#hero angst

[chaotic-orphan]

Hey! Excitedly waiting for the next intoxicating fear update, no rush tho take your time:)

Intoxicating Fear (XV)

A foreboding calm

Part one // Masterpost // continued from here

If you noticed Kit’s face-claim change, ahahah… no you didn’t ;)

~*~*~*~*~*~

Ambrose didn’t come back for days. Kit didn’t have any of the strange headaches, there was nothing. No shred of contact. No stupid texts, no phone calls, nothing.

It was eerie. Strange.

Kit had to re-learn how to be a person again. How to exist without the constant threat of violence or pain, or Ambrose. The further they got away from Friday, the greater Kit’s anxiety grew that Ambrose would come back.

It was a quiet Saturday, too quiet. Kit woke and checked his phone to see if Ambrose text but nothing. It was… unsettling. As if there were tiny ants crawling through his veins and scurrying along his nerves pulsing to see if they could sense Ambrose’s presence lurking.

Every electric pulse of stranger’s nerves sending signals their brains prickled Kit’s fight or flight just in case it could be Ambrose. He couldn’t escape it in the shops, walking down streets, on the metro, in his apartment block because he could feel someone walk up the steps to his floor… and walk right past it.

He couldn’t seem to relax, to find any sort of peace on his own. Music didn’t help not even when he blared it on max volume in his ears. Tv shows barely served as a distraction and by the time Sunday rolled around Kit decided he needed to go back to work, just to be somewhere he knew Ambrose couldn’t ambush him.

That’s what found him staring at the Hero Tower as he emerged from the sea of commuters. He took the overground train on the raised train tracks that ran through the city. The Hero tower loomed above them all in the old-town, inner district at least. Maybe if they built it in the business district there would be some competition. Maybe it wouldn’t look as impressive.

It still managed to make Kit’s thoughts turn static, almost mute, as if he was staring out at the sea, bare feet on the sand and listening to the waves come in and out.

Even with all the cars and honking noises of the city’s traffic. Kit disentangled himself from the bustle and took the revolving door into the lobby of the Hero Tower, and for the first time in days? Weeks? months, he felt safe. The familiar smell greeted him with a sudden burst and he almost sighed at the scent. It smelled refreshing, clean, but not to the sickening degree of a clinical, hospital smell. It was more personal, more like a showroom in a beautiful house on the outskirts of the city— that was definitely outside his budget— would smell of.

A small voice in his head said that it smelled like how Mentor’s house smelled when he was a teenager, but Kit ignored it and continued to the lift. It was directly opposite the lobby entrance and had a keypad in front of it. Kit lifted his hand to key in the passcode when tanned, lithe fingers beat him to it.

Kit’s alarm system had alerted him to the individual approaching him, but it was the smell of the pungent cologne that identified them.

“Well, well, well Mallory. Risen from the dead. Poor Superhero was worried sick,” a voice dripping with mock concern slithered from his left. Kit tilted his head up to watch the numbers on the lift drop, ignoring the idiot.

24, 23, 22—

“Are you sure you’re able to come back to work? We were coping just fine without you, Hero of Heroes.”

“I figured you’d miss me if I stayed away too long, Sawyer. God knows what other poor soul you’d make suffer your company.”

The doors opened and Kit stepped towards them, but it was Sawyer who got in first. Seeing Sawyer’s weasel-like face put a dampener on Kit’s mood. Sawyer had a long face, with a pointed nose and long thin lips that were always a little bit unsettling. Not to mention his mocking jade eyes that judged your every move.

Though, to Sawyer’s credit, he wasn’t Ambrose, and Kit joined him in the lift with that reassurance, pressing the button for his floor.

“Just the atmosphere when you were gone was so refreshing, Mallory. It was as good as the academy days after you left. Everyone was happy, not having to look at the moping orphan and listen to his poor excuse at humour.”

Kit leaned back against the corner of the lift, as far as he could get away from Sawyer and let out a small scoff of a laugh.

“I’m sure they got plenty of laughs out of seeing your ugly mug everyday.”

“Wow, playground insults,” Sawyer deadpanned, swiveling his head to Kit. Kit smiled. “What’re you? Five?”

“Outta five.”

Sawyer scoffed and looked back to the numbers go up in the lift.

To be fair to Sawyer, he wasn’t a bad looking guy. He had a sort of elegant charm working for him, with his slicked back hair and strange features. It was mostly his personality that was hideous, cold and distant like his powers. His shadows always kinda creeped Kit out, even in their academy days. That fear seemed laughable now; compared to Ambrose… Sawyer was a saint. Not to mention the fact that Sawyer was actually a competent Hero, unlike Kit.

“The class prodigy. The crème de la crème,” Sawyer said. “The poor orphan graces us with his presence. How marvellous a day. Aren’t we all blessed?”

“I’m not feeling very blessed to have to stand this close to you, pal,” Kit retorted, smiling sweetly at Sawyer. “Especially in such a confined space.”

Sawyer scoffed. “You’re so full of shit, Sparky.”

Kit shrugged. “I eat a lot of fibre.”

Kit barely had time to enjoy the retort before a giant, shadowed hand slammed against his chest and pinned him to the metal wall behind him. His head bounced off the metal on impact, but Kit didn’t make a sound or struggle. He just stayed still as Sawyer closed the distance between them and slammed a hand beside Kit’s head, leaning in even closer.

Sawyer’s smile was lopsided as he stared down at Kit, but his eyes burned like two coals. “You don’t even know what it’s like for the rest of us normal, mere mortals, do you?”

Anger flared hot in Kit’s chest and he was about to retort when Ambrose flashed into his mind and he faltered.

“Us heroes and villains, we’re all where we are today because we didn’t fit into the normal life…” his silver tongued voice repeated in Kit’s mind. “A normal person would be dead if they had that much electricity coursing through their body.”

“God,” Sawyer said with an exasperated sigh, pulling Kit back into the moment where he was. In the lift, with Sawyer, at the Hero tower not basement where Ambrose kept him chained. “You’re not even paying attention are you? What? Too good to respond to me now? Hey!”

Sawyer slammed his hand on the wall again and Kit flinched. Wide eyes shot to Sawyer’s black and it was as if all oxygen had left the lift and Kit was horribly aware of the confusion that was painted clearly across Sawyer’s features.

The shadowed hand dissolved from Kit’s chest but he didn’t move. He stood frozen. Sawyer the headlights, Kit the deer.

Kit never flinched.

Never.

Not even when they were in the academy.

Not when Nemesis beat the shit out of him and told him run back to whatever whore he crawled out of.

Not when he was assigned his first mission as a hero in training under Mentor.

Sawyer’s eyebrows drew down over his eyes. His voice softening as he asked: “why—”

The ding of the lift snapped them both out of a trance and Sawyer jumped back to the other side of the lift, hands behind his back and staring at the doors as they slid open. Kit did his best to appear normal too, though the heaviness in the elevator was suffocating.

Kit’s eyes flicked up to the floor number, 19, then went to the doors that were to reveal Tides. Kit’s heart stopped seeing her. She smiled at the two of them as she stepped into the lift.

“Hello boys,” she said in her bright happy way.

Kit swallowed, trying to force moisture back into his mouth while the doors closed again and Sawyer asked Tides what floor she was getting off on. His tongue was heavy and felt like sawdust, and practically scrapped his already chapped lips instead of soothing them, because Tides was the Hero who was with Kit on the docks that day.

She would have to remember Ambrose, right? Unless he made her forget, but did he even have time to do that? A million thoughts zoomed through Kit’s mind, some too fast to even catch because what if she remembered? Could she help him? Could he tell her about Ambrose, describe him even if she didn’t? Probably not with the fucking conditions of Kit’s freedom cemented into his brain and… Kit’s glanced at Sawyer from the corner of his eyes, whatever that was.

The lift stopped again at floor 27 and Sawyer walked out, saying bye to Tides, and it was just Kit and Tides left. Tides worked out of the same floor as Kit so they could ride the lift up together. This was his chance. He had to say something.

It was Tides who spoke first. “I’m happy to see you’re feeling good, Kit,” she said, and Kit looked at her. “Superhero said you had a bad flu.”

“Yeah,” Kit began, then cleared his throat. “Yeah. It’s good to see you actually, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about that night on the docks.”

Tides turned her body to face him, resting her back against the opposite wall. “Of course. You saved my life.”

“Do you…” Kit began, but trailed off. How was he going to word this? “Do you remember the Villain we were fighting?”

“Of course. It was Omen.” The words hit Kit’s chest like a freight train. She remembered! She knew! That would make explaining his current predicament so much easier. “He’s…” Tides began, but shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself, a distant glaze coating her eyes. “I still have nightmares about that night.”

Kit’s heart lurched in his chest because he knew exactly how she felt. He knew exactly what being Ambrose’s puppet felt like. As if she was covered in a layer of dirt that she couldn’t shake, like a film of grease around her entire body and inside of her, violated. A small voice wondered if she flinched at the thought of Ambrose too.

“Can you explain the feeling?” Kit asked, voice gentle. Tides’ bright green eyes found his, almost pleading.

“Kit…” she said instead, reaching forward and wrapping her hand around his forearm. “I know you must be thinking about Mentor and how he felt, but you can’t let vengeance consume you. Omen is a monster, you can’t torture yourself with this. We’ll catch him.”

“It’s not—” Kit began but the words caught in his throat and he wanted to curse. He ran a shaky hand through his hair and let out a sigh. He let out a huff of a breath and lifted his gaze to meet Tides’s green eyes, “it’s not about Mentor. It’s about you. About… why he was there that night, on the docks. When there was a co-ordinated attack on the city.”

Tides hummed thoughtfully. “You think Omen recruited a group of Villains to attack me on the docks?”

Kit shrugged. “Maybe not Omen,” he said as the lift doors opened again onto their floor and the pair stepped out. It doesn’t seem like the kind of thing Ambrose would do, he didn’t exactly seem like a team player. “Maybe some other Villain is pulling the strings.”

“Have you told Superhero this?” Tides asked, flicking her dyed pink hair over her shoulder.

“It’s just an idea that’s been bouncing around my head,” Kit told her honestly. There was something about that night that he felt like he was missing. Some part of the puzzle that didn’t quite fit. It almost seemed like Ambrose was waiting for him, but then again… his reaction to Kit the other day was strange, so maybe not Kit? Maybe he was waiting for someone else.

Tides pulled him out of his thoughts as they rounded the corner to Tides’s desk. “I think you should clue Superhero in on your theory. Maybe he can help you paint a fuller picture.”

“Yeah,” Kit said with a nod, moving to leave. “I think I will. Thanks Tides.”

Tides hand shot out, wrapping around Kit’s forearm stopping him in his tracks. Her smile was reassuring, as she said: “and Kit, seriously, don’t beat yourself up about that night. You saved me. Remember that.”

Kit swallowed a scoff.

Oh he would remember if he could, if Ambrose hadn’t taken that memory from him. He just smiled in reply and squeezed her hand on his arm before stepping back. Maybe Tides was right, he thought, walking straight to Superhero’s office, he could use a second opinion on all of this.

He couldn’t talk about Ambrose or Omen, or what he did to Kit personally, but he could talk about it in a roundabout way. He was sure he’d find a way. Ambrose wasn’t always flawless in his commands, Kit proved that when he was able to stay in his childhood home, he’d find a path through if he was careful.

Superhero’s office was half a flight of steps above all the other desks that the normal heroes worked out of. It’s walls were made of a tinted glass which meant that he could see out but you couldn’t see in. A good security measure for the boss, Kit remembers Superhero telling them with a self-depreciating laugh when the architect was installing the new glass.

Kit remembers humming in response, watching as Mentor’s normal two-way glass was removed and couldn’t help but feel the difference in authority immediately after Superhero took over.

Now, Kit didn’t really care what kind of wall Superhero’s office had as he climbed the short flight and walked into the office without knocking.

Superhero wasn’t alone, and Kit felt a conversation die as he entered the room. “Oh, sorry,” Kit said, standing in the doorway. “I didn’t realise you had company.”

Kit met Superhero’s bright eyes over his guest’s head and he made an effort to smooth out his pinched up features. He offered Kit a smile, “not at all, Kit.”

The suit Superhero was deep in discussion with turned his body and smiled when he saw Kit. Kit offered a grin back, letting the door close behind him.

“Kit,” Mr Silver said, taking Kit’s outstretched hand and clapping his other hand to Kit’s elbow, squeezing it reassuringly. “How have you been?”

Kit shrugged, patting Mr Silver’s shoulder in return as they let go of each other’s hand. “Good, good. It’s good to see you, it’s been a while.”

“Indeed it has,” Mr Silver replied with his smooth voice. “You’ve already made your mark on the city.”

“Wouldn’t be able to if people like you didn’t keep it running,” Kit shot back. Mr Silver wasn’t a hero, but he was a gifted individual. His power lay more in his mind than a physical, typical Hero power. He had a gift for patterns, facts and numbers, all very cerebral he told Kit when they had first met. Mentor had taken Mr Silver on as a liaison between the Hero agency and the government, but he was more like a family friend than business associate.

Kit looked between Silver and a disgruntled Superhero, who was trying very hard to hide his expression below a pleasant façade. “What’re you doing here today?”

Silver straightened his posture, inclining his head a little and Kit’s eyes went to Superhero and back again. “I’m sure Superhero will fill you in on the details,” Silver said, fixing his suit jacket. “I think that’s my cue to leave, Superhero.”

Superhero smiled with thin lips as he nodded politely to Mr Silver. “Of course, Mr Silver. Always a pleasure.”

Silver raised his eyebrows as he passed Kit, and Kit frowned, following the man with his eyes. Silver opened the door and paused just before he stepped out, glancing back to Kit, his features conflicted. “Give Mentor my best when you see him again, Kit.”

“I will, Silver,” Kit told him earnestly. Silver smiled before he left the office and closed the door behind him. Kit’s head snapped to Superhero who had his back to Kit, hands on his face, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“What was that all about?” Kit asked, watching as Silver walked through the office towards the lift and press the call button.

“Bureaucratic bullshit as usual,” Superhero said with a huff behind him. Kit turned to face Superhero once the elevator doors opened, fixing his gaze to Superhero instead. “I need a cigarette.”

“You’re a hero, Superhero,” Kit told him lightly. “You can’t save the world if you’re out of breath rescuing kittens.”

“Mmm, a drink then,” Superhero said, walking around his desk and settling heavy into his chair with another sigh. He opened the bottom drawer and pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels and two glasses. He raised his eyebrows to Kit who shook his head in reply. Superhero shrugged and poured two fingers of whiskey, almost slamming the bottle onto the table.

“Why was Silver here?” Kit asked, taking the seat in front of Superhero’s desk, reclining into it.

Superhero shook his head, as if it was too serious a subject to remember. Kit stared at Superhero expectantly while he gulped down the whiskey in one shot.

“Jesus, Superhero, are you okay?”

Superhero shook his head, going to grab the bottle again. “What did you need?”

Kit watched as Superhero poured out three fingers of whiskey and screw the cap back on the bottle before reclining into his seat.

“Uh, yeah, I was just talking to Tides on the way up about a theory I have about the villains uniting.”

Superhero paused, eyebrows furrowing, casting deep shadows over his already deep set eyes. “Thank god I’m already drinking,” he said, tone anything but humourous. “Continue.”

Kit leaned forward in his seat and began, careful to avoid saying anything about Ambrose. “I don’t think the day Tides was attacked on the docks was a coincidence. That the attack just happened to coincide with the attack in first and in the business district.”

An unreadable expression flashed across Superhero’s face, more like how it was when Kit walked in on him and Silver. Kit almost winced at it, and said after: “listen, I don’t want to pile shit on your plate—“”

“No, no,” Superhero said with a sigh, leaning forward too and setting his glass down on the desk. He rubbed his eyes with his palms and let out another long frustrated huff. Then he looked up at Kit almost sheepishly. “How did Mentor do this for so long?”

Kit’s face broke into a sad smile. “I honestly don’t know.”

“He made it all look so easy, even the government visits.”

Kit licked his lips, the question written all over his face. Superhero scoffed and shook his head before standing and walking to the window that overlooked the office. He stood there, looking onto the floor like a disappointed parent. His hands on his hips, shoulders slumped, head dipped slightly.

“Silver’s not really the government, though, Superhero,” Kit said standing too. He didn’t join Superhero by the window, instead he turned and sat back against the edge of the table, crossing his arms over his chest. “He’s part of the regulatory—”

“Regulatory Office of Powered individuals,” Superhero said over Kit, cutting him off. “Yes thank you, Kit. I know.”

“So what was the problem?”

Superhero sighed again. He was sighing too much. Too despondent. Did Silver say something bad? Has he noticed something that the world was skimming over? Something substantial?

“He said the same thing you’re alluding to, something I don’t want to know about.”

Kit straightened, his stomach bottoming out. “What?”

“There’s something big coming, apparently. Some new villain in town that has been, as you hypothesised, recruiting villains to a common cause.”

Kit’s mind raced at the information, his mind too slow to process it. Was he right? Was it Ambrose? Omen? Was he organising a group of Villains for god knows what?

“Do you know—”

“No, nothing,” Superhero said gravely. A soft slightly hysterical laugh burst from his lips. “We’re barely managing now, Kit. I don’t think the Hero agency will survive this! It’s ridiculous. Nobody wants to become a Hero after what happened to Mentor and most people have either resigned like cowards or decided they want to keep their powers to themselves.”

Kit frowned. “What do you mean? When I left the Hero academy it was—”

“Full? Yeah.”

Kit bristled as Superhero turned to face him again, expression grave. Superhero walked over to the two armchairs at the far side of the office, settling heavy into one of them.

“You were one of the last classes to graduate. Well,” Superhero paused, eyes flickering almost sardonically to Kit’s, “not you obviously, what with Mentor taking you in.”

Kit ignored the silent accusation in Superhero’s voice as he said that, but it must have been written plainly on his face.

“No, no, I don’t mean— in a bad way, Kit. You were the best in your class, obviously Mentor would take an interest in you. You’re a good kid. A good hero. A good guy. Everyone likes you, I just…” Superhero continued with a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

Kit swallowed, sensing the tension that was weighing Superhero down. He walked over to the armchair opposite Superhero and sat down.

“What is it?”

“Some parents pulled their kids from the academy after Mentor was attacked.”

Kit stared at Superhero. He hadn’t heard this. Surely Sawyer would’ve told him, or someone would have messaged him to tell him.

Sawyer’s words replayed in his head: “Just the atmosphere when you were gone was so refreshing, Mallory. It was as good as the academy days after you left. Everyone was happy, not having to look at the moping orphan."

Maybe he misread his friendships at the Academy. Maybe they all just secretly hated him but Sawyer was the only one with any guts to tell him to his face. Or maybe someone did reach out and tell him but he couldn’t remember because of Ambrose’s stupid compulsion.

“But… what?” Kit blurted out, bewildered. “Why? I don’t understand.”

“Mentor was a symbol more than a man, Kit. He was hope. It wasn’t just a dark day for you when he was attacked. The city mourned with you.”

Kit swallowed the lump in his throat. This wasn’t at all how he expected this conversation to go. That’s what was wrong with Superhero, he had lost hope, but Kit didn’t— well, he didn’t know the current situation was so bleak.

You didn’t know because Ambrose didn’t want you to know.

“But you’re Mentor now, Superhero,” Kit said, his voice insistent. Superhero lifted his head, eyes wide like a boys. “You’re the new symbol of hope. We can stop this new villain like we’ve stopped every villain before them. Together.”

Superhero let out a breath of startled laughter, running his hand back through his hair.

“Who’s supposed to be who’s support again?”

Kit stood from the chair, shrugging with a charming smile and said: “I’m the Hero for Heroes, remember? That includes you.”

Superhero laughed, shaking his head.

“One good press release and you’ve already let it go to your head.”

“What can I say? The people love me. The masses love me. The heroes—” hate me “love me. It’s so hard to be everything for everyone all at once.”

“Uh huh. How about you do some work instead of talking me to death?”

Kit paused once he opened the door to the office. “If you need another psychiatrist session you can always come to me.”

“Get out before I kick you out," Superhero said and Kit laughed as he left, closing the door behind him. He descended the steps with the smile on his lips until he got to his desk and sat down, facing the small partition. Only then did he let his concern morph his features, safe from anyone else's scrutiny.

Superhero's worry was more than just the standard concern for the city. The very Hero profession could be at stake if they didn't find and stop this new villain on the scene, and Mentor had worked far too hard to let it all be for nothing.

He needed to talk to Ambrose, find out what the bastard knew. Only then could Kit plan properly… but after Ambrose stormed out of Kit’s apartment he had been quiet as a mouse. Kit could only hope that he would drop by again.

*~*~*~*~*

Orphanage roll-call (lmk if you wanna be added or removed): @beatenbruisedandbloody @404lunar1216 @whumpyworld @nameless-beanie @andithewhumper @annablogsposts @whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer @rejectedbytheempty @sleepy-pearl @n3rv0usn0v4 @whumpatize-me-captain @sunshiline-writes @burningkittypoet @honeyed-euphrates @sacredwrath @theonewithallthefixations @acer-gaysimpstuff @m3rakii @xxgalgurlxx @princess-bubble-blossom @blood-enthusiast @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @andtheysaidspeaknoww @dutifullykrispyland @mononeigbour @tippytappytyping @stefaniesblogs @shinokoro

#intoxicating fear #hero villain writing #hero villain snippet #hero villain story #hero #whump writing #villain #writblr #whumpblr #Kit Mallory #Ambrose #Omen #superpowers #superhero story #Hero whumpee #villain whumper #tragic backstory #obviously #orphan #superhero #the world is on fire #emotional whump #angst #hero angst #superhero angst #worldbuilding #hero agency #Kit is pretending everything is fine #everything is not fine #my writing

[patchworkorphan]

The Hero and the Infant: part one

Is this title my cheeky little nod at EPIC the musical? Absolutely, enjoyyyyy!

*~*~*~*~*

The heroes came running when the world was on fire. They always came running. Hero was at the bar, where they always were, watching the news. A neat whiskey clutched between bandaged fingers.

The door slammed open. Hero didn’t have to turn to know it was Superhero’s sidekick. “Hero –”

“Not interested.”

“But Villain –”

“I know. Don’t care,” Hero replied. Daryl, the bartender, shot Hero a look and Hero pretended to not see it.

Sidekick sat on the stool next to Hero and ordered another: “whiskey; neat.”

“Mmm, I love being bribed,” Hero smiled, winking at Daryl.

“Villain’s destroying the city.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“And you’re here, drinking.”

“Perceptive,” Hero purred, taking the whiskey glass from Daryl and pouring the honey liquid of it into their glass. “They’re a minor,” Hero whispered to Daryl conspiratorially.

“I’m not.”

“Well, then. You’re on the clock. Can’t fight crime if you’re impaired.”

“And yet somehow you manage.”

“Somehow, I’m always called in on my day off. Blame your boss for disrupting my plans. Not the other way around, sunshine.”

Hero took a sip of their drink. In their peripheral vision they saw Sidekick turn their body to face Hero. Mmm, getting serious. Hero loved serious Sidekick. It’s like a puppy trying to be mean.

“You know Villain best –”

“Bullshit. Your Superhero knows them longest.”

“Villain likes you best,” Sidekick amended, and Hero nodded.

“So? Are we match making heroes and villains now? Is that Superhero’s excuse, hmm? Will that same explanation slide if I come up against a new villain?” Hero put on a high-pitched voice as they said: “oh I’m sorry superhero. This new villain’s rising sign is Virgo. I’m a Scorpio, we’re gonna clash.”

“This is different, and you know it.”

“How is this different? Because your beloved Superhero says so? Are you just a little dog with no mind of your own? Does Superhero whistle and you come?”

“I’m not here to trade insults, Hero. God knows that could well be your superpower,” Hero took the words as a compliment as the kid continued: “I’m here to ask you to help me stop people’s lives being ruined. Normal people’s lives. Fuck Superhero. Fuck villain. Fuck the whole fucking system. I’m here to ask you, to help me. Please.”

Hero looked at Daryl and Daryl looked at them. Hero rolled their eyes and tipped their head back, the whiskey running hot down their aching throat. Then they stood. Empty glass on the bar. Hero shrugged their trench coat on and patted Sidekick’s shoulder fondly.

“Pay Daryl for me will ya? And a big tip, for the inconvenience. See you tomorrow, Daryl,” Hero waved over their shoulder. Whistling as they walked out the door of their local pub.

“Thanks Daryl,” Sidekick said, paying the man and leaving a generous tip.

“Thank me all you want kid. Hero’ll just be back in here after the fight. It’s good to see them getting out, even if it is under these circumstances. Y’know ever since –”

“I know, Daryl. Thanks.”

“Later kid.”

Sidekick followed Hero out the door, where Hero was waiting a lit cigarette hanging from their lips.

“So,” Hero asked, flicking their zippo lighter shut with a satisfying click, shooting Sidekick their signature lazy smirk. “What’s Villain up to today?”

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

#hero x villain #writblr #hero villain writing #hero villain snippet #hero villain story #hero #villain #villain x hero #reluctant hero #superhero #bad superhero #Sidekick #superhero sidekick #alcoholic hero #sad hero #poor hero #angst my beloved #angst #light angst #hero angst #hero villain angst #traumatic past #superheroes #neglectful mentor #neglectful superhero #bad hero #bad mentor #The Hero and the Infant #Orphan #orphan writing

[breakintomyhead]

kel n hero angst art

yall they are complex characters too

#omori #omori angst #omori kel #omori hero #kel angst #omori hero angst #hero angst #omori kel angst #angst #omori mari #omori spirit mari #spirit mari #whiteboard fox #shitty art program #shitty art program art #heromari #mari

[krakenshaped]

IM UNSTOPPABLE RAAAAAH

#wip #heroshipping propaganda #comic wip #rubs my hands together nastily #KRAKEN MAKES EDO FEEL HUMAN EMOTION 2 UNDERWATER BOOGALOO #colour pallets a bit dark tho #note to self lighten this bitch #haha you thought it was going to be utena redraw #but it was me! #HERO ANGST #my art #heroshipping

[esperosisdoeswriting]

Prompt #590

"But you're just a child," [Hero] seemed to deflate as [Child] stood in front of them, mask affixed firmly to their face. "You shouldn't be doing this! Regardless of the power you possess."

"I know that," [Child] spoke, their voice young, too young, "But I don't have much of a choice. Waiting until I'm older isn't an option for me. Because after what they did to me, I'll never be older."

[Hero] felt their breath catch in their throat, "What do you mean?"

"This power comes at a cost," [Child] wilted, "It'll rip me apart before my 16th birthday."

[Hero] felt horror flood through their body before it was quickly replaced with rage, "Who did this?" they seethed, "Who did this to you?"

[Child] tiled their head, "Do you really not know?"

"No. But if you tell me, I'll make sure they pay."

[Child] silently considered them for a moment before speaking words that made [Hero]'s world shattered.

"[Hero Orginization]."

#writing prompt #prompt #angst #hero angst #heroes and villains #evil hero #good hero #hero prompt #villains and heroes #writing #writblr #angst prompt #esper prompt

[redd956]

Mini Angst Prompt 10

"What happened back there?! What is wrong with you-"

"I don't think you understand the severity of this situation if you're asking me what the hell happened?" Leader pushed Hero into the wall, balling up Hero's collar between their clenched fists.

"I don't understand."

"Supervillain will kill you. They'll kill us all if we don't get this right."

#angst #hero angst #leader angst #dialogue prompt #angst dialogue #mini angst prompt #mini angst prompts

[hero-deserves-to-be-happy]

🖤👀 please?

(Also, can I just say that I love the "hot take" part of your blog image, it's so funny. Hero? Being happy?? Unprecedented!

Aww thank you so much for your ask and for playing our “Hearts for Hero” headcanons game! We really appreciate all of your support and are working on your other ask as well. We apologize for the delay on that one. It is taking a little bit because there are so many headcanons involved; however, we did want to go ahead and answer this one for you in the meantime and hope you will like it. 😊

Also we’re so glad that you enjoy our blog cover image and got a good laugh out of the “hot take” joke. We got a good laugh out of your joke about Hero being happy being unprecedented—it’s so true!! 😂 Even if it is unfortunately unprecedented, we like to think that poor Hero still deserves to be happy and will (hopefully) get to be happy again someday even if happiness is something he tends to deny himself.

As much as we want Hero to be happy around here, we both have such a deep love and appreciation for Hero angst. It was honestly a little difficult to narrow down to just one of our favorite Hero angst headcanons, especially under such broad parameters, (so please feel free to ask for more if you want).

Ultimately, we’ve decided on an angst headcanon inspired by the not-supposed-to-be-angsty art from December of the Calendar Project (official image below from the OMORI wiki):

🖤 — Hero Angst Headcanon (Warnings: OMORI spoilers)

For as long as Hero could remember, his mother had knitted him and Kel sweaters of various colors and patterns every year for the holidays. It was a family tradition, and the year before Mari passed away, Mari was invited into the tradition as well as Hero’s mom surprised both him and Mari by knitting them matching sweaters with their initials on them: H and M. They loved them—wore them off and on for most of the end of December and got lots of pictures.

When Mari passed away, one of her things that her parents gave to Hero was the sweater that matched his. Even looking at it made his heart ache so he threw it in a box with his own matching sweater and tried his best not to think about it.

Still, he missed Mari so terribly around the holidays that would sometimes get the matching sweaters out of the box he kept them in, hold them both, and cry. However, he could never bring himself to wear his ever again.

His family seemed to know the sweaters were a painful subject for Hero as well, even though they never really discussed it. The year that Mari had died was the only year that Hero’s mom didn’t give them any sweaters, even though Hero knew she had had most, if not all of them finished. Mari’s death in November was reason enough—no one really felt much like celebrating, Hero least of all, but he had never really been able to shake his suspicions that the reason his mother had skipped out on her sweater tradition that year was because she had knitted matching ones for him and Mari again, just like she had the year before, and she couldn’t bear to give Hero his without being able to give Mari hers too.

The following year, Hero had gotten a sweater from his mother with a snowflake pattern in blue, his favorite color, and he got sweaters every subsequent year after that. But his mother never gave him a sweater with his initials on it ever again. Hero honestly felt it was probably just as well. Even if she had, he probably would never have been able to bring himself to wear it.

#omori hero #hero omori #heromari #hero headcanons #poor hero #hero angst #heromari 💙💜 #our content #hearts for hero headcanons game #omori spoilers #thank you so much for the ask and for playing!!

[yourfictionalmajesty]

"Keep going, (insert nickname/just name), you are doing great." Is a great piece of dialogue that can be used in the fluffiest of instances for a mere compliment on one's hardwork to reach a desired level in a skill or.. encouragement for someone to keep holding on and not give up when they are bleeding out or losing consciousness.

And as some of you might know me, you know which way I will take with a blindfold on.

#angst #hero angst #writing whump #dialogue prompt #story prompt #hurt/comfort #hurt #bleeding #writing dialogue #character dialogue #angsty dialogue #writing #writer #write #writing prompt

[the-overanalyst]

it's always so fascinating and heartbreaking when a character in a story is simultaneously idolized and abused. a chosen prophet destined for martyrdom. a child prodigy forced to grow up too fast. a powerful warrior raised as nothing but a weapon. there's just something so uniquely messed up about singing someone's praises whilst destroying them.

#writing #writing prompt #tropes #reading #books #book tropes #angst prompt #angst #booklr #writeblr #writers on tumblr #percy jackson #the poppy war #mythology #chosen one #atla #avatar #avatar the last airbender #bungou stray dogs #yosano akiko #anime #my hero academia #todoroki shoto #neon genesis evangelion #the hunger games #10k #20k #30k #50k #100k

[mmavverickk]

anyway have any of you ever thought about how Jason was raised by wolves and then an army and told he had to be the best so he became the best, made himself the best using his experiences and power, who has to prove himself time and time again to the people who made him, and then he meets Percy Jackson who, with almost none of Jason’s training, without having been raised and molded into a leader, is better than him

Percy Jackson, who had a childhood, who had a mom, who seems all the better for it. Jason can finish his quests and missions and get a pat on the back and congratulations for bringing honor to the Legion and nothing else because that’s what’s expected of him, while Percy gets hugs and cookies and tears of relief and so much love because people had been hoping he’d succeed, not because it meant victory, but because it meant he'd live.

all of the things Jason’s gone through to make him that perfect leader and soldier feel like they were all for nothing because he looks at Percy Jackson and sees that perfect leader and soldier and none of the things that made Jason good are what made him great

#mav.txt #listen he's an amazing character foil and i like making him sad #percy jackson #jason grace #pjo #percy jackson headcanon #heroes of olympus #powerful percy jackson #angst #jason grace angst #PJ JG Rivals

[chaotic-orphan]

hello, could you please continue the heroic betrayal story? i really want to see supervillain and what theyre all about and if hero joins their side or flynn lets them go!!!!

Heroic betrayal (7)

Part one here

Continued from here

*~*~*~*~*

“You must let me show you where you’ll be staying, Hero,” said Supervillain, releasing the chains on Hero’s cuffs and stepping back away from them. Hero narrowed their eyes into a glare, keeping their hands close to their chest as they blinked at Supervillain.

“What do you mean, where I’ll be staying?” They snapped. Supervillain tilted his head as he regarded Hero, a small smile on his lips.

He shrugged. A gesture that should have conveyed a casual thing, but Hero saw right through it. “You can stay in the cellar if you like, though I’d say a bed would be far more comfortable.”

“I’d rather you let me go, or keep our contact to a minimum,” Hero told him. What the hell was he talking about, keeping Hero here? Forcing them to stay? They couldn’t… their brain wouldn’t let them comprehend exactly what this meant. The words just kept repeating in their mind drowning out all sense and reason:

Where you’ll be staying…

Supervillain had planned this, every detail, and Hero didn’t notice. They didn’t know, they didn’t see. Supervillain didn’t let a hint slip about this! Taking Hero captive and not letting them go, and it – though Hero would never admit it – it terrified them.

What if they weren’t as good as a detective as they thought they were? What if… Hero’s eyes studied Supervillain’s face. What if they had only seen what Supervillain wanted them to see?

Supervillain hummed thoughtfully, hands going behind his back. “I’ll show you the room anyways. Give you the tour while we’re at it. We’ll see if you have a change of heart.”

Hero’s nostrils flared as Supervillain turned his back and opened the door Hero initially came through. Supervillain’s knowing smirk remained on his face as he glanced back at Hero. “Come along now, I’m not a patient man.”

“I’d rather stay right here,” Hero told him, voice low. A pathetic attempt at stubbornness. Supervillain inclined his head.

“You can walk out the door, Hero, or be dragged out. Either way, you won’t be staying here. Would you like to keep your dignity intact?” He asked, his tone light and charismatic, his words anything but. Hero hated the way he spoke as if everything was certain. As if he could control everything and it would all work out his way.

Though what Hero hated more was the fact that they knew it was better to comply than to rile him up, so they stood and walked through the door Supervillain held open. They turned their head, looking down the long hallway to their right, where Flynn and Villain were. The door at the end of the hall must be where the kitchen is, but beyond that Hero didn’t know.

Maybe it would be better to know the layout of the house, Hero mused, they could plan their escape more effectively if Supervillain was stupid enough to offer a tour.  Supervillain, instead of turning towards the kitchen, went left, back the way Hero and Flynn came, back towards the cellar.

Hero followed Supervillain cautiously, one eye tracking his figure, the other careful to take note of the layout and the route back to the kitchen if they needed to flee on short notice.

Flee to who? To Flynn? A nasty voice mocked in their head.

At least I know what to expect with Flynn, Hero argued back.

Oh yeah… like how you knew he was a lying, backstabbing villain all this time right?

Hero bit the inside of their cheek instead of fighting with their smug, know-it-all side of their brain. At least when they tasted blood in their mouth, they could justify the pain. They could take their mind off of Flynn and the ache in their chest that they fought so hard to ignore.

Hero’s eyes zeroed in on the door to the basement as they stepped into another hallway. They were half expecting Supervillain to open it and shove them down the stairs before laughing like a cartoon villain and slamming the cellar door closed.

Instead, Supervillain walked past it, and Hero followed mutely, swallowing as they passed the cellar door. Now that it was so close, Hero really didn’t feel like going back there. Back to the cold and defenceless cot in a cell where any of them could come down and gloat.

Where Villain could come back and hurt them again and nobody would stop them.

Maybe a room would be better. At least Hero could barricade the door and break the window or something. They could have a better defensive position. Not be subject to their hosts moods when it takes them. Their nose throbbed at the thought of Villain coming down to their cell again and they shuddered.

Supervillain continued down the hall to another heavy door that looked solid and stiff. There was something strange about it, something Hero only noticed after Supervillain stopped in front of it and raised his hand to a keypad on the wall.

Hero stopped in their tracks. They didn’t want to swap one cell for another, and this one didn’t look as escapable as the cell in the basement. At least there Hero could see out all around them, except for the back wall, but a heavy metal door with an electronic lock would prove far more difficult.

There was a small beep ahead and Supervillain glanced back at Hero over his shoulder. A sly smirk graced his face when he noticed that Hero had stopped following altogether, probably standing six feet back.

“Oh Hero, that’s adorable. Are you frightened?”

“No,” Hero said a little too quickly. A denial. They both knew it. While Supervillain chuckled lightly, Hero wanted to punch themselves. “Where are we going?”

Supervillain’s smile was friendly and carnivorous all at once. “I told you; I’m giving you the tour of the house. Here,” Supervillain said, holding the door open for Hero and gesturing for Hero to walk in first. Hero’s throat went impossibly dry, as if Hero inhaled a pound of sawdust. They swallowed to try and restore some moisture in their mouth because what else could they do?

If they refused to comply, Supervillain would just drag them along anyway and there was no way they could fight back with their powers dampened and their hands cuffed in front of them. The weight of their blades on their back felt heavy in a way they never were before. They were right there… if only they could reach them.

Hero jutted their chin up, steeling their expression as they stormed forward and passed Supervillain, vowing that the moment they got free they would commission thigh braces for their daggers instead. That way they could never be in a humiliating situation like this again.

The room coming into focus drowned out Hero’s plans for new sheaths. Once inside the keypad locked room they stopped short and just stared. It was like the meeting room in the Hero headquarters, except, well… bigger. It was shaped like a hexagon with a domed ceiling that came to a point to let in some light through three skylight windows. The wall in front of Hero had two screens imbedded into it. One played the news on mute that was reporting some local event.

The two walls beside the back one had doors that led off to God knows where, but Hero’s gaze skimmed over them, and went instead to the corkboard on the wall to the left. Pictures of all the top ranked Heroes faces were pinned to the board; Superhero’s, Other Hero’s, and Hero’s were pinned to it. Tears pricked the back of Hero’s eyes when they saw Sidekick’s photo pinned to the wall too, a big red X painted over their face. Hero’s hands shook slightly at the sight… they should have never left Sidekick’s side. They should be at the hospital right now.

Instead, they were knee deep in enemy territory, on a tour of Supervillain’s house. Hero had to pull their gaze away from Sidekick’s face, to study the rest of the room, screwing their lips up tight to try and stop them from trembling.

Hero’s gaze dropped to a desk below the corkboard, where a hero scanner and comms sat, both of them were switched off for now. One Flynn must have stolen… been given. Hero’s hands tightened into fists at the sight. All this time… all this time Flynn was betraying them, betraying the Heroes and he had the nerve to be upset that Hero hated him?

Hero’s gaze flicked back up to Sidekick’s face again and they quickly turned away, looking instead to the giant circular table that dominated the middle of the room. A map of the city was printed on top of it. Hero recognised some of the marks that divided some of the city up. Territories that were occupied or controlled by different groups. Some good, some bad.

Hero stepped closer to the map table, noticing the chess pieces that were spread across it. There was a cluster of white on Hero HQ; the King, two knights, a bishop, a rook, but some other white pieces were dotted throughout the map. There were no black pieces, something Supervillain removed no doubt before Hero walked in. They couldn’t give away all their secrets.

Hero searched the table, making note of the pieces, trying to figure out who they were. A pawn was placed on top of central hospital which made Hero feel sick. They felt Supervillain step up beside them, but Hero didn’t bother to look at him.

“Should I take your silence as a good thing?”

“You can take my silence however you want,” Hero replied. Supervillain hummed beside them. He reached forward and plucked the pawn from the hospital and ran it between his fingers.

“Mmmm, does it have something to do with this?” Hero looked away from the map, lifting their head to stare at the news instead. Supervillain continued undeterred. “It is unfortunate what happened to Sidekick.”

“Don’t talk about them,” Hero snapped.

“What had to happen to them. They were interfering. Hot on Flynn’s scent, we had to dispose of—”

“Shut up,” Hero snarled, whipping their head to Supervillain, and stepping back away from him. “Stop fucking explaining everything you’re doing, or have done, to me like I want to hear your excuses!”

Supervillain cocked a brow at Hero’s outburst. He put the pawn back on top of the hospital, not taking his eyes off of Hero as he did. Hero searched Supervillain’s face, reading it for what he was thinking, and they didn’t like what they found. Realising their mistake too late they took a step back, trying to put some more space between them. Once they could put their weight on their back foot they could kick at Supervillain if he came at them.

Instead, Supervillain clasped his hands behind his back, chewing on words, looking for the best ones before he spoke. Everything was so measured. So controlled. It put Hero off, as if Supervillain was more machine than human.

His gaze wandered to the map, eyes running over everything with a critical eye. “Did you notice anything about the map?”

Hero frowned at the question, their attention turning back to the map as Supervillain walked around the table, stopping directly opposite Hero. They did a quick scan of it, their eyebrows knitting together. Did they miss something? No, they didn’t. The heroes know about the different territories. Maybe Supervillain giving away what heroes they thought were important with the chess pieces but other than that…

Hero’s eyes were drawn to the chess pieces, to the Hero HQ. King, two knights, a bishop, a rook. They saw the other rook and bishop somewhere else, but when they scanned the map again Hero realised what Supervillain was alluding to.

Hero hardened their gaze. “There’s no queen.”

“Very good,” Supervillain praised, and it felt like cockroaches crawled down the back of Hero’s neck. “The queen was far too meddlesome for my liking. Your perfect Sidekick you’ll note is still on the board, that was intentional.”

Hero raised their eyebrows at Supervillain in silent question and froze at his expression. There was no hint of anything human left in him, it was as Hero had imagined Supervillain to look like. Devoid of emotion and yet alive with a vibrant authority that made Hero want to hide away, to cower from — as if Hero was looking directly into the sun, eyes burning but they couldn’t look away.

“An incentive for you, Hero,” he said, his lips twitching up into a cold mockery of a smile. “A gift while you’re here, to make sure you follow the rules.”

Hero recoiled back a step, horror painting their features, as if Supervillain had killed a puppy in front of them and punched them at the same time instead of spoke.

“As long as you behave, well,” Supervillain continued, sea-green eyes drifting down to the pawn over central hospital. Hero’s heart thrummed in their chest and seemed to stop at Supervillain’s next words. “Let’s just say, Sidekick can remain on the board.”

Hero let out a shaky breath that was trapped in their chest, shaking their head. The chain between their cuffs rattled as their hands shook, tears pricking the back of their eyes as their gaze turned accusing and filled with a helpless-fuelled hatred.

“You— you’re threatening Sidekick’s life if I don’t do as you say?!” Hero demanded, voice teetering on the edge of hysterical.

Supervillain tilted his head, as if trying to understand Hero’s emotional response.

“I told you, Hero,” Supervillain began, walking around the table back towards Hero who was too focused on the pawn over the hospital. “We can be civil, this can be a beneficial relationship for us both. I can have you far away from the city, where I know you can’t interfere in the next stage of my plans, and you can rest easy knowing you’re saving Sidekick’s life.”

It was as if the world crumbled underneath Hero’s feet. They wanted nothing more than to collapse there and then, their body flooding with adrenaline as the weight of Supervillain’s words hit them.

It was all too much.

It all felt like too much.

Hero wanted to scream and cry, and punch something— no they wanted to punch Supervillain and Flynn because…

Hero flinched as a comforting hand came down on their shoulder, eyes widening slightly because when did Supervillain get that close.

“It’s a win-win, Hero.” Hero shrugged his hand off their shoulder and stepped back. Wet eyes filled with unshed tears met Supervillain’s sea-green eyes with a helpless kind of hatred. He smiled politely. “You’ll see,” he promised, “in time.”

Hero half expected Supervillain to gloat further, or press Hero on why they were nearly crying, maybe even be cruel and make fun of them. Supervillain walked passed Hero to the door that opened with a beep. Hero followed him with their eyes, biting the inside of their cheek and re-opening the wound.

“Let’s continue the tour, now that we have the unpleasantries out of the way.”

Hero stared at Supervillain, blinked and took a breath and started walking out the door without being prompted this time. They could feel Supervillain’s hungry gaze following them as they submitted compliantly, but what else was there to do? Now that he had threatened Sidekick, who was already in critical condition.

They wanted to be sick. After everything, Sidekick was only in hospital because Supervillain wanted to get to them. They wanted Flynn and Villain to capture Hero and bring them back here, where they— Hero swallowed the sob that threatened to climb their throat — where they would be… staying. Until Supervillain says otherwise.

It all felt so final, so formal, so decided when Hero didn’t make a decision. Supervillain was in control, that’s why he wanted to give Hero the “tour.” Not to show Hero around and let them see all the exits and escape routes, no. He wanted Hero to know that even if Hero knew the way out, even if they knew what doors would be locked and where the keys were, even if escape was within their reach — it didn’t matter.

They couldn’t leave.

If they left, Sidekick would be killed and it would be all their fault.

Again.

“Ah, Flynn,” Supervillain said behind Hero. Hero pulled themselves from their thoughts, raising their eyes to see Flynn standing at the corner between the cellar hall and hall that led to the dining room. He looked worried, his eyes not leaving Hero, who couldn’t quite meet his gaze. “Perhaps you’d like to show Hero to their room?”

Hero felt Flynn’s eyes on them, searching their face, imploring them to look at Flynn but they couldn’t. Their stomach was flopping like a fish out of water, threatening to throw their dinner up any moment.

“Uh, yes. I will, thanks.”

“No problem,” Supervillain replied, mirthful as he strode past Hero and down the hall towards Flynn. He clapped a hand on Flynn’s shoulder as he passed and shot one last look over his shoulder at Hero. Hero met his gaze once, fleetingly, then turned their head away again.

Flynn was the first to move, walking closer to Hero who stood like a kicked puppy in the middle of the hall. When Supervillain turned the corner he smiled a satisfied smile to himself.

It was so easy to get Hero’s defence to crumble, and now that Hero wasn’t a threat to his plans, well… the city was about to change.

Whether it wanted to or not.

*~*~*~*~*

Orphanage roll-call: (lmk if you wanna be added or removed): @xenlust @books-are-everything @micechomper @shywhumpauthor @aarika-merrill @xxgalgurlxx @0eggdealer @watermelonrandom @tippytappytyping @silentpotat0 @swift-perseides @gloriousqueen101 @ladygwennn @books-are-everything @isnortkoolaidpowderteehee @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog

#heroic betrayal #hero betrayed #hero captive #captivity whump #captive hero #hero captured #hero villain writing #hero villain story #hero #villain #whump writing #writing #writblr #whumpblr #whump #hero betrayed by hero #hero x villain #villain x hero #emotional angst #emotional whump #angst #hero angst #intelligent supervillain #intelligent whumper #intelligent villain #intelligent whumpee #intelligent hero #nemeses #superpowers #orphan writing

[patchworkorphan]

Heroic Betrayal: part two

Continued from this

Hero stared at them; mouth open in silent confusion. Which all ended when they felt cold metal press against the back of their skull. Other Hero beamed at someone behind Hero, then fixed their smug gaze on Hero’s eyes.

“You won’t because you’re coming with us.”

*~*~*~*~*

“Don’t move,” came Villain’s voice over Hero’s shoulder. Hero lifted their head slightly, only to have the barrel press into their head and push it down again to face Flynn. “I will shoot you. Give him your handcuffs.”

Hero glared down at Flynn who looked entirely too pleased with himself. The barrel pressed Hero’s head down further impatiently.

“Now.”

Still Hero didn’t move. They didn’t know what to do but they knew they couldn’t just stay frozen like this forever. It was so hard to think with their heart beating fast against their chest. They needed to do something.

Flynn was a villain…

Forget it. Focus.

Flynn moved below Hero drawing them out of their trance. Flynn removed his hands from behind his head, reaching up to Hero’s waist and slid his hands to Hero’s back, unclipping the power dampening cuffs from their belt. He opened them with an easy flourish of his wrist.

Hero dodged to the right, one foot on the ground while they rounded their other foot out to Villain’s hand kicking the gun out of it. They followed the movement through, their second foot landing on the ground behind them so they stood with their knees slightly bent. Hero pressed their heels down into the dirt and lunged for Villain, catching them around the waist and they went rolling. Hero threw a punch once they stopped, but Villain caught it and clamped their fingers down on Hero’s fist, not letting go.

The corner of Villain’s lips quipped into a smile before shadows engulfed Hero's fist like a glove, and Villain squeezed Hero’s fist crushing it with their shadows. Hero cried out, ripping themselves away and stomping a heavy boot down on Villain’s armpit. Villain let go with a grunt, and Hero fell backwards, catching themself before they hit the ground. Hero stepped back, their shoulder hitting a tree, as they cradled their fist against their chest.

From Hero’s position they could see Flynn who was now standing, smiling, holding Hero’s handcuffs in their hand like it was a sure thing, like they weren’t afraid of Hero getting away from them. It made Hero’s skin crawl and blood boil at the same time.

How could he just stand there and be so nonchalant about being a villain. How did hero never notice? Never see! They were such an idiot.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” Flynn said as Villain got to their feet. Hero had to fight. They had to.

Hero stood up straighter, shaking out their wrist before reaching one hand behind their back, the other over their shoulder and drew their long, curved daggers from their sheaths. The black blades glinted beautifully up at Hero, an extension of their arm and the world seemed to right itself once more. The familiar click of their power humming once their blades settled comfortably in their palm.

Hero set their jaw, glaring at Flynn, and said: “go fuck yourself.”

Villain rolled their eyes, reaching down to pick up their gun. “I told you they’re more trouble than they’re worth,” said Villain, tone bored.

Flynn’s head tilted to the side. “I know, but aren’t they just adorable?”

Hero lunged for Flynn, and Flynn ducked out of the way. Hero manoeuvred back easily, shooting their right up in a feint, Flynn dodged to the left and Hero grinned as they got the blade of their left under Flynn’s throat.

“Hero…” Flynn said with their beautiful voice and Hero could feel the edges of their vision blur. They shook their head quickly, shoving Flynn away. “Stop fighting us, Hero. Come willingly.”

Hero stopped, feeling weak, their guard lowering just a smidge. The compulsion moving through their mind like molasses, making them sluggish. Hero bit down hard on the inside of their cheek, drawing blood and the taste of iron sharpened them again.

They drew their daggers up.

Only one blade raised. Hero frowned, their head turning slowly down to their side to see a glove of shadows enshrouding their arm up to the middle of their forearm.

The shadows pulsed darkly and squeezed around Hero’s wrist until they let out a sudden painfilled cry. Hero reached over trying to claw the shadows away with their free hand, but their hand went straight through the shadows to their arm. The shadows intangible. To Hero’s horror when they pulled their hand away the shadows had wrapped around both.

Hero had barely a second to register it before the shadows pulsed again, a deep all-encompassing black and the pain intensified tenfold. The shadows were so cold, too cold and empty but they burned, as if Hero was submerged in the Arctic ocean. It felt like the shadows were burning cold under Hero's skin. Ice raced through their veins as white flashed behind Hero’s eyes, and they were screaming the only thing that seemed to bring any heat back into their body. Hero didn't even notice that they dropped their precious daggers beside them.

Every muscle in their body seized up with the blinding pain as Hero fell to their knees, gasping in shaky breaths as the excruciating pain ebbed into a sickening cold that left Hero shivering. Tears they didn't know had fallen turning cold on their cheeks. Hero was exhausted, even breathing was too much effort: their breath dredged up from their lungs, Hero heaving in heavy air. Even the darkness seemed too bright all of a sudden.

A pair of boots advanced before them, a hand went under their chin tilting their Head up to see Flynn standing above them, regarding them with a mimicry of pity. “I told you to come the easy way, Hero,” he said.

The cuffs of shadow raised Hero’s wrists to meet Flynn’s hands and he locked the cuffs down snug against Hero’s wrists. Hero felt the familiar sizzling of power beneath their veins fade and become nothing but a knowing ache, like there was something missing that is supposed to be there. Powerless. Hero barely had it in them to care, mind still hazy from the pain as the shadows dissipated under the cuffs.

Flynn reached down, scooping up Hero’s daggers and sheathed them behind Hero’s back. The action alone made Hero want to sob, the cruelty of having the opportunity to fight back so close and not being able to reach it.

“Let’s not dally any longer, Flynn. We don’t know if they called for reinforcements.”

“Don’t worry,” said Flynn, looking down at Hero with a fond smile. He tucked a stray piece of hair behind Hero’s ear as he said: “they didn’t.”

Hero shivered at their easy confidence. Hero knew Flynn and Flynn knew Hero, inside and out, they were partners... Flynn put their hands under Hero’s elbow and started guiding them up, but Hero pulled away. “Get away from me,” Hero spat, venom lilting every syllable.

The shadows reappeared at Hero’s arms, and they glared up at Villain, though they thought they were going to have a heart attack at the simple threat.

“He likes you. He wants you. He is the only thing keeping me from unleashing the shadows to wrangle some more of your pretty little tears, and cute little screams from your lips. So, if I were you, I’d listen to him and stand the fuck up, Hero.”

Hero glared at Villain, then looked down to the shadow still clinging threateningly to their arms and sucked in a sharp breath. When Flynn offered to help them up again, this time Hero let them. Hero felt bile rise in their throat when Flynn touched them, but they sucked it up for the moment. It was better than having Villain’s shadows torture them.

“There you go, Hero. See how nice it can be when we’re civil? Trust me, we’ll have fun together,” Flynn said, disgustingly chipper. “The three amigos!”

The cold air bit into Hero’s skin as they walked through the woods, Flynn walking beside them and Villain striding ahead, alert, and ready. Their muscles still shaking after the unnatural use of Villain's shadows on them.

“How long?” Hero croaked. They didn’t mean for it to come out as broken as it did; like they were a wounded dog, a stupid puppy who got kicked and kept coming back for more.

Flynn was gentle as they said: “as long as we’ve been friends, if that’s what you mean. Longer, before I even joined the academy. I guess I’ve always been a Villain, the rouse was the hero business.”

“We met at the academy. When you told me that you wanted to help people from the dregs—”

“I do,” said Flynn sincerely, and it sounded so convincing. “I just don’t think being a Hero will let me do it. Supervillain—”

“Terrorises the city!” Hero bit out. Flynn just sighed.

“Well, you’ll understand when you meet them.”

Hero’s blood ran cold, their feet slowing to a stop. Flynn glanced at Villain’s back, then stepped in front of Hero, their once kind eyes that were so reassuring now only served to terrify Hero, as if they looking into a stranger's. “You’re bringing me to Supervillain?”

“Of course. After I told Supervillain who was single handedly thwarting our every attack, seeing through every diversion…” Flynn said with a coy smile, eyes flashing with something Hero had never seen in them before. Flynn’s voice dipped as they said, “well let’s just say they were intrigued.”

Hero’s blood was pumping in their ears as they swallowed the lump in the throat, forcing themselves to speak, not to cry. Don’t cry.

“You… you were always with me… following my lead. I thought you trusted me. I thought— but after,” Hero’s eyes hardened as they shoved Flynn in the chest, pushing them back a step. “All this time you were just keeping an eye on me! You fucking— you knew Sidekick was—”

Hero’s eyes widened then, and they wanted to get sick. “You went with Sidekick… they didn’t meet Other Villain at all, did they?”

Flynn’s intelligent eyes turned cruel, drawing a sadistic smile onto his face. He reached up and grabbed Hero’s chin between his index finger and thumb, pinching it. He didn’t let Hero escape as they tried to move their head back, he just tightened his grip until it turned painful. Hero reached up again to shove Flynn back, but Flynn caught their arm and held them down, as if Hero's struggles were non-existent.

“See what I mean, Hero? So intelligent. So clever. Supervillain will love you.”

Flynn grabbed Hero’s elbow again. This time his grip was harsh and tight as he dragged Hero along with him to catch up with Villain, and Hero didn't bother to waste their energy struggling anymore. They had to relax and save their energy for the right moment.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

#whump #whump writing #emotional whump #Heroic betrayal #HB #hero villain snippet #hero villain writing #hero x villain #hero betrayed #betrayed hero #betrayal #traitor #hero angst #Flynn #heroes and villains #villain x hero #hero x other hero #villain #hero whumpee #hero whumper #hero whump #hero outnumbered #outnumbered hero #kidnapped hero #hero kidnapping #hero captured #captured Hero #captured whumpee #multiple whumpers #orphan writing

[akihikoquartz]

livinf as avian/wilfur would be so fucking miserable actually like imagine being a hero who doesn't get paid for shit by the agency and then to make things worse ur fucking homeless and live in an alleyway with nothing but stuff u gathered from ur home while u can before getting ur home pulled out i would've kms how is he still alive

#wilf/luci superheroes au #hero angst #i think

[helpallthenamesaretakenblog]

medusa in the tv show asking for someone to come help her in the kitchen KNOWING that percy would be lured in because he has a single mom and helping in the kitchen would be instinctive and it actually working is genius writing fr.

#can't believe it's been almost 5 months 😭 #percy jackson #pjo #rick riordan #annabeth chase #pjo fandom #pjo tv show #percabeth #percy jackon and the olympians #heroes of olympus #pjo tv series #pjo disney + #percyjackson #percy pjo #percy series #percy and annabeth #annabeth #medusa pjo #pjo series #pjo hoo toa #rrverse #rick riordanverse #pjoverse #pjo disney+ #percy jackson angst

[esperosisdoeswriting]

Prompt #604

Thank you so much for the request! I hope you enjoy, although I lent much more heavily into the angst as opposed to the feelings, unless you count loss of feelings as feelings! Either way, hope you enjoy!

[Villain] wasn't surprised [Hero] was avoiding them for the past week. They had assumed that [Hero] had been nursing their wounded pride after [Villain] had shown the world that they weren't the perfect hero everyone thought they were.

Did it probably hurt [Hero] to hear their diary read to the world? Yes. But in [Villain]'s eyes, it was necessary to make sure the world treated them as they deserved to be.

That's what they had thought, at least.

"You crossed a major line [Villain]," [Hero] snarled as they sent another punch towards their head. [Villain] barely managed to dodge out of the way in time, cringing at the brick-shattering impact it made on the wall.

"I just-"

"I don't care!" [Hero] roared. "I don't care what your dumb justification was! I trusted you!"

And when [Villain], for the first time, saw genuine hatred in [Hero]'s eyes, they finally realized that they might have made a mistake.

#writing prompt #prompt #angst #angst prompt #loss of feelings #loss of feelings prompt #hero #villain #hero prompt #villain prompt #heroes and villains #villains and heores #hero angst #villain angst #esper prompt #writing #writblr

[kamaluhkhan]

THE GRUDGE (or: the 7 things luke castellan hated about you)

read part two GET HIM BACK! (or: the 7 reasons you want revenge on luke castellan)

pairing: luke castellan x child of nemesis!reader (gender not specified)

word count: 8.5k

summary: luke hated your guts. he really did. he just hoped that no one could tell how, even after all this, you're still everything to him.

warnings/disclaimer: luke's POV. spoilers for the lightning thief and season 1 of pjo. some heated make-out sessions but no actual smut - MDNI / 18+. mentions of blood + death + alcohol. luke is 19 during tlt but i wrote this with him + reader being 21 by the end of this (this is important for the next part lol). anyways, luke + reader share clothes and lots of intense emotions they maybe possibly don't process in the best way. lots of ANGST - it's a greek tragedy fr!

author's note: welcome to my new hyperfixation! this fic is LONG but i hope she's worth it ♡

♪: the grudge by olivia rodrigo

(i. you have a sharp tongue)

fourteen year old luke was overwhelmed when he first stepped into the hermes cabin. it was loud and overcrowded and no one really seemed to care that they had a new cabinmate. the head counselor showed luke to an empty bed at the back, told him to get settled in, and left without another word. luke dropped his backpack before collapsing on the mattress. it was so thin that he could feel the springs dig into his back.

"you'll get used to it."

luke sat up to see you climbing through the window. 

you had a band-aid stuck on your chin, chipped nail polish the color of blackberries, and leather combat boots that looked way too heavy to be wearing in the heat of summer. 

“the shitty mattress?”

“i meant the whole chaos of cabin 11, and the way things work around here in general. if you can get used to the shitty mattress, all power to you.” 

your tone was friendly enough, playful even. you smiled at him so comfortably it made luke nauseous. 

“good to know.” he tried to smile back at you, but his heart wasn’t in it. “i’m luke, by the way.”

“yeah, i know. i’m —”

“y/n!”

you seemed entirely unfazed as the blond who called your name stormed over to you. you rolled your eyes, something only luke could notice, before turning to her.

“someone stole my candy.”

“i’m very sorry to hear that, maddy. gotta be careful around here.” your voice dripped like poisoned honey, deceptively innocent and sweet.

maddy was not having it. she huffed at you. “it was you, wasn’t it?”

“that depends. did you cheat at poker last night? again?” 

some of the chatter throughout the cabin paused, heads turning to listen in. 

“what? n-no!” 

“then you have your answer, maddy.” you exaggerated a sigh, as though you had already won the fight and were annoyed that she came back for more. “now, if you’ll excuse me, i have a new camper to show around.”

chiron had already given them a tour, but luke didn’t protest when you grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the window with you. your hand was warm in his as you dragged him along to the corner of the cabin where a poorly made ladder waited for you. 

“come on.” you started climbing, and only stopped to look down when you realized luke wasn’t following you. “best view of camp. trust me.”

a shiver passed through luke. trust didn’t come easy to him. he also didn’t particularly want to return to a stuffy cabin where all he would do was count reasons he did not want to be there.

 so, luke followed you. he sat down next to you on the roof and looked out at the sun shining on his new home, but he couldn't help but be slightly bitter. the gods had gotten all of you into this life of endless danger and battles and monsters, and this was all they had to offer in return: a summer camp. 

it just didn't seem fair. 

there was something else he noticed then. what was it that chiron had said? camp half-blood was supposed to be a safe haven for all demigods. 

“i don’t get it. there are only twelve cabins, but aren’t there, like, a million other gods?”

you straightened your posture then, and turned to luke with a newfound interest. 

“camp half-blood only has cabins representing the twelve olympians. apparently, they’re the only ones important enough to have children worth recognizing, and they can’t even do that half the time,” you explained, impertinence laced throughout your words. it seemed like something you could never quite get off your chest. 

every  demigod knew that the gods didn’t appreciate sarcasm. they  didn’t particularly like being called out on their bullshit, either.

you didn’t seem to care; you even rolled your eyes up at the sky, as if challenging zeus himself. 

“anyways, that’s why the hermes cabin is so crowded. it takes in campers who are unclaimed or whose parent doesn’t have a cabin at camp. like me.”

“so, who’s your godly parent?”

you fiddled with the leather cord on your neck. it held a few clay beads like the other campers, but there was one silver charm he noticed only you wore — scales, by the looks of it. you clutched onto it.

luke realized that, despite your own advice, maybe you resented having to get used to the way things worked around here, and having to hide your resentment. maybe that was worse than having to sleep on an uncomfortable bed for the rest of your life.

"nemesis. goddess of revenge."

"that's....hardcore."

you scoffed and moved on to twisting the silver ring on your index finger. "a lot of people take it that way, and i think it scares them a bit.”

“so that’s why you’re extra nice to new campers, huh?” 

“no, i was just in a good mood today.” you smirked.

“guess i was just lucky, then.”

luke couldn’t help but smile at your laugh — sharp, biting. you nudged your boot against his sneaker, which shifted you closer to him, shoulders practically touching. 

“what people don’t understand is that it's more about balance, you know? you do good things, and good things happen to you. at least, they should. you do bad things and….” you pulled out an outrageously big bag of candy, dropped it between you and luke, and winked at him. “you face the consequences.” 

“that makes sense.” luke leaned over to grab a handful of gummy bears. “like karma.”

“yeah. exactly.” 

you bit the head off a red bear, both of you chewing in silence before you added:

“by the way, i’m sorry about your friend.” you swallowed and caught luke’s gaze. 

chiron warned him that word would travel fast around camp about what happened to thalia, and luke had prepared himself for anything — anything but your reaction. there was no pity in your eyes; instead, there was a hint of rage, as though thalia had been your friend, too. 

“she deserved more.” 

luke’s eyes caught the glint of a knife strapped to your belt. he took another handful of the candy you stole, and he thought about the fire and fearlessness behind your words, and, despite everything, it felt right to be with you then and there. 

“yeah,” he finally whispered back. “she did.”

we all do. 

neither of you said those words, but the suggestion was there, and it felt like a promise. 

(ii. you hold on to every stupid, little detail)

“slow down, tiger.” 

your voice echoed throughout the arena, and if luke had been fighting a real opponent, it might have gotten him killed. instead, he just stopped mid-swing, sparing another straw dummy from losing its arm. 

“left hand,” you noted as you walked past him towards a bench. “you, my friend, are in need of a break.”

luke loosened the grip on his sword. the only time luke fought with his non-dominant hand was when he had overworked the other. he must have switched an hour ago, but judging by how heavy his arm felt, it could have very well been two.  

his curls were stuck to his forehead with sweat, his shirt soaked through. he could feel a dull pain behind his eyes, and luke was worried that if he stopped to catch his breath, he would pass out. or, even worse, have to face the reality of the shitty news he’d gotten early that day. 

“come sit with me,” you urged. “you’re exhausted, tiger.” 

luke bristled at your nickname for him. 

sure, luke loved that there was something only you called him, a secret kept between you in plain sight, but it was also a reminder that it was harder to hide behind the hero act when you were around.

everyone else at camp figured the nickname was a playful attempt at calling him strong and charismatic. the truth was that luke once told you that his favorite cereal as a kid was frosted flakes and that he would dream of playing sports as well as tony the tiger. for better or for worse, like most things, you wouldn’t let it go. 

case in point: if it was anybody other than you trying to get him to take a break, luke could have just brushed them off with a charming smile and continued swordfighting until his arms fell off, but in the two years since meeting you, luke had never met anyone as stubborn and convincing. like him, it seemed you were willing to fight and shed blood to get your way. luke was never really in the mood to make you bleed, even when feeling like he could burn the entire world down, so he usually gave in to your demands.  

as soon as he sat down next to you, you handed him an orange flavored energy drink — his favorite. anything other than water was hard to come by at camp without the enchanted goblets in the dining pavilion, or the right connection in the hermes cabin. he ran out of his stash the other day, but you must have noticed and gotten one of the stoll brothers to smuggle more in. 

“thanks,” luke said, ignoring the jolt of electricity that passed through him when your fingers brushed together briefly. 

 the two of you looked out at the sword arena, and all the straw dummies that luke had destroyed. you wait for him to take three big gulps of his drink before speaking again. 

“i guess chiron and your dad decided you weren’t ready for a quest.”

luke exhaled sharply. “how did you —”

“the only time you’d skip out on capture the flag is if something really shitty happened.” you looked down at luke’s clenched fists, and that seemed to be all the confirmation you needed. “you promised annabeth you'd be there, and it's not like you to let her down."

fuck. he had completely forgotten that tonight was annabeth's first time as team captain. this entire week, she had been prepping a winning strategy. it wasn’t like annabeth needed him to win, but luke was her big brother, and he should have been there. you were right — he had let her down. 

the realization made luke’s day go from bad to worse. 

"i told her you were helping a new camper with an emergency. she didn't believe it, but she adjusted her strategy and we still won.”

“well, thank the gods everything worked in the end,” luke grumbled. 

“don’t thank the gods,” you quipped. “thank annabeth chase for her brilliant mind, and me for covering for your sorry ass.”

when luke didn’t indulge in your usual playful banter, you moved closer to him and brushed some curls away from his eyes. your skin warmed his forehead, and the small gesture made him feel better than he had all day.

“look, i’m not going to give you some bullshit inspirational speech about how the gods don’t get to define what a hero is, or how you don’t need a quest to prove that you’re worthy of being one. we’ve each been through that before, and i have a feeling this won’t be our last time, either.”

“then why are you here?” the question came out harsher than luke had intended it to.

“because she’s trying her best to hide it, but annabeth is really hurt that you didn’t show up for the game. i figured the least you could do is suck it up, come to the campfire, and make her those signature luke castellan s’mores. you could probably use one, too, since you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.” 

you were right, again. luke was exhausted, he was furious, but most of all, he was starving.  

later that night, luke sat next to annabeth and vowed to make her as many s’mores as she wanted. you’d gone to sit with the hephaestus kids, trying to convince beckendorf and nyssa to join your cabin’s post-campfire party at the beach, even though they had to work in the forges early the next morning. 

when chiron made his weekly speech, congratulating the winners of capture the flag and thanking the gods for keeping everyone safe, you and luke caught each other’s gaze from across the fire. you rolled your eyes and luke bit back a smile as you turned back to beckendorf. he noticed your knees were practically touching. did you sit that close to everyone? 

luke was looking at you for so long that the marshmallow he was roasting fell into the fire, despite annabeth’s warnings. she handed him another one. 

"you should tell her how you feel," annabeth said. "stop being a coward." 

whether it was the smell of burnt sugar, the heat of the fire, or annabeth’s comment, luke started to feel dizzy. he did his best to shake it off, asking annabeth for a play-by-play of her strategy earlier that night, but he couldn’t quite get rid of the thought of you. 

(iii. you don't care if your clothes are stained with blood)

“i just….i can’t fucking believe you, luke.”

“i don’t get why you’re so upset — you’ve never cared about quests before.”

luke was hoping to break the news to you after capture the flag. unfortunately for him, word travels fast around camp. 

annabeth had the two of you scouting the east side for the flag, while she and some other athena kids took the west. you hadn’t found anything so far, which meant that you’d spent the better part of an hour bickering over luke’s choice of companions for his quest. a choice that included charles beckendorf and chris rodriguez, and purposefully did not include you, much to your fury.  

before you could continue arguing, luke heard the sound of footsteps approaching. he looked over to you, and you already had your shield and sword at the ready. 

a few red defenders emerged from the trees. one charged at luke, but you stepped in so he could deal with the other two. one of his opponents went down fairly easily, but the other put up much more of a fight. metal clashed behind him as you kept fighting as well. you might not have been as skilled a swordfighter as luke, but he knew that you could hold your own, at least until he was finished with the person in front of him. 

luke parried his opponent’s strike, causing them to take a step closer. he was preparing to disarm them, just as he heard you yelp and stumble to the ground. it only took a millisecond of his attention, but it gave his opponent the opportunity to elbow him in the face. luke felt a crack upon impact, and pain radiated from his nose; he powered through. 

he had to finish this fight, and he had to do it fast. you needed him. 

his ears were ringing as he finally knocked over his opponent, kicking away their sword and keeping his foot on their chest. luke turned around to see you having turned the tides, the blade of your sword dangerously close to your opponent’s neck.

you locked eyes with luke, and you both understood — it was time to go. the two of you ran through the forest, as far away as you could before having to stop and catch your breath.

luke removed his helmet to get some air, and dropped his weapons. you did the same. you looked at him, brows furrowed.

“your nose.”

luke licked his lips, tasting blood. the triumph of winning that last fight overshadowed the ache of his potentially broken nose. in fact, he liked the image of a ruthless warrior emerging from the glory and gore of battle, that even though he did not bleed ichor like a god, he still had power. 

you, on the other hand, didn’t look impressed. instead, you stepped forward and offered the sleeve of your shirt to wipe away the blood. 

“you don’t have to —”

“i know you think you’re a badass walking around all broken and bloody, but you shouldn’t deny your admirers your pretty face,” you teased. 

it was no secret that luke had numerous admirers around camp, a fact you loved to tease him about. he was sure that you relished in how flustered that made him. all you had to call him was pretty boy, and luke could be reduced to a blushing mess. 

it was pathetic how much power you had over him.

“besides, i wouldn’t have gotten out of that last fight if you hadn’t taught me that disarming technique earlier. i owe you. it’s what we do. we take care of each other, right?”

he couldn’t argue with that.

a few moments of silence passed as you cleaned his face. something shifted as you worked, the flirtatious grin fading away. when you pulled away, your sleeve was stained a dark crimson. 

“just tell me honestly,” you finally murmured. “why don't you want me to join your quest?” 

luke was genuinely taken aback by the softness of your voice, now devoid of its usual fire. you wouldn’t meet luke’s eyes, but being that close to you, he noticed they were slightly glazed over.

he had expected you to be angry at his decision. he expected you to yell and argue and try to change his mind. luke hadn’t expected you to be so hurt. so broken. 

he hadn’t planned on it, but luke decided to tell you the truth then.

“look, karma, if you come with me, my heart wouldn’t fully be in the quest. i’d be so caught up in….well, you.”

a pause.

“is that a bad thing?”

“not usually, no.” 

you smirked a little at that, and luke’s heart skipped a beat. it also made his decision even clearer. 

“but i need to be focused for this. i need….” he let out a deep sigh. “i need to prove myself. this is my first real chance, and i can’t fuck it up.”

you met his gaze and smiled brightly at him, your signature spark of confidence returning.  

“you won’t.”

you reached a hand up to play with his necklace. luke hadn’t noticed how close you’d gotten until your fingers started tracing over those four clay beads. it made his entire body burst into flames.

“i’ve been wanting to do something for a while. and, aphrodite save me, it might be really stupid, but —”

luke took a lucky guess as to where you were going, and crashed his lips against yours. aphrodite knows that he'd been wanting to do that for a while, too. 

he often got drunk on the adrenaline of battle, the glory of winning, but nothing was quite like the rush of kissing you for the first time. 

it was messy and urgent, both of you aware that, at any moment, you could be interrupted. your noses were bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. the metallic tang of blood lingered on luke’s tongue, but neither of you seemed to care. you even bit his lip slightly, as if you wanted more. armor sat heavy and cold between your chests, preventing you from getting closer. luke had never loathed the protective gear more. 

he made up for it by lodging one hand underneath your jaw, and snaking the other beneath the celestial bronze, beneath the cotton of your shirt, admiring how your pulse quickened under his thumb when he grazed the soft skin of your stomach. you tangled your hands into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. he groaned and felt you smirk against his lips. 

luke had kissed a few people before, sure, but never like this: like a knife to the gut, and if you pulled away, luke would surely bleed out and die. 

it wouldn’t be a hero’s death, in the traditional sense, but at least he’d die happy. 

how many heroes could claim that?

when luke ran out of air, feeling like his lungs were burning, he had to pull away. 

you glanced down at luke’s kiss-bitten lips, then back to his eyes. luke flushed under the intensity of your gaze. 

“just promise me something, tiger,” you whispered, voice hoarse. 

“anything.”

“come back alive.”

luke leaned forward and placed another kiss on your lips, this one much gentler than before.

“i promise.”

(iv. you love like a scar that won't fade)

the nightmares were getting worse. 

luke woke up in a cold sweat, taking gulps of air in an attempt to steady his breathing.

“luke.” 

your whisper did little to quell the pit of dread growing in his stomach, but it did enough to bring him back down to reality. 

he was at camp half-blood (fuck the gods of olympus), in the hermes cabin (fuck you, dad), in a bed next to yours (fuck, if he could tell you what — who — was going through his head, he would).

“i’m…i’m fine,” he murmured back, voice catching slightly on the lie. 

like clockwork, you shifted from your bed to his, slipping under the covers. it didn’t matter that it was a hot summer night, and the minute your legs touched his, he could feel himself starting to overheat. 

your thumb brushed over the thick edge of his scar, up his cheekbone to the corner of his eye. it had been a year, living with this reminder. a reminder that he had failed, just as much as his father and the olympians had failed him. 

luke tried to pretend that he didn’t come back from his quest as a shell of who he once was. after all, it was meant to be his shining moment as a demigod, meant to gain him all the glory and father’s praise he once wished for. 

what a fucking joke.

every morning, luke would crawl into a different skin. he welcomed new campers and taught sword-fighting. he laughed with chris and his other siblings and strategized with annabeth for capture the flag. he would be the easy-going, charming, skillful senior counselor who respected the gods and honored them in everything he did. 

again: a fucking joke.

nights were different, though, with you so close to him, you who could always see right through him.

every night, luke was a fourteen-year old boy again, with so much rage and resentment he didn't know what to do with it. 

of course, you were always you - a bleeding heart underneath layers of armor. you didn't care about fate, or the gods, or the titans. you cared about justice, you cared about what was right and fair. 

most of all, you cared about luke.

“you were screaming,” you told him, voice barely cutting through the soft snores and sleeptalkings of your other cabinmates. 

“sorry,” he managed. looking at you in the dull moonlight, luke noticed the deep shadows under your eyes. 

“it’s fine. you just….you scared me, tiger.” 

your hand still rested on his cheek, and for a second, luke hoped you would kiss him, but you didn’t. instead, you told him to try and get some sleep, and sank further into his bed before closing your eyes. 

for the hundredth night in a row, luke hoped you couldn’t hear his heart hammering in his chest as you fell asleep next to him.

since coming back from his quest, luke didn’t have it in him to suggest being anything other than friends, and you didn’t push it. there had been a few....moments between you, sure, but nothing more.

luke thought you might have changed your mind, because who would want to be with a bitter, worthless, wannabe hero? then again, that voice haunting his dreams…. luke could change that. 

but, at what cost?

(v. you protect people as ruthlessly as a starving dog)

luke could hear you talking to percy jackson outside. though he couldn’t quite determine what was being said, as much as he tried.

you entered the bathroom and instantly caught luke’s eyes in the mirror. you were wearing your faded pyjama shorts with cartoon crows, and a flannel shirt that luke had a sneaking suspicion might have been his. you smiled at him before setting up at the counter, one sink between you. 

“what was that about?” luke asked after spitting out a mouthful of minty toothpaste.

“oh, nothing.” you were searching through your toiletry bag for something, and seemed to come up short. “hey, do you have any extra dental floss?”

luke threw some over to you. as you effortlessly caught it, he noticed your knuckles, bruised and bloodied.

“what happened?” 

you finished flossing and briefly examined your hands before pulling out your toothbrush. 

“it’s not a big deal,” you assured. “some ares kids were picking on percy, and then they started pushing him around, like, really pushing him around, so….” 

“....you decided to send them to the infirmary.”

you squeezed some toothpaste on your brush before continuing. “i don’t need you to lecture me about how i shouldn’t be fighting with other campers because i’ve been here longer and i should be a good role model. you know what a good role model does? not let kids beat up other kids and think the worst punishment they’ll get is no dessert for a week.”

luke watched carefully as you jammed the toothbrush in your mouth and brushed with such force, he was worried your teeth might dislodge. he knew that you would shed blood for someone you loved, and that you didn’t particularly care if you had to break rules in doing so, because you believed that what was written was not necessarily what was right. 

in fact, luke loved that about you.

no, it wasn’t the fighting that luke cared about — it was who you were fighting for. 

percy was a good kid, he really was. luke just didn’t want you getting attached. 

“i wasn’t going to lecture you. i’m guessing chiron already did?” 

you nodded and spat out what looked like a combination of toothpaste and blood. you rinsed your mouth until the water lost its pinkish hue. once you were done, luke continued his train of thought.

“i just didn’t realize you cared so much about him.”

“about percy?” 

luke could tell that he didn’t have your full attention. you were packing your stuff back up, accidentally tossing luke’s dental floss into your bag, but he had more pressing matters to deal with.

“yeah. the kid’s only been at camp for three days, and you’re already acting like his guard dog.”

you finally turned to luke and glared at him. 

“maybe. but percy’s sweet and he doesn’t seem like the type to put up with bullshit. he’s been through a lot, and annabeth seems to like him, too. as far as i’m concerned, percy’s one of us, and i’m not going to let anyone push him around.”

luke raised an eyebrow at you. “he’s sweet?”

“yeah. like, just now, he gave me some blue raspberry jelly beans as a thank you. said his mom used to work at a candy store. he also wanted me to apologize to you for him. he feels bad about beating you in sword-fighting earlier.” 

you scoffed, like you resented luke for having to apologize to him on percy’s behalf. you definitely did not appreciate that guard dog comment. luke clenched his jaw, seething over what you had just said. 

satisfied with his reaction, you gave luke that nauseating smile of yours, tilted your head towards the exit. a truce, because you never liked to fight with luke for too long, and a order, because you knew luke would always follow. 

the two of you began walking back to your cabin in the warm mid-june air. 

“i wouldn’t say he beat me,” luke huffed. “it was beginner’s luck.”

“sure, tiger. it was beginner’s luck that disarmed the best swordsman we’ve had in the last 300 years.”

you nudged luke’s shoulder with yours, but he recoiled from your touch. 

“are you trying to make me feel worse?” luke tried his best to avoid snapping at you, keeping his tone measured.

“i’m just saying that maybe the kid has natural talent and that doesn’t make you any less talented. there’s no need to get jealous.”

luke resisted the urge to growl at your suggestion. 

to be clear, he was not jealous. it’s just that luke had spent years of blood, sweat, and tears getting to where he was then, and percy jackson had just gotten to camp. 

and, to be even more clear, luke was not jealous of how you were already defending percy with your whole body and your whole heart, the way you did for him. 

by then, you reached the front of the hermes cabin. luke could already hear the commotion of what he would need to deal with as soon as he walked in. the burden of being head counselor, one he approached with an elastic smile that could snap at any moment. 

you tugged on luke’s sleeve before he could open the door. 

“hey. are we okay?”

luke looked down at your fingers grasping the fabric of a sweatshirt he was just realizing was yours. your nails were painted a dark red, now chipped after a week of wear. you had begged luke to paint his nails then, and once again, he gave in. he even started to like the purple you had chosen just for him, so deep it was almost black. the same color you were wearing the first time you and luke met.

he smiled at the memory — a real smile, no plastic — and then smiled back up at you.

“we’re fine, karma.” and he moved to enter the cabin. luke could hear the threat of an argument bubbling up, what sounded like a petty one over a prank gone wrong.

“wait.” you tugged at his (your) sweatshirt once more. “there’s something i wanted to talk to you about, about tomorrow night—”

“annabeth called a meeting during free time.”

“yeah, i know, it’s just —”

“she’ll run through strategy for capture the flag then.”

“one of the aphrodite senior campers asked me to the campfire,” you blurted it out, and luke decided to ignore the sound of a fight breaking out from behind the wooden door.

what in the name of hades were you talking about?

“they asked you out? like…like a….” luke didn’t even want to speak the word, scared it would make it real.

“a date,” you said casually, as if that one word didn’t rip luke’s heart in a million pieces. “i said yes.” an admission that took all those pieces and set them on fire. 

sure, in the seven years since you and luke met, you’d each talked about boys, about girls, about dating and kissing them and going further. but there was something about this one that felt different. something about the way you told him.

“but, listen, i wanted to let you know it’s not —”

“good for you,” was all luke said through gritted teeth before someone started calling his name again, louder and more urgently, and he had to duck inside.  

(vi. you taste like burning cherries and righteous anger)

your team had won capture the flag, of course. the biggest news of the evening, though: percy jackson was the son of the sea god. 

he was a forbidden child, the hero of the great prophecy. 

everything was falling into place. 

all luke should be thinking about is kronos’ plan, and his role in it, and how a world without the gods of olympus was that much more in reach.  

unfortunately, for the time being, he was so consumed by you. 

you, from across the campfire, sporting cutoff denim shorts and fresh wounds from the game earlier. you, who had wrapped your knuckles in gauze, concealing their bruising, fixed the chips in your nail polish and stacked rings on your fingers. (for the record: luke had gifted you the one on your left thumb.) you, with dark lips that whispered too closely and laughed too loudly with a child of aphrodite— jordan li.

you hadn’t so much as looked at luke since congratulating each other on another win. when chiron announced his weekly gratitude to the gods at the start of that night’s campfire, you didn’t punctuate your resentment with your usual eye-roll or biting remark. you were too busy giggling at something jordan said.

luke wanted to be the one to whisper jokes in your ear. he wanted to be the one you left lipstick stains on later, along his jaw and down his neck. he wanted to be the one who kissed the blade mark on your shoulder and the bruises on your knuckles. 

and yet, hours passed and it seemed that the thought of luke had never so much as crossed your mind. he found himself at an after hours party with a few senior campers on the beach. a lethal recipe: a poorly crafted bonfire, some contraband drinks and you in jordan li’s lap, playing with their hair and pretending luke castellan did not exist. 

meanwhile, luke had katie gardner’s full attention. she was talking to him about the strawberry season, potentially leaning a bit too close into luke’s personal space, definitely flirting with him. 

luke could have done a lot worse than the head counselor of the demeter cabin, who always smelled like fresh lavender, whose eyes were the bright green of spring grass and whose lips tasted like golden honey. 

the problem was that luke only wanted you, and his eyes kept sliding over to where you were kissing jordan’s cheek, and he accidentally called the girl he was kissing by your name, which did not make her happy. 

katie threw her drink in his face, told him to wake the fuck up, and walked away.

a chorus of gasps and chuckles erupted as luke stood there, diet coke and vodka seeping into his shirt. the commotion seemed to capture your attention, because you suddenly appeared next to luke, an empty bottle of cherry soda in your hand.

“rough night, tiger?” your voice, that nickname, made luke sick, his face twisting into a frown. you don’t seem to notice or care. instead, you switched your bottle with luke’s and took a sip.

“looks like you were having a pretty good time,” luke practically sneered. “where’s your date?” 

 “they went to bed.” you swallowed a mouthful of beer, grimacing at its bitterness. “gods, this is terrible. you and i should go on the drink run next time — we have better taste.”

“so, are you and jordan like a thing now?”

you gave luke a smile he didn’t quite understand, but made his stomach churn in ways only you could. “would that be a problem?”

“of course not.” he answered way too quickly for that to be true. 

“let’s get out of here,” you suggested. “i think katie is about this close to strangling you with a tree branch.”

luke glanced over your shoulder to where green eyes glared back at him. 

nowhere could luke find it in him to care. he wasn’t even sorry. he just shrugged, took the bottle back from you, took his first sip all night. luke almost gagged (because of course you were right, and the stoll brothers had better fake ids than they had taste) but he suppressed it. 

“no. i’m good.”

biggest lie he ever said. like there wasn’t anger caught in his throat and jealousy swelling between his ribs.

“go find jordan,” he taunted. “kiss them, show them a good time! isn’t that the reason why you got all pretty?”

you narrowed your eyes at him carefully. your nostrils were slightly flared, and luke took a bit of pride in being able to rile you up.

“look, we haven’t really talked lately, and i think we should.”

“go find jordan,” he mocked once more. “almost all the aphrodite kids are here, and i’m sure you can be quiet enough to sneak into their cabin and if you want a quick fu—”

“luke.” you clipped his name, obviously getting to the limit of your patience with him. “if you want to stay here all night and be an asshole, you’re welcome to. you should know, though, that your happy-go-lucky hero mask is starting to crack and i don’t know if you could deal with the fallout from it shattering completely.”

you leaned in close and whispered that last part, very aware of the chattering that stopped and the eyes that watched the pair of you anxiously. luke was usually good at hiding that part of himself who wanted to burn the world down. 

in ways you didn’t realize, you were right: he couldn’t risk revealing it, not now.

not yet. 

“do whatever you want, castellan,” you spat out his last name, the combination of letters foreign in your mouth.“i’m leaving.”

luke should be proud of himself. he waited a whole two seconds before following you like a stray dog. 

luke didn’t know if he’d ever felt you that enraged by him, and it horrified him. it also made him hungry for more. 

“i’m not sure that jordan would want the two of us alone together at night,” he shouted after you, words echoing into the starless sky.

“gods, enough about jordan!” luke practically ran into you with how fast you turned around to confront him. “i was helping them with that stupid aphrodite tradition!”

“you….” luke faltered, all the snark leaving his body. “what?”

luke remembered silena beauregard once explaining the rite of passage to him: to prove themselves, a child of aphrodite had to make someone fall in love with them, and then break their heart.

“why…why would you agree to do that?”

you had reached the dining area by then, and you sat on one of the steps leading to the pavilion. luke stayed a few feet away, looking at you cautiously. 

“jordan and i are already friends, and they figured a fake relationship would be the way to avoid anyone from actually getting hurt in the process.”

“you seemed so…so into it, though,” luke stammered, the memory of you in jordan’s lap, laughter bubbling from your lips, still fresh.

“it’s called acting, dumbass.” the camp didn’t rely on electricity, but there were enough torches around that luke could see you roll your eyes. “anyways, i was trying to give you a heads-up last night, but you wouldn’t listen.” you took a deep breath. “and, honestly, i didn’t push it because….i figured i should test a hypothesis.”

a hypothesis? you’d known annabeth for too long.

“what hypothesis?”

you hesitated. 

“it doesn’t matter. fuck, this was stupid,” you muttered, and without another word, stormed through the dining pavilion, a short cut to the hermes cabin. your footsteps fell heavy against the marble, and luke’s not far behind. 

“what hypothesis?” he asked again.

nothing but rushed footsteps.

“what hypothesis?” luke finally yelled.

third time was the charm, because you stopped in your tracks and faced luke once again. a fire burned in the bronze brazier, where campers were forced to offer up portions of your food to the gods at every meal. its roaring seemed to captivate you, and the flames danced across your face, illuminating all your curves and edges.

“i’m angry at the gods,” you stated. 

this caught luke off guard. from the day the two of you met, luke knew you shared that feeling. you’d gotten quieter with your rage as you’d gotten older. luke supposed he got better at hiding it himself, as well. 

“i’m angry at the gods for letting bad shit happen even if they can stop it, and for building this world in the fucked up way they did. i’m angry at your dad for the way he’s treated you, but — you, luke castellan.” you finally met luke’s eyes with a gaze so sharp, luke almost felt himself bleed. “i’m also angry at you, and not just for your bullshit tonight.” 

your admission felt like a punch to the stomach, and luke was left with no air to breathe.

did you know?

“you haven’t been the same since your quest,” you continued, words slow and deliberate, the way you spoke when you were worried your voice would shake. “and i’ve come to terms with that in the past few years, but you….you’ve never tried to ice me out before. you’ve been acting distant since december, and it’s been driving me insane. do you realize how much i miss my best …..” you swallowed the word friend. “how much i miss you?”

luke hesitated, because what could he say? i know i’ve been distant, but i’ve been busy trying to start a war between the gods. sorry babe! 

would you hate him, if you knew? 

you had to have known that, despite the distance, luke missed you. for tartarus sake, in the last two days, he’d driven himself mad at you calling a fourteen year old boy sweet, and he was about to combust at the image of you dating someone else, with little care as to the collateral damage. 

"you can't just avoid me, makeout with katie fucking gardner, and then….” you trailed off, hiding your face in your hands. whether it was to hide embarrassment or tears, luke wasn’t sure.

a smirk spread across luke’s face at the revelation that he hadn’t been the only one jealous at the bonfire that night. it lit luke up with the confidence he needed to not completely fall to his knees in front of you, beg for your forgiveness for everything he’s done.

“why do you care if i make out with katie fucking gardner?” 

as he waited for a response, luke walked towards you until your back hit one of the marble columns. 

“why do you care if i’m with jordan fucking li?” you clenched your jaw and looked right through luke. a clear indication that you wanted him to break down first; it wouldn’t be you who yielded this fight.

“because i want to be the one you’re with.” at that point, luke was so close to you that he swore he could hear your heartbeat. he reached out and played with the hem of your shorts. “why do you care if i make out with katie gardner?”

“because.” you drew in a sharp breath when luke’s fingers brushed underneath the denim, across the warm skin of your thigh. you closed your eyes. “don’t make me say it, tiger.” 

the desperation in your voice made luke want to do unholy things with you, to you. luke knew you didn’t think of him as a saint, and you never expected him to be one. the reality was that you weren’t much better, either. what was essentially an altar to the gods burned bright next to you, but it seemed neither of you had ever cared less about it than in that moment. 

luke would watch olympus fall. he would dethrone the gods and watch their glass castle shatter and find glory in a new world. in the grand scheme of things, he was willing to lose this battle.

in fact, he would have rather betrayed the titan lord himself than waste another second not kissing your lips. 

so, he kissed you, and you kissed him back with such force, such hunger, it was ungodly.

no, you certainly weren’t a saint — but you were divine, in the most brutal, intoxicating way. in the way you shuddered when luke lodged a leg between your thighs; in the way you threaded your fingers through the belt loops of his jeans to bring him closer; in the way the metal of your rings burned through the skin of his hip, right to the bone, which made him shudder, and you smile triumphantly against his jaw.

the more he tasted your smirk flavored by cherry soda and the ashes of nearby flames, the more he felt your feral teeth against his neck and your wicked nails digging into his shoulders, the more you tugged on his curls, the more luke thought: maybe. 

maybe you would give into your seething resentment, live up to those eye-rolls and snarky comments that got you in trouble with chiron, on the edge of hot water with the gods. maybe you would join the titan army. maybe, just maybe, this time, you would follow luke.

and yet — maybe wasn’t enough if it meant he could lose this. luke wouldn’t risk it, not until he kissed every battle scar and bruise on your body, and you did the same to his. 

“wait.”

it was the last thing luke wanted to do, but he complied. he took the opportunity to appreciate the chaos he created: your shirt in disarray, your lipstick a mess, your chest heaving and desperate to catch a breath. 

“i promised jordan that we’d keep up our charade for a week, two at the most. do you think we could keep this…” you tightened your fist around the fabric of his shirt. “a secret until then?”

luke responded by pressing his lips to yours once more, because there were definitely worse secrets to keep.

(vii. you wouldn’t hesitate to make him bleed)

luke had just left percy jackson to die.

he should be leaving camp, now, but he needed to see you one last time. 

the universe works in mysterious ways, because you were out on a run through the forest, and you crossed paths before he even had time to wonder where you were.

“hey, tiger.” you smiled as if this was a regular afternoon. the two of you would teach your afternoon activities, sneak away during dinner so luke could kiss you in that spot that made you gasp. “wanna join me? i was just wrapping up, but i could be convinced to go longer.”

for a second, he was tempted to. very tempted. 

“i don’t have much time.”

you seemed to notice luke’s sullen mood and you dropped your playful demeanor. 

luke explained: the messages from kronos in his dreams, him stealing the lightning bolt and helm of darkness to start a war between the gods and framing percy. the plan to destroy olympus that luke had pledged his life to.

percy was surprised at what luke had done, and luke could imagine that the rest of camp would be, too. luke was the golden boy of camp half-blood, everyone’s big brother. 

you, on the other hand, didn’t express any sense of shock. 

“luke.” you said his name like you weren’t quite sure it was poison. “i’m going to give you five seconds to tell me that you’re joking.”

five seconds of silence passed. you took a few steps back from luke.

“i….i should have told you sooner.”

“yeah,” you scoffed. “you should have. but, you didn’t. did it feel good, having the titan king whispering sweet nothings in your ear? all the lies about how this war is the only way to get the glory you so desperately want? it’s fucking delusional.” 

“it’s not delusional—”

“yes, it is!” you glared at him. “you’re on the wrong side of a war you made the mistake of starting.”

luke straightened his posture, thinking about how hypocritical you were being. 

“isn’t this what you’re all about? revenge, karma. your mom will probably join us, too. don’t you want to see the gods finally get what they deserve?”

“not like this. i can’t believe how desperate you are, to believe that kronos is going to make everything right. it’s pathetic,” you spat. “i’m not saying the gods don’t deserve to be taken down a notch. their fucking obsession with power and glory….it’s sick and twisted, but i don’t think your titan king is any better. i don’t think you are any better.” 

“it’s time that the gods fall. this is the only way, even if it isn’t perfect,” luke countered. his voice was firmer now as he absorbed your anger. your mother was the goddess of revenge, but you clearly didn't understand the sacrifices, pain, and blood that was required to make the world a better place.  

luke just needed to convince you.

“we’ve talked about this for years,” he continued. “nothing is balanced! there’s no justice here, for anyone.  we can build a better world where we don’t have to burn our scraps and throw ourselves at monsters to get attention. we can fight together like we always have. y/n, i love—”

“don’t,” you snapped. “don’t you fucking dare. you should have died on your quest.” your voice laced with venom. one hand gripping the knife you always kept on your belt. “that dragon should have fucking sliced through you and saved us all the trouble.”

something pricked in the back of his throat, down to his stomach.

“you don’t mean that.”

“i do,” you promised. “at least you would have died with all of us thinking you’re a hero instead of the traitor you really are.”

you grabbed your knife, took a fighting stance. 

“i’m not going to fight you,” was all luke could say. he noticed your hand tremble, and you tightened the grip on your knife to prevent emotion from slipping through your invisible armor. 

in that moment, you have could slice through luke, and it would hurt less than everything you just said, less than the murderous look you were giving him, like he was just another monster you wouldn’t think twice about sending to tartarus.

luke didn’t even have a chance to unsheathe his sword before you charged at him, but he quickly had you pinned to the ground, the tip of your own knife pointed at you. he hesitated. the blade pressed harder against your cheek than he intended, enough to break the skin and let a few droplets of dark crimson escape. 

“please come with me,” he pleaded. you didn’t answer, but you did seem surprised by the softness of his voice. 

a few moments passed, the celestial bronze still between you. luke waited for you to see his way, to yield to his proposal.

you didn’t. instead, you took advantage of the situation. you wrapped your leg around his and flipped your position. in the process, you regained possession of your knife. without the hesitation that held luke back, you sliced through his cheek, deep. luke bit his lip to suppress a groan, tasting blood. your gaze set his whole body on fire as he waited for your next move. that was when you glanced down at his camp necklace, and the new clay bead added to commemorate this summer.

a turquoise trident.

“percy told me he was on his way to see you,” you realized. “what did you do?”

luke didn’t answer. he knew then that a choice ran through your head. 

and it stung, just a little, watching you sprint away through the trees in a last ditch effort to save percy’s life. 

there was a small, pathetic part of luke that wanted you to choose him, even if it meant you would have plunged the knife into his chest.

#this is my baby fr #really feeling the tragic hero vibe down to my core #will prob do a part 2 from reader's POV! #ofc inspired by get him back! bc nemesis!reader.... #percy jackson #pjo fanfic #pjo series #luke castellan #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #pjo x reader #luke castellan angst #luke castellan imagine #percy jackson and the olympians #luke castellan smut #saf writes #Spotify