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kamaluhkhan · 9 months ago

Text

COMPLICATED

LUST — part iv of we'll write sins not tragedies

pairing: luke castellan x nemesis! reader (afab) word count: 8.9k summary: the lives of demigods are never simple. why would your relationship with luke be any different? or: four moments of tension + one moment of release. featuring a trip to montauk with percy, grover, and annabeth warnings: a decent amount of reader backstory (mention of dad having cancer); multiple POVs (percy, grover, annabeth, luke, reader - obv nothing suggestive/smutty until luke and reader POV); luke + reader get into arguments and are v stressed so their relationship is a bit strained; reader has tattoos; reader is on birth control; rough smut (protected + unprotected p in v, oral f+m receiving, biting, scratching, slight choking, slight breeding kink, etc...); also slight dark + possessive luke! (18 + MDNI); major angst — we all know how this story ends ;( author's note: this was meant to be a blurb but...here we are! this is basically another chapter of my spill ur guts series lol. i've been gone for much longer than i planned to, but hope u enjoy possibly the angstiest, smuttiest thing i've written so far ♡

♪ "complicated" by avril lavigne

in the span of a few minutes, percy went from pure joy — being greeted with cheers from all the campers was great, sure, but truthfully the hug from annabeth alone sent him to elysium — to feeling like his heart dropped all the way to tartarus.

which is definitely not a place percy ever wants to visit again. he was happy to be back at camp with his friends, knowing that his quest was completed, his mom was safe in new york, and a war between the gods was prevented.

it should be over….but there’s something in the back of percy’s mind that’s telling him it isn’t. seeing a certain someone in the crowd earlier didn’t do anything to ease that feeling.

"can someone explain to me why clarisse is still here?"

you raise an eyebrow at luke, and he shrugs in response. it seems neither of you had decided who should break the news, and neither of you seem particularly excited to do so, even after dragging percy, along with annabeth and grover, into the empty hermes cabin for some privacy.

after another beat of silence, you take the lead.

“look, kid, i know you and clarisse got off to a rocky start —”

“she tried to drown me, and then basically kill me during capture the flag,” percy points out. he hears an ocean roaring at the memory, but that could have also been from his duel with clarisse’s dad, the god of war, more recently.

a duel that percy had won, for the record. luke trained him well.

“and i’m not defending that,” you clarify. “i’m just saying that we’ve known clarisse for much longer. she’s not perfect, maybe a bit aggressive sometimes — trust me, she and i have had some major disagreements, too — but i can’t see her doing something like this.”

“why would anyone at camp want to steal the bolt? to join kronos’ army against the gods?” annabeth wonders. to herself or to the group, percy isn’t sure, but he has a feeling that the wheels in her mind are turning.

“revenge, maybe?” grover suggests.

almost instinctively, grover glances at you, and so does annabeth. percy wants to kick himself for doing the same.

with you being the daughter of nemesis, he imagines that it's not the first time you’d been blamed for something just because of who you are. it’s a feeling percy knows all too well. and, for better or for worse, like percy, it seems like you’re not one to accept these things without a fight.

you straighten your shoulders, ready to snap back, but before you can, luke declares:

“it’s not her.”

he then knocks the toe of his shoe against your combat boot. you smile and return the gesture. the tension eases out of the room.

for a second, percy wonders if he’ll ever have someone like that: someone to defend like it’s second nature, to share that sort of secret language with, to smile at him like nothing else in the world matters.

according to annabeth, the two of you weren’t technically dating — but percy is pretty sure that aphrodite is swooning over you.

“see, grove? if camp half-blood’s golden boy can vouch for me, then i’m in the clear.” your tone is playful enough — no hard feelings — but the tips of grover’s ears still turn red. “i didn’t steal the bolt. sure, the gods and titans can tear each other apart for all i care — "

annabeth stiffens at your bold statement, and grover starts to nervously chew on an empty diet coke can he had stashed in his pocket. luke watches you with the hint of a smile on his face, and percy —

well, percy can’t help but admire you even more.

"— but it's everything else that i have an issue with.”

“everything else?”

you look at percy like the answer is obvious.

“when have the gods ever fought their battles without us as collateral damage? doesn’t seem worth it to me, to betray my friends.”

that itch in the back of percy’s brain gets harder to ignore.

“the oracle warned me, betrayed by a friend.”

“prophecies don't always come true,” annabeth reminds him. “at least not in the way we expect them to.”

“annie is right,” luke adds, nodding at his sister. “mine didn't. the oracle said i would die a hero.”

you turn to luke then, your eyebrows furrowed.

“what? you never told me that.”

“it doesn’t matter,” luke insists. “my point is that i came back from my joke of a quest, alive and a definitely not a hero —”

“fuck what the oracle said.” you roll your eyes. “dead or alive, you are a hero, tiger.”

you move to place a hand on luke’s arm. to percy’s surprise, though, luke brushes you off.

“i’m not a hero. at least not the one my dad expects me to be.”

again, percy is taken aback by how luke snapped, at you of all people. you huff, and percy can tell that you’re a bit agitated now, too.

“okay, but that doesn’t mean —”

“my point is.” luke turns to percy, effectively blocking your presence for the time being. “you completed your quest, fought a god, and stalled kronos’ plan. you’ve been through it — all three of you have — but now you’re back. let’s just enjoy the rest of our summer, yeah? whatever happened out there, whatever the oracle said, it’s in the past.”

percy wants to believe luke, he really does. one glance in your direction, and it seems like you do, too.

deep down, though, percy isn’t entirely convinced. there’s that dread in the pit of his stomach, that voice in the back of his head. something in him, warning that this isn’t quite over. the worst has yet to come.

he wonders if — or maybe just hopes — you feel the same.

—

ii.

if you of all people can’t get luke’s attention, grover is pretty sure that the world is ending.

“luke,” you try again, foregoing your usual nickname for him. your arms are crossed and you tap your foot against the floor. it makes grover slightly anxious, feeling your frustration threaten to boil over.

“i’m busy,” he grunts, and flips over another page, scribbling something on the other side.

“grover wanted to talk to us about something.”

“i-it’s fine, we don’t have to —”

“no, it’s a good idea, grove,” you insist. you smile at grover then. he remembers that, despite the deadly glares you can deliver, like the one you were just giving luke, you have a gentle core. you just guard it behind sharp edges.

“tell him that i’ll talk to him later.”

“or, you could tell him yourself,” you huff. grover waves awkwardly, even though luke doesn’t realize what’s happening. “he’s right next to me.”

luke looks up briefly, and then back down at the pages in front of him just as quick. he looks tired, exhausted even.

“sorry, man. didn’t see you there. i gotta finish these reports.”

“no worries. i tend to be quiet on my hooves.”

in the moment of silence that follows, and with luke still not giving you the attention you’re asking for, you walk over to the desk where luke is working. what you see seems to make you even more annoyed than before.

“these reports are for september. why in the name of nemesis are you filling them out now?”

“i just want to be prepared.”

“prepared for what?”

luke hesitates. “just….the future.”

“oh!” you laugh, sharp and sarcastic. “i didn’t realize that the future required you to neglect your friends.”

“i’m trying to help my friends,” luke huffs. he taps his pen impatiently against the desk. “if you didn’t keep interrupting me —”

“oh my fucking gods — ”

grover watches the two of you argue. it had been easier to step in whenever something bubbled up between annabeth and percy, because they were just kids. but you and luke — you were adults.

when grover met luke for the first time, he was already taking on way too much responsibility for a kid — keeping thalia and annabeth alive, protecting them from monsters, taking care of them. in a lot of ways, those responsibilities didn’t go away: as a senior counselor and resident older brother, a hero for the older campers to admire and the younger kids to aspire to be. camp half-blood’s golden boy, as you liked to call him.

and, like you, luke is good at hiding. for him, its heavy burdens behind easy-going smiles.

lately, though, those smiles seem to be strained, his shoulders slowly bending under the weight of it all. the other day, grover asked you if everything was okay with luke. you had looked back at him sadly, shrugged, and said you didn’t know.

that’s when grover decided that everyone just needs a break — an escape. he had been sensing that things weren’t quite right with the others, too. percy seems a little on edge, and so does annabeth.

then, of course, there was you and luke. finding out that the two of you had actually started dating was huge news for someone like grover who had painstakingly watched the two of you dance around your feelings for years. so, it was more than a little weird that you’d barely been speaking this past week. the rare occasion you did was tense at best, and explosive at worst.

like now, when you pick up one of the reports luke was working on, and threaten to burn it. luke dares you to do so, even suggests, albeit sarcastically, that you use it as your next offering to the gods.

“oh, a handwritten document from luke castellan himself? they would love that,” you snort. “admit it: you’re doing all of mr. d’s work just to suck up to some gods who don’t even give a shit about any of this. you’re practically olympus’ lapdog.”

luke, blushing a furious shade of red, gets up and yanks the paper from your hand.

“at least my parent is important enough to actually have a seat on olympus and an actual cabin for his kids to stay in.”

you look like you could just about throw luke into a fire, and vice versa. grover had never seen the two of you like this, but it made sense: each of you knowing just where, and how, to hurt the other.

and, he thinks it’s about time to step in before the damage is irreversible. so, grover starts slowly clapping. the clapping gets faster, and he manages to get through the first few lines of the consensus song before you stop him.

“alright, alright,” you sigh. you push past luke, steal his chair, and put your feet up on the desk. luke scowls at you, but you put your hands up in surrender and jut your chin out towards grover. “just listen to what grover has to say and then we’ll let you get back to your precious reports.”

grover tells luke his idea. luke actually agrees, and grover can’t help but feel a little bit of a victory.

he’s a protector, after all. it’s his job to make sure you’re all alive and happy and thriving. and not burnt to a crisp over some petty argument.

—

iii.

annabeth had missed home when she was away on their quest, but being back and seeing everyone being taught to worship the gods without question, to believe that the only things that matter are power and glory….well, after everything that happened, after percy, annabeth can’t just go back to doing the same. at least not entirely.

all this to say, she was totally on board with grover’s idea: the five of you, renting a cabin in montauk to get away from camp for a bit.

unfortunately, the trip starts off less than ideally. you and luke bicker the entire way here — and not the playful jabs you usually throw at each other.

annabeth remembers the first time she saw you together. it was during breakfast, their first morning at camp half-blood. annabeth had spent the night trying not to cry over thalia, and already missing luke even though he was only a few cabins away. she was still a kid, surrounded by strangers, told that she was safe now, but didn’t quite believe it yet. one look to luke at the hermes table, and annabeth could tell he felt the same way, too — not quite settled in this new place that was supposed to be home, and with these people who were supposed to be family.

she watched as the hermes table went to burn offerings to the gods. when they sat down again, luke looked even more unsettled than before.

but then, you leaned in and whispered something in luke’s ear, and he actually laughed, just a bit, which was a nice change of pace. luke was always the one making annabeth and thalia laugh when they were running from monsters, always the one trying to keep everything together with a smile or a joke.

as she devoured her breakfast, annabeth couldn’t help but keep glancing at the two of you. she heard warnings from her half-siblings, about your mother being the goddess of revenge, and you living up to that name.

luke either didn't know, or didn't care about whatever reputation you had. sitting there, next to you, annabeth didn’t think she’d ever seen luke so, genuinely happy, so at ease.

all these years later, neither you nor luke seemed particularly happy. you’re obviously avoiding each other, and annabeth doesn’t understand why.

you and luke are a new puzzle that she can’t wait to solve.

annabeth had finished constructing the most elaborate sandcastle in history, just for percy to accidentally splash it when he was trying to surf a wave; so she decides that playtime is over. it’s time to figure out what exactly is going on between you and luke.

luke is in the cabin doing gods know what. you're on the deck painting your nails, so annabeth decides to start gathering information from you, first.

“hey." you finish painting your pinky a dark purple, and set the bottle down next to you. "having fun?”

annabeth nods once and sits next to you. she asks if you could paint her nails, and you pull out a bottle of silver polish you said you thought she might like.

as you work, careful with each stroke of polish, annabeth surveys the tattoos on your skin. you’re wearing a bikini top, so there are some that she’s seeing for the first time. there's one of a knife on your sternum, and annabeth distinctly remembers seeing a similar one peeking from underneath the collar of luke’s shirt. she wonders when you got it, if you had to travel to a tattoo parlour in the city, how many other adventures you'd gone on without having to consult the oracle beforehand.

maybe that’s a good place to start.

“have you ever thought about leaving camp? like, long term?"

"sometimes," you admit. "it would be nice to have some normal early-twenties experiences."

"would you go to school?"

you smile as you keep painting annabeth’s nails. “maybe. i might have seen legally blonde too many times, but i think about law school sometimes.”

“what about luke?”

your smile fades at the question. “i...i don’t know." your once precise nail-painting falters, and you mumble a curse when a drop of silver lands on annabeth's skin. you swipe it away before continuing. "luke's one of those people i can't really see away from camp half-blood for too long; pretty sure it would burn down without him. there's a reason he feels responsible for everyone there...in a way i respect, obviously, but, it's not the same for me. nobody needs me."

"luke needs you."

you sigh, and annabeth wonders if you even realize how you shake your head slightly. she thinks you're about to disagree with her, but instead you ask:

“what's this about, annie? are you thinking about your dad’s offer?”

and annabeth’s completely thrown off her line of inquiry.

“how did you —”

“perce told me that you’ve been talking about staying with him for the year,” you explain. you gesture at annabeth to give you her other hand, and she complies. the silver polish on the hand you just finished glitters in the sun.

“well, nothing’s confirmed.”

you look up at annabeth, one eyebrow raised. “it's okay, you know — if you just wanna….be a kid for a bit.”

annabeth is silent, prompting you to ask another question.

"what's holding you back?"

“well….at first, i thought it would be a definite no,” annabeth admits. “obviously, it didn’t work out last time. i don’t know if i want to risk it again — if i can trust him, you know? how do i know he actually cares — that he’ll be there for me when i need him?”

“you don’t.” you pause for a second. “but i’m gonna tell you a story that i think might help.”

you're done painting her nails, so you put everything away. you sit cross-legged next to annabeth, looking out at the ocean.

“my dad never wanted me to go to camp. he wanted to raise me in the city, just like he’d grown up. he’d take me to rock concerts all the time. i was so young, he’d make me wear earmuffs and carry me on his shoulders so that i could still see the band.” you smile softly at the memory. “and then….my dad got sick, he couldn’t take care of me, and monsters started to show up, so he brought me to camp for safe keeping."

"you've told me all this," annabeth remarks.

you start fiddling with your camp necklace. annabeth isn't used to seeing you so unsure, so nervous; it throws her off even more.

"what i haven't told you is that even when my dad got better, he….he didn’t give me a choice of where to stay.”

"oh," is all annabeth can say.

“yeah, oh," you scoff, but there’s not really any malice behind it. you seem…sad. defeated, almost. your fingers move to play with the hem of your shorts, which causes the fresh nail polish to smudge. you don’t seem too concerned about that at the moment, though. "i told everyone that i chose to stay. the truth is that i stayed because my dad didn't want me anymore. he said that the universe gave him a second chance, so he wanted to live his life without having to worry about monster attacks or taking care of his teenage daughter."

annabeth wonders if luke knows the truth about this; though, considering how difficult it seems for you to admit, she doubts it.

before, annabeth had a theory that you decided to stay at camp because of luke.

luke was away when you got the news that your dad was in remission. annabeth remembers how happy you were, how excited you were to be back in the city and living with your dad again. you started packing right away.

when luke came back from his failed quest, you had just gone into the city the day before, having promised to visit in the summer and stay in touch. someone – chris maybe, or beckendorf — must have called you, told you what happened, because you came back to camp right away, your bag still fully packed. you never left again.

"that sucks."

“yeah.” you let out a hollow, breathy laugh. “and, i was angry at first. of course i was. but now, i don’t know. i think that maybe my dad does care about me. like, he still sends me mixtapes with old punk rock songs he thinks i’d like. he actually calls me on my birthday, and we have a 3 minute conversation about nothing important."

"right…" annabeth furrows her brows. this conversation had definitely not gone as planned. "no offense, but what's —"

"i'm getting to the point," you tell her, bumping your shoulder against hers. "i realized that sometimes people can only love us in a way that works for them — and it sucks. it really, really sucks. but then sometimes…. sometimes people do actually try. and, i don’t know, it seems like maybe your dad is willing to try.”

“so you think i should take him up on his offer.”

the sun starts to set. you get up, brush sand off your legs.

“i think it's time for a swim. i also think that you’re smart enough to know what’s best for you, and who deserves a second chance. just know that whatever you decide — we’ll be there for you.”

you leave without another word, but with the return of your usual confident smile, off to the shore to take advantage of the last bits of daylight.

"she's right, annabeth." luke appears a few seconds later, takes the spot next to annabeth you had just occupied.

annabeth hums.

"how much of that did you hear?"

luke doesn't answer. he just stares at your form, disappearing in the distance and diving under the waves.

—

iv.

you clear your throat and luke turns around to see you freshly showered. you’re wearing a pair of shorts and one of the oversized band tees the two of you constantly exchange. you've lost track of whose is whose at this point.

luke resists the urge to shamelessly check out your legs, and turns his back towards you once again. that bikini top you were wearing earlier was bad enough. thankfully, the heat from the stove was enough to cover up his blushing cheeks at the sight of your exposed skin.

“i thought we were ordering pizza,” you say, moving to peer over his shoulder, chin hovering just above. luke had the sense that you were avoiding physical contact, and as much as it drives him crazy, he knows that he’s the one who’d dug his own grave. pushing you away and whatnot.

“didn’t know that you knew how to cook.”

“not much,” luke shrugs. he keeps stirring the vegetables — broccoli and carrots and baby corn. he’ll add the red peppers once the broccoli turns green so that they don’t become too soft. he’s pretty sure that’s how he remembers it going.

“i could have helped you.” you reach over and hand him the peppers right on time. you shift to lean your back against the counter next to the stove, arms crossed over your chest and eyes following luke.

luke throws in the chicken he cooked earlier, and then the sauce he had also mixed. he waits a few seconds, lets the sound of everything sizzling fill the space between you.

“it’s an easy recipe.” luke turns off the stove to punctuate his point.

and it had to be. something quick he’d make with his mom after she had one of her episodes, before waking up and realizing that she had a son to feed. the sounds, the colors, the smells — it all, overwhelmingly, reminds him of a childhood he once had. one that was never as simple as the food he just made.

none of the bitterness in his throat is caused by his mom, of course. just his father who calls himself a god, and left them both alone to fend for themselves.

you start getting out plates from the cupboards as you ask: “where are the kids?”

luke checks the pot on the stove to see if the rice is cooked. “told them to go rent something from the video store.”

“they went alone?”

“they’ve literally been to hell and back,” he replies and sits down at the table. “i think they can handle a blockbuster.”

“i don’t care if they get attacked by monsters,” you state, setting down the last plate in front of him. “i know they can handle themselves. they just better choose a good movie.”

luke doesn’t mean to snort, but he can’t help but remember all the arguments you’d gotten in with chris over your tastes in movies.

“don’t laugh, castellan. i’ve saved movie night on more than one occasion and i’ve never gotten so much as a thank you.” you roll your eyes, but luke notices the ghost of a smile.

it fades just as quickly as it appeared, and luke already misses the small moment of levity that’s passed.

“what’s been going on with you, tiger?”

you hold his gaze, and luke knows that you’re hoping for a real answer, for the truth he can’t give you.

“nothing,” he answers instinctively.

“don’t give me that,” you sigh and turn away from him, returning to your position against the counter.

“i said it’s nothing,” luke insists, a bit more assertively. “why can’t you just believe me?”

“because you’ve been distant, moody.” your tone is sharper now, too. “you’ve been avoiding me. you’ve barely been eating. the side of your bunk has been empty, which means you haven’t been sleeping, either. gods, i can’t even remember the last time you kissed me —”

“you’re really mad at me because we haven’t fucked?”

it’s a low blow, and he delivers it as if he hadn’t missed seeing you underneath him. or on top, or beside. luke isn’t picky.

“you’re impossible!” you groan, and cover your face with your hands. you take a deep breath before returning to glare at luke. “do….do you not want to be together, anymore? because if that’s what’s happening, i’ll survive. we can go back to being friends.” you clench your jaw to make up for the tremble behind your question. always a tough face, even in the face of potential heartbreak.

of course, luke knows you’ll be fine without him. he’s the one who might have difficulty surviving when you part ways.

“that’s not —” luke sighs and runs a hand through his hair, avoiding your gaze. “that’s not it.”

“then what is it?”

“noth—”

“i will send you to elysium if you tell me it’s nothing one more time, because i know it’s not!” you’re shouting now. “i might not know what it is, but i know you well enough to tell that something is bothering you. so i’m asking you, one more time, what is going on?”

the thing is, luke can’t tell you — about what he’s done, about who he’s aligned himself with. he can’t lie to you, either, at least not to save his life.

so, he’s basically stuck in whatever the greek mythology version of limbo is.

for now, he’s saved by percy, annabeth, and grover, who walk in with a stack of DVDs and armfuls of movie snacks.

dinner is fine, especially with the kids providing a good enough buffer. luke even catches you smiling and laughing along with them a few times. you approve of their choice in movies, starting with mulan. it’s one of luke’s favorites, too, but he can’t help but let his attention wander.

the two of you have known each other for a long time. luke has felt your anger. he’s felt your frustration. you’ve been on opposing sides of explosive arguments, of brutal sparring matches.

but, despite everything, luke’s never been hated by you. it’s unavoidable, given what he’s done and the path he’s on; it's just not something he's particularly eager to feel.

working for kronos….luke won't pretend he regrets it. something had to be done, to take back the poisonous world the gods created.

he did it for you, even if you won't understand.

he'd do anything for you.

so, for now, he’s willing to endure the daggers you stare at him from the other side of the couch.

—

in another life, you might have taken advantage of the queen bed and private room. both hard to come by at camp half-blood, if you’re not willing to risk zeus’ wrath for the latter.

gods, it feels like forever since you and luke snuck into cabin one because couldn’t keep your hands off each other, curses and lighting strikes be damned.

you almost wish lightning would strike — at least then the bed would be warm.

“i can feel you being mad at me,” luke whispers.

“sorry, thought you’d already be gone by now,” you respond, sarcasm dripping through your words. “off to see whoever else you’d rather sleep with.”

“so, you are mad because we haven’t fucked in a while.”

a stupid slip of the tongue. you can practically hear the smirk in his voice, and your entire body feels on fire for giving him any leverage on you. that was definitely not the warmth you were hoping for.

“whatever,” you mumble, shuffling closer to the edge of the bed, your back still towards luke.

for the record, you’re mad because of whatever distance luke was forcing between you, or whatever wall he was putting up, for a reason you don’t understand. you’d always known luke well, but lately you haven’t been able to read him.

and, sure. maybe you are…. frustrated. the two of you hadn’t been intimate in a while, yes, and your fingers are nothing compared to luke’s, but more than that: you just miss actually feeling him close to you. in any sense.

you’re not sure how much time passes, and there’s nothing but silence. then, you hear his voice again, gentler than before, no cocky attitude laced through.

“you never told me about your dad.”

ugh. of course, luke had overheard your conversation with annabeth earlier. damn those sly hermes’ genes.

you stay silent to give off the illusion that you’d fallen asleep, but luke doesn't fall for it.

“we’ve shared a bunk for years, karma. i can tell when you’re not sleeping.”

you pause for a few more seconds, but you know that luke is persistent.

“it didn’t matter,” is all you offer before he asks again.

“it did,” luke insists. “why didn’t you tell me?”

“it’s not like we tell each other everything,” you scoff. “like, why didn’t you tell me about that prophecy? and why won’t you tell me whatever’s going on with you now?”

“that’s….that’s different.”

“not really. i bet that it’s all for the same reason.”

“which is?”

you debate telling luke the truth.

it was no surprise that you had a certain reputation around camp: cunning, hot-tempered, brash. you were fine being the angry girl whose mother wasn’t enough of a god to warrant a cabin, but enough of a threat to be wary of. you didn’t want to be the one who was also dropped by her father, unwanted and too much of a burden. so, you swallowed the reality of the situation; pretended that nothing broke your heart, and that nothing ever would.

“i didn’t want you to look at me differently,” you admit.

another pause, this time from the other side of the bed.

“if it makes you feel better, i was glad that you stayed.”

you can’t help it; you let out a sardonic laugh.

“that’s not much of a comfort, since you haven’t seemed very thrilled with me lately.”

“that’s not….” luke falters. “i just mean that i don't know who i’d be if you left.”

in spite of the situation, the ongoing tension between you, you find yourself smiling.

“always so dramatic,” you tease.

deep down, you know you’re not much better.

luke was part of the reason you might have stayed at camp, anyways. he was the reason why you didn’t fight harder to get back to your old life, and you always did like a good fight.

it was scary though, that one person had so much power over you and didn’t even know it. you tried to convince yourself that you stayed because luke had needed you, after his quest and everything. but, once you’d known how it felt to have luke in your life, you didn’t want to go back to a time you didn’t.

truthfully, it still scares you.

“i don’t like fighting with you,” you admit softly, swallowing a lump in your throat. “especially when i don’t even know why we’re fighting in the first place.”

you wonder if you’d just thought that instead of saying it out loud because luke doesn’t respond, until you hear the sheets behind you shuffle, and feel luke position himself behind you.

"i'm sorry that we're fighting. it's my fault."

he settles a tentative hand on your exposed hip, where your shirt had ridden up. luke starts to trace circles onto your skin with his thumb, the way he sometimes does when he's nervous or having a bad dream.

"i’ve just been so….in my head. i don't want you to worry about what's going on with me, okay?

"luke —"

"i have to sort it out on my own.”

"you don’t, though,” you insist. “if you just tell me what’s going on, instead of pushing me away.”

another pause. you can feel him breathing down your neck, and in turn you inhale the spicy citrus of his body wash. it’s all so excruciatingly familiar as you wait for him to say something, anything.

eventually, luke sighs, deeply, and confesses:

"it's just….we've known each other for so long, but this — us? so much of it is new. i don't want to fuck it up."

"well, congratulations," you quip. "you're one step closer to getting there."

you meant it as a joke, something to lighten the mood, but you feel luke stiffen at your words, his grip on your hip becoming almost painfully tight as if he's worried you'll slip away.

"i'm kidding, tiger." you weave your fingers through his to loosen his hold on you, and reassure him even more that you're not going anywhere, any time soon. "for better or for worse: you’re mine, and i'm yours. no matter how much either of us might fuck it up."

luke shuffles closer, and you melt into him even more.

"do you really mean that?"

his voice is soft, surprisingly timid. you crane your neck back to look at him; luke stares at you, his gaze heavy enough to take your breath away.

“of course.”

you're so close, and you hadn't been in so long. luke's leg is somehow lodged in between your thighs, and you bite back a whimper as he brushes against you. you feel him behind you, already half-hard, and you rub your ass against him slightly, causing a groan to vibrate through his body.

neither of you have to do much to crash your lips together.

you can sense how luke’s been unraveling, from the kiss alone. his lips are chapped, rough against yours and already bleeding from the pressure; his stubble scrapes against your cheek, and you’re dizzy with anticipation, imagining how it will leave a stinging sensation on other areas of your skin when luke has his way with you later.

for now, you focus on your mouth on his: teeth clacking together, your tongue laving over the cut on luke’s bottom lip and tasting copper. luke brings a hand up to your jaw, pushing you into his mouth even more.

it’s like the first time you kissed. all consuming. messy. urgent — like you've already run out of time.

eventually, you have to pull yourself away from his grasp, your neck straining at the uncomfortable angle. luke takes the opportunity to suck bruises onto your neck while he presses his thigh harder against your cunt. he slips his other hand further underneath your shirt, cupping your breast and pinching your nipple between his fingers. instinctively, you start rutting against him.

“f-fuck,” you groan, relishing in the muscles of his naked thigh underneath you, defined and strong.

luke chuckles, and you feel his breath warm against your skin.

“you missed me that much, hm?” he taunts, encouraging you to go faster, harder. “you’re gonna cum before i even have a chance to undress you. doesn’t seem fair to me.”

“who —” your breath catches when luke’s hand settles around your throat, pulling you impossibly closer to him. you feel the outline of his abs against your lower back, and his length, hard and waiting. it’s difficult to finish your thought, but you try your best. “who says i only have to cum once?”

“that sounds like a challenge,” luke decides. “what’s our record — three? think we can beat that tonight?”

you laugh, already out of breath. “i think we can do it.”

“good girl.”

your thighs clench at the nickname, and it's one down, a few more to go.

you maneuver luke so that he lays flat on the bed, your legs on either side of his hips. your hands fumble with the edge of his shirt, and he lets you remove it without any more hassle.

it's a little ironic, really, how much you and luke hate the gods — because looking at him underneath you, you're sure that something divine must have created him, and you have to thank them for it. sharp jaw, deep scar, flushed cheeks; curls slightly askew, and skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat; that cocky smile — you'd worship luke castellan over any of the olympians.

secretly, of course, you pretty much already do.

"like what you see?" luke smirks up at you, hands firmly on your ass.

you roll your eyes to save face. "come on, tiger, like you're not seconds away from tearing through your boxers."

luke clicks his tongue, locks his calf around yours to switch your positions. you grunt as your back hits the mattress, but you very much appreciate the force and weight of luke above you. he practically rips off your shirt, then starts to nip and suck down your body. he kisses the fabric still covering your cunt, and you can feel his chuckle vibrate through your body when he encounters the wetness there.

"i'm not the one who already ruined their underwear," luke teases as he finishes undressing you. he pauses at the sight of you, bottom half completely exposed. you're about to tell him to hurry the fuck up, but then luke spits onto your already soaked cunt and says:

“i need to clean you up, baby.” he gives you another cheeky grin, teeth glowing like the cheshire cat, before diving in.

luke is skilled at everything he does, so of course he's quick to unravel you once more, this time with a persistent combination of tongue and teeth, lapping at your cunt like it's his last meal.

as soon as you're done riding out your high, you yank luke by the leather cord around his neck to collide your lips with his again.

you reach down to return the favor, snake your hand underneath the fabric of his underwear, and you're deeply satisfied to find him already sticky with his release.

“you already finished,” you tease, stroking his v-line. "and ruined your underwear without me even touching you."

in the dim light of the moon, you can barely make out luke blushing. he hides his face in the junction between your neck and shoulder.

“guess we’re both desperate, huh.” luke’s teeth graze your skin, his curls tickling your neck. “i need to be inside you, now, so how about you get on your hands and knees for me? i’ll get the condom.”

sometimes, luke tries to be gentle — but not this time.

this time, he fucks you, hard and fast and deep.

you love it, even if you might not be able to walk properly tomorrow.

with so much power behind each thrust, and the overwhelming pleasure, your arms threaten to give out, but luke catches you before you fall. he wraps a hand around your neck, bringing you flush against his chest as he continues to plunge his length into you.

"listen to me," luke growls. he snakes a hand down to rub harsh circles on your clit. "the one thing the gods did right is make this perfect, tight little pussy of yours. you were fucking made for me, weren't you?"

all you can do is whimper, closing your eyes at his filthy, sinful words.

you aren't used to luke being so possessive, and certainly not in these past few weeks. it's making your head spin in the best way. you can feel your orgasm build in the pit of your abdomen.

"were you made for me?" luke asks again. he squeezes your neck slightly, and you gasp at the pressure. "answer me, or i'll stop."

you don’t think it’s likely he’ll stop; you’re sure he’s just as lost in the sound of your cunt squelching and the feeling of you sucking him in. but, he does slow down, only a little bit, and it's enough for you to start whining.

"y-yes, luke."

"are you mine?"

you don't answer fast enough. luke stills his hips completely and you almost burst into tears.

you moan, trying to move against him in vain. luke keeps a firm grip on you, making it hard to cause any sort of friction between your bodies.

"i'm yours," you promise.

luke plants a firm kiss behind your ear. “that’s my girl,” he whispers darkly.

satisfied, luke resumes his pace. he moves the hand around your neck to your chin, angling you accordingly so he can crash his lips onto yours.

it doesn't take long to feel the tension in your abdomen snap, wetness gushing out of you. exhausted, you collapse onto the mattress. luke slips out of you.

the next few seconds consist of you trying to bring yourself back down to reality after such a high.

luke turns you around just to face him as he hovers over you. he lodges his hand behind your ear and taps your cheek to get your attention. your eyes flutter open.

“did you just —”

the dampness between your legs, and on the sheets underneath you, is enough evidence: you just squirted.

"i….” you gulp, feeling yourself flush. “i’ve never done that before."

luke stares at your glistening cunt. you wonder if you should be embarrassed, but then he locks eyes with you. you've never seen them so dark, pupils almost fully blown, just a sliver of brown showing through.

"you’re so fucking hot."

your heart flutters.

“you’re not too bad yourself, tiger, or i wouldn’t be in this mess.” you wink at him, still trying to catch your breath. your eyes wander lower. you note luke in the current state he’s in; you realize that the scales are nowhere near balanced. “that’s three for me, and only one for you. let me taste you.”

he doesn't need to be told twice. you get on your knees once more, this time facing him as he kneels in front of you. luke rips off the condom, something to deal with later, and you take him in your mouth, cheeks hollowed and tears brimming your eyes feeling him fuck your throat. when he finishes, you swallow him whole, savoring every drop. he pulls you up for a kiss; you can still taste yourself on him, and it mixes with his new release, a combination that is more than a little intoxicating.

“fuck,” luke mumbles as he pulls away. he swipes his thumb over the corner of your mouth where some of his cum dribbled out. “i know that was intense, but would you be up for another round? "

"yeah," you reply without a second thought, reaching up to thread your fingers through his curls to ground yourself.

maybe you should thank artemis for the full moon tonight, giving you just the right amount of silver light to illuminate the sculpted curves and edges of luke's body. his skin is also littered with bruises and bites of your design, chaotic and beautiful. luke looks like a mess, just as you're sure you do.

you want more. you need more.

"we gotta go for four, remember? but...maybe we, uh…"

"....slow it down this time?" luke finishes your thought.

you nod, grateful that you and luke are on the same page. he scrambles off the bed to get another condom.

"shit. i don't have another one.”

"check my bag, too," you tell him. luke complies, but comes up short once more.

you’re sitting up against the headboard now, and luke returns to kneel in front of you.

"i can use my fingers,” luke offers. “or eat you out again —"

“or we could just do without a condom this time?” you suggest. luke raises an eyebrow at you, so you think through the possibilities out loud. "we both got tested before our first time together and haven’t been with anyone since.” you find yourself pausing for confirmation on that, and luke nods once. “i’m on birth control. obviously there’s still a risk that something happens, but maybe just this one time? you can just pull out whenever you’re ready….if you're okay with that."

luke waits, almost like he thinks you might change your mind, before finally answering:

“yeah, i’m okay with it if you are. i’ve always wanted to fuck you raw. i just didn’t think you’d be into it — and didn’t want you to feel pressured.”

you have to kiss him then. because how is it that the boy who just gave you three jaw clenching, toe curling, heart pounding orgasms be so sweet and considerate?

before you know it, you’re flat on your back, sheets slightly scratchy with stray sand. you don't care much because luke hovers above you; he presses his forehead to yours, curls falling in front of his face.

"just so you know," luke starts, just as you feel him enter you once more. "i must have been made for you, too. i'm just as much yours as you are mine."

you smirk, bite your lip to keep from moaning so that you can keep up the arrogance, just a bit longer.

"always so dramatic," you mock, as if your cunt isn’t squeezing around him at his sweet nothings.

luke grins at you sheepishly, his cheeks flushed.

"guess that means the gods did two things right," you joke, exhaling when you feel luke brush against that gummy spot deep within you. "maybe we've taken them for granted. maybe we should - " he hits that spot again, and your breath hitches. you dig your nails into his shoulders as he rocks back and forth. “maybe we should thank them.”

luke clicks his tongue, grips your hip firmly. "not a chance, sweetheart. the gods’ll get what they deserve."

you don’t care enough to ask luke what he means. you care more about him going faster. you’re about to tell him to do so, and to throw your legs over his shoulders, but he does it himself before you get the chance. you feel him slipping deeper within you, the force and passion behind each movement, his body molding to every curve and crevice of yours.

made for each other.

you’re so sensitive that your orgasm approaches quickly. as he helps you ride it out, his thrusts get sloppier, and you know he’s almost reached his peak, too.

“fuck,” he grunts. “i’m close.” luke starts to pull out, but then you lock your ankles behind his neck.

“don’t,” you command.

“a-are you sure?” he looks at you, wide-eyed.

“i just want to feel you this once.”

he nods and brings you in for one more bruising kiss. he finishes inside you, warm and wet.

luke leaves once he catches his breath, and comes back with a damp towel to clean you up. he knows your body, recognizes how sensitive you are, and presses kisses on the inside of your thighs, where the same lips had made bruises before.

even completely fucked out, your mind starts to unpack everything that’s wrong in your life. like how luke has always been a little too good at pretending, with everyone else at least, and something serious must be going on if he's trying to fool you, too.

this luke with you now, the one who gently wipes his cum from between your legs after fucking you so relentlessly, is your luke. it feels like your luke is slipping right through your fingers, and you’re wracking your brain trying to figure out how this can stop before losing him completely.

wait….did luke say something about getting revenge on the gods? your mind is still a bit cloudy, but you could’ve sworn —

“are you okay?”

his question puts pause on your spiraling. he’s done cleaning you up, throws the towel on the floor and settles back on the bed, next to you. you’re close enough for the softest whisper, your limbs intertwined beneath tangled sheets.

you watch luke carefully as he waits for an answer and surveys your body, tracing his fingers over the marks he'd left underneath your jaw, across your shoulders, over your collarbones and down your stomach.

"i didn't hurt you, did i?"

“i’m okay,” you assure him. luke’s hand stops to gently rest on your cheek. your other worries are pushed to the side for the time being: for now, it's just you and luke. “do you think we could pick up a plan b pill tomorrow though, just in case? i love you, but i’m not ready to have your babies.”

luke widens his eyes like a minotaur in headlights. he drops his hand.

“you’ve never said that before.”

“that i want to have your babies?” you jest, slightly amused at how panicked luke seems.

luke blushes and clears his throat. “well, that too. i meant the whole ‘i love you’ thing, though.”

your amusement evaporates. you swear your heart stops beating momentarily.

“oh, shit.…”

you’re not quite sure what to say; you’ve felt this way for a while, truthfully.

of course you love luke. you can't remember exactly when you realized it, but you just….know.

because if what you felt for luke wasn’t love, then you were foolish to have secretly bought into what silena beauregard had been on about for years, and aphrodite herself might just be out of a job.

“i know we’re kind of in a weird place, but, yeah, i mean it. you don’t have to say it back —”

luke leans forward to kiss you. gentler this time, but just as firm. “i love you."

"you do?" your heart resumes its beating.

"of course i do. i have ever since my first morning at camp.”

“yeah right,” you chuckle in disbelief, feeling your cheeks heat up. “it’s not a competition, you know, over who loved who first.”

“karma, i’m serious,” he insists. “someone taught me to burn offerings, and with everything that happened with thalia, i obviously wasn't in the worshiping mood, but then you leaned over and whispered —"

"they like the smell of begging."

luke grins at you, and you reach up to brush your thumb against the dimple in his cheek.

"exactly. somehow, that was what i needed to hear. it was nice to know that i wasn't the only one who didn’t want to just accept things the way they were….” he loses his train of thought. luke grabs your hand in his. “i wish i had told you earlier. after all this, i don’t want to lose you.”

“you won’t —”

“whatever happens,” luke continues, somewhat ominously. “i love you, y/n.”

you hadn't heard luke use your real name in a while. you fall asleep, heart full with the memory of him weaving it together with those three magic words.

the next morning, you wake up — you actually sleep in, for the first time in years — and decide that if you could stay here forever, you would.

the morning sun stings your eyes through the sheer curtains. the sticky heat of summer sits heavy in the room, and stray grains of sand tickle your skin underneath the sheets. waves wash gently on the shore outside, and an ocean breeze mixes with the smell of burnt cinnamon. you can hear annabeth, grover, and percy crashing dishes and bickering and causing chaos in the kitchen as, you imagine, they scramble to surprise you with breakfast.

luke is next to you, on his stomach. his curls are a mess, covering most of his face.

evidence from last night: scratches from your nails prominent on his back, his neck decorated with purple bruises in the shape of your lips. you shift slightly and feel a dull ache between your legs, so you'd call it even.

outside, something clatters on the floor, and you hear percy swear.

luke's eyes flutter open, ever so slightly, and he starts to move. "we should get up before they burn down the place."

you press your hand to luke's shoulder blade, barely, but in his half-asleep state, it's enough to keep him in bed. luke moves to his side, facing you. you bring your hand up to brush curls away from luke's eyes, even if they're still closed.

"they've literally been to hell and back," you recall his sarcastic words from last night. "i think they can handle pancakes."

the corners of luke's mouth curl upwards.

"you're such a smart ass," he mumbles.

you lean forward, plant a kiss underneath luke's chin. his stubble scratches against your lips.

"don't pretend you don't love it, tiger."

luke breathes steadily. you think he might've fallen asleep once more until he presses his lips to your forehead, pulls you towards him, and quips:

"i love you."

your heart quickens as you echo his words. something churns in your stomach, too.

because this peace isn't something that feels permanent.

you're the children of gods, and there's always a catch. some inevitable plot twist where lovers end up separated, where heroes end up dead or cursed.

it's nauseating — dangerous, even — that you want a happy ending, a desire buried in you deeply like a knife to the gut. it's cruel that the fates keep twisting, taunting you with what can never be.

no monsters; no gods or titans; no prophecies.

just this.

#the way this became a whole chapter....i've got wayyy too much to say i guess #i really wanted to incorporate the trio into this series a bit more and how others see luke + karma's relationship #also i forget who said it but smut as a character study....yeah <3 #luke castellan fic #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan angst #luke castellan smut #luke castellan x nemesis!reader #luke castellan x you #pjo fanfic #pjo #luke castellan fanfic #saf writes

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collapsedsquid · 3 months ago

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Working swiftly, the men unlocked a storage unit crammed with drones and canisters of pressurized gas. Using a dolly, they wheeled out four tanks containing sulfur dioxide and helium, and stacked them on the floor of the camper van. Then, almost as quickly as they arrived, they were on the road, headed for the golden hills near the Pacific Ocean. With their jury-rigged equipment and the confidence that comes with having raised more than $1 million in venture capital, they were executing a plan to release pollutants into the sky, all in the name of combating global warming. [...] Make Sunsets is one of the most unusual start-ups in a region brimming with wild ideas. Iseman, 41, and his co-founder, Andrew Song, 38, claim that by releasing sulfur dioxide into the stratosphere, they can reflect some of the sun’s energy back into space, thereby cooling the planet. [...] So far, the company is releasing sulfur dioxide on a tiny scale. But some experts say that broader efforts to disrupt the delicate interactions between the Earth’s atmosphere, ocean, land and sea ice could result in catastrophic unintended consequences. For example, blocking sunlight could interfere with the monsoon season, which is critical for agriculture, income and food supply in India. Animated by the “move fast and break things” credo that permeates Silicon Valley, the founders of Make Sunsets have no such concerns. They are selling “cooling credits” to customers who want to offset their personal carbon emissions. And a few times each month, after selling enough credits, they head for the hills and release balloons full of sulfur dioxide into the California sky.

I feel like this violates the non-aggression principle

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chaifootsteps · 3 months ago

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it boggles my mind hb is supposed to have four seasons. what even is there left to do?

the IMP business is completely undercooked as a plotline. and surely Viv can't spin out Stolas persuading Via to give him the time of day again to a whole season in length. and I don't even understand what the point of this stupid courtroom storyline is - are they finally going to end this divorce plotline which has stretched for an entire season now with no end in sight?

don't even get me started on the potential of a Vassago > Stolas < Blitzo love triangle. they ought to be teaming up to throw him off a cliff, not fighting over him

when you look at what's happened over the course of season 2 the answer is basically precious little. the only beats that had advanced anything resembling a story is Stolas gets crystal, full moon deal ends. maybe also Moxxie's dad wants to kill him? (a plot beat also not resolved or revisited since it happened so why didn't Millie just gut him and save everyone the bother) oh, and Blitzo got Fizz to forgive him incredibly quickly. that's maybe the nicest thing to come out of this season. meanwhile Millie and Loona have not changed at all and calling Seeing Stars and Unhappy Campers 'their' episodes would be really generous

so much of this show is just repetition. Stolas and Blitzo are just in a nonstop argument phase and that's just unpleasant to watch.

so yeah. it's not just wheel spinning. it's watching 20mins of an episode and realizing nothing was accomplished and nothing mattered

Blitzo and Stolas fuck, kiss, and scream at each other. That's what matters to Viv and what she considers a healthy relationship to look like, so I'm assuming that's what we'll be getting from here on out.

#Anonymous #vivziepop critical #stolitz critical #helluva boss critical #viv stuff #actual blog post

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raiynnah · 6 months ago

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Camper

@wolfstarmicrofic - word count: 299

“I’m totally a camper,” Sirius says to himself as he reads the sign that says ‘this site offers washing services for campers’. Sure, he’s never camped before, but how hard can it really be?

“Yes you are!” James pats his shoulder from the seat behind him. “It’ll be fun, the four of us out in the wilderness, living it rough.” Remus snorts.

“The wilderness? We have air conditioning.” Remus doesn’t move his eyes off the road as the car turns into the camping site but Sirius, from the passenger seat next to him, can’t let the slander pass unnoticed.

“That’s a necessity, Remus!” Sirius protests, “It’s the middle of summer after all, isn’t that right Pete?” When there’s no reply Sirius looks back to see Peter knocked out, head against the window and snoring slightly.

“I’m not waking him up,” Sirius says immediately, thinking back on all the instances where climbing mount everest would’ve been easier than waking Peter up when he’s taking a well-deserved nap.

“Well, it won’t be me.” Remus taps the steering wheel impatiently. “And it can’t be James, we have to go sign in.” Sirius scowls.

“If it’s under his name why does he need you there?”

“Because we’d probably get scammed otherwise,” Remus responds, and yes, it’s probably true. In the rearview mirror he can see James shrug in acceptance.

“Moony, my darling, please?” He sends Remus his best puppy dog eyes as the car stops, parked right outside the only proper building.

“Don’t ‘darling’ me, Sirius.” Remus takes off the seatbelt and faces Sirius, lifting his chin up to plant a kiss on his mouth. “Come on, sweetheart, be a good sport,” he whispers. Sirius crumples like wet tissue paper.

“Fine, but I’m not happy about it!”

“I’ll make you very happy later.”

#wolfstar #wolfstar microfic #marauders #remus lupin #sirius black #my writing

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miraclesnail · 2 months ago

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kronus AU, title still pending

chapter 4, 5

First chapter, previous chapter next chapter

4 ANNABETH

Annabeth gives Travis time to answer but he never does and that really ticks her off. She could see the wheels turning in his head. He’s thinking about something and the Travis she knows would blurt it out, with or without someone prompting.

But this Travis, the one lying prone on the sofa, the one whose only movement so far was that one time he tried to lift a hand, the one who spoke only one sentence, this Travis she doesn’t know. This Travis seems sick. This Travis seems unreal. This Travis seems like a stranger.

After Piper puts Travis to sleep, they tend to Chiron’s wounds and Mr. D’s injury. They’re going to be fine, thankfully. But they’re out of the count on rest and rehab. They dragged Travis into the Big House and ordered all the gathered campers to continue on with their day. The counselors are the only ones here in this room.

Annabeth clutches the phone with Kronos’s insignia engraved in the corner.

When they stripped him of his weapons, they found this in one of the pockets. There were mixed reactions. Some were angered. Some were frightened. Some were in denial. None of their reactions matter. The one that does, the only one that does, is Connor’s. And Connor’s face tells her everything.

“Travis would never join Kronos. Not willingly. Not without coercion.”

That settled it for her.

There was some contention but Travis and Connor do everything together. There’s no doubt in her mind that Connor was never on Kronos’s side so Travis couldn’t be on Kronos’s side too.

So there can only be 4 possibilities. One, Travis was kidnapped in the one hour he disappeared and was brainwashed by Kronos Restorationists. Two, Travis saw some mushrooms and ate it, and is now having full-blown, wild delusions. Or three, this isn’t even Travis but a lookalike somebody swapped him. Or four, Travis and Connor have a secret third sibling none of them have ever heard about. They all seem pretty likely since not even Connor can guess the 6 lettered password on the phone.

“Travis, answer the questions.” She says one more time, but Travis isn’t looking at her anymore. His eye stares listlessly at the ceiling. And again, he lifts a hand but the handcuffs bars any further progress.

“Forget this. Let’s just have Clovis take a peek in his memories,” Clarisse grumbles. Holly and Laurel immediately reject that idea. They have a soft spot for Travis seeing as he was their head counselor before their cabin was built. But Clarisse is right. They can’t have a god-decapitating, teacher-stabbing demigod on the premise without figuring out why. Morality be damned.

If this phone really does prove Travis is attempting to bring back Kronos, then she can’t treat him as a friend. Kronos shouldn’t be able to reform in her lifespan, but the opening and closing of the Doors of Death might have sped it up. Maybe Gaea's awakening healed Kronos faster. Maybe it’s something else, an entirely new threat. But she isn’t about to go through another Titan war. She isn’t about to let Luke’s sacrifice, Silena’s, Beckendorf’s, Castor’s, Ethan’s, Lee’s, Michael’s sacrifice be meaningless.

Why is it that every summer, there is a crisis? Just for once, can she have a break?

“Clovis,” Annabeth says, watching Travis and his unchanging expression and unchanging silence, “Take a look inside his memories. Find out what happened the hour he disappeared.”

Clovis scratches behind his ear in discomfort but begins to strides forward.

Travis tugs on his handcuffs again.

“An— Annabeth.” Annabeth raises an eye at the slight stutter of her name.** Travis tugs again on the handcuffs and looks at her with desperation in his blue eyes. “Annabeth, you need to give me the phone. I need to call someone.”

“Tell me who and I’ll give it to you,” she responds coolly.

“I-I can’t. I shouldn’t.” Travis is increasingly breathing harder. His chest heaves and there’s panic blossoming in his eyes. “Just, please, trust me and give me the phone.”

“Trust you? You stabbed Chiron. I can’t trust you.”

“You don’t understand. There’s no time. I’m — He’s — danger — I — It’s all my fault. I need to fix it. Please, Annabeth.”

Annabeth bites her lips. Travis doesn’t plead. Travis doesn’t beg. Travis doesn’t ever get on the verge of crying. She looks at the other counselors, but they’re just as clueless as her.

“Who’s in danger?” she finally settles on asking, but Travis squeezes his eyes shut. Tears stream down his cheeks. Travis isn’t a crier. That title belongs to Connor and Annabeth knows from experience Connor is a loud, ugly crier. She assumed Travis would be too, but no, he isn’t and this is far, far worse.

Connor takes a step towards Travis, but he falters, hand raised and face uncertain. “Travis…”

Travis’s eyes open slightly and he whispers, “He’s going to die.”

“Who’s going to die?” she presses, but no response.

“He’s going to die. They’re all going to die, but I’m going to live. Again… This is happening again. Why is this happening again?” He’s starting to hyperventilate now.

She can’t watch this anymore. “Clovis, put him to sleep and look through his memories.”

“O-okay.”

It starts with a single hiccup. A single ragged gasp.

Then Travis is wailing.

He’s screaming.

He’s shrieking.

He’s curling into a ball, handcuffs somehow undone, and screeching into his pillow Will so kindly gave him earlier. Annabeth’s mind blanks for a minute.

Outside, thunder roars. Lightning flashes. The wind picks up. And rain pelts the side of the building and rattles the window with the force of a hurricane.

Travis is not having a good time.

It’s summer break.

He should be having a good time.

But no, first thing Connor did when he got to Camp Half Blood was hand him all the chores to do for the day so he can referee the volleyball match between Hermes and Athena’s cabin, then Clarisse kicked his butt and embarrassed him during their co-cabin sparring session, then Annabeth beat him with her eyes closed on chess, and now he has been transported to a weird place where Michael is alive and flesh-eating zombies are real.

Not a good time at all.

The plus side?

He emptied his bladder out of fear and there’s no longer that insistent need to pee.

So that’s a big plus.

“ARGHHHHH!” Michael screeches. He amazingly has an arm extended even though the pressure is crushing his innards.

“Travis, FIGHT!” Michael screams, struggling even more.

Fight? He can barely breathe.

Lou Ellen is 15 feet away now, chanting food food food under her breath and giggling as she limps her way over to them. Every step she takes closer to them ups the pressure two-fold. He’s flattening. He’s turning into a pancake. And speaking of pancakes, he is so hungry. All he had was a banana and an apple before he went on his morning jog. He would do anything for pancakes right about now.

“Travis, I’m going to kick your lazy fucking butt if you don’t get a fucking grip!”

Travis clenches his eyes and curls his fingers into a fist. Even doing that was strenuous. How is Michael pushing himself forward?

Willpower, probably.

Lou Ellen is getting closer and closer. Michael is still struggling. And he? He doesn’t want to say he accepted the cruel fate of being eaten, but yeah, he kinda accepted it and prayed that in the next life he and Connor are reborn as brothers again.

But then Lou Ellen screeches and Travis could feel himself falling back to the earth, falling flat on his stomach and the force knocking the air out of him.

Still he manages to glance up. Lou Ellen is still screeching, but she’s swathed in thick branches from the head down to the toe. And the branches are still growing — where he doesn’t know — but they crush Lou Ellen together, pressing her arms to her chest till Travis hears something snap and crunch.

Shoes scuff on the tile beside him. Michael is standing. He has his arrows notched and aimed. Three arrows fly clean into Elly’s eyes. They make a sickening squidge sound and Elly’s screeching becomes a thousand times worse.

There was no hesitation in Michael’s action. Not the slightest. Not even a change of expression when those arrows embed itself.

Then Michael’s eyes catch his, and they’re tired, they’re apologetic, they’re so, so, so pained but none of that changes the fact that the crossbow is pointed at him again. No arrows come flying towards him. Just the words, “He’s not fighting. Easy prey, right?” Then in a move of incredible acrobatics, Michael is turning tail and jumping off the ledge and down to the one under.

“W-w-what? Michael, you piece of —”

Lou Ellen snaps to face him, tearing the arrows out of her eye in one single tug. The eyeball came off with it, optic nerve and all, but Travis watches as the eyeball disintegrates before reappearing back in Elly’s eye — whole and functional again. All her wounds are healing as well, except for the one at her leg.

So maybe they’re not zombies. Zombies don't regenerate like that.

Lou Ellen spots him, her grin deranged and manic as she drops the arrow.

xxxxx

There’s nothing more he wants to do then curl up in a ball and suffocate himself in the soft pillow. Nothing more than to give up. Nothing more than to stop struggling and fighting for an ending that’s never going to work out. [but you’re not going to, right?]

But the other him’s face — surprised and innocent — flashes in his mind again. In that disgustingly bright orange shirt as he gives a nauseating laugh and a sickening smile with his revolting, carefree, happy as happy can be attitude. It’s repulsive to even think about. He wouldn’t last a day in his world. He’s probably already dead. He’s probably just another shambling corpse like the rest of them.

[He’s you. He’ll find a way to survive until you get back.]

He’s me without you.

[Michael is with him. He has time. As long as Michael doesn't meet up with Katie and Clarisse, then he has time.]

His eyes snap up to survey the room.

The room is as occupied as ever though there hangs an air of unease. None of them are truly looking at him, just quick side-eye glances. A majority occupy themselves with his weaponry on the table. Annabeth still has the phone in her hands, typing on the screen with a scowl. It doesn’t look like she figured out the password yet.

He’s handcuffed again though that won’t be a problem. He can unlock it without a thought.

The issue is that it’s him against 20 demigods. That’s not good odds.

[can’t you talk with them?]

“Hey, you’re up.”

A hand grazes his shoulder and instinctively he slaps away from the intruding hand, flinching as he hears swords leaving their sheaths and weapons being drawn. He peeks over his shoulder to find Will Solace (oh god it’s Will. It’s really Will), unbothered, with a glass of water in his hands.

“Here,” Will says.

He raises himself from the bed enough to shake his head.

“I don’t want it.”

“I don’t care. You’re dehydrated.”

He goes back to scanning the room in response. And Will hits him on the back of the bed with a pink Hello-Kitty throw pillow.

“If you don’t drink, I’ll stick an IV in your vein,” Sunshine Boy threatens with a hand on his hip, stern and unbudging.

He scowls, taking the glass as ordered with a tiny sip.

Will’s still bossy and stubborn. Gods, he forgot how annoying that can be.

Will beams in satisfaction, stepping back, and it’s only then that he notices Nico beside Will, tense and rigid.

“You shouldn’t have gotten so close to him. What if he had stabbed you like he did with Chiron?” Nico hisses, the words meant only for Will’s ears but he heard it anyway. When their eyes meet, the son of Hades glowers and pulls Will away by the arm.

“You were right there beside me. I’m sure I was fine,” Will says with a dismissive shrug.

He stares down in the cup of water — crystal clear and clean and not at all contaminated with gore and pus and rubble — and thinks. He didn’t notice Nico at all. A new power? What else is different? Are the odds even more against him now? Should he even try anymore? [you can’t give up]

“Ready to talk now?” Annabeth strides up to him. “You can start by giving the password.”

Him against 20… if he could just somehow get the phone and book it to the door… [what if you can’t? what if the phone breaks? how will you contact for help then?] But Annabeth alone is trouble enough to steal from and Nico’s shadow-travel would make it hard to escape [We’re wasting time.] Not to mention there’s 10 other demigods he doesn't know of. [Every second is ticking away] Who knows what they can do. [Go for it and I’ll cover you.]

“Travis? Hello? Gonna talk?” Ananabeth says, annoyed and a hand on her hip.

He stares at the phone in her hand.

20 demigods. New powers. Unknown powers. Escape is probably not possible. But then again, he doesn’t need to escape.

He can do it. He’s going to do it.

“Travis?”

He doesn’t waste time, undoing the handcuffs and lunging for the phone. He rips it from Annabeth’s lax fingers and hides the screen with his body, curling over and unlocking the phone and going to the text messages. Crap. 537 missed texts and 20 missed calls. Not good. Shoes enter his peripheral vision. Annabeth’s. He feels a hand on the back of his shirt about to pull. Not missing a beat he clicks on the group chat as he sweeps his leg out and topples Annabeth.

sos build c floor 20

Enter. Send. Lock again.

A hand on his arm. He twists to the other sideand the second person is falling on top of him, grunting in surprise. Clarisse. She’ll survive whatever he dishes out, he thinks as he kicks her in her abdomen with enough force to send her flying. He rolls back to his feet.

Annabeth is starting to get back up. 15 or so demigods between him and the door with five coming for him right now. Just Will and Nico between him and the closest window. No one is between him and the second closest window. Perseus beside Annabeth. Leo by the table with all his weapons laid out with a screwdriver. Katie right beside the door. No zombies or roots coming for him yet. And Perseus isn’t using his powers. Why? Haven’t developed their powers yet? [that’s too big of an assumption] Haven’t processed what is going on? [maybe]

No one is using their powers at all. Whatever. Their loss. He already accomplished his goal.

“I just wanted the phone. I’ll just get out your hair now,” he says.

And as expected, Clarisse comes charging for him. “Fat chance that’s happening!” He didn’t really expect anything else.

He sidesteps Clarisse, uses her momentum to push her into the crowd of 15. Most tumble down in one heap. There’s a familiar cry among them. He tunes out the voice. One of the demigods manages to avoid it, brandishing a spear though not charging at him. The kid’s nervous, he realizes. Probably never been in a fight. [or he doesn’t want to hurt you]

He feels Nico coming from behind, a lot more stealthier than the counterpart in his world but he faced even more stealthier demigods. With ease he turns and grabs the wrist with the knife, twisting until the blade clatters to the floor before tossing Nico over his shoulder on top of the pile.

Perseus is coming from the left. Now him, he feels no qualms hurting as he throws a punch to the face. Perseus blocks the obvious attack, trying to bear hug him. He throws his head back hard. The cry of pain didn’t make him happy. But it did bring some satisfaction.

Annabeth is up and faces him, eyeing the phone and breathing hard. “Who did you text?” she demands, taking a step forward.

He takes a step back. Will by himself to the left. About 17 on the right. Another trying to sneak behind him for a surprise attack. The phone vibrates once, a text message, and he glances down to check.

The one behind moves, running towards him the same time Annabeth springs forward. He tries to step off to the side so they crash into one another but Annabeth is getting used to his tactics. She dodges the one coming from behind [wait, isn’t that a titaness? That was a Calypso, but how did she get off her island] and tackles him around the waist, knocking him flat onto his back. She scrambles on top of him, a knee pressing into his gut as Annabeth tries to rip the phone from his hand but he turns onto his side, unbalancing Annabeth, before shoving her to the ground.

Five in front. Two behind. Seven on the right. Six on the left. The phone buzzes again.

“Don’t move, Travis!” Piper yells and for a second he obeys her wish. But he pushes his own will against hers. He dwells on the disbelieving look on her face. It’s like she doesn’t know he can resist charmspeaking.

Zombies and roots still aren’t coming for him. Guess they don’t know how to use their powers then. Lucky him.

Time to make his getaway then. He digs his hand into the hardfloor and it phases through like water. But when he clenches his fist, he feels a solid object and he lifts the floor like it’s a rug, the floor becoming flimsy and malleable. He can see the basement in all its dark and damp glory with its plumbing and a water heater tucked in the corner. And there, the egress window. He’ll sneak down there, close the path behind him, then leave through the window.

He tries to dive in before anybody could follow after him. But Annabeth, of course it’s Annabeth, pulls him back by the ankle and he trips forward, the floor melting back into place without a single imperfection. The phone falls out of his hand and bounces once on the hardwood, the texts flashing through his eyes as it skids away from him.

Found you.

He shakes his leg free to spring the few extra inches to grab the phone. But a kid — Connor — nobody — anybody — nothing — no one — beat him to it, snatching it off the floor and hugging it close to his chest. There’s hesitancy, uncertainty, actual concern in those familiar, familiar, familiar eyes and he hates it. He hates it so, so, so much. Enough for him to want to die. To dig his eyes out. To stab his knives in his guts and rip everything out.

[hey now calm down]

“Give it back,” he demands, orders, insists as he struggles to his feet, forcing himself to not look his brother — Connor — nobody — the kid in the eyes.

BrotherConnorNobodyKid shakes his head and steps back. His body language is screaming bolt, bolt, bolt — and if that happens then there’s no way he can catch up.

[You can’t let him leave.]

“Don’t move,” he commands.

It doesn’t work. He felt the trickle of power rising, the usual nausea coming with it, but it’s not enough. Think bigger. Think better.

[Wait what are you going to do]--

He inhales. Pauses. Pictures the order in his mind, his command, the incentive, the offer. And exhales.

[wait, you didn’t eat anything this—]

“Don’t move or he’ll — Tra — Travi — your brother, your older brother will die.”

His vision spins immediately. Blood drips down his nose in a stream that he pinches shut. But it worked. He freezes. Annabeth freezes. Everyone stops. The only sound is his own beating heart.

Great. Perfect. This worked out great. [wait, wait, wait, don’t walk yet—]

Too late. His first shuffle forward, his knees buckle and he falls onto his hands. The whole world is spinning. He squeezes his eyes shut, tries hard to make everything stop twirling, but nausea overtakes him and he’s grabbing the nearest bucket-like thing and vomiting, eyes opening enough to see a mess of clear fluids soiling a backpack. He hopes it’s Perseus’s backpack. [shouldn’t have skipped your breakfast] like there’s much to eat anyway.

He struggles to his feet, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. Most haven’t moved yet though there are a couple that’s inching their way towards him. Nico. A girl with brown braids — the titaness, Calypso. But most are immobile.

He tugs the phone out of Connor’s hands, the effort alone swarming his vision with black dots, and walks just far enough to lean against the nearest wall, sliding down until he’s sitting with his head between his head. But it doesn’t help the overwhelming queasiness. This isn’t good. It’s enough for him to pass out. Which is bullshit. He used it all the time without even taking a breather. [Well, not ever twenty people all at once. And you’re dehydrated. And you haven’t eaten anything. And you—] okay, okay. He gets it. There’s a gazillion factors. But still. Still.

“What—”

He picks his head up tiredly to find Annabeth, red-faced, muscles straining.

“What is this?”

“My powers,” he murmurs. Ah. His head is pounding.

“I can see that,” Annabeth seethes. “But you — you never — you can’t — Travis can’t charmspeak.”

“This isn’t charmspeak. It’s, uh, um… I don’t know. Charmspeak but Hermes Edition? The name is still a work in progress. Dad was the god of persuasion and merchants. The conditions are different,” he says. His vision is swarming in and out. [it’s never been this bad] Never. Not even when he first used it.

“I never heard of Hermes’s children doing this.”

“Really now?” [don’t pass out]

“You have a fever. And it’s rising, like, a lot,” Will points out.

“Yeah. It happens.” He leans his head back on the wall, brings the phone up to his face. And sitting at the bottom of the dozen or so new messages is: Gonna do a sneak attack. Just keep running like that.

Sent just mere seconds ago.

He grimaces and lowers the phone. I don’t think I’ll stay conscious. [I’ll knock him out. Don't worry] You got it? [Yeah, I got it.] I’m sorry you’re doing it by yourself. [It’s okay, don't stress over it]

#kronos AU #pjo #ao3 #I think I know which direction I'll change chapter 2 and 3 now lol #on my commute home #there was this banger song #brainwashing by radwimp #could not understand a single word but the vibe and beat was exactly what I needed #my fic #my writing #wip #thank you for reading!

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writerofadream · 1 year ago

Text

Fortune favors the Bold ⛓

TDI!Duncan x Juvie Bestfriend! Reader ⛓

Chapter Twenty: Welcome back to traumatized kids weekly, I'm your host-

(Just so you know Duncan is totally the Harley Quinn to ur Ivy <3)

You and Duncan were standing outside the outhouse looking at in mild humor. Leshawna walked up to you two. “Geoff sure misses Bridgette since she got kicked off, huh?” She asked, putting a hand on her hip.

The blonde was singing his heart out rather loudly in the outhouse. “Yeah, he’s weak.” Duncan muttered. You gave him a glance and he blushed. “Different when it’s you darlin’.” He whispered, kissing your forehead.

A good chunk of the campers were playing frisbee, Heather and Lindsay were sunbathing on the docks. But your attention kept getting pulled to the outhouse nearby. Duncan called all the boys to the outhouse claiming he wanted to comfort the blonde. Gwen raised an eyebrow at you leaving along with them.

She called you over, and you skipped over to the black haired girl, and asked “Whatever is the matter?” You asked, and the girl gave you a look as if she was trying to calculate your movements.

“Why are you going with them? It’s an all boys alliance.” She pointed out. You looked her up and down before smiling “I’d like to see you pull me out of Duncan’s eyesite.” She looked over your head and sss that even now Duncan was staring at you with a curious head tilt.

“Fair.” She muttered and let you go.

You all arrived at the outhouse and Owen scooped Geoff in a big bear hug. “Voting Bridge off was a strategic move, mate. Plus she was reeking.” Duncan laughed, crossing his arms.

“So, are you in?” He turned his hand into a fist and set it in the middle of them all. You set your hand on top of his without a thought. Slowly, everyone else set their hands on top of the two. “You in, Geoff?” You raised an eyebrow. The boy looked at all of you nervously. “I don’t know, girl. Going on without Bridge-” he sniffed the air. “Is that bacon?” He questioned and began running. “Aw man did I miss breakfast?” He groaned, chasing after the smell.

Duncan chuckled, shrugging. “Looks like Geoff is in.” You rolled your eyes punching his shoulder. Suddenly the intercom let out a high pitched squeal of feedback and you covered your ears groaning. The alarms at juvie were JUST like that and they’d go on, and on, and on, in a never ending cycle.

“Morning campers! The next challenge awaits you at the arts and craft center.” Duncan still had his hands around his ears, and he still had his hands around his ears once you walked over to the arts and craft center which in all reality was a shed. “More like the arts and junk-center.” You muttered, crossing your arms. “You’d actually be correct, sweetheart. It used to be an outhouse.” Chris smiled, giving you a pat on the head much to Duncan’s annoyance.

“But now it's just where Chef parks his road hog.” The man shrugged and opened the shed door revealing a beautiful bike. “What a beaut.” Duncan said in amazement. “Reminds me of the bike you rigged up in second grade, baby.” You commented and Duncan stared at the bike a moment longer before agreeing. “Yeah it even had the flames you painted.” He pointed out.

“Which brings me to our challenge! Rigging up your own wheels.” Chris smiled once he saw your eyes light up. This challenge he had made for you. “Yes, hot rods!” Owen scooped both DJ and you up, hugging you to his chest.

You groaned trying to shove the blonde's arm away, and Duncan sent him a withering glare which quickly made Owen drop you. “You’ll find all the parts you need in the bike depot.” Chris pointed at a pile full of bike parts and there were murmurs of “Bikes?”

“Anyways, whoever builds the best bike using tricks and props from the arts and crafts center wins. To prove I’m a nice guy I’ll throw in a manual.” Chris threw a manual to Heather before he drove off in his four wheeler.

---

You smiled at the outhouse camera and clapped to yourself. “This is a challenge I can get behind. Before Duncan’s brothers left him, the older ones showed me how to rig my first engine.” You smiled wide.

---

“So what do you need, darling. I say you rig up the engines for our bikes, then I build the bikes, and then we go whatever we want for the touch ups?” Duncan leaned on his right leg. “You got a lighter on you?” You asked suddenly. He smiled and showed you the various ones that were in different places on his body. In total there were six.

“Okay I’m going to need you to dismantle at least two of those for the fluid, and then I think I can get to work.” You smiled, putting your hands on your hips. Duncan was always fiddling so before you even finished your sentence the two lighters were dismantled and he gave you two medium sized containers full of an amber liquid.

You snatched the liquid and took big scraps of metal before you disappeared with a wide smile on your face. “Your girl concerns me.” DJ commented absentmindedly. “Oh she should. But this is nothing, have you ever seen a three year old girl have access to fire and metal? It is chaos on steroids. Man, I miss my brothers.” Duncan laughed jumping into the pile of metal building your guys bikes.

—

Somewhere in New Jersey

A bunch of black haired boys sat in a large group huddled around the TV. “I still can’t believe the idiots finally realized they liked each other, god you remember when they were like six and held hands everywhere they went. I think James literally heard wedding bells.” The oldest one complained, running a hand down his face.

“Oh I a hundred percent did, and the way he looked at her when she was screaming at Mick for taking her welding privileges.” James, the forth eldest one laughed and Mick stood up from his seat. “She burns down your office at work then we can talk.” He pointed a finger at his brother.

The seven brothers began arguing over who was in the wrong.

The four girlfriends and three boyfriends stared at their respective partners in utter disbelief. “Someone make a mental note, let’s all just date each other next time.” Rachel took a chug of her champagne. “At least they’re pretty.” Joey sighed, staring at the still arguing siblings. “Pretty people get away with so much.” Ross signed into his palm, as all the girls chimed in agreement.

(Yes, there was a Phoebe and a Chandler, and yes they get comments on it all of the time)

—-

To be honest? The three boys had very little faith in you coming back with two working engines. But sure enough you came back, with two working engines. Who cares if up and down your arms were nearly pitch black? Duncan smiled at your expression and met you halfway to pick up his engine to help with the weight.

“So how much of the forest is burnt?” He asked pecking you on the lips before you could stop him. “Well hello to you too, babe, and a good twenty-five percent of it.” You blushed rubbing the back of your neck. He laughed, and gave you a side hug.

“Not bad.” He smiled.

—

As Duncan held your bikes up, and you began rigging the engines to the said bikes. Owen asked “So what was your first time riding a bike like, guys?” He asked after he had pumped up his enormous tire.

“Oh you should’ve seen, Duncan, he wiped out so bad his entire collarbone came out of his skin, so you could poke it.” You laughed getting a smear of oil on your hands and you wiped it on your pants which were already covered in the black substance.

“Not like your any better, sweetheart. After my brother Jimmy taught me how to ride a bike, he taught Y/N, and she flipped off the bike so far that she crashed straight through my oldest brother's room and you know, that's how we found out he was gay.” Duncan laughed when he saw how red you had turned and were shying into his chest now.

“Oh. So you walked on his brother and some dude-” you cut off Geoff with an embarrassed nod. Duncan laughed, rubbing your shoulders before shrugging. “Anyway, she broke her leg and shoulder blades which is fun.” He teased before the rest of the boys went on about their experiences.

—

Somewhere in New Jersey

“OH MY GOD THAT'S HOW THEY FOUND OUT YOU WERE GAY?”

“Oh I’m going to kill myself.”

“Please do, when you're at it feel free to kill me too.”

—-

The entire day was spent messing with your bikes. After you had finished rigging up Duncan’s bike he went to work on hot gluing things in it. Then you went to work on yours.

Your bike had a dark purple body and dark green handles which reminded you a lot of the joker, and you knew your boyfriend did that on purpose.

Your ten years old

A week before Halloween that year you had watched the Joker and for fun wondered: hm I wonder if I could use my glow-in-the-dark makeup to make a cool joker-like face for a costume. So you decided to try out your idea, but you didn’t trust your judgment so you decided that when you were done you’d go over to Duncan’s house and see what he thought.

After you were done and in his house, you waited for an hour in the dark of his room since you had a headache. Duncan was a bit late from school because he had a double detention, and you had only had one much to your fathers surprise. When Duncan walked into his room he saw a glow in the dark smile sitting on his bed fast asleep.

You woke up to an eleven year old Duncan shrieking like a little girl much to your amusement.

Your hands flew over your bike and in no longer than ten minutes, the engine was up and purring like a little feline. Owen clapped, impressed. “How are you gonna decorate?” Geoff asked, since he had finished his first and was how you say… bored out of his mind.

“Good question, any suggestions?” You raised an eyebrow hoping for a suggestion. You saw a lightbulb go off in the surfer's mind and knew right away you had asked the right person. “Now that you mentioned it, dudette… I got a few ideas on how we can spice up your ride.” He smiled clearly, brainstorming.

—

Two hours later there your bike stood before you, it looked like a slightly skinnier version of the one you had back in… oh shit what state was it in last-

Anyways, the bike had kept its color, there was a bottle of poison as the hood ornament, barb wire ran itself down the spine, dark red rope was tied on the handlebars, but there were no petals. “Hey dudette? I think you're missing something.” The blonde pointed out.

“Mm, I don’t think so.” You smirked and gave the boy a hug for his help. “Thank you, I’m not exactly the best when it comes to making things look pretty.” which quickly earned an objection from your loving boyfriend. “Uh- then how do you look hot every day?” You flipped him off causing him to smile.

Geoff smiled “Of course, man. You and Bridgette were close and anything for her.” He said and ruffled your hair before walking away.

You went over to Duncan who was sitting on bike, testing it out. “Maybe they’ll call you Poison Ivy.” He laughed but quickly shut up once you kissed him. “Will you be my Batman then?” You whispered, touching his forehead with yours. “Ugh, I don’t wanna be the good guy,” he complained as you jokingly gave him a glare.

“Can we be Punch and Jewlee instead?” You smiled at that. Punch and Jewlee were like a much less toxic-version of Harley and Joker. They had alien tech, loved each other like crazy, and were also criminals who dressed up like circus acts yadda yadda yadda.

“Mm, yeah I think I’d be alright with that.”

“Couple costume for Halloween: unlocked.”

—

After you had gotten through the first challenge, which resulted with you and Duncan getting into the next one. You noticed something, your engine wasn’t starting, you bent on a knee and opened up the panel that let you see inside, you noticed wads and wads of gum stuck in there. Your eyes flickered upward to Heather and you growled, she had your bike last.

There was a knife in your hand in an instant and you had thrown it straight at her head which she just barely dodged. You tackled her before she could scream and held a different knife at her throat.

“I swear to GOD, I’m going to cut out every pearly white of yours so you’ll never be able to chew gum again,” you yelled at her. Chris stared at you with an amused expression. “Is it bad that I find this hot?” Izzy who had reappeared shook her head up and down very quickly, even though she was still smiling.

My parents gave me to the wolves when I was very young

By wolves I meant child-acting

I learned a lot of things from doing it though!

I learned which side of me looks better, the best way to lose weight, my favorite was how to combat vicious predators by beating them down, and one more thing.

TV producers are almost always predators.

-Izzy’s yearbook quote

Izzy was worried about you, she was always worried about you. The way Chris touched you, the way he looked at you, was not alright.

What she didn’t like whatsoever, was that Duncan didn’t do anything, you didn’t do anything, it was as if Chris had something he held over you both bending you to his very will. She despised that man, he was so much like her mother, so willing to let people get hurt for their own gain.

Evil, Chris McLean reeked of pure and utter evil.

Duncan pulled you off of Heather and forced you to walk away. Not before Chris grabbed your wrist, and smiled. “I’d love it if you do that to me, sweetheart.” He winked and you ripped your arm out of his grasp, and you were about to start screaming at Chris, god there was nothing you wanted more than to scream at Chris. Duncan slipped his hand over your mouth before he glared at Chris and stalked off dragging you with him.

Heather won, she pushed Lindsay under the bus though, god she should be happy you weren’t there, you honestly probably would’ve shot her dead. Owen wiped out so bad it’s not even funny.

But what all the fans were more focused on was what was happening in the Screaming Bass cabin. “Y/N what the fuck was that!” Duncan pushed you inside of the cabin and closed the door behind him. He forgot about the cameras, you both were going to pay for that mistake.

“Heather sabotaged my bike, I’d like to see her do something for once in her life.” You yelled yanking at your hair. “Then there’s fucking Chris who is actually going to get shot by the end of the season if he doesn’t learn to keep his hands to himself.” You wanted to scream, sob, shoot something, fuck something, god emotions suck absolute ass.

“Y/N, he has us here for however long he wants us here. Don’t you get it? If we screw up, even one time, we’re done, dead, we get life in jail before we can blink.” Duncan anxiously paced in the cabin.

“You are not the one getting groped by him, Tarun, there has not been a single breakfast where he hasn’t touched me, and personally I’d like a shower-“ Duncan cut you off with a glare and a menacing tone. “Do not forget that I’m under his reign here as well, sweetheart. He’s got creepy ass interns that will not relent.” Duncan’s eyes had bags under them, your eyes had bags under them.

—

Somewhere in New Jersey

“How far away is Canada?”

“I already booked us a flight.”

—

You wrapped your arms around Duncan and held him tight. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I thought I could protect us. You deserve to have a period in your life where someone is not constantly hurting you.” You whispered against his chest. He sighed and slowly wrapped his arms around you.

“I mean New York was pretty fun. We did nothing but hit bars, sing, and get drunk.” He admitted quietly. “Move to New York?” You held up your pinkie finger. “Yep.” He linked his finger with yours and you sighed.

“This is just not our week is it, princess?” He whispered, putting his chin on top of your head. “Well you better be prepared for a very outta control me after tonight.” You muttered with a slight chuckle. “I’m glad we’re both so traumatized we keep grieving to a one day thing.” He laughed.

—-

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—-

Three moments the cameras do not show

Breakfast that morning:

You smiled at Chef and had been asking him about his day, and how his two little twin girls were doing. When you heard an all too familiar whistle. “Hey sweetheart, how’s my favorite killer?” Chris pressed himself against you to grab an apple out of the fruit bowl in front of you. You stared at a point behind Chef Hatchet, your body going extremely tense. “I’m doing wonderful, Chris.” You forced a smile upon your face. He laughed and walked away.

Chef sighed. “Sorry kid.” He muttered. “It’s whatever.” You walked back over to your table and sat down next to Duncan as still as a rock. Duncan sighed, he knew better than to touch you. “I’m sorry, I am so sorry.” He whispered. You nodded curtly and felt the urge to vomit somewhere.

When Duncan was waiting for you to use the restroom:

A redheaded intern with extremely curly hair had stalked up to Duncan from his perch by the bathroom door, whistling. “Hey cutie.” She giggled and grabbed his arm much to his annoyance. “Woah you have such strong muscles, and you're so handsome.”

God, he wished he could pretend it was Izzy. At least then he could force himself to believe it was just a teasing sister-friend thing. But Izzy’s not like this, Izzy’s sweet and she makes you smile so that makes her terrific in Duncan’s eyes.

But there is nothing sweet about this internship. The way she looks at Duncan makes him shudder, the way she touches Duncan makes him want to burn his clothes, the way she describes how’d she get rid of you makes him want to kill her.

There is nothing safe about women.

There is nothing safe about men.

That night:

You had wanted to take another shower since you had gotten oil all over your hands and arms, so before you went to bed you had skipped over to the communal showers. But you had forgotten your PJ’s, which didn’t really bother you.

The other girls typically didn’t bring their clothes to the showers but you just wanted to get dressed as well as do your business one last time. As you had stepped out of the shower and quickly wrapped a towel around your body you stepped out of the showroom and began the short walk back to your cabin. You were almost there before you had seen Chris, your stomach twisted into knots.

“Ooh you look beautiful, babe. Any chance I could get you to drop the towel?” The producer begged. You grinned weakly. “You wish, hun.” You continued walking, but you felt a tug at the base of the towel, and suddenly it was on the floor. You turned neon pink and picked it up. “What a beautiful girl.” Chris winked and you realized he had done that. Your eye twitched as he left.

Duncan was not doing well either. He was waiting for you on the porch of the cabins, he was lacking a shirt, and was wearing his shorts like he typically did. Since he was bored because you seemed to be taking longer than you usually do, he began doing some push ups, but suddenly there was a large flash and a ton of giggles, his eyes flickered to the sound and saw a bunch of interns each holding cameras and each blushing, running away.

\His stomach swooped and he went into the girls side of the cabin and grabbed his sweatshirt off your bed and was pulling it over his back by the time you had arrived.

Duncan noticed your eyes were red, clearly from crying. You sat down on the swinging chair beside him. “I hate adults.” You whispered, clutching the towel to your body as if it was a shield. Duncan felt violated from those interns.

“Lucky you, I hate the interns so I guess we must be perfect for each other.” He joked, but you felt Duncan’s heart twist into knots just like your own.

His heart was just like your own.

-------

tagged: @lostsomewhereinthegarden

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melmac78 · 3 months ago

Text

Here’s part 6 of my USS Lexington story. I had to do some rewrites to the original because the original location didn’t work right (at least anymore: it’s based on my memory of the ship in 1994).

Pictured are areas mentioned in this chapter: chow lines (breakfast here, but they have lunch too), sick bay, medical storage area*, and engine room, and from the CIC tour, a porthole that uses the climate control to keep things cool, and model airplanes. The hallway I think is the loop around for lower decks.

(Note: this is where I’m having to start major rewrites, so… please be patient.)

Chapters: Five Four Three Two One

•••••

The rest of the day was a bit cloudy, but for everyone aboard the Lexington, there was quite a bit of fun.

Several of the groups were on the flight deck, looking at the planes and other artifacts.

A couple of the kids noticed a bit of water in one of the wheel wells and, thinking it was from rain, pretended it was the perfect dramatic landing for one of their toy planes they got from the gift shop.

A ship leader, seeing the mess they were making, ran up to them and stopped the action. They took them to a scout lead, but didn’t miss a college student also touching the water.

The scoutmaster made them put the toys in a plastic bag that he held out, scolding the boys that they needed to be cautious around the planes.

As far as the Tracy family, John took a nap and tried to eat a little bit more the others had brought down from the party in the break room.

He was able to eat a couple more of the seafood stuffed mushrooms and potato skins, washing it down with a Sprite.

Feeling a little bit better from both, he elected to again to the captains quarters and CIC tour.

If he decided to stay by a couple of the climate control ports to cool down a little bit every so often it wasn’t a big deal he decided,

Besides, there were a lot of model planes to enjoy, and it would take longer than a few minutes to see every one.

The others enjoyed other paths and then took a break to enjoy some of the other food in their quarters as a snack.

Grandma Tracy had elected to go off board for the evening and spend time with Kayo. She knew that the young woman was interested in eating at one of the restaurants on the ocean and spending the afternoon windsurfing at the National Seashore at Padre Island… if only because Sally’s bones had ached going up and down the ladders.

The cloudy evening turned into a slightly drizzly night, although for those who were still aboard for Lexington after it closed for the evening still had a lot of adventure coming.

Mess had come and gone, with the brothers eating various amounts of their meals. They spent the rest of the time of the meal visiting with campers and answering questions they had about the Thunderbirds. John was a bit quieter than normal, but would answer the few inquiries directed his way.

The cake was also well received after singing Scott the “Happy birthday song,” though Scott made sure that Virgil got all the credit for the idea.

The rest of the night’s events lead up to the big event - the scavenger hunt.

The campers, Tracy brothers and others were looking forward to this hunt as the top prize was custom-made dog tags.

Scott had a set from his days serving in the Air Force, however, these were done in the old typewriter embossed tin back in the 1940s. So, ever the history buff, he was looking forward to trying his luck.

The brothers paired off in twos, with the space brothers teamed up, then Scott and Virgil as a team.

Gordon ended up paired with a young woman who was interested in becoming a member of WASP so he didn’t mind being the odd man out.

The five teased each other trying to say who would win – though John reminded them that it could be anyone who won, including the other groups that were on the ship.

Jacob blew the start whistle, and each of the teams could go to any of the tour paths and any order they wanted to answer their questions.

Alan was so excited about trying to win this prize however, after the hangar deck questions were answered, he led John on the lower deck tour – the wrong way.

In spite of that, the two started the tour and just answered everything backward.

Made sense too as they realized the flow of the paths made this a wise choice.

Little did they know that going backward would be one of the best and worst decisions they could’ve made.

“OK, it says 'The crew’s mess hall served breakfasts X many hours per day.' Do you see the answer John?" asked Alan.

The astronaut narrowed his eyes as he looked at the display in front of him. "Yeah, it says '316'," said John, blinking his eyes. He wasn't sure if that was the right answer everything seemed a little blurry. *I should've brought my glasses,* he thought. He occasionally had trouble with his eyesight after spending a bit of time in space.

Alan however glanced over his shoulder and laughed. "Bro, that's the number of calories on the sausage," he said and, seeing the placard at the end of the line, wrote the correct answer.

John smiled weakly as he reread the number. "Yeah, you're right," he said, rubbing his neck.

The youngest brother paused seeing the older man’s gesture. He scrutinized his fellow astronaut, and his laughter faded.

“John... you sure you're alright?" asked Alan. "You've been acting odd since din - uh, mess this evening. Why don't you turn in for the night and I'll finish this up?"

The redhead shook his head. “No, I'm fine Alan. Besides, we can get back at Gordo for calling us space cadets," he said with a faint grin, looking at the display again.

The youngest Tracy laughed. "Yeah - just because he was in WASP and knows ships doesn't mean he's got this won," he said and started down the path.

John however stared at the Mess Hall display, as though a bit dazed. "Can you help me," he said to the mannequins, frowning when they didn't respond. "Hello, can you guys hear me?"

A squeaky voice broke through. "Very funny John - these don't talk like the 'captain' did in his quarters," said Alan, remembering the tour.

John shook his head, clearing it. “Right,… just making sure they’re not Autons… though they’d be better than the projected face ones,” he said.

The youngest smiled. “Yeah… ‘Doctor Who’ did animatronic plastic better,” he said, and checked his watch. “Look, we've got to hurry so we can win."

John nodded. "You're right, they just look real. Anyway, this is about a third of the way through the tour, and we've still got to go through the other routes…” he said as they headed down toward the sick bay area.

Privately though, John was worried something really was wrong. He still felt weak, even after the nap and food. John dismissed it initially, as that could be from the space sickness and not eating a lot in the mess.

Now he wasn’t as sure. His ears buzzed slightly, and while he chalked it off this time to the fluorescent lights lighting their path, he wasn’t so sure.

Then there was the fact John felt warm on the tour route, which was odd as he knew it was air conditioned.

"Then again, anything on the ship is warmer than the sleeping berth," he muttered under his breath as they stopped by the pre-op and operating rooms in sickbay to answer questions.

Alan asked him something, but it sounded slightly blurred. "Yeah Alan - it says they used ether and halothane for anesthesia," he said, looking at the machinery, "doctor" and "patient" in the surgery.

"Um... John, that's not what I asked. In fact that isn't even a question on the hunt," said the youngest, looking through the list.

Confused at the non-sequitur, Alan looked up at his older brother. Seeing John's pallor and dazed look, the teen gently, but firmly grabbed his brother by the arm. "Let's take a break - you look like you really do need one."

John nodded and leaned against the wall, running a hand over his face, wincing at the slight headache he had. "Good idea," he said tiredly. Seeing Alan's look of concern, he smiled. "I'm fine Alan..."

Alan scoffed in a way that closely sounded like Scott's. "Yeah, sure. John - you're a bit pale - well, more than normal, and your cheeks are still slightly flushed," he said, reaching out to check his brother's wrist pulse. "Plus, you're acting funny again, and I don't mean in the Gordon's failed joke way."

John shied away from the younger man's icy touch. "Funny? How?"

"Your answer listing two anesthetics to the question of 'How many towels are in the surgery'. You're never that far off on an answer, even concussed," said Alan.

The older man quirked an eyebrow at the remark. “Hey, it was interesting they had drugs that if they weren't careful could knock out more than the patient in the room," said John, shrugging.

"Maybe," muttered Alan, who was more concerned about the present day issue. "Look, I know you don't want to disappoint Scott, and want the 1940s style dog tags… even if for me… but…”

“But…?”

“But you can't keep pushing yourself too hard there."

"I'm not pushing myself too hard Alan,” sighed John, though he was doubting himself.

The youngest scoffed. "Bro, I love you but let's be real - astronaut to fellow astronaut. You haven't been at 100 percent since you came down from Five," he said bluntly. "You passed out in the living room shortly after you arrived home, then you almost missed this because you had trouble boosting up your levels….”

John reluctantly nodded. "I know - but I'm eating everything that you guys tell me to..."

"Not quite John. You only ate half your hamburger and one Oreo cookie out of six tonight - plus left the chips untouched," said Alan pointedly. "That isn't everything."

"You guys also made me eat the meal Elmo’s brought today ... about two hours before mess," retorted the older brother. “Then a few of the appetizers from Scott’s party…”

"That still isn't a whole lot John, even for you but…"

Seeing Alan pause for thought, John placed a gentle hand over Alan’s mouth.

Seeing the youngest twitch his nose in irritation, John removed it, and continued with a smile. "But this is Scott's birthday and I didn't want to disappoint him being stuck on Tracy Island,” he finished.

The youngest however was not convinced of it was worth his brother’s health.

"Yet Scott would much rather you be 'stuck on Tracy Island' than scaring him like you did yesterday," Alan said pointedly.

Seeing his brother start to speak, Alan put his hand up. "No John… you freaked him and Virgil out - not to mention Gordo and me - trying to take an unconscious header off the flight deck.”

John narrowed his eyes in challenged. "But - again - I didn't lose consciousness yesterday..."

Alan however put a hand on John's shoulder, making him look into his younger brother's blue eyes. "John… contrary to your opinion, you nearly did."

The elder Tracy paused for a moment, and then ran a hand through his bangs. "Not you too," he said, sighing in frustration. "Virgil told me his diagnosis after mess yesterday, then ordered me to lie down again for an hour before the evening programs. I still don't believe him though..."

"You need to John. When Virg said you looked worse than a zombie he meant it," said Alan, shuddering. "Bro, you really looked like the ones in my game - even I know that's too close to out cold."

The astronaut brushed it off. "But Alan, I'm feeling far, FAR better than yesterday. The rests and food have helped a lot," he said. Seeing his youngest brother give a skeptical look, he chuckled. "But, since you insist I'll snag some of Virgil's gummy bears when we get done with this part of the tour."

"Promise?" inquired Alan, quirking a skeptical eyebrow.

"Yes, I promise. I'll leave the white-eyed zombies for the video games," John crossed his heart, smiling as he glanced at his watch.

He then straightened up. "Look, we've got an hour to finish the hunt. We'd better hurry or Squid Kid could get the last laugh."

The youngest nodded reluctantly, but admitted that John's dazed look had faded. He smiled and patted hod brother on the back. "FAB John, but let me know if you need another break," he said, then snapped his fingers. “Of course, we can get a soda from the machine at the dining room area.”

The older astronaut nodded. “Sounds good,” he agreed, and they continued their scavenger hunt. They answered the questions for the Sickbay area correctly this time and continued.

After a few confusing turns in the chapel, leading them in circles and briefly going the wrong direction, the duo finally reached the hatch that lead to the engine room.

Alan frowned as he saw the notice. "Caution: Engine Room has low overhangs, narrow pathways and tight spots. Proceed with caution," he read and turned to John.

"Tight spots?" said John, wincing. He didn't want his mild phobia to set in.

Seeing his brother pale a bit however, Alan started putting together a possible issue and placed a hand on his shoulder. "John - if you can't handle small spaces with opaque walls, I can do this one on my own," he said.

Seeing John's surprised look, the younger man shrugged. "Going to bed or waking up in the morning not being able to see sky or stars can make anyone mildly claustrophobic," Alan admitted. "I've had some issues with it on this trip."

"Huh - you sawed logs all night. How did you get over it?" said John, amused.

"Slept on my stomach - the top bunk for some reason feels a lot like the rug on my bedroom floor that way," Alan said, chuckling. Seeing John was still indecisive, he gave a kind smile and gestured to the stairs. "But your call here bro - wait or go?"

The red-head shook his head. "No, I'll go. You might be 20 but that's ONE place we need the buddy system," he said. "Don't want you falling over the side into the engines - again."

Alan rolled his eyes as he started his descent. "Seriously, tripping over sofa cushions onto MAX does NOT count as falling into any engines," he said sourly, but seeing John crack a smile, joined in on the humor.

Once John reached the deck the two started on their scavenger hunt. As they walked through the path, John started to feel warm again - but this time it was different.

The path seemed to be a bit more uneven, and John had to steady himself several times. John dismissed it as minor buckles and floor imperfections caused by 118 years of tourists and sailors walking the paths.

Alan however was so interested in the large machinery and dials that he too didn't notice John's growing unsteadiness.

They reached a wall with wheels, valves, dials and other machinery. "EOS looks good," said John seriously. He was starting to feel even warmer and was confused as to what his favorite AI was doing on the Lexington. He half expected to start being pelted with bagels and have the gravity ring turned off.

Alan however hadn't heard the EOS part and chuckled as he touched the surface of one of the valve wheels. "Yeah, she does look good for 118 years old. Still - there's enough panels on this wall that they probably would've wanted something like EOS to control them," he said as he answered another question at that location marker.

John however was fascinated with the dials, touching a few to see how they felt. In his mind he thought he was really on Five, and wondering why EOS used holograms to look like a 1940s ship. The images kept switching from both themes, confusing him to the point he paused.

When John didn't move, Alan pulled his shirt sleeve. "Come bro, we're almost done, then we'll take another break before finishing up," he said.

The older Tracy snapped out of his hallucination and realized he was on the Lexington. He heard Alan's comments, slightly distorted. "Good, glad to hear," said John, nodding and they continued walking down a longer hallway that lead them on a catwalk over several larger engines.

Shortly after a jump… at least to John it felt there was one, they were in a hallway again, heading to the main crew dining area.

This was where there was a soda machine with refreshments he needed… he remembered, looking forward to another Sprite.

But… as they were heading through more of the medical area, John started noticing some was definitely wrong.

He paused when he realized Alan's voice sounded more like a literal chipmunk's chatter than his still slightly squeaky voice.

“That's odd," he mused and started assessing how he felt again - really felt.

John noticed he was even more tired than he had a few hundred yards earlier, even compared to the engine room, and on a normal, even path.

Looking down, he saw his hands were shaking slightly.

"Alan's right... I have low blood sugar again and need that Sprite," he thought at first, but then came a heatwave - and the trembling got worse.

The combination of the two then alerted him to a more troubling issue. "That's not right - I usually end up chilled," he thought as he looked at the hallway with a medical storage hatch not too far to his right.

It was still in front of him, but the now only sharp thing in the room in his vision.

The rest of the started to blur into a tunnel, growing darker...

It was then John had a moment of clarity. He knew those signs, having fallen victim to them a few times.

He wasn't hypoglycemic he vaguely realized - he'd eaten enough foods to stop that issue.

This was worse - and this time he wasn't going to escape its clutches.

"Alan... I-I n-need...rab-bits," he tried saying as loudly as he could, but it came out as soft as a whisper.

Feeling his muscles quiver, trying to keep himself standing on the narrow hallway, John realized then his estimation was drastically wrong and tried to prepare himself...

Alan however was looking at an answer, not sure if was correct. "Hey John, I think this is wrong. Do you think the X-Ray room…” he said, and paused hearing his brother murmur something wildly offbase.

"Rabbits? Bro, what? -" Confused, the younger Tracy heard a stumble near the hatch he passed.

He turned just in time to see John's eyes roll back as he passed out.

John had been trying to get to the wall to sit down when he collapsed, but fell backward and toward the right, landing in the netting.

While it kept him from hitting his head, when he kept sagging, most of John's weight fell into the net.

To Alan's horror however, the nets there to protect guests - several decades old, then started to tear under John's 180 pounds.

John landed on the plexiglass, which at its age started to crack under him.

"John!" shouted Alan, as the cracks got louder. Diving, he barely caught his brother around the legs and knees as the net tore fully.

Alan succeeded, if barely, keeping his older brother from going completely over to the floor 30 feet below them.

The youngest did shift slightly as gravity pulled John down until his knees were over the thin lip of the hatch.

Fortunately for John, there was enough clearance under the hatch to avoid smacking his head on any item underneathwhen he stopped being a human pendulum.

Unfortunately for John, Alan's position in saving the older astronaut made the younger essentially a human brake, unable to do anything except keep the duo from falling.

"John! Can you hear me?" Alan persisted, only to frown when his brother didn't respond.

Alan carefully worked himself into a position to try and help pull John back over onto the walkway, but quickly stopped when he felt John start to slip further over the edge.

Feeling his own feet slip on the flooring when he slide some, Alan turned his head to find a secure leg hold. The teen saw what was left of the guard supporting the net. It was not floor to ceiling, but any little bit until aid came had to be enough.

He then put his other leg around his ankle, putting himself in a variation of a figure four leg lock. He was able to reach the other side and hold on to it, creating a more secure human brake. The younger Tracy then readjusted his grip around John's legs.

Alan let out a slight sigh of relief as he kept hold of his senseless brother, but knew he couldn't do it indefinitely.

"OK, plan B," said Alan, who used a special whistle code he had Brains program into his watch to turn the communicator feature on. "Alan to Scott, Virgil - anyone," he said in his rescue voice.

Virgil's bass timber spoke up, chucking. "I read you Alan, did you get -"

The youngest just interrupted. "John's collapsed!"

The medic's tone abruptly changed. Alan never joked when it came to John's health. "Where are you?"

"Lower decks - sickbay - medical supply hatch - I'm hanging on to him," said Alan, grunting slightly when he felt John's body shift slightly.

"Hanging on? What..." said Virgil, growing even more worried.

"He's fallen halfway into the hatch. I have him, but can't move without risking him - and me - going completely over."

Scott, who was at the machinery fabrication portion of the route, started running through the lower deck tour. "FAB Alan - just hold on to him. I'm on my way," he said, into his watch. "Gordon, go find Jacob and tell him we have a man down in the lower deck tour."

"FAB Scott," said the aquanaut, who had been studying the "Pearl Harbor" movie display in the Foc'sle. He fortunately was near the end of that tour so he wouldn't have too far to run for supplies and help.

The medic, quickly followed his eldest brother. "Alan - I'm right behind Scott. How is John now?" said Virgil, who then heard some minor shuffling and Alan's voice.

Hearing no further response, he grew even more concerned that he might be treating two patients. "Alan do you copy? Is John awake?"

"FAB, I copy," said Alan, to his older brother's relief. "But John's still out like a light."

Virgil frowned. "You sure? You can’t see ..."

"FAB… I bit him to be sure."

The medic did a double take. "You *bit* him?" said Virgil, not sure if he heard right.

"Well, I've kinda got my hands full - how else am I going to check?" snapped Alan.

Virgil started to argue, then shook his head. Given Alan was holding onto John for dear life, he admitted it probably was the only thing Alan could do besides yell to test his brother's awareness level.

The medic continued. "Understood Alan, but don't bite him again," said the medic as the two continued running down the hallway. "When John starts coming to, keep him calm so he doesn't cause you both to fall."

Alan started to say something when he felt John again try to slip through his grasp. "Hurry Virg! I don't know how long I can hold on," he grunted, holding on tighter and praying his brothers got there in time.

8888888888888888888

Three minutes later, Scott and Virgil quickly approached the area. “Alan, give us an update on John," said Scott as he passed by the Missing Man table.

"He's moaned softly a couple of times, but that's it," groaned the youngest, pained. The discomfort in his shoulders and legs securing his brother was agonizing, but he vowed to let his joints dislocate first before risking John's safety.

The two older brothers frowned as they continued down the hallway. "He should've come to by now," said Virgil.

"Why hasn’t he?" asked Scott, thinking space sickness and the long night before took its toll.

"Not sure," said Virgil, having thought of at least 10 more serious reasons at the moment. "Of course Alan can't really tell if John's woken up though…”

The pilot nodded grimly, understanding. "Let’s get them safe first..." said Scott as they arrived. They froze in their tracks briefly, assessing the scene.

Alan was on the floor and using his weight and grip on thin - but bolted down, pieces of metal to secure John's legs, doing what he could to keep his brother from becoming a pancake.

John's legs from the knees down were the only part visible on the high walkway. Leaning over the hatch, they saw John was upside down facing the an empty, but no less deadly, 30 feet or so header to the floor. Between his lax face and limp body language, John could almost be mistaken for a washcloth hanging from a laundry line to dry.

Scott and Virgil were thankful Alan was there to catch his brother, but worried as it had been several minutes since John's collapse with no known signs of awareness.

The oldest Tracy shook his head and quickly walked forward. "Alan, we're here," he said as he reached for John's legs, hoping to lighten some of the strain on Alan. "Did he hit anything going over?"

Alan by then could only whimper slightly in pain from his locked muscles. Scott pulled a MiniMAX from his pocket he had used to take aerials of the ship, and launched him to assess the situation below them.

Virgil however carefully stepped around his youngest brother and got on John's other side. He knelt over and unabashedly grabbed the waistband of John's Bermuda shorts and what fistful of shirt he could grab safely.

The man paused in the action - he had to be sure before risking further injury to John. "Scott, what did MiniMAX find" he said.

"The area under the hatch is clear. John couldn’t hit anything. Still unresponsive," said Scott.

"OK Scott. Now, this isn't the way I'd like to move him but we have little choice," the medic said. "On the count of three, you and I will pull John up and adjust positions until I can get him around the ribs to turn him onto the hallway."

"What-about-me," said Alan, who finally caught his breath as Virgil lessened John's weight.

"Keep a hold of his legs and pull as we lift," said the medic gently.

Scott nodded as he knelt down to assist. "FAB Virg," said the pilot and on three, they carefully pulled up their brother. Virgil would grab as much of new shirt as their brother's position changed.

Once John was high enough, Virgil had Alan move out of the way so the two older brothers could carefully remove their ill brother.

Getting a firm grip, Virgil was then able to reach around John's shoulders and head safely. The duo then gently turning a further 45 degrees, gently laying John on the hallway floor.

After dragging him a few feet back to not risk anyone else falling through the hatch, the medic then checked John's vitals.

“His pulse is fast and his skin is hot," said Virgil as Scott lowered the storage hatch. "He might have heat exhaustion."

Scott nodded. "We need to move him to a cooler location," he said, lifting his watch. "Gordon, meet us at the medical storage hatch near sickbay. If Jacob is there, ask he get…”

"FAB - Jacob is getting the trauma kit. I’m on my way with a stokes if needed and a first aid kit,” said the aquanaut as if reading Scott’s mind.

Scott looked at Alan, who was sitting behind Virgil, and rubbing his shoulder and knee. "Alan, can you help us carry him?" said Scott. "Three people would be a more secure way to get him to safety."

Alan nodded weakly. "Yes, but I'd suggest I just help with his legs," he said. "I think I've hurt myself stopping him."

The eldest frowned. "Any other injuries - you or John?" asked Scott again.

The youngest shook his head in negation. “He just hit the net. Kept him from hitting his head… just not landing on the plexiglass,” Alan said.

Virgil nodded. "I'll check it and your shoulder too after we get John sorted out," he said.

Alan nodded as the two older Tracys got on either side of their unconscious brother. Virgil put his arms under John's armpits, protecting his head. Scott put his arms underneath John's lower back and knees while Alan secured their brother at his ankles.

On the count of three, they lifted their brother, who gave a mild groan but didn't do much else. "Easy bro, you're safe," reassured Virgil, though he had a feeling John couldn't quite hear them yet. If the man did though, Virgil didn't want him to panic being carried.

They carefully moved John the rest of the walkway to an open area and placed him on the ground, trying to make him more comfortable.

Then they saw Gordon coming down the hallway. “Jacob’s ETA is about 4 minutes.”

"Understood Gordon," said Scott as he used what was in his water bottle to cool his younger brother.

Gordon kneeled next to the group as Virgil reassessed John's condition. "How's John?"

Virgil frowned as he finished checking John's pulse and eye response. "He's a bit too warm, possible heat exhaustion," he said, concerned as he and Scott then moved their brother onto the metal stretcher. "We've got to lower his temperature down."

Gordon nodded, pulling out a small cooling pack from the first aid kit as they heard running footsteps. Turning, he noticed Jacob run to their location with the larger kit, which would contain more, and larger, instant ice packs.

He then knelt next to the group. "I've closed this path to the other groups so they don't interfere," Jacob said.

"Thanks," Virgil nodded and opened up the rescue box, pulling out a cooling packs to place on John’s pulse points.

Jacob then gently grabbed John's wrist and checked his pulse. He was a certified EMT just in case there was an accident on the ship. "Gordon said you had a man down, but what exactly happened?"

Alan took a breath and explained as he helped Scott place cooling pack behind his insensible brother’s neck. "John and me were in the sickbay hallway doing the scavenger hunt… when he all of the sudden he passed out," he said. "I had to keep him from falling to the bottom of the medical storage hatch..."

Seeing Alan’s shudder, Jacob decided to distract the younger man. "Any other injuries - particularly you?" asked the ship leader gently.

The youngest brother shook his head uncertainly. "May have strained my shoulder and something in my knee… but Virg's going to check it out," he said.

"I can help - I'm an EMT," said Jacob, who gestured for the youngest to come over. He gently checked the injury as he continued. "Was there anyone or anything else affected?"

"A set of security nets tore under his weight when he fell. The plexiglas also broke, so you’ll need to replace them and check the others for age before reopening that display," said Alan, hissing slightly at the elder's ministration.

Jacob nodded. "Right now, I'm thankful they worked long enough for you to keep him from falling in," he said.

Privately, the “hangman’s humor” of his EMT side stayed mute.

Jacob had fun with people talking about the ghost in the engine room during the ghost story part of the event.

He didn't want that to actually become fact…. Even if the incident was higher up.

Feeling Alan shiver in memory, the ship leader cleared his head of the darker humor, then gently put a hand on his shoulder. "Looks like nothing's seriously hurt,” said Jacob. “I'd say use an ice pack on it and take some aspirin tonight."

Alan nodded while Virgil again took his John's vitals and checked his temperature.

He smiled softly. "The cooling packs are working some," said the medic.

As if in reply, John groaned and stirred some, partially opening his eyes.

Scott leaned over and smiled. "Hey John, how do you feel" he said simply, wanting to check John's reaction.

The astronaut winced at the metal under his back and sighed. "Fizzy," he said almost deliriously. “Am I in sick bay?”

Virgil shook his head. "Not exactly. Do you know what happened?" he said.

John tried concentrating, but it was too hard for him. He understood enough between that and the “fizzy,” feeling what that usually meant.

"I fainted… pretty certain... in the near a hatch heading from sickbay… I think?" he said, more as a question than statement.

"Yes, you did," said Virgil. "Alan called for help and we got you to safety."

The astronaut however didn't understand and winced. "Still so tired though..." he said, closing his eyes to rest.

"You're going to be - you know what fainting spells do to you," said Virgil gently, much to Jacob's confusion. "John has had issues in the past with low blood sugar."

Jacob furrowed his brow. "Does he need a glucose pack?" he asked, looking through the IR medical box.

The medic shook his head. "I don't think his collapse was from that, not with the past two days being as rough as they’ve been for him," said Virgil.

“Heat exhaustion?”

“Possibly. I think it's space sickness combined with the heat," said Virgil, putting a hand on his brother's cheek to check his temperature. "Look we need to move him back to the berth to cool him down more in private. Is there a way we can get him there with the stokes?"

John cringed… “Don’t wanna stokes,” he muttered.

His plants went unanswered as his brothers continued.

"Or having the Scouts save Sam freak out seeing him," said Gordon. Seeing Virgil's look of disapproval, he shrugged. "What? - It's true."

The ship leader however merely nodded. "Sure, there's an old sailor path through this part that leads to the berths. That's how they'd get to their stations during the service," said Jacob. "You gather up your supplies and I'll lead you through them. Most of them are air conditioned as well so they'll help cool your brother off."

The medic nodded. “Thanks," he said as he and Gordon adjusted the cooling packs on their brother. "OK John, you get to go for a little ride now,” he said, as Virgil and Scott moved him to the stokes.

John looked at his brother blearily. "Great - I hate being carried almost as much as EOS with bagels…” he said groggily.

He however then sighed as the packs cooled him further, appreciating the cool temperature against his warm skin. "Though it's worth it if she has the same coolness in the gravity ring..."

Jacob quirked an eyebrow. "You *sure* you don't want me to take him to the hospital?" he said.

Virgil also shook his head. "I don't think it's necessary. He's just more susceptible to exhaustion than the rest of us because he works in space so much.”

“But EOS…?”

“A private joke between us regarding TB5,” said Virgil. They didn’t want the AI’s existence to be known. “I think he needs just rest and fluids.”

Scott nodded. "I trust Virgil's assessment - he wasn't out long. We should be able to treat it here," he said.

The ship leader nodded. “Aye-aye - just keep me in the loop in case you need me to assist further,” he said. “My radio is on all night.”

The four conscious Tracy brothers finished gathering their items and tucked the kit onto the stokes at John's feet. On the count of three, they gently lifted the stokes, hearing their brother mumble some in protest, but didn’t try to get out.

They followed Jacob through a series of halls that lead them to the women's head and doorway to the berth, not noticing someone else was in those halls.

After gently maneuvering the basket through the doorways and down the stairs, they entered the sleeping quarters.

John still rested quietly, if a little bit annoyed as Virgil and Scott helped transfer John to his bunk.

Virgil sat on the floor next to John, who had dozed off again, and checked his vitals. "His temperature's down another couple of degrees. We can reduce the packs some so he doesn't get too chilled," he said, starting to remove them. "We'll have extras on just in case they are needed again."

Alan nodded and bundled the packs in an unused bunk to be ready for reuse while Gordon gave Virgil a light blanket to swap it out.

Scott took a close look at Virgil's reactions when he gently lifted an eyelid to check John's awareness level. "He is asleep right?" he said quietly.

Virgil nodded. "Yes, but it's a little restless physically - probably because his body is in shock from the heat and tumble," he said, adjusting the blanket over his brother.

"Could it have been exacerbated because John's pushed himself too far to come here?" asked the eldest. He felt guilty not telling John to wait a day and move TB5 to lower an elevator there instead.

"Maybe, but Scott… it isn’t your fault you know. Between yesterday and the late night and weather today…” said Virgil, but then shook his head, choosing to not continue. “Too many factors.”

He pulled out a gel pack for John's forehead and placed it on his head to gently cool it down. "As long as he stays cooling down, we’ll stay the night.”

Virgil then yawned and looked at the time. It was Tattoo, nearing the time they'd have to go to bed anyway. "Guys, we may as well turn in ourselves. I'll stay watch for the first few hours and we can swap out just in case John wakes up in a panic," said the medic.

The others nodded. "FAB Virgil. If you need us anytime, holler," said Scott.

The four uninjured Tracys, along with the Boy Scouts, college students got ready for bed and laid down in their berths. Within a half an hour they were fast asleep.

Little did they know in the next few hours, their trip through history was going to make some more history...

*A note - very minor liberties were made to the hatch: I don’t remember if there was a ladder in it or not, so I went headcanon 2060s there’s not. This is however reversed tour.

#melmac78 observation #thunderbirds are go #gordon tracy #virgil tracy #john tracy #scott tracy #alan tracy #Thunderbirds Are Go fanfiction #TAG WIP

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sorinethemastermind · 20 days ago

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Fluffcember 2024: Fairy Tales | Rayllum & Sorvus & Clauderry Callum is determined to ask Rayla to be his girlfriend this Winter Break. But if he can't even start a fire, how is he supposed to create the perfect moment? Soren has decided to stay on campus this Christmas, but with Rayla and Callum as his only company, he's starting to feel like a third wheel. Except maybe it's not just the three of them left on campus after all. Meanwhile Claudia is trying to have a nice Christmas with her family, but maybe her family isn't at home...

It got cold, fast. Callum shivered inside the blanket he was sharing with Rayla. The four of them had gathered in Soren’s room, since it had the most floor space (which was code for it had the least furniture) and Corvus had brought his space heater. But it was eating through batteries fast, and they all knew it would flicker out soon like the rest of the power. They just had to hope that they would be able to figure out how to fix the breaker before then.

Soren and Corvus had gone down once to try and figure it out, but neither of them were electricians, and the trip had been ultimately unsuccessful. So they had gathered back in Soren’s room to regroup, warm up, and bide their time.

“-n the third night, the steps returned.” Soren was saying, using a flashlight to illuminate his face. “One step. Two steps. Three steps. Four. Thinking it was just another camper, he rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. But just minutes later there was a clatter! And he opened his eyes to find-”

“Soren, this is a ghost story.” Rayla interjected.

“Yeah. So?”

“So we were telling fairy tales.”

“Well I don’t know any fairy tales. I mean, Clauds used to watch Snow White a lot.” Soren amended, rubbing his chin. “But I don’t think that’s really what you’re talking about.”

Rayla cleared her throat, taking the flashlight from Soren and switching it off. Everything plunged into darkness except for the faint glow of the space heater between them.

“Many winters ago, a shoemaker lived in the town of Selkirk, and there he made shoes. His shop was right beside the church, and one early morning he was visited by a stranger. They asked that a pair of shoes be made for them and delivered at that same early time on a specific day. The shoemaker made the shoes, and the stranger returned to retrieve them at the arranged time. All seemed well.”

Rayla paused long enough to make the hair on the back of Callum’s neck prickle. The silence was unsettling, and dragged on until she continued, her voice quiet.

“Now the customer was very strange, and the shoemaker was curious to see where they hailed from. Selkirk was a small town, and he knew everyone. But he did not know the stranger. So he followed the man on that dark winter morning, up to the church and behind it, to the graveyard. And he watched as he disappeared into one of the graves.”

Soren leaned over to Corvus, hand cupped around his mouth and whispered; “How is this not a ghost story?” Corvus shrugged, and Rayla shot them both a glare.

“The shoemaker was carrying the awl he used to make the shoes,” she continued, a little louder, before dropping her voice low again. “And so that he could find the grave again in the light, he left it there. The next morning he returned with the other villagers and they opened up the grave. But inside the coffin was only a pair of new, unworn shoes. The shoemaker took them back to his shop and thought that the end of it.”

“Now is the part where she’s going to say but.” Soren whispered to Corvus.

“But-” Rayla said, loudly. “The next morning the stranger returned, angry, claiming that the shoemaker had stolen the shoes and that, more than that, he had made the man a subject of gossip. He seized the shoemaker and dragged him back to the graveyard.”

“And then he slayed the ghost?” Soren asked.

“And the next morning, when the sun had risen, the villagers found the shoemaker's dismembered body atop the grave he had disturbed.” Rayla said cheerily, clapping her hands together as she finished.

They all stared at her. Callum blinked.

“I’m afraid I must agree with Soren.” Corvus said. “How is that not a ghost story?”

“It’s an old folktale my Dad used to tell me when I was little.” Rayla said, stubbornly. “So no, it’s not a ghost story. It’s to teach little kids not to poke their noses where they don’t belong.”

“Or not so little kids.” she gave Soren a pointed look.

“Hey, where have I been poking my nose?”

“You’ve literally walked in on Callum and I every time we tried to have a romantic moment!”

“It’s not my fault you choose public places to be all soppy.” Soren shrugged.

“We were in his bedroom.”

“No, you were in the shared part of Callum’s room.” Soren pointed out. “I would never just walk into Callum’s bedroom without knocking.”

Rayla sighed, turning to Callum. “Has he always been like this?”

He nodded. “Actually, he’s gotten better. When we were kids he would just walk into my bedroom without knocking.”

Rayla rolled her eyes. “Alright, I guess that is improvement, then.”

“Just don’t dismember him.” Callum said. “Please. I would never be able to explain to Ezran.”

“Like she could dismember me.” Soren said, flexing. “I don’t need protecting. Look at me.”

Corvus turned a little bit red in the face, glancing away. Callum looked between the two of them, then over to Rayla, raising an eyebrow. She grinned mischievously at him.

“Why don’t you two go and take another look at the breaker, Callum and I will see if we can find any more batteries.”

“Sure.” Soren pushed himself to his feet, oblivious to their schemes. “Corvus?”

“I’ll be right behind you.”

#fluffcember #fluffcember 2024 #modern au #my fic #fandom event #soren tdp #corvus tdp #sorvus #callum tdp #rayla tdp #rayllum #rayla fic #callum fic #rayllum fic #soren fic #sorvus fic #corvus fic

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emilsgrippers · 8 months ago

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A little peekaboo at my TD AU I’ll b posting soon..it’s gonna be horror..ish…

“Being the first eliminated wasn’t fun, but there really wasn’t anyone to blame but himself. For the past five days, it had been just Zeeke and four other eliminated contestants on ‘Playa Des Losers’, those contestants were; Eva, Noah, Justin, and Katie.

Nobody really talked to him, especially not Eva or Katie, but he was fine with that, he understood he had really messed up with what he said.

While he assumed that night to be as boring as every other, just sitting by himself and catching nasty glares from Eva, something else happened. The boat which he and the others were eliminated on pulled slowly through the dark water.

Everyone was quickly there to see what it was all about..were they going back into the game? A second chance maybe?

No. This wasn’t the case. But, a pretty woman was driving the boat. She had long blonde hair and a tight red dress on. She had large hoop earrings, and atop all of that, she adorned an almost mischievous smile.

Without saying a word, she motioned everyone onto the boat.

“What’s this about?” Katie asked as she stepped onto the boat and plopped down next to Eva, who pulled her arm away from Katie.

“Are we going back?!” She smiled hopefully at the woman. Zeeke waited for the answer aswell. He wanted to make it up to the girls..and, well, he still wanted the million!

“No,” she answered, starting to drive the boat again.

Zeeke heard Justin scoff from next to him. “Well, we are going back, but you guys,” she pointed accusingly at the teens. “You guys don’t get to participate.”

She turned back to the wheel. “Chris said you guys need to be very cautious when you’re back on the island. And no helping the campers with their challenges!”

“Their challenges?” Eva and Noah repeated. The woman nodded.

“According to Chris, they’re ..’facing their fears’.”

Justin sighed. “Well, facing your fear would be better than losing the chance at one million dollars!”

The woman let the boat stop, so it was just bobbing tediously in the water. She turned to look at Justin, her smirk practically gone.

“No…not in this case.” “

‘Face your fears’ coming soon when I get it all finished up ^__^

#total drama #tdi #tdi ezekiel #katie td #eva tdi #total drama noah #justin td

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loggiepj · 2 years ago

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FORBIDDEN

Part 7 | Part 8

Part 9

AT THE CRACK of dawn, Pietro and Y/n journeyed on horseback towards Steve's camp, with fresh supplies in tow they disguised as merchandise if ever the encounter with a Deviant couldn't be avoided. The two had also disguised themselves as traders, with Y/n pretending to be a man.

News had somehow reached Y/n's ears that Deviants were looking for someone with Y/h/c hair and Y/e/c eyes; they were looking for her. She knew he was looking for her.

As a precaution, Yelena and another Avenger scouted the pathways last night to assure the roads were clear from any surprised attacks.

The entire camp was devastated when they found out what Deviants were doing to witches they had captured. The team was hesitant to reveal the information at first, but Y/n knew they deserved to know the truth, so they'd know the urgency of rendering more rescue missions even when winter was still at its peak.

Wanda took the lead on gathering more volunteers from her kind, teaching them what she knew and telling them that some humans could be trusted too.

This didn't go well with Vision when he found out about the unjust slaughter. He immediately complained, even raising anger along his peers, that all humans should be punished for what they have done. If Wanda weren't there to oppose his actions, he could create a mutiny within them.

This was what led Y/n to ask Pietro about Vision. Not because he was Wanda's soon-to-be-husband, no, Y/n reminded herself. But it wouldn't hurt to ask. Wanda deserved to be with someone good regardless.

"Tell me something about Vision," Y/n said.

"Mm?"

The snow wasn't too deep along the main road; the sound of their feet, the horses' and the wheels from their small cart scrunching against the soft ground filled the air. Y/n hesitated, hoping to let the sudden question go away. But she knew she wouldn't have the chance to ask Pietro alone later since he was always with Wanda or his friends.

"Is h-he . . . Is he a good person?"

Pietro sighed, immediately thinking about the reason why Y/n was asking. He thought she was worried about the camp's safety.

"You don't have to worry about him, Y/n," he answered, giving her a pursed smile. "He may be arrogant and self-absorbed, but he can be trusted. I even think he's softening around the others, too, if you ask me." He chuckles.

Y/n forced a laugh; jealousy rumbling in her stomach. She didn't bring it up anymore, settling on the fact that Vision and Wanda are together and she wouldn't let herself come in between. She's not that kind of person.

Upon reaching Steve's camp, which was a small terrain as compared to the main headquarters, Yelena was already there chatting with someone by the entrance. Four women were standing and giggling beside her.

When Yelena saw Y/n and Pietro approached, she waved to the others. Yelena holding one of the woman's hand made Y/n realize her bestfriend was urging the woman to come along with her.

"Hey, Y/n. Hey, Piet," Yelena greeted them. She instructed them to park the horses and the small cart in the courtyard outside the great hall, the camp's own pavilion. Smaller tents and wooden sheds were set up next to it. "Steve's just finishing up some work in his shop." She pointed at one tiny shed beside the hall, with a furnace on top bellowing smoke to the air.

The place had lesser campers, mostly rescued witches who would be transferred later to the Avengers' main camp. Y/n had only been in their camp twice, thrice counting now. It almost looked identical to the headquarters, with Steve and Bucky, his brother, wanting to make it look like home. It almost felt like Y/n never left.

Yelena jumped giddily as she placed her arms around Pietro and Y/n's shoulders, pulling them to meet the women standing before them — the witches Steve had told them about.

"Hey, lovely ladies. Let me introduce you to my friends. This strapping handsome man here is Pietro," Pietro smiles shyly as he waved his hand, "and this is my bestfriend Y/n, the one I told you about."

Y/n's face flushed red as she stood there awkwardly and smiled, avoiding the eyes of the women swaying in front of them. Steve was right. They did have that aura of allure Y/n couldn't place. It was as if anyone who'd stare longer at them, they would be ensnared with desire.

Well, except Y/n, of course. She was already enchanted by a certain witch who answers to the name of Wanda. Her entire being was already ruined by the witch's presence in her life. How Y/n could still exist knowing that the person she wanted most in this world already belonged to somebody else was a wonder to her.

"Piet, Y/n, these are Monica, sisters Nebula and Gamora," Yelena winks at the last one, "and Kate."

When one of the witches attempted to walk forward heading towards Y/n, Y/n stepped back.

"I thought you were a man at first," the witch named Nebula said, brushing a strand of her own hair over her ear. "I've never had a woman before. I heard they're great lovers, insatiable under the sheets."

"Now, come on, sis," Gamora appeared right beside her, invading the normie's personal space. "Don't be selfish. We can share." She brushes the collar of the tunic Y/n wore. "And two is better than one, if you know what I mean."

Y/n forced a nervous laugh as she ducked and quickly stepped away from their grasp to escape. "Excuse me, ladies," she said in a hurry as she pulled Yelena to the side, leaving a confused and glaring Kate behind.

"What are you doing?" Y/n hissed in a whisper. "We're just going to provide the supplies to Steve. And then we're done."

"Steve says it's fine. Plus, you need loosening up. And the witches like it, Y/n. They love pleasuring people as much as they get pleasure from it. It's not like a brothel—"

"I don't need loosening up."

"C'mon, Y/n," Yelena massaged Y/n's tense shoulders, "have a little bit of fun, we still have a spare time before Steve finishes the concoction he's making. And the sisters seemed nice."

Y/n and Yelena looked back behind them and the witches were already staring at them, smiling seductively.

"No," Y/n said firmly, shaking her head. She pulled Yelena with her as she led them to the shed where Steve was.

"You used to do these with me, Y/n."

"What? Galloping around brothels to brothels. We don't—"

"Okay, when you say it that way, it sounds worse."

Y/n only grew silent. Like a bulb lighting up inside Yelena's head, a smirk slowly spread on her face. "Wait, is this because of a certain witch waiting for us back home?"

Y/n's breath hitched. "What? No, it's not because of Wanda. She's just a friend."

Yelena only laughed, clapping her bestfriend's back. "See? I didn't even mention her name, yet you concluded it was her I was talking about."

Y/n's eyes suddenly widened, realizing her mistake. She couldn't think about how to protest against her accusations.

Thankfully, Steve came out of the shed, with a small burner and two vials containing a murky liquid in his hands. "Oh great, you're all here."

Yelena only groaned in annoyance, followed by Pietro, who was already wrapped around by Monica.

All of the excitement vanished the moment Steve led them inside the camp's own infirmary, where a few patients, witches and humans alike, were lying on bed, injured and immobile.

"What's wrong with them?" Yelena asked, pointing to a few barely moving, with bodies wrapped around in bloody bandages.

"The last mission they went to was horrendous. They barely made it out alive. Deviants had been brutal, their weapons laced with venom." He raised the vials he brought with him. "I have been making a serum to cure them, even just to lessen the pain they feel."

"Y/n got stabbed before," Yelena said. "But Pepper was able to heal her."

"Jane had tried all means." Jane was the healer in Steve's camp. They saw her busily tending to one patient at the corner, an old woman, who was groaning in pain. "That one over there, we rescued her from a carriage. She's an elder witch, a rare find in the eyes of a Deviant."

"Elder witch still exists?"

"In hiding." Steve nodded. "A few of them though. But I think she's dying along with other normies."

"Maybe, Pepper can help," Y/n suggested. "Maybe, she knows more spells."

WHEN THEY returned to the main camp later that day, Y/n immediately headed to Pepper's hut to ask her. It wasn't hard to convince the witch to help, but Y/n could see a moment of hesitation in Pepper's eyes. But she could just be imagining it.

Later that night during dinner, Pietro immediately shared some details about their visit — the famed enchantresses — to his friends. Eventually, it reached his sister's ears. Even Vision seemed interested, giving vague hints suggesting himself to volunteer for the next mission.

Wanda glanced at Y/n, who had her head down the entire conversation. She wondered if the blush on the human's face was of a seductress' doing. But she didn't stay long enough to find out.

Y/N ACCOMPANIED Pepper back to Steve's the very next day even when the sun had barely made it out of the horizon. They were disguised as men so as not to attract any passerby's attention, even when they knew no one was up at that time.

The disguise didn't work on Wanda, her eyes following Y/n's movements as the human arranged her hair in a tied bun underneath her cloak, keeping her hair inside. Y/n still looked like a beautiful woman in Wanda's eyes underneath all the clothing she wore. Wanda was blessed with a quick display of the human's sculpted stomach before she inserted her tunic into her trousers and fastened a belt around her waist. There was a moment when not a single thought crossed Wanda's mind but of Y/n's lean figure underneath her garments. A forced cough from Pepper brought her out of trance, making her cheeks red when she realized she was actually ogling over Y/n.

Wanda shrugged her silly thoughts aside, then stiffened when she suddenly remembered about the witches Pietro had shared to the group yesterday.

"Wait, I'm coming with you," she said, volunteering herself. Y/n could only furrow her brow in confusion but before she could complain, Pepper was already throwing Wanda another pair of men's clothings her way.

The moment was tense and silent when Wanda and Y/n rode on the back of the horse together, the witch sitting behind the human. The horse's stability made Wanda glad she wouldn't have to rely on holding unto Y/n. But when they encountered a tricky pathway, the sudden gallop made Wanda grip tight around the human's waist. She could hear Y/n laughing in front of her and when Y/n turned to look, asking if she was okay, there was a swift moment where Wanda savored the look of happiness on Y/n's face before she playfully slapped the back of her shoulder.

It took Y/n a second to calm herself down when Wanda slowly wrapped her arms around her stomach and stayed in that position for the remainder of the journey, her forehead or cheek sometimes pressed against the human's back. Y/n prayed the sound of the horses and surrounding noises from the early hours of the morning could hide the loud thudding of her own heart.

Wanda savored every second of it, grateful Pepper was riding ahead of them. She terribly missed the human. She missed the wonderful nights she had spent with Y/n and longed for them to happen again. Sometimes, she'd find herself leaning unto Y/n's back, breathing her in, treasuring her warmth, prolonging the feeling. Her mind filled with thoughts, pretending for just this moment that this was real, that Y/n has reciprocated her feelings.

No matter how amazing the ride was heading to the destination, Wanda still couldn't help but feel jealous when one camper immediately approached Y/n the moment they arrived in Steve's camp.

Pepper immediately went ahead, before someone blocked Y/n and Wanda, stopping their tracks.

"Hey, you came back," a female witch said, slowly approaching the two. Y/n waved and smiled at her. "Maybe we can continue where we left off yesterday. Luckily, my sister's still asleep, so I'll have you all to myself. Ohh, and you've brought a friend. How nice."

Consumed with inexplicable emotion close to rage, Wanda pulled Y/n away from the witch's grasp. "We're here on a mission, Y/n. We have no time for you to make sheep's eyes at."

Y/n eagerly followed Wanda, or let herself be dragged by her. "I'm not here for any of that."

"Yeah, lie all you want. But I can see it in your face."

"What? There's nothing on my face."

Wanda gave her a quick glare. "You're as red as a tomato."

Y/n scoffed. "I am not."

"Yeah, keep it in your trousers for the rest of the mission, maybe."

"What? You're being mental."

Wanda stopped walking, which made Y/n bumped into her back. She turned to face the human. She was about to open her mouth to retort but the close proximity between them suddenly rendered her speechless, her own heartbeat starting to race. Her line of vision drifted towards Y/n's lips, craving to have her thumb brush over the lower lip just to gain access, hoping she'd have the courage to taste Y/n and claim her.

Y/n wasn't faring much better; she could literally smell the wonderful alluring scent that she knew only the witch possessed. The closer they were, the more certain Y/n was in wishing she could just take Wanda, kiss her and make her her own.

When Pepper called out for them to follow her to the infirmary, they jumped apart in an instant.

"What took you so long?" Pepper asked the moment the two entered the tent.

Wanda let out an annoyed sigh. "This one right here is a philanderer."

"It's not true," Y/n immediately said. "I barely even talked to Nebula."

"Oh, Nebula, the girl has a name. And for your awareness, you were this close to bedding with her." She demonstrated the length of the distance by her thumb and forefinger, showing only more or less an inch.

"This is outrageous. We're not even standing that close. And I didn't even acknowledge her advances."

"You smiled at her."

"I was being courteous."

"What a load of rubbish! Courteous or aroused?"

"Stop arguing like a married couple," Pepper said, breaking them apart. "Some of the patients are still resting."

Wanda immediately stepped away from Y/n as she calmed herself down, her arms crossed over her chest. Pepper was partly right. She was acting like a jealous wife, when she had no right to any of Y/n's business. Y/n could literally have any of the witches outside and Wanda shouldn't care. Fuming, she walked towards the end of the tent.

When Wanda passed by one of the bed, the occupant, an old frail woman, suddenly bolted upright and pulled her wrist, surprising her.

"You."

Wanda looked behind her before turning back as she stared at the woman in confusion. "Me?"

"You're the offspring of Iryna Maximoff. The Scarlet Witch."

Wanda glanced at Y/n, Pepper and some witch she could assume was the healer of the camp, who were still discussing about the spells, not noticing their interaction. She turned back to the injured woman and nodded.

The woman's pupils were suddenly gone; her grasp on Wanda's wrist becoming tighter each second that passed.

"Be wary;

Not everyone is what they portray to be;

To end the great war between flying foxes and soaring eagles,

A red spider lily will come after the devil's kin."

Then the woman collapsed on her bed, her body shaking violently. The healer and Pepper immediately ran to the patient's aid while Y/n towards Wanda.

Y/n held Wanda's hand. "Are you okay? What happened?"

Wanda couldn't reply, her eyes widening at the scene before her.

The woman eventually stopped moving. The healer Jane checked her pulse. After a moment, she let out a sigh.

"She's dead," Jane announced.

Author's note:

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