

“Ignore him, AZI,” Omega calls over her shoulder, putting the tray of sanitized medical tools on the counter and beginning to sort them into their proper drawers.

“It’s so sad that your only friend in the galaxy is a medical droid,” Racket croons and then laughs.

Omega rolls her eyes. “Yep. Almost as sad as ending up in medical because you lost a fight against a seven year cadet in a training module.”

“My medical records are classified, you little brat,” Racket growls.

Omega finishes sorting the tools and turns. “I’m a medical assistant,” she tells him sweetly. “So I have access to all your embarrassing records. I hope your cracked rib is healing up okay after that tumble from the Star Destroyer ramp. You really should be more careful.”

“Why you–” Racket begins, but Omega flees the room, AZI whirring behind her.

***

She’s done it. She’s finally found her brothers. And she’s sitting with them for a meal. They don’t seem to know what to make of her yet; however, Omega knows they’ll warm up to her. She’s their sister after all. They just don’t remember.

“Check it out,” a voice says behind her. Omega would know that awful voice anywhere. “The defect squad’s got themselves a new recruit. Another member added to the Sad Batch.”

Omega feels her blood begin to boil under her skin, anger bubbling up so fast she doesn’t really think about it when she climbs up on the table and picks up her bowl of soup. No one talks about her little brothers that way. Not on her watch. The bowl of soup hits its mark stunningly: the back of Racket’s stupid head.

“What the…” Racket whirls around, expression twisted with rage muted by the sludge of soup dribbling down his face and armor. “Who threw that?”

Omega already has her next projectile in hand. “I did. Now apologize to my friends.”

“I like this kid!” Wrecker’s voice sounds delighted, but Omega doesn’t let the warmth that fills her distract from the task at hand as Racket makes his way back to the table.

“What did you say to me?” he demands.

Hunter steps in, moving between Omega and her target. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back off,” he tells Racket, “I suggest you keep moving.”

Racket glares down Hunter, shifts his gaze to Omega, and then to something behind her. Omega knows it must be Wrecker looming at her back. She keeps her expression firm.

Wisely, he deflates, scoffing. He starts to turn around, but not without having the final word. “Know your place, lab scrabber,” he tells Omega, smirking.

Omega glares after him. She can take him calling her names.

But apparently, Wrecker can’t. A tray of food flies past Omega’s head, hitting Racket hard, nearly toppling him. Omega grins as the cafeteria begins to erupt into chaos. This will be a good bonding experience with her brothers.

And they already have her back.

END

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[happyk44]

Thinking about Frank telling Percy that after the war he had to ask Pluto's permission to date Hazel. The war gave him some leeway and reason for not doing so, but after it ended, Pluto showed up after a few days and asked Frank why he had not requested permission.

Percy is kinda surprised Hazel doesn't look annoyed. Sure she's from the 40's but he thought permission to marry was the common request. Wasn't permission to date outdated, even by 40's standards?

And Hazel shakes her head and explains that historically a lot of children of Pluto/Hades would be courted by other demigods as a trick or a trap. If a child of the Underworld asked her out, permission would be implicitly granted. If a mortal asked her out, permission would be implicitly granted.

But a non-Chthonic demigod, especially an Olympian one and one of such high rank like Mars, requires permission so Pluto or one of her siblings, or even Proserpina, may assess that this person is someone safe. Even friends can betray you in the end, she notes and Percy hates every single word of what she's said.

Years later when he comes to terms with his feelings for Nico, he agonizes about it. He knows Nico likely won't give a shit if he doesn't have permission, and Hades won't do anything to Percy besides maybe yell at him if he refuses to ask because killing him would upset Nico, but if he's going to date Nico he'd like to be on somewhat good terms with Hades for once. Neutral terms, even.

Frank may have lucked out with near immediate acceptance - why, wouldn't he? Hazel was his world. He would rather die than hurt her - but Percy was a thorn in Hades' side from the moment they met, and he was well aware getting permission would be a long process to go through. Probably some more stupid quests to prove himself.

And he'd do them. He hate it but Nico was worth it.

But part of the reason of living at the Nome these days was to stop having to do quests. To stop have gods interfering in his life to the point of standing on the ledge of the apartment roof and staring down at black asphalt and garbage bags shoved into a corner.

But Nico is worth it. And Percy - well, he'd like to think he's safe for him now. That he won't hurt him accidentally anymore. That they're good. And he's pretty sure Nico likes him back. When he visits, he always gravitates towards him. Sits by him when he's finished training with Walt. Takes him outside with Carter or Zia so he doesn't develop agoraphobia, and holds his hand the whole time so he "can't run away". He strokes the back of Percy's hand every time they're standing still.

He blushed when that one lady thought they were a couple. Didn't correct her either. Didn't ask why Percy didn't correct her. Didn't let go of his hand.

He hasn't interacted with a Greek god in the last four years. At least not in person. His dad and step-mom send letters every few months through Hermes, who hands them off to Nico to deliver. They're nice letters. Hoping he's doing well. Updating him on how the castle repairs are doing. Telling him about quiet spots in the ocean he can visit at a certain time if wherever he is doesn't have access. He's used a couple of them, with Sadie lazing about on a shitty rowboat far above his head.

It's nice to just lay there on the sand. The first time he'd been worried it was a trap. That some sea god would whisk him away for some adventure that would leave him more torn than he already was. But Phillip had sat with him, wand at the ready, his penguins casually swimming above them and it had been fine. No sea gods, no sea monsters, no animals other than the penguins.

So Hades will be the first Greek god he sees in person. It reminds him too much of his first quest. While Ares has been the first, Hades had been the second and Percy had stood in front of him, feeling too small, everything at risk, and someone he loved dearly on the line. If he failed then, he might never get her back.

If he failed now, Hades might enforce ways to keep them apart. To make sure Percy couldn't ignore his lack of permission and date Nico anyway.

What terrified him the most about not earning permission was the implication he was still dangerous to other people, to Nico. He was sure he was safe now. He didn't freak out at the little kids. He didn't wake up screaming. His gut instinct wasn't to pull Riptide out at every single loud noise. He didn't dissociate as much as he used to. He wasn't on edge all the time. He trusted the other people around him.

He didn't want to die nearly as much as he used to.

But what if it meant nothing? Therapy, medication, avoiding the things that caused him stress - what if it wasn't enough? Yeah, he has attacked Nico once but that was years ago, Percy had been extremely stressed out, and Nico hadn't even cared about it when he apologized. It took him a few seconds to even remember what Percy was talking about.

Aside from that one instance, Percy liked to think he'd always been safe for Nico. But then he remembered Bianca and his gut churned viciously.

Still, Nico was worth it. Nico was something he wanted. He'd do it for him. He'd do a lot of things for him.

Grover stood with him at the entrance of the Underworld. Mrs. O'Leary was splayed out, catching the rays of sunlight and rumbling happily as Annabeth gave her a couple treats and belly rubs. She joined Percy's other side and pinched his arm.

He still loved her. He always would. Their relationship to each other wasn't something that could be killed off, even with the distance and Percy running away. Same with Grover. Either one of them could vanish for years at a time, and when they came back, it would be like no time passed at all. They were clicked into one another like a necklace with interlocking friendship charms.

"You got this," Grover said with a clap to Percy's back. His hand drew up to Percy's shoulder and squeeze. "And we'll be right there with you."

"Or just outside the door," Annabeth adds. She flashes her wrist, a shiny watch on it. "And I have a battering ram if needed."

Grover's face went pinched. "That's not helpful."

"It's realistic!" Annabeth argued. "When has he ever come out here peacefully?"

"He's only been here twice!" Grover said in a gritted whispered shout. "You need at least three times to indicate a pattern."

The two of them stepped back ever so slightly so they weren't shouting through Percy, and continued their bickering on what constituted a pattern indication and whether or not it was helpful or supportive to indicate a fight might break out.

The noise helped clear the sound of his own voice in his head. He zeroed in on Grover's words clashing against Annabeth's opposing side, and breathed steadily. The two of them knew him so well. Hopeful realism.

"Guys," he said as clear as he could.

They went silent immediately and drew back to his side. Grover looped his arm around Percy's, pulling him close in by the elbow. Annabeth squeezed his hand once before letting go.

"You ready?" she said.

He nodded and reached for the doorknob. "Let's do this."