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rosewaterandivy · 2 days

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a light on in chicago - I. winning looks like losing (and i'm winning every time)

summary: so it begins, Warped Tour ‘05 baby!

WC: 1550k

a/n: no, I did not forget about this little daydream. it’s coming on summer soon, which means nostalgia and concert going. pop-punk steve is alive and well, my friends!

masterlist || playlist

"She never meant a thing to me, 'cept putting idealists in a body bag" - "Growing Up" // Fall Out Boy

Steve has his Motorola Razr in hand before he reaches the top step of the bus, thumb pressing down on the keypad until 'ace' is selected and holds it to his ear. Tosses his snapback onto the table and sliding onto the banquet seat.

Hearing someone come up the steps behind him, he sees that Nancy has drawn the short-straw and now has to play babysitter.

Typical.

“What are you doing?” It’s not a question so much as a reprimand.

“What do you think I’m doing? I’m calling her.”

“Like we haven’t tried that already, oh about a dozen times.”

Steve scoffs, kicking his feet up on the table. “Then I’ll keep calling until she answers or shows the fuck up.”

Nancy’s eyes roll to the back of her head, “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.”

Steve glowers at Nancy as the automated voicemail message recording fill his ears. He grumbles and hits redial just as he hears someone tramping up the stairs.

“I got her!” Eddie bellows, pausing at the top step to catch his breath, “I got her, s’fine Steve. You can calm your tits now.”

He falls onto the couch opposite of Steve and moves to light the cigarette between his lips. Nancy, quick as ever, snatches the cigarette from his mouth and snaps it in half. Eddie squawks indignantly, too caught up in Nancy’s flagrant disrespect to pay attention as a duffle bag is thrown toward him.

It lands with a pained grunt against his chest, “The fuck?” He coughs out, zippo falling between the seat cushions in the chaos.

“Shit Ed,” You huff, falling alongside him on the sofa, “Thought you were gonna catch that, my bad.”

He’s quick to accept your apology with a smile, arm thrown over your shoulders as the duffle bag falls to the ground.

“Steve,” You greet with a tilt of your head.

He snaps the phone shut and fixes you with a look.

“Ooh,” Eddie tsks. “Think mom’s mad.”

Showing up to Warped Tour after releasing a debut album that’s barley a month old in a brand new tour bus and the (mostly) full confidence of their record label has Steve stressed, for lack of a better term. Under the Gun had received generally positive reviews, despite the back and forth with the label over song titles and “overly loquacious” choruses.

While the label didn’t give you all carte blanche to do whatever you wanted on the record, there was the advantage of time this go ‘round. Honorable Mention’s first two releases, an EP and LP respectively, were recorded quickly due to lack of funds for more studio time, and after signing with Island Records, the four of you plus Nance had hauled out to California for three months to write and record.

It wasn’t easy, not by a long shot, composing as a band was rough, as was co-writing lyrics with Eddie, the both of you having vastly different styles. Add to that Steve’s penchant for vetoing things like hooks, verses, choruses, and song titles after hearing them just once while being fiercely protective over his own work— well, let’s just say everyone was happier once the album was locked and management had signed off on it.

So glad, in fact, that you’d actually booked it back to Chicago just to put some distance between you and Steve. Too much tension, all things considered, especially after the incident.

Robin pushes her obnoxious heart-shaped sunglasses into her hair and screeches upon seeing you in the tour bus.

“Babe!”

She falls onto your and Eddie’s legs while Nancy looks on with a shake of her head and a fond smile.

“Glad to see that the three musketeers are back together,” Hop greets, hand affixed to the railing by the font steps. “Er, uh, four musketeers, I guess. Sorry Steve.” He nods to Steve and Nance, kisses his teeth before saying, “You rascals ready to go?”

“Now that we have our lead singer, yeah.” Steve grouses with a cross of his arms. Nance smacks the back of his head.

“So sorry Steven,” You say, voice laden with malice. “But in the event that I hadn’t shown up, I know that you could easily carry the burden of being frontman,” Eddie elbows you warningly. “As you have told me, many, many times.”

“Whatever.”

Hopper quirks a brow at you, unaccustomed to vitriol between the pair of you. “Okaaay,” He drawls, “Ignoring whatever the fuck that was, the first stop is Columbus.”

He goes over the details of what to expect, even though he’ll be there in person for the duration of the two-month tour. Nancy nods taking notes, because of course she does. Steve continues to glower at you because he’s got a stick up his ass. Meanwhile, you initiate a slap fight with Robin and Eddie out of sheer boredom.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Hop scolds you, “Would you cut that out? I already have one teenager to deal with, and I don’t need your bullshit on top of that.”

You perk up at the mention of his daughter, “Is El here yet?”

“She’s coming up with Joyce tomorrow to help with the merch tent.”

Momentarily dejected, you sit back against the cushions, legs in serious danger of going numb from Robin’s squirming. Murray climbs onto the bus during Hop’s little speech, settling in the driver’s seat with a deep sigh.

“Murray,” You say, “I’m so pissed you won’t be with us for the Canadian legs.”

You can feel Rob’s stomach contract in barely repressed laughter.

“Damn mounties,” Murray mutters under his breath, checking the mirrors and adjusting his seat.

“Yeah,” You continue, “It’s a real shame that they banned you from the country. And over what? A simple misunderstanding of—”

“I’m not a drug mule!”

Eddie snorts.

“What an unfounded accusation,” You say with a slow shake of your head. “I mean, what right do they have to do that? So you had some prescriptions, we’ve all been there.”

“Well, it’s a shit country, anyway.”

“Tell ‘em man!”

Steve lobs a water bottle toward Eddie’s head, he moves to avoid it and artfully flips him off.

“Y’done Ace?” Hop asks with a tap of his shoe. “We gotta get this show on the road and you know riling him up only makes his driving worse.”

“Oh,” You smirk, “I’m counting on it.”

Hopper ends the team meeting and says he’ll see everyone tomorrow for sound-check. As he leaves the bus, Steve grabs his phone and hat and heads to the lounge at the back of the bus. Robin scrambles off your lap to follow after him, but not before giving you a hug and kiss.

“Missed you babe!”

“Likewise!” You call after her and grab your bag from Eddie’s feet. “Shall we?” You inquire with an arched brow, offering him your arm.

“Sure thing, sweets.”

Leaving Nance and Murray to their own devices, you follow Eddie down the cramped hallway.

“So I’m over here,” He gestures to the right. “Nance and Rob are just there,” He points to the left. “Which leaves you and—”

“Don’t finish that sentence Edward.”

He turns with an impish grin, “What? Not looking forward to bunking with Steve?”

You roll your eyes in exasperation, “Clearly not.”

He’s already claimed the top bunk and throw his crap in it, like some rabid raccoon. You reluctantly toss your bag to the bunk underneath his.

“Why can’t I just bunk with you Ed?”

“C’mon Ace,” He wraps an arm around you, “Y’know I’ve gotta have space for my Sweetheart.”

You gag, earning a swat to the arm from him.

“How was California? Haven’t seen you in ages.”

He settles back against the sofa with you in the front lounge. Murray closes the bus door and pulls out of the parking lot. Nancy has made herself scarce, probably in the back with Rob and Steve, leaving you and Eddie to your own devices.

“Yeah, you high-tailed it outta there pretty fast.” Eddie says carefully, watchful as you tense up and begin to rifle through your purse. He lets you do that for a minute or two before continuing in the same carefree tone. “Wanna tell me why I found your Calvins in Stevie boy’s room after you left?”

You head moves so fast, he’s nearly worried about whiplash. In a flash, your eyes shrink back from their wide, shocked state as you try to school your features into a semblance of calm.

“Oh, he probably just grabbed ‘em by mistake,” You shrug nonchalantly, “We both wear Calvins so.”

“Sorry, let me clarify.” Eddie says with a wicked smirk. “Your thongs, Ace. Why would Steve have those, hmm?”

You scoff. “I don’t know. Maybe he was selling them online or something perverted like that?” You grab your journal and smack it down on the table. “Why were you snooping for my unmentionables, Edward?”

“Ah, you got me.” He laughs, fascinated by how quickly you rose to defense. “Was gonna sell them online. Guess Harrington beat me to it.”

He watched as you saunter toward the back of the bus, on a mission to extricate Rob from Steve’s clutches. Wonders how long the standoff will be this time and who will break first: you or Steve.

It was only a matter of time.

#steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #stranger things fanfiction #band!au #fic: aloic

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wolfgirlandfarmboy · 3 days

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SPEAKING OF MARRIAGE. have you ever drawn them at their wedding recently? what would their dresses look like.. what would be their song.. who would be invited.. would it be huge or lowkey.. would anything go wrong or would it go off without a hitch.. inquiring minds want to know!

I sadly haven't drawn them in their matching wedding dresses recently 😭 I think the last time I did was this Encanto Redraw

I really need to update them though especially since I had wedding lore for Lore itself more fleshed out.

AS FOR THEIR WEDDING SONG...maaan I really need to put time aside to specifically put together their actual wedding playlist. There are both SO MANY choices for them yet none because all the songs I have picked for them are too fast pace for a more traditional wedding vibes...I DID cheat a little while answering this ask and look up a list of good R&B songs to play at weddings and found out Jamie Foxx and Beyonce's duet "When I First Saw You" is a REALLY good fit for these two.

When it comes to guests, they would def invite all their close friends (so everyone in Briar Patch basically). Pinokuni is def Jack's best man with Kai being one of his groomsmen while Ashe is for sure one of Nana's bridesmaids along with Xia being a bridesmate.

I see Jack and Nana getting married as the cliche fairytale ending for Beanstalked so Jack SOMEHOW accidentally invites all the cool folks they met throughout their journey together. He'd do it in the "I wanna be nice just so no one feels personally excluded because all these guys were really nice and helped us save the world" and not really expect anyone to truly show up save for 3 or 4 people...

...and then Jack and Nana find out "Oh everyone we sent an invite to actually showed up and now we actually have to figure out how to seat 50+ people in one location"

So it started off initially planned to be lowkey only for it to become VERY highkey at the last second.

It isn't much of a problem though because the spot they have their wedding is outside. SPECIFICALLY at Nana's dad's final resting place..which sounds wild BUT LEMME EXPLAIN--

When he died, he purposely made sure he was in his big ass wolf form so that he wouldn't be hauled off by hunters and taken from his family. So there is a giant wolf skeleton that is located in the Lupine Forest that is kind of one with nature now so it's covered in greenery. It's a little unsettling to those unaware of the lore behind it while also still being serene. Nana goes there often when things get too hard so she can talk to her dad.

She wanted to have her wedding there so she could make sure her dad was present. And Jack was more than willing to oblige her.

Miraculously, even with the giant guest list, everything goes off without a too much of a hitch. I wouldn't say entirely smoothly since that's a lot of people and there's some shenanigans afoot especially at the wedding reception since that's when everyone parties.

BUT it's a very fun experience for them both, even for Nana who is the #1 antisocial of the village.

The couple did take a very well deserved honeymoon in a much quieter place afterwards though. Poor things had to recharge and fully process they were husband and wife now.

#i ready this ask like a microphone being held to my face #ask #jack #nana #wedding #beanstalked spoiler: jack and nana get married in the end #but this is a story based off fairytales so like...I AM SURE IT'S NOT THAT BIG OF A SURPRISE

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puppyeared · 4 months

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Tell me about a song you like right now, maybe an animation you just watched that made you think thoughts and feel things

Only Acting by Kero Kero Bonito!! I want to make an animatic for Macaque using this song and some parts of Shadow Play and the s4 special.. although im still mapping it and deciding whether I want to use the radio edit or not lol

#its like really really rough and mostly in my head rn bc i havent drawn lmk in a while so im a little rusty. probably need to rewatch some #eps if i want to get a good idea of what i wanna include. im also debating if i should wait until we get more context on his and wukongs #past before i do anything bc the last thing i wanna do is butcher it @_@... i was thinking of paralleling the song with the pilgrims #but because i dont actually know what HAPPENED or why mac even thinks wukong killed him thats probably gonna be important to know #but its like really cool in my head.. if u listen to the song sarahs voice uses an audio filter and there are some random glitch effects #which could be good visually for macs smoke monster and him fucking with MK in general.. spooky stuff!!!#the lyrics also speak from the pov of a performer which is what reminded me of mac in the first place so it would be fun to animate to #its in my shower playlist so when i listen to it i get really intense visualizing for what scenes i wanna do. hitting 2 birds with 1 stone #actually thats smth i do when i wanna storyboard smth.. i add it to my shower playlist bc thats where i come up with my ideas lol #but yea!!! if i ever get around to doing it id be really excited to share what i have.. i have another in mind with pigsy and MK #which is way shorter and i could probably get it done during my break... ;o)#my art #myart #ask #answered #lmk #lego monkie kid #lmk macaque #six eared macaque #liu er mihou #doodles #yapping

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07734-143 · 1 year

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I'm almost done (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

#dcmk #detco #kudo shinichi #kuroba kaito #detective conan #dcmk fanart #took 2 hours but I'm almost done ᕦ⁠(⁠ò⁠_⁠ó⁠ˇ⁠)⁠ᕤ #brb I gotta color it now #I might share the playlist I was listening to while drawing this because it was amazing #I realized this was 750x750 that's why it's so pixelated #I have a bad phone and I thought that was just the screen #kaishin #magic kaito #this is the softest thing I've ever drawn and I love it <3 #kaitou kid

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ra-vio · 2 years

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I gush about TP a lot

#loz #legend of zelda #twilight princess #link #I can probably count on one hand how many times I've drawn TP Link #I have a hard time playing tp cause of my attention span 😭 i cant play it again unless it gets a switch release #cause then I wont be able to find the energy to finish #i have a playlist I would listen to to sleep to in the morning cause my house is loud #i think for a week i awoke in tears to the tp ending song lmao #its in so many ways the best #the attention span thing is weird cause when I was a kid I thought it wasn't long enough but i cant play it now #cause i think its too long. which doesn't really make sense #considering how often i played botw from start to finish

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humanmorph · 1 year

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lemferos. thinking so much about them lately

#friends at the table #fatt #seasons of hieron #hieron #rosa art #fero feritas #lem king #lemfero #ok you can barely see safewater in lems hair in the first one but he is there #i listened to a mountain goats fero playlist the other night and it made me a kindof miserable #and the next day i went well what if.i drew fero happy for once what about that #lemfero is The Thing its true and real to me basically. theyre #the thing is their breakup is so fun and i really love when theyre kind of awful to each other BUT WELL the potential for them caring.#about each other and being sweet. its post canon to me ive got a whole timeline by which i shouldve probably drawn them more wrinkles #im having fun drawing lately AND liking what i draw its still. mindblowing #gearing up for secsam.i guess : )#i love drawing fero on green backgrounds i think 80% if feros ive drawn are like this #ok one last thing well if you read all these. thanks : ) i like talking. but yeah when i started sketching lem looked wildly different #in each drawing(i had another one of just him i just didnt like at all) and it was funny to me bc u could clearly see #who my favourite of the two was(its fero) but i think now its kind of fine so i cant make that joke anymore but i still did wanna mention it #.#im going to bed now

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jestercoven · 1 year

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it's not fully setting in that the show is actually over and i'm probably never gonna see belos animated in any official way ever again and i'm not ready for it all to hit me like a bag of bricks. :(

#hes been my Everything since i started watching the show like a year ago #i have merch of him ive drawn him countless times ive got playlists for him #the only reason my toh oc exists is so they can be happy and married and evil together #and the main thing keeping me going through hiatus was being excited to see him again #so now thats just GONE? and it ends with him being STOMPED ON FOR THE FUNNY?#NOT INVOLVING HUNTER OR CALEB OR EVELYN??#needless to say i am utterly heartbroken but my brain cannot process just how upset this has made me #like i still enjoyed the finale and im glad i got to see him be cool and vile and gross but. i just wanted more.#and now its over and theres not even a CHANCE of that wittebane spinoff happening that some of us have spoken about fkgbfjbgkf #im just in agony i think

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where-is-caithe · 2 years

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My attempt at making her look a bit more punk + it's been a while since I've drawn her covered in blood uwu

#gw2 #guild wars 2 #gw2 norn #gw2 art #rhowan #she's supposed to be punk and ive only ever drawn her looking pretty normal :/#like it's one of her defining characteristics in my own brain #and i bet not many of you think that #shes got major problems with authority #so its good she's like. the top right now #but the whole thing in eod with the ministry of security was. hm.#she had a lot to say about that #and she and rama do Not get along #anyways #theres a song on rhowan & yden's playlist called #when I look at you by lesly roy #and its got a line that says 'youre the kind of guy a girl like me goes for'#and that's the main reason it's on their playlist #bc aesthetically a punk and a goth would go together #anyways my curse is having to draw these Damn Pauldrons so much #if i didnt like them so much i would kick them to the curb

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hostilecityshowdown · 2 years

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[ the mirror draws down your head, you think the image is real; your tears are melting your face but you forgot how to feel remember your lungs (the weight of your bones) remember your lungs ]

(PWYW fanfiction and (limited) art commissions are open)

#hello. this is the first thing i've drawn with my own tablet in my own art program in Some Time so it isn't good but it is wrestling.#hopefully you understand why i'm very reluctant to draw real wrestlers but hey shoot your shot #[ colour commentary ]#mm. mmmm...... art.... tag....#[ promotional material ]#good enough /j #undertaker #if you can't access the link: it's watkins family hour's ''hypnotized''#should i take playlist commissions does anyone pay for those?? i have some playlists for wrestlers linked on my desktop theme #long post #uhh how do i. tag this.#unreality

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scattered-winter · 7 months

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absolute worst thing is that my big study playlist keeps trying to get me to add more mcumusic to it. like please it's not on there for a REASON. get this man (alan silvestri) out of my SIGHT

#like i might get shot for saying this but he's mid....he's so so mid....#on occasion he'll have a good one. but honestly overall he is such a mid composer but because he does a lot of mcu he's hyped up soo much #i dont WANT avengers endgame/infinity war on my playlist go AWAY #winter speaks #honestly its probably a good thing i dont really involve myself w other score enthusiasts more often #because my opinions would have me drawn and quartered tbh #like sorry. alan silvestri is NOT worth the hype.#die mad about it maybe.

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raiiny-bay · 2 years

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rai relearns how to draw pt. 3 (the finale)

full pic under the cut

#myart #kelly #i did it everybody #i finished a full drawing for the first time since i was like... 17 probably idk #idk it's been years #i think this is not the worst thing i've ever done #in fact i would go so far as to say i think it actually kinda looks like him #i haven't drawn a full body since..... oh god....... i have no idea #forever #my sketchbook is entirely busts & it is a sketchbook i have had for a very long time #this took me the duration of all 8 of my story/character playlists #just btw #n e way #mayhaps i will do the others idk tho #i'm kinda burnt out on sims #so that might give me more time to do other things (like drawing the others) so we'll see #watch me post sims content tomorrow after saying that #also the skull shirt is like.... his original character design #it used to be a long sleeve but i usually draw it as a t-shirt now #i came up w it when i was 12 #that's why it's so creative obviously #i'd like to think he has 30 copies of the same exact skull shirt #a few of them are long sleeved... for the winter ofc #ok bye

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boygirlctommy · 1 year

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barely caught the last few minutes of tommys stream, but it doesnt matter bcus i still cried my eyes out :,) i love you dsmp and most of all i love you dsmp fandom <3

#my post #i have so many great memories thanks to this server andve made so many friends #fr though from when mello gave me their lore playlist and i swore to be a ctubbo apologist right off the bat #to losing it over exile #discovering sad-ist and realizing that i want to work in animation #binge-reading passerine in one go hours before my senior prom and laying on the floor trying to process it all #making batshit theories about cranboo #being certain i was gonna miss tftsmp every single time but every time they were late #cosplaying cwilbur at a con and meeting so many other dsmp enjoyers :D #reading mangoball as it was still being updated #r/place (o7 placebur i sacrificed my sanity for the left eye)#torturing my siblings by giving EXTREMELY detailed lore explanations while we were driving and they couldnt escape <3 #reading no cause for concern!! finding artists that i adore and friends that i love!!! ./hug and HOLD HANDS CHAT!!!!#building the camarvan in my irls mc realm and placing lmanberg flags everywhere!!#ive drawn ctommy so much he made up half of my portfolio for college applications!#i love these characters i love this story i love this fandom i could go on for hours an dhours picking out little things i love and #favorite moments and memories!!#im not going anywhere- gonna be here drawing and crying about ctommy for the rest of my days probably #i just needed to lovepost about this weird and finally dead server <3

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danveration · 3 months

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Sleep well, amour.

Parings: Alastor x reader

Summary: You’ve been very intrested in Alastor ever since you met him. He invites you to see his recording studio, which you accept. Then you ask if you can stay and listen to him host! While listening, you fall asleep. How does he react?

Word count: 2844

Warnings: Ummm not really much? Alastor being Alastor! One mention of not being able to sleep sometimes, mention of seeing people in hell doing dr*gs, k*lling eachother, and fighting, mention of reader having bad social skills (?)

part two

A/N: UM!! this is my first time writing for alastor, so apologies if it isn’t the best. Please give me any feedback you want, I’d love to hear it! Also sorry for any spelling mistakes. I hope you enjoy :’)

Alastor the radio demon. You know of the things he’s done, you know that people are quite literally terrified of him. But for some reason... you feel a certain way towards him that you can’t describe, but it’s surely not fear.

You’ve had a some-what odd admiration of him since you landed in hell, only a few months ago. You got spotted by Charlie when you first got to hell. She noticed you looking around nervously and lost, and put two and two together that you must be new. She very kindly introduced herself which was refreshing because.. well.. it’s hell. Everywhere you looked people were fighting, doing drugs, and even killing each other. You were glad there were kind people even down here.

“Hi, you! Uh, you lost?” Charlie smiled you and waved.

“Um yeah! I’m guessing this is hell, huh?” You awkwardly chuckle. Social skills weren’t ever your thing, it seems they haven’t got better after you died, either.

“Yep! This is hell! You must be new? I’m Charlie! Charlie Morningstar. It’s so nice to meet you.” She smiled and stuck out her hand for you to shake.

“Nice to meet you, Charlie! My names Y/n.” You politely smiled back and shook her hand.

After that meeting, Charlie showed you to the hotel in which you eagerly accepted to stay at, her being the only sane thing you’ve seen down here. It was a pretty nice place, no 5 star hotel like back on earth, but it was something you’re very grateful for. Who knows what would’ve happened to you if you haven’t met her.

While she was showing you around, someone caught your eye. He was a tall man, very polite and respectful looking. He was dressed head to toe in old fashioned attire, with a cane to suit his charming look. He was smiling in a way that made you look at him like he was something you wanted to inspect under a magnifying glass.

He glanced at you and smiled larger, stepping over to you and Charlie.

“My, my! What do we have here? Charlie! You didn’t tell me that we’ve got more guests? It’s a pleasure to meet you, my dear! The names Alastor!” He spoke politely.

His voice was sort of.. Radio-like? You found it soothing.

“Haha yeah! I found them wandering around on the street this morning! They’re a newcomer, their name is Y/n.” She spoke back, excited to introduce you.

“Y/n! Well, my, my. That’s quite a lovely name!” He said. “Say.. do you listen to radio? I host a brilliant radio broadcast that’ll give you some real insight on this place!” He said enthusiastically.

“Oh.. haha thank you” You smile. “I do actually! I love radio shows.” You immediately feel drawn towads him. You cant tell if it’s just the new scenery or what.. but you want to just sit and chat with him for hours.

Alastor perks up at that. “Oh you do, do you?” He smiled more.

“Yeah! Back when I was.. uhm.. alive, I actually had a whole playlist of them! What do you do your show about?” You ask.

Alastor is delighted to have you take interest in his show. “Well, dear, I do all sorts of things on there! Yes, yes, you think of it and I’ve most probably done it! Most commonly known is the souls I entrap and prison, as I broadcast their screams of horror all over this horrible place and people get to hear the noises of their never-ending torture and demise. But! I also just made a wonderful segment on my mother’s Jambalaya recipe!” He stated.

While part of those sentences gave you chills, you still seemed to take interest in him.

“Well,” you chuckle. “I will certainly check it out!” You smile.

“Ah! Wonderful news, my dear.” He said while he twirled his cane.

Charlie was watching you interact with him and noticed how you looked at him, as if admiring. She smile and said, “well! We better finish the tour.”

She motions for you to follow her and you do, waving Alastor goodbye.

He waves back and yells, “goodbye, sweetheart! Lovely to have met you.”

After that, you wanted absolutely everything to do with him. You’ve also got to know the other people staying at the hotel. Angel, Vaggie, Husk, Niffty, and Sir Pentious. They were overall kind people. Husk found your interest in Alastor to be no good.

“Yeah, no. That, whatever thing you have created in your mind about him, isn’t true. He’s vile, Y/n. Trust me on that.” He grunts.

Angel thought you had some kind of kink towards “scary, creepy men.” Which wasn’t true because you didn’t even find him scary. You found him charming.

“Ah.. Alastor? Fucking sexy weirdo if I do say so myself. He’s got some reaaal problems but hey, if you’re into that-“ You cut him off by saying it wasn’t like that & that you don’t think anything sexual towards him.

One day, you were talking to Sir Pentious about his “crush” on Cherry Bomb. He completely denied it but you could tell from his blush and his nervous demeanour that he was very interested in her.

You were caught off guard when you heard that radio voice coming up from behind you.

“Y/n, my dear! I have a question for you.” Alastor came and stood beside you, looking down from where you’re sitting.

“Al! Hey, what’s up?” You ask, containing your excitement.

Sir Pentious excused himself quickly, seeing one of his “egg boys” were being played with by Niffty. She isn’t one to be gentle.

“So, I know how you’ve been listening to my radio show as of late, and I was wondering if you’d like to see where the magic happens!” He states.

“R-really? I’d be honoured!” You say, smiling.

“Ah! Lovely. Come now, this way.”

You get up and he locks arms with you and chats about his new microphone that he got.

Once you guys arrive, you’re shocked. It looks very professional and comfortable. It suits him heavily. There’s a big open window, a desk, some chairs and sofas, a bunch of technical stuff on the desk along with his new mic that you recognize from his descriptions, and a deer coat hanger?

“Wow, Alastor. This place is so actually so sick. I love it. And the new microphone suits you!” You say. “Thank you for showing me, really.”

Typically, Alastor would never show someone something personal of his, including his studio, but you are an exception. He isn’t sure what it is about you but he doesn’t seem to hate you as much as he does with anyone else. At first he was weirded out, but now he just embraces it. He also feels protective of you. He doesn’t know exactly why you’re even down here. For as far is he can tell, you’re an angel. Always being kind even to those who aren’t kind to you, always saying “please” and “thank you,” all that jazz. Jazz! You even like jazz music, his favourite. He told you that he lived on earth the time jazz music was popular. The 20’s and 30’s. That explains his vocabulary and how he dresses. You just find it more interesting and take time to ask questions about what it was like in that time.

“Why of course, my dear! If I’d want to show anyone here, it would be you.” He says, giving you his iconic smile.

You have a thought. “Hey, Al? Would it be alright if the next time you do a show, I could stay and listen?”

You hope he doesn’t think this is odd.

Alastor raises a brow. “Why would you want to do that?” He asks.

You panic, thinking you went too far by asking and now he’s going to cut you off or something.

“Ha! Kidding, sweetheart! Of course you can. I love when my broadcast is wanted to be listened to. Though I love it as well when they don’t want to.” He says.

You’re relieved, a bit scared, but still relieved.

“Say!” He says. “I was going to make one tonight talking about this silly technology box that thinks he is better than me! You know, expose all his lies and secrets to my listeners, and unwilling listeners. Maybe broadcast it all throughout hell!” He starts laughing manically. Then calms down and stares at you.

“Would you want to stay and listen, hm? I can do it now! I didn’t have any plans today going forward and well, getting it out sooner is better than later, I always say.” He asks.

You know he’s talking about Vox when he mentioned the technology box. Him and Vox have a sort of rivalry going on. Though Alastor seems to not care much about him, Vox is sure obsessed. He’s even gone so far as to making posters about him. Which areee.. not much of a resemblance.

This offer strikes you and you immediately perk up. “Yes! I’d love to.” You say.

You don’t think Alastor knows this but whenever you’re struggling to sleep, you put on his radio show and his voice comforts you to sleep. You’re sure if you told him, he would find it weird.

Little did you know, Alastor already knew. He walked past your room one night and heard static sounds coming from your quarters. He immediately was intrigued and put his ear close to your door to hear his voice. He was surprised, but not weirded out. He found it delightful that you found comfort in his voice. It’s not everyday someone does. Usually it invokes terror and anxiety on anyone who hears. This was new, and he didn’t hate it.

“Lovely! Let me get all set up. You can sit wherever you feel the most comfortable!” He says, adjusting his mic and pressing a buttons on his table.

You find a spot and sit down. Feeling honored to even be in the same room as him, let alone HIS room.

“Ahem! Welcome ladies and gentlemen-“ He goes off into his introduction, before winking at you and starting.

After about 20 minutes, you begin to feel tired and put your head on the side of the wall, still listening but with your eyes closed.

Alastor immediately notices and smirks, knowing how his voice effects you. He continues on and after about another 20 minutes, he finishes up. You’re asleep, slightly smiling.

He walks over to you and looks down.

“My, my. You really are an interesting one, aren’t you?” He whispers. He smiles more softly than he usually does and looks around to find a purple blanket hanging on his deer coat hanger, and gently places it on you.

He feels his heart fluttering while looking down at you and he immediately shrugs it off.

“Mm well, my dear.. I guess you can stay here. I’ll just be over there, transferring my broadcast to the other radios around town.” He says and points to his table.

“Sleep well, amour.” He speaks softly.

#:alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon x reader #the radio demon x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader hazbin hotel #hes so pookie bear guys UGUHG #i love him sm #my works #alastor imagine #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor x you

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supercutszns · 3 months

Text

bitter to the taste; luke castellan

series masterlist

wc + pairing: 5.5k, luke castellan x f!reader

synopsis: a sharp blade, a black eye, and (more than) two kisses.

warnings: this is even sluttier than the last one, language, sword fighting, sharp objects, blood/injuries, reader is still a horrible person and so is luke but he's also a loooser, making out, allusions/mentions of sex but no super explicit descriptions, kind of fluffy at the end

notes: i’m starting to hate this bc i think i’ve been staring at it too long sorry if this is not as good as pt.1 but i have plans for this series ok. also READER AND LUKE ARE NOT GOOD PEOPLE!!! THEIR RELATIONSHIP WILL NOT ALWAYS BE GOOD!!! THEY SUCK!! they are also not real but keep that in mind :) synopsis inspired by crush by ethel cain; designated song for this fic is unpunishable by ethel cain (i’ve got a whole chronological playlist for these freaks like it’s serious)

You’ve always had a taste for violence. And an equally powerful penchant for sloth.

You prefer to watch the carnage, not participate. It satisfies something inside you that you know, if it wasn’t for your laziness, could cause something irrevocable. Who the hell has time for that?. You’d rather lie back and watch instead.

This flaw of yours is the only reason you haven’t stirred more trouble, you think. It’s the reason you never attend camp games or sparring lessons. Sometimes, when you do, a dark muscle flexes inside your heart to curl out of its slumber, forming a hunger you don’t have otherwise. The second it starts to pry you have to rear yourself back and tuck the monster in. Banish the need for something more.

You don’t want to feed it. You don’t know what happens if you do. So you let other people do the feeding for you.

Luke cuts through two dummy heads in one swoop. It’s fucking gorgeous. The moon reflects off his sword, a silver sheen casting his face when he’s in the right spot. His brows are set, eyes so dark they blend with the night. Every motion is ruthless. Satisfying.

You don’t know how many times you’ve watched him like this. He called you out for it last night, but you’re sure he doesn’t know the half of it. The shadows are a sacred cloak to you, and you wait inside them until you want your presence known.

Meet me tomorrow.

It runs through your head like a broken record. You can still feel his breath on your lips and your neck is still tender—had to wear a sweater in the blazing heat to hide the marks. Since you were created you’ve accepted a universal truth about yourself: you don’t harbour affection for anyone or anything. There’s not a single thing you’ve felt drawn to or protective over but yourself. It’s solitary, yes, and lonely, yes, but that’s the way you’re supposed to be.

But you think about last night. You think about the moments between the kisses and the rush. When he teased you against your ear. When his hand brushed a certain spot on your back and something much lighter fluttered inside of you. When you crawled into sleep and thought about him, those were the moments that struck you the strangest.

His gaze pans over the treeline every once in a while, the anger diluted. Then it comes back twice as hard as he shreds another dummy to pieces.

He’s waiting for you. Oh, this is rich! A better person would probably turn around and go spoon their offerings into the bonfire the second they understand what they’re doing is incredibly destructive. But who are we kidding? You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.

So you take a step forward, slip out of the comfort of the dark, and the next time he looks to the treeline he knows you’re there. He can’t see you, but he knows.

You wait. His strikes are less tenuous, much smoother. It almost makes you laugh. Some fucking showman he is.

Eventually, he buries his blade in the dirt and wipes his brow. “Are you gonna come talk to me or are you gonna stare at me all night like an owl?”

You relish in the feeling of shedding the darkness, coming into the light of the moon. “Hi,” you say flatly, but there’s a tiny smile on his face when he sees you that almost puts you off.

“Hello, rotten.” He tries to lean on the hilt of his sword but it isn’t quite tall enough so he stumbles. It’s so pathetic it almost makes you laugh.

“Don’t call me that,” you grimace.

“Okay, back to heathen?”

“Don’t call me that either.”

“Well, you don’t seem too happy when people call you by your name so pick your poison here.”

You don’t say anything, your mouth set in a scowl. “All right, both it is,” Luke shrugs.

He’s different from last night. Less impatient. You hope it’s not because he thinks he has you now—he’s got another thing coming. “I almost thought you weren’t gonna come,” he says with a crooked grin, neither bashful nor ashamed.

You’ve made your way closer to him, the soft grass turning to dusty earth. “Don’t know why I did,” you mutter crassly.

Having abandoned his sword, Luke chuckles wryly. “Yes, you do.”

That bitterness he hides from everyone else pierces through. He tilts your face up like he did yesterday, the press of his fingers beneath your chin almost burning you. You know he’s peering at the marks on your neck.

“If you made me come here just to hook up with me you’re delusional,” you glare.

“What, like that’s not why you’re here?” He pushes your face up a little higher, grinning a little when you add resistance. “I’m a gentleman, you know. I can be patient.”

This guy is full of fucking shit.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” you snipe. The only point of contact you have is his hand on your chin, but you’re a hair’s breadth away from having everything else. The air drifting between you is almost palpable, shrinking smaller and smaller like it’s terrified of being trapped between you.

He keeps your face still. He’s studying you, and you’re suddenly curious about what he sees. You remember all those looks you’d share at the dinner tables that made this happen in the first place. What did he see then?

“You wanna fight?”

It takes you a second to react. “What?”

“You want to fight. Pick up a sword, let’s go.” He smiles as he finally lets you go, waltzing away from you to unbury his sword from the dirt. His touch permeates through your skin and you hate it.

“What the fuck are you talking about? I can’t fight.”

“Sure you can,” he replies, grabbing another sword from the training rack. “You need to burn off a little steam.”

You laugh sharply. “And you think me waving a sword around is gonna do that?”

“Uh, yeah,” he grins. “It’s the method that lets us keep the most clothes on.”

You glare at him. His smirk is a mile wide. The way your stomach is simmering almost makes you sick; it’s like gorging yourself on candy except this time the candy has a sword and maybe wants to fuck you.

You just watch as he hands you his sword, and the moonlight glinting off the metal has you believing it’s not the kind used for training. “I’ll use the dull one,” he assures. “C’mon, heathen. I know you’ve used a sword before, they force us to.”

“I usually skip those classes.”

He laughs. You can’t tell if it’s at you or with you. “Of course you do.”

You don’t like following orders, but oh, what the hell. Luke knows something about you, just like you know something about him. You’re only a little curious about it.

“Straighten your back,” is the first thing he says once you’ve taken your stance across from him. The blunt of his sword reaches out to tap your hip.

You begrudgingly do as you’re told. He watches you mirthfully, and the press of his sword against you starts to feel like a substitute for his hand. All the closeness you’re hungry for, dampened by cold steel. It still makes you buzz.

He gives you the barebones—the right grip, how to maneuver, the proper balance. But long gone is his easy disposition. The motor inside him that powered all those dummy beheadings and disembowelments is running again, except this time it’s for you. He wants a fight. This is his battlefield. All right, you’ll bite.

You start to spar with the skill of an overgrown toddler. The sword feels like an unnatural ligament hanging off your body. Luke is precise, convicting, far more enthusiastic than you. “You can do better than that,” he prods after your swords clash lazily for the billionth time. “Stop going easy.”

“You’re going easy,” you shoot back.

“Yeah, but I’d really rather not. Come on.”

There’s a moment of hesitation. You think about that dark thing you keep harboured. A muscle aching to be used.

“Come on,” he says again, and he almost sounds pissed. “All of a sudden you’re playing nice? What are you afraid of?”

Something flares inside you. “Nothing!”

“Then pick up the sword and fight me.”

You huff and roll your eyes, but your next swing is far more inspired. Luke blocks it easily, but you don’t care. “There we go,” he nods. “Again.”

This is more than you bargained for when you decided to come see him. All you want is to make out with this hot, awful person and have him tell you hot, awful things about yourself you probably already know. Why do you have to fight to get it?

He keeps provoking you no matter how hard you try. Your temper picks up the more you swing, discordant clangs bruising the air, but it’s still not enough. Luke doesn’t let up. Of course the one time you try to be nice, you’re not allowed to. On second thought, why are you reigning yourself in for Luke? The only other person in camp with a real, consuming viciousness? If anything you should hit him twice as hard, since he’s so sure he can take it.

“No wonder you’re so angry all the time,” Luke heaves out, and it gives you a swell of satisfaction. “You don’t have a proper outlet. Maybe you’d be nicer if you didn’t sit around and complain all day.”

“Shut up,” you gnash your teeth.

“Just saying, maybe you should do something about it.”

You’re getting lost in the rhythm of the swords, the adrenaline, the sweat passing the scar on his cheek. Every swing you think less and less, and that dark muscle flexes more and more. It feels like home to you. Like a good meal. Your bones ache and the world has darkened, but that rotten pit inside you cracks open in full bloom.

Luke keeps egging you on but you can’t hear him. Not like he still needs to. You think you’re smiling, or huffing furiously, or both. The sharpness of the sword intrigues you. A million terrible things reflect off its blade and you imagine them, all at once, until you are out of your body and the black hole inside you has properly wedged itself open.

Luke jabs at you and you bring your sword down with a vengeance. But it’s a little too low. You only notice when he drops his weapon to the side and staggers back.

The fog of violence falters. It fades almost completely when he hisses long and hard, eyes screwed shut, and you see the tear in his shirt. In his skin.

“Shit,” you say. “Fuck.”

You don’t sound sorry, you don’t think you are sorry, especially when he laughs. It’s a wheezy one through his teeth as you come up to him, but a laugh nonetheless. “Knew you were going easy,” he remarks through a wince.

You ignore him, looking down at the injury. A gash across his abdomen. It’s bleeding a little, but not enough for it to drip. You did that. Just looking at the blood, you feel the bitter taste of it in your mouth, the reward a temporary hunger for carnage brought you. This is why you don’t play camp games.

“I’ve got thick skin. I’m fine,” Luke says casually. “I’ve got a medical kit under that tree over there in case I beat myself up too bad.” He’s no longer scrunched in pain, and you’ve got a feeling he’s telling the truth. So you go fetch the kit where he said it was. You need to wrap that slash. Not because you’re sorry for him, but because looking at it makes you angry.

You kneel and pop the lid of the small tin kit, covered in dirt. It’s mostly gauze and bandages. Rubbing alcohol too. “Just give me the gauze, that’s all I need,” Luke gestures.

“Shut the fuck up, I’m doing it myself.” You’ve already torn off some gauze, sitting all the way up on your knees.

“Most people just say sorry.”

“You pushed me,” you spit back, surprisingly forceful. Luke’s smile drops. You take a deep breath, adjusting yourself to get eye level with the injury. “I told you I don’t fight.”

You’re not sure what makes Luke give in, but he doesn’t say a word as you lift the hem of his torn shirt and he holds it up. There’s no proud remark about your eyes lingering on his stomach, or the hesitation in your hands. You stare at the wound. It really is shallow. Your thumb presses at the skin around it and he winces. “My bad,” you mutter.

As you sterilize the cut and wrap the gauze around his torso, you try not to let your fingertips cling to the warmth on his skin. You try not to notice the other scars littered there, most faded to the point they should be impossible to pick up even in the sun. It’s obvious he’s staring at you. Your neck is crawling with warmth. But you don’t engage, you just wrap the gauze a few times and do your best not to notice the rise and fall beneath his muscles as he breathes. Then you fasten things neatly and put everything away so you can get up. Any second. Come on.

“Good?” You ask instead, exhaling.

“Good,” he affirms. He slides a hand under your forearm and gets you up. It stays there once you’re standing. The night stills.

“I’m guessing you’re adding ‘attempted killer’ to your list of horrible qualities,” you go on to break the silence.

He holds your gaze unyieldingly. “I’d consider that a pro, actually.”

You are entirely fed up with this drawn out evening, but you can’t bring yourself to speed anything up any more than stepping closer so your chests brush. “I will give you one, though,” he continues, craning down to your ear. You smell his skin and it sends you back to the position you were in yesterday.

He finally kisses your jaw, just once, then your neck. You shiver. “You’re too tense.” Another kiss behind your ear. It’s not enough. “Do you even know how to have fun?”

“I don’t want to have fun,” you reply bitterly. I just want to make out with you, asshat.

Luke’s breath frosts over your face when he chuckles, but before he can get any further away you catch his mouth with yours. Almost instinctively his arm winds around you to pull you in closer, your hand looping through his curls. It's a relief, knowing last night wasn't some freak accident. This does feel good, actually, and it can happen. Everything you felt yesterday is only more urgent now, hungrier, and you're pretty sure the way you kiss him gives that away.

He indulges you, squeezing the base of your hips as his other hand thumbs across the marks on your neck. This is so fucking embarassing—you think you whine when he bites down on your bottom lip. You’ve never needed something this bad, you’ve never needed anything. But you press yourself as close to him as you can manage and his hand runs lower, slips against your inner thighs, and it’s difficult to worry about anything else.

Until he pulls away. Like a dick.

He doesn’t go far, his forehead pressed to yours, but you feel like pulling out all his hair. It’s a muddling mix of frustration and longing you’re starting to associate with him. “Dude,” you groan, an inner coil only starting to unwind begrudgingly compressing.

“Let’s go for a swim,” he says. The enthusiasm is almost alarming. Almost makes him look younger.

You’re homicidal. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Yes, heathen. Let’s go for a swim, come on.”

He’s rubbing circles on your thigh, which only makes you want to strangle him. “But I—I don’t have my bathing suit,” you string out.

The smile gets more boyish. “Wow, whatever shall we do?”

It’s another challenge. Another dare. And he knows what you want, fucking jerk. You’re going to kill him.

“Fine,” you grunt, and the second the words leave your lips you’re pulled to the lake.

It’s a warm, sticky evening, only made worse with the sweat and the half-assed kissing, so the water doesn’t seem all that bad. Unfortunately, you don’t like giving into demands. So you stare ghoulishly at your fingernails as Luke tosses off his ripped shirt and his shorts so he can plunge into the lake. “Aren’t you going to at least come in?” He asks, but you don’t look at him.

“I don’t like swimming,” you lie.

“At least your feet. It’s nice, I swear!”

A splash, like smoke moving through wind chimes. You look up and Luke has completely submerged, popping his head up closer to the mouth of the dock. “Please,” he says with such conviction your resolve turns to butter. Gods, what is happening to you? You still need that lobotomy!

You sigh, roll your eyes, turn your back to him. “Fuck this,” you mutter under your breath. You undress to your undergarments and you’re not sure if you want Luke to be watching or not. The moon touches your bare skin and a chill trickles through you.

You take a seat at the edge of the dock, knees tucked to your chest. Luke swims over for you right away. His hair is dripping against his skin, and you hate how beautiful it looks. The waterline is high tonight, almost ridiculously so, so he props his elbows up on the dock with no problem. “Come in,” he urges.

“No.”

“Just your legs?”

“No.”

“Gods, I’ll make it worth it, just throw your damn legs in!”

Your eyebrows shoot up. His face is stubbornly pink. Oh, so now he wants something. You take your time uncurling yourself and Luke wades away from the dock so you can put your feet in. The water goes up to your calves, and you shiver. “So fucking difficult,” he mutters, and your pulse flickers.

“Sorry, what was that?” You let yourself grin for the first time all night.

“Nothing,” he hums. This time when he comes to the dock, he wraps his hands around your calves. You’re pretty sure he can stand here because he stops treading. The warmth of the water seems to spread further, long past the threshold of your knees.

He rests his chin just above your knee, water pooling on your skin. “Stop dripping on me,” you complain.

“Sorry.” He fake pouts when he kisses the damp spot. You see, ever so faintly, a diabolic shift in his expression. He nudges your leg with the point of his nose, then kisses it, then starts to move it aside. “Feel bad about teasing you all night,” he murmurs, still with an edge. He presses more kisses on your legs. “I really did want to see you.”

The irony that he’s still teasing is not lost on you. You’re not loving how desperately warm you’re starting to feel. “Why’s that?” You lean back on your palms.

“You’re a very interesting person,” he quips innocently. His hands are cupping the backs of your calves. He’s pulled you a lot closer to the water, and somehow you’ve just noticed. Another blistering kiss on the inside of your thigh.

“You’re fucking evil,” you scathe.

He looks up at you from between your legs. “You have literally done nothing but berate and injure me this whole evening.”

“Yeah, and right after I patch you up you jump in the water for shits. You’re playing infection roulette, Castellan.”

“See? You’re so mean.” He sighs, and in a move that almost surprises you to death, he hoists both your legs over his shoulders and they dangle into the river behind him. “And here I am anyway, making it up to you.”

You are suddenly illuminated on the purpose of this situation. Why Luke is between your legs. Your heart jolts. “Luke, you can’t be serious.”

“Mmhm.” He leans forward to kiss right under your navel.

You hate how much you want him to do it again, how your body burns, but you avert your eyes. “Someone’s gonna—someone’s gonna hear us.”

He snorts, “No they won’t. Either this or you come in the water with me. Or both. We’ll see.”

A huge smile cracks across your face before you push it back down. You’re going to spend a lot of time coming back to this moment, this night, wondering why. “What is wrong with you.”

It comes out like a compliment when it leaves you. You want to vanish. Luke chuckles, and something foreign to the both of you buzzes through the air.

“Are you going to be nice?” He asks against your skin.

“Are you going to be quick?”

His mouth finds your hip bones and yeah, why the hell would you say no to this? He nods, “Swear.”

That’s all you need. You let your eyes slide shut and your head tilts towards the sky. Luke takes your permission and runs with it, pries you open with his mouth until the stars soak through the black of your eyelids.

You discover pretty quickly neither of you are good at keeping promises.

The next time you need Luke’s med kit, he’s already awake.

It’s been happening more and more often. You lurking around camp past moonrise and finding Luke outside his cabin, going for a walk or a stretch or a … something with you.

“Do you ever sleep?” You ask him sometimes between flurries of kisses with your back against a tree.

“Could ask you the same thing, heathen,” he squeezes your hips and nips at your neck, but never answers the question. And neither do you, so you’re both okay with it. You’d hate to give up this feeling, but he doesn’t need to know that.

This is the first time in your punitive life you have felt alive. Like a person, with bones and flesh and soul, a real presence. Not a ghost of smoke and shadow. You are real.

Fooling around makes you feel like an actual teenager. You’re young, you remember when Luke joins you in the dark. You’re having fun. His hands under your shirt and his mouth on your collarbone, the way he bites down and winces when you do something a little too well, when you string out his name and he rewards you for it. You’re both greedy, insatiable people, so there’s a push and pull only the two of you would ever be able to handle. And nobody has to know. Despite all the bruises, the sleepless nights, the swollen lips, all you and Luke share in the daylight are noxious looks, and that's only if he can find you. A perfect crime. Camp Half-Blood’s angel and the vice that lives in the shadows. But in the dark, it’s hard to tell which is which.

“Luke,” you whisper. “Luke.”

“I’m up,” he grumbles, peering up at you. “You shouldn’t sneak into my cabin.” He was already sitting up in his bed when you slipped in, and he didn’t notice you were there till you were right in front of him.

“Worried someone will catch me? You should know better.”

He follows you outside so you don’t wake the other campers. There’s a thrill knowing just one interaction between the two of you could ruin both your reputations forever.

“What is it, heathen?” He asks as the door closes behind him. It’s so dark and your back is turned to him, but his voice is drenched in smugness. “You don’t usually want to put up with me more than once a night.”

“Don’t have a choice,” you mutter, staring out at the camp. You go to chew on your bottom lip, but you wince immediately. “Where’s your kit thingy? The one we used after I impaled you.”

“You mean after you lightly grazed me?”

“Just tell me where it is, Luke.”

Your sharpness could cut through any sleepy daze he possibly has. He’s silent behind you for a second. “Why?” He asks.

“Because I need it.”

His hand curls around your shoulder and before you can think to submerge yourself in darkness, he turns you around. When he sees you, his face breaks from something proud to something … you’re not sure you like. “Oh, heathen,” he murmurs. “What happened to you?”

You guess it’s a semi-appropriate reaction, although you expected at least a grimace. To put it lightly, your face looks gnarly as fuck. There’s a bruise on your cheekbone and your lip is split. But what really draws attention is the half-formed, garish black eye swelling up your right side.

“Just the usual. Pissed someone off.” It hurts the skin on your lip that’s caked with blood.

He rests his thumb on your unbruised cheek, but somehow it still stings. You know he can’t see much of you in the dark but he tries. The prolonged eye contact without the imminent promise of a kiss feels foreign. “You need to go to the Apollo cabin,” he concludes, brows pushed together.

A laugh slips past your broken lips. “No fucking shot. They would not help me.”

“Why not?”

“Because one of their shit-eaters did this!”

The words take a moment to register. You see them filtering through Luke’s brain. He blinks absurdly. “An Apollo guy beat you up?”

“Not beat up. Just … tussled.”

“How much tussling earns you a black eye, exactly? From Apollo kids.”

“Gods, just tell me where your kit is so you can go back to fucking sleep.”

His fingertips inch around the back of your neck, thumb still against your face. “Already wasn’t sleeping. I might as well help you,” he shrugs. “I move the kit every once in a while so some other campers don’t ravage it.”

“I don’t need help.”

Luke opens his mouth, then sighs deeply. He takes a firm hold of your arm and starts to tug you along. “Hey, what—” you swat at his arm.

“You’re ridiculous,” he huffs. “Come on.”

It’s strange. Luke’s never done you a favour before. At least not one like this. You’re disgruntled enough that you had to go ask him in the first place and now he’s dragging you around? “This isn’t such a big deal, Luke,” you badger. “I’m fine.”

“Sure, whatever. Wait right here.” He lets go of you and only then you realize you’re in front of the Apollo cabin. You grimace, and Luke must have noticed because he says, “Don’t worry, I’m just gonna go inside and grab some things. No one’s gonna jump you.”

You scowl at him, and he just laughs. A part of you hopes he hits his head on the way in. You hide anyway.

It’s a few minutes of waiting in the oppressive summer heat, until Luke emerges from the cabin with his hands full. He looks around, hesitantly calling, “Heathen?” Then again. You move out of your hiding spot and he jogs over to greet you.

“Nice haul,” you comment. There’s an ice pack, cotton pads, a few miscellaneous items. “How’d you get them?”

He smiles widely. “Everyone loves me, heathen. It’s not hard.”

“…So you stole them.”

“Yes, but only because I’m too tired to talk to people and I’m protesting for your sake,�� he rattles off. “Now hold this ice pack before it gives me frostbite.”

The two of you make your way down to the docks again. It’s morphed into your usual meeting place, since the waves lapping at the shore mask when Luke gets a little too noisy just to piss you off. (At least that’s what he tells you.)

He’s stashed his little tin in a different tree this time. After he retrieves it he sets everything out like a chef preparing to make a meal out of gauze and rubbing alcohol.

Your head has been throbbing for the past few hours. You’re not proud that you antagonized the wrong Apollo kid and got a shiner for it. You’re less proud that you came to Luke for help. Just like everyone else does.

“Come,” he gestures, tugging at the waistband of your pants. You scoot closer to him and swallow the weight of your pulse when he touches you.

Luke slowly presses the ice pack to your black eye, letting you hold it. “What did you do to earn this, anyway?” He asks, head tilted to the side.

You’re hissing because of the ice, half-consciously shifting into him. “The usual. Spat at him. Made fun of his daddy a little too much. Tripped him so he landed face-first in his offerings.”

“You did not,” Luke laments as he dots alcohol onto a cotton pad.

“You’re allowed to say you’re proud of me, Saint Castellan. I won’t tell. You can be mean.” Your voice drips with irony, and you hope it bothers him. The flex in his jaw gives it away.

“You’re always gonna be meaner,” is all he says back. “This is gonna hurt.”

It’s all the warning he gives before he presses the pad against your lip. The sting envelops you immediately, and your good eye squeezes shut. “Shit, ow!”

“Stop moving your mouth.”

“Fuck,” you swear anyway. Your lip burns so hard you can feel it in your teeth.

Luke holds your jaw with his other hand so you can’t shy away. “I’ll kiss it better,” he teases. “Almost done.”

You roll your eyes, but Luke takes the pad off a few moments later. “Serious question. How are you so awful to people all the time?”

A groan tears through your throat with such force your head tilts back. “Not you too! I don’t need a fucking reason, there is no reason. Why doesn’t anyone get that?”

“I’m not asking why. I’m asking how.”

He’s oddly serious, the caress of his thumb on your cheek far slower. You hate it when people want a reason why you’re like this, just to help them sleep at night. But from the bags lining Luke’s eyes, sleep doesn’t seem to be on his radar.

“I just don’t care,” you admit, shrugging. “I don’t care about any of them. I don’t care about what they can do to me. I don’t care about anything.”

“…What about the Gods?”

It makes you cock your head. “Huh?”

“You wouldn’t care about them, either?”

You think, but only about which words to use. “No,” you decide, “They don’t scare me. They’re nothing. What are they gonna do to me?”

Luke snorts, almost nervously. “Uh, punish you for saying that, for one.”

You turn back to him, ice pack leaving your eye as you gesture. “How? By killing me? Pecking out my eyeballs? Burning me alive? I’m telling you, I don’t care. I don’t care about anything. It’s all just nothing to me. I’m fucking unpunishable, I’d like to see them try.”

Huffing, you look back up at the firmament of stars. Luke says nothing.

The grass rustles as he shifts, and his mouth ghosts over the bruise on your eye. “Unpunishable,” he murmurs, like he’s testing it out. Then he places an uncharacteristically gentle kiss just beneath your eye. And another just above. “We’ll see about that.”

You get that feeling again, the unbearable lightness in a place it shouldn’t be. Mixed with the poison lodged in your heart.

Luke kisses you, still so delicate that you wonder if he’s been body-snatched. If anything, your bleeding lip feels soothed against his. His hands cradle your face with no ferocity at all. It seems wrong.

“How do you feel?” He asks after pulling away, dark eyes nebulous and wide. The night usually sharpens his features. Now, they’ve been hushed.

“Um, better,” you reply.

He hums, laying a slow trail of kisses on your jaw. “Did you at least get the other guy?” He asks between kisses. “Like, did you hurt him?”

“Not really,” you divulge, wondering if you should feel shame.

“Why?” He’s made his way to your neck now, nudging your jaw up so he can kiss behind your ear.

“I’m not a fighter.” And, without warning, for a reason you will never, ever be able to explain, your tongue adds, “I’m a killer.”

Your own brows furrow. Luke pauses for a moment, but knocks his nose against your neck. “Guess one of us has to be.”

There’s no more fooling around. No snappy insults, no feverish kisses, no hunger to be satiated. Luke just checks you over a few more times, hides his med kit, and you both get up to sleep. But his hand wraps around your wrist, far less firm than when he dragged you here. “Stay in my bunk, heathen,” he offers. “Leave in the morning.”

You think you’re making a mistake when you agree, but it doesn’t feel like one.

The next day, after you’ve left Luke’s bunk, rumours float around camp that Luke Castellan accidentally butted some Apollo kid in the face with his sword during training. Caused a bloody, broken nose. Luke was very sorry, apologized profusely.

But you know, by the way he takes you behind the stables that night, that he didn’t mean a single damn word.

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