mdni 🃏 second in command!reader is back and is very pissed off…
you’ve grown accustomed to the plush mattress of the master suite on the princess andromeda — despite never sleeping on it.
you know the best combination of pillows to pile up under your back when luke props you up onto the headboard so you don’t feel that ache in your lower spine from the awkward angle.
you know not to sit too close to the edge of the bed — more towards the middle, so that when luke spreads your thighs so far apart you can feel the burn in the crease of your groin, your knee doesn’t knock against the edge of the nightstand and make you hiss into his mouth.
you know not to grip the fitted sheet between your knuckles because it always comes loose from the mattress whenever you do, so instead you squeeze luke’s hip, scratch on his back.
you also know that the bruises on his knuckles aren’t from inflicting pain on other people, but from slipping his hand in the space between the headboard and the wall to cushion the banging noise that comes from his persistent thrusts into you. you know the blood stains on his t-shirt aren’t from a nasty battle, but from that time you bit into his shoulder so hard you broke skin.
you know that if his right hand twitches at his side, you should ready your spear for a fight, but if his left hand stars twitching, you should start loosening the straps of your armour.
but while you’ve committed all these little ticks to memory, luke remains unpredictable. sure, you know how to decipher the looks he sends you, and what combination of movements will make him cum the hardest.
but when you meet with the newest gaggle of demigods that have deflected from camp half-blood, it becomes a whole new playing field.
because that used to be you — quiet, unsure, new. desperate to please the man who would be your leader. but none of these people could become the next you, because they didn’t know the things you did.
right?
surely not.
but then luke starts sending them on missions — the same ones you went on before you got promoted to better things. he starts waking up earlier so he can watch over their training modules. modules that you used to run, but now he is insistent on taking over.
you weren’t stupid. so which one was it? was it the perky daughter of aphrodite? the rugged but submissive son of ares? which one was luke keeping that special eye on? which one got extra special attention, better missions, time alone with luke in the state room?
you shouldn’t be as bothered as you are — but it’s not jealousy. no, it’s just…worry. you worked too hard to get where you are for some newbie to come along and ruin it for you after two weeks on the ship. they didn’t deserve what you had.
that much was made abundantly clear when luke put you in charge of an extraction mission in washington. what a fool he was, picking the newbies to join your team. they weren’t ready for something so taxing. it took almost a month before you were sent on your first extraction, what was so special about them?
it appeared tyche was on your side that day. you were too angry to think rationally and just went in swinging, not a care for strategy or form. and even though luke’s new bimbos provided zero help, you managed to wrangle yourselves out alive and successful.
you stormed your way back onto the andromeda without so much as a glance in their direction. straight to the state room, straight to where luke was waiting for a mission report.
“did kronos smack you upside the head?”
well, you weren’t giving him a report. you were done — he could do whatever he wanted with his new toys, you didn’t care. but don’t send them on missions they aren’t ready for just because they’re an easy lay. your words were sharp talons, just like he’d taught you — and he stood there and took it. face placid, hands in his pockets, calm and quiet until you were done.
and when you were, he laughed.
that asshole laughed at you. perfect teeth on display, sword swinging as he rocked on his feet in complete hilarity. you could tuck your tail between your legs and walk off, let him dump you.
or you could remind him of all the things you know — all the things his warm bodies would never learn, because they weren’t you.
you’d only seen such visceral shock on his expression once, and that was when percy jackson highjacked the boat. this time, however, it was because you had folded your arms, tilted your head, and told him to take off his pants.
and he did — ah ah, slowly. he unbuttoned his cargos and pushed them to his ankles, all the while holding a sick smirk and even sicker eye contact.
and just before he could remove his shirt on your command, he huffed, “just so you know. i wouldn’t take orders like these from anyone else but you.”
you never did see those demigods again.
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Prompt:
A whole ass zombie apocalypse wasn’t something Jason thought he’d ever have to worry about.
Not that he has to worry about it now, either, considering he just got bit.
Everyone knows what you gotta do in these scenarios. Your loved ones will cry (“awe, Dickie, you do care”), they’ll try to find a different way (“shut up Bruce. Even you can’t concoct a cure in two hours”) and blame themselves (“fuck you, Timmers, I want you to know I died because you wanted that damn coffe!”…. Yeah, he could have handled that one better in hindsight) and then, ultimately, they’re gonna put a bullet in your brain. For the sake of the group.
And it’s fine, really. Better than turning into a mindless, flesh eating meat sack. He was ready. He got to say goodbye. It’s fine.
Or it would have been fine, if any of those damn cowards had pulled the friggin trigger.
Now Jason is clinically semi-dead (don’t ask him, he doesn’t know how this shit works either) and still annoyingly in charge of his mental faculties while also harboring a rather concerning craving for human flesh.
Fuck.
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honestly i hate how that “maybe the curtains are just blue” post has become shorthand for anti-intellectualism and shit bc as someone who has an utter passion for media analysis now, I WAS THAT PERSON IN HIGH SCHOOL ENGLISH CLASS.
english class never taught me how to analyze stories, it taught me how to remember what things the teacher said were “symbolism” and how to take quizzes where we had to match a quote to the character who said it. i didn’t give a shit about any of it, bc literally why should i. it was bullshit.
there’s this idea online that people are forgetting or rejecting what they learned in english class when they’re bad at media analysis, and maybe that’s a little bit true, but i think the much bigger problem is they never learned it in the first place. cinemasins & “maybe the curtains are just blue” aren’t convincing people to abandon an intellectualism they already had, they’re filling a void.
when all you learn in high school is to write on the test “blue = depression”, why is it surprising that so many people don’t give a shit about the curtains.
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