#let luke be the lil shit that he is !! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

too-deviant · 1 year ago

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The three weeks it took for Luke Castellan’s wounds to heal.

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Apollo!Reader

Summary: Luke comes back from his quest defeated and angry, and refuses to let anyone see him. But he still needs tending to. You are the lucky sucker who gets to do so.

Content: post-quest angsty luke, reader is awkward, i use the word under’t at one point because i think im shakespeare or some shit

Word Count: 7.6k

Notes: Pushing the agenda that lukes scar is gnarrly like it’s nasty !! not just some faint lil line. the boy was attacked by an actual dragon, like pls. also this hasn’t been proofread so sorry if it doesn’t make sense

part two

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The spring that Luke Castellan spent on his quest was a strange one for the residents of Camp Half-Blood.

For years, campers knew who to go to whenever they needed advice. When they needed help. They knew who to direct the new campers to when they stumbled over the boundary line — and knew they were in good hands. Luke’s hands. He was the big brother the whole camp needed, and not just because he was older than most of them. He just had that aura — and he was undoubtedly kind to everyone he came across. Not to mention the guy was insane with a sword, and had this boyish charm that anyone would fall for. Most campers, if not all of them, looked up to Luke Castellan.

So when he left, nobody knew what to do.

It was pretty tame at first, mostly just awkward. Especially in the Hermes cabin, with Chris Rodriguez in charge in his brother's absence. A Hephaestus kid had taken over the sword fighting classes Luke usually ran, which proved to do more harm than good because he wasn’t all that great at using a sword than he was at forging them, and most of Luke’s students were already better than him.

But nothing went wrong — at least for the first week.

But after the initial awkwardness wore off, chaos ensued.

Chris couldn’t keep the Hermes kids in check — once they realised he wasn’t as authoritative as Luke, they began to use it to their advantage. Everyone got pranked, the camp store was raided three times before Chiron decided to close it down for the meantime and dishwashing duty every night was not slowing them down.

You hadn’t realised just how much the camp relied on Luke until he wasn’t there to keep things under control. Fights broke out with nobody to step in between them, and more and more kids were showing up to the infirmary with injuries that they could take care of themselves — something Luke would’ve told them to do instead of bothering you and your siblings. It was actually unbelievable how much a group of about a hundred half-gods relied on the steady hand of one seventeen year old boy.

You couldn’t wait until he got back so you could finally get some peace and quiet.

Luke didn’t return to camp for two and a half weeks, and as the days went by, campers began to get uneasy. Nobody knew what his quest had entailed, or where he had to go, so the longer they went without news the more antsy people got. You didn’t speak to Luke much — maybe a few shared sentences to be polite — but you knew what he was capable of. You tried your best to reassure the campers, as did your brother Lee and the rest of the Cabin Counsellors.

You knew Luke would come back. You knew he would stumble down that hill with his head held high and meet the group of campers waiting for him at the bottom. You knew there would be a celebration, a party, and a lot of kids out past curfew. But you knew Chiron would let it off, because Luke Castellan was back.

Except that’s not what happened. At all.

It was a warm day, and you were helping some of your younger siblings make friendship bracelets by the lake. Your camp shirt clung to the sweat on your back and you peeled it off with a grimace whenever you stood, straightening out your shorts and checking on the next kid. They seemed happy enough to be in the sun — really, you should’ve been too. Child of Apollo and all. But apparently your father wasn’t feeling the love for you today, because while the rest of your siblings were thriving, you were seconds away from jumping into the lake just to cool down — even if it pissed off the Naiads.

Thankfully, when you stood up once more and looked over the horizon, you saw your brother Aden jogging towards you. You took the opportunity to hide under the shade of the trees by meeting him halfway, and greeted him with a breathless, “Hey.”

He spoke your name with a nod and a smile, throwing a thumb over his shoulder, “Chiron needs you in the Big House. Looked serious. I’ll take over here.”

“Oh, Okay.” You nodded, turning to the kids and telling them you’d be back as soon as you could, before marching your worn converse through the grass and up to where the house sat on the edge of the hill.

Chiron was in the doorway when you reached the porch, sat in wheelchair form and wearing a grim look. You paused, worried. He nodded at you, “Thank you for coming on such short notice. Usually I wouldn’t do this, but…desperate times. Follow me.”

You followed as he led you down the hall, brows furrowing, “What's going on? Is everything okay?”

He looked at you with a serious expression, saying your name lowly, “I need you to ensure that what I am about to tell you will never leave the walls of this house. Nobody needs to know about this until we have deemed it appropriate.”

“Of course.” You said immediately, folding your arms. You weren’t so warm anymore. “What happened?”

He straightened up, and stared, “Luke Castellan is back from his quest.”

That was not what you expected him to say. Dropping your arms to your side and stepping forward slightly, “What? Since when?”

“Ten minutes ago, give or take.” He replied, brows in a concerned furrow, “Mr D has taken him upstairs. He is injured.”

“Right.” You nodded, “I’ll go and—“

“Wait, child.” You stopped, one foot on the bottom step of the stairs, looking back at him, “You must know something.”

Chiron took in a deep breath, eyes glossed over like whatever he was about to say weighed heavily on him, “He is…not in good condition. On top of his injuries, Luke is unfortunately…not in a good state of mind. His quest has affected him, and he requested quite adamantly that nobody should see him until he is ready to see them. I will respect his wishes, of course, but he will still need someone to tend to his wounds. That will be you.”

“Me?” You’d never shared a full conversation with the guy. Maybe some small talk, a polite smile here and there, but you were hardly acquainted, let alone friendly. You told him this.

“Exactly my point.” Was his reply, head held high, “Luke does not want to talk to anyone at the moment, and I’m sure if any of his friends were to be up there, they would simply coddle him. You, on the other hand…”

“I’m a stranger.” You nodded, “Of course. Right. I get that. So, you just want me to patch him up, act like it never happened? I can do that.”

“Not exactly, my child.”

You raised a brow.

“Luke’s injuries are quite extensive. He will need around the clock care until he is healed enough. He will also need someone to bring him food, clean clothes.”

“Oh, so you want me to nanny him.”

He chuckled, but it faded just as quickly as it came, “Unfortunately, he needs it.”

You pursed your lips. It didn’t seem all that hard — it was just like having any other camper in the infirmary. Only this one, everyone was on the edge of their seats waiting for, and you weren’t allowed to tell anyone he was a mere fifty feet away from them, curled up in a bed in the Big House.

No biggie.

i. WEEK ONE

Chiron had ushered you up the steps as soon as your conversation was over, and given you directions to the room Luke was in. Your steps were slow and unsure — you’d never been this far into the Big House before, but Mr D stood idly outside one of the doors lining the second floor hallway, arms crossed and face taut. The floorboards creaked under the weight of your foot when you reached the landing, and he looked up at you.

“He’s in there.” He pointed to the door in front of him, “Careful, he’s a short fuse right now. All the medical thingamabobs you need are in there already. Keep your mouth shut about this.”

Then he slid past you and down the stairs without another word, and you were left alone in the empty hall. Blinking hard to clear your head, you stood a few measly steps toward the door, stopping just outside of it and leaning your ear against the wood.

Nothing tangible. Mostly just the scraping of wood against the skin of your ear, and once you had stopped moving, there was nothing. No mutters, no bed creaks, not even a sniffle. It unnerves you, but you wrapped a hand around the cold metal of the handle and turned it anyway.

Maybe it was because he had been gone for a while, or maybe it was because you never saw him that much when he was around, but you had to blink away the shock at Luke’s appearance. Minus the obvious injuries, he just looked different. His skin was tanned and rough, his jaw taut and his hair hanging messily over his forehead, longer bits curling around his ears after going uncut for so long.

He was sitting on the edge of a bed that had been tucked into the corner of the room. There was a window just above it, but a thin curtain had been pulled over it and blocked out the sunlight that was begging to shine on you. The room was dark, but light enough that you could see what you were doing when you walked over to the desk in the other corner and started shuffling through the medical supplies Chiron had left there for you. Not much, but enough for now. You could always get more later.

Turning, you finally made your way over to where Luke was hunched over, staring at nothing. When you entered his line of vision, his dark eyes slid up to yours, and he blinked. Then he sighed, straightened his back and gave you a look that said do what you have to do and then get out.

But you didn’t move, not for at least ten seconds. Because while Chiron had told you he was injured extensively, he didn’t mention the five inch long scar that ran down the side of his face, cutting through his eye. It was jagged and gnarly, sharp edges carving a path through his skin. It was red all around, and just from looking at it you could tell it needed work. It was fairly new, but he had left it long enough for it to heal over — a thin layer of skin stopping it from bleeding.

He raised his eyebrows at you impatiently, and you nodded, scooting back to the desk and grabbing what you needed before going back to where he sat.

“I, uh…I need to get closer.” You were afraid to speak, to break the silence of the room, but you did need to get closer to his face. You waited for him to turn slightly to his left, hitch a leg up on the mattress and face his scar in your direction. Instead, he just slid his legs apart, inviting you to step between them.

And so you did, albeit a little shakily. You didn’t know Luke well enough to consider him a friend, but you’d seen enough of him to know that he never acted like this. He was never this quiet — all eyes, slow movements. He was charming, always grinning, always offering a hand. His battle instincts and ADHD made him fidgety like the rest of them, but from where you stood between his thighs, he was as still as a picture. It unnerved you more than the scar on his face did. You’d seen nasty injuries before, you’d never seen this.

You picked up a gauze, doused it in rubbing alcohol, and started wiping the area. You started on the outskirts, but when you pressed over the edge of the injury, his brows twitched and you let out a weak apology before lessening the grip. You kept your breaths thin and your eyes on your hand, but he wasn’t looking at you anyway. He had drifted off again, staring at nothing, and you were scared to break him out of his stupor again.

“He’s a short fuse.” Mr D had said. But he didn’t seem that way right now, sitting back silently and letting you do your work on his face. He wasn’t much of anything, if you had to make an assessment. You really wanted to know what happened on his quest, and why he was gone for so long, but you also didn’t want to test Mr D’s words by asking.

“What happened?” He didn’t say anything, again. You pressed on, “I sort of need to know before I reopen it…just in case something—“

“A dragon.” He murmured at once. His voice was rough, like he’d just been screaming. Maybe he had been, and that’s why Mr D had warned you. But it seemed all his anger had dissipated in the time it took for Chiron to get you and explain the situation. Maybe. “Ladon. Poisonous bites.”

So he had been to the Garden of the Hesperides. Presumably to collect some Golden Apples. What for, you didn’t know. You weren’t going to ask. You just grabbed a scalpel, muttered a quiet, “This is going to hurt.”, and started cutting down the scar, following its path across his cheek.

Luke hissed hard, not expecting you to dive in so suddenly, and his hand reached out for something to grab. That ended up being your camp shirt, bunching at your waist from where he gripped it between his knuckles. You didn’t mind it, but when you put the scalpel down and started to clean the inside of his wound, he adjusted his hand so he was holding the side of your waist instead, eyes clamped shut and feet tapping the wooden floor. You paused momentarily, but you couldn’t let him breathe or else it would just hurt more when you went back to work, so you brushed it off and continued your rampage down his face until the whole wound was free of the dirt and grime he had let accumulate inside it while he travelled back to Long Island.

“Sorry.” You finally built up the courage to say.

“S’Okay.” He breathed, “My fault.”

You wiped it over one last time before taping a bandage over the top. You cut it into two bits so he could still see out of his left eye, before stepping back from between his legs and assessing your work. Once you had deemed it good enough, you picked up your supplies and headed back to the desk, feeling Luke’s hand fall from your side.

“Uh—“ You really wanted to leave the room now, “I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but how long did you leave—“

“Three days.” He answered quickly. Chiron had probably already asked him that, and you felt stupid for making him repeat it.

You turned to leave, but then remembered what Chiron had said to you before sending you up to Luke’s room. You looked at him.

“Do you need anything from your cabin?” You asked, “It’s, uh, kind of my job to get that, if you do.” You turned to face him fully, “Oh, and are you hungry? Because I have to—“

“Just some clean clothes, thanks.” He quipped. It wasn’t looking like he wanted you around for much longer.

You were quick to leave.

It was hard coming up with an excuse as to why you were stealing clothes from Luke Castellan’s bunk, but you just told them there was a new camper in the Big House and Chiron had run out of spares that morning. They brushed it off, and you ran back up to Luke with the clothes bunched in your arms, and were breathless by the time you dropped them on the bed beside him.

“Did anyone see you?” He asked just as you were about to give him the privacy he needed to change.

You were facing the door when he asked, and turned to answer, but he was already pulling off the marred camp shirt he’d arrived in, revealing his very toned torso. You paused, eyes drifting, but quickly snapped them back up to his awaiting gaze. He didn’t seem to care that he was shirtless in front of you, but neither did most boys.

“No.” You weren’t sure how he would react if you’d told him the truth, even though it was harmless. He nodded and started to unbutton his cargos, and you were quick to turn back to the door and yank it open, “Okay, I’ll…uh, probably be back at…later. Bye.”

The rest of your week was rough to say the least. You had a lot on your plate, and it didn’t help when your siblings kept wondering why you were at the Big House three times a day and why you always made a second plate of food at mealtimes. Eventually, it got around that a new camper had arrived, and you were taking care of them. That's when the rumour mill started running.

“I heard they were older, like twenty or something. Apparently they’re super embarrassed.”

“Well, I heard they were injured super badly on their way into camp, and that’s why nobody’s seen them yet.”

“I heard they got violent when Chiron explained the demigod thing and now they have him locked away in the basement!”

So yeah, lots on your plate. You did little to dispel the rumours, not wanting to allude to the truth accidentally, but when you were the only one who knew the truth, it was difficult to hide from those who wanted it too.

But after a few days, you had developed a routine. Wake up, get breakfast, take food to Luke. Check his dressings while he ate and restock your med supplies if needed. Go to whatever task you were running that day, ignore anyone who asked about the new camper, go for lunch. Take lunch to Luke. Check his dressings. Dismiss curious campers. Go to dinner. Take dinner to Luke. Check his dressings. Dismiss curious campers. Lead the campfire sing-along. Check on Luke one more time. Go to bed.

It was a lot, to say the least. But you didn’t complain — if you did this top secret doctor work right, Chiron might make you cabin counsellor when your older sister Alina leaves after this summer.

And just as you had, Luke eased into the routine too. Every time you entered his room, with a polite knock, he would be perched on the side of his bed, legs open and inviting.

You wondered if he actually did this for you, or if he just never moved from that position.

Sunday morning was slightly different — as camp activities were more relaxed and you had more time on your hands. You strolled slowly to the Big House after breakfast — rather than your usual sprint so you weren’t late to Archery — and knocked politely on the door before cracking it open and heading for the desk. With a plate of food in one hand and a fresh bandage in the other, you made your way over to where Luke sat, readying yourself for another quiet twenty minutes of work. It was quite peaceful, now that you’d gotten used to it. More comfortable, less awkward.

“Hi.”

You blinked, almost dropping what you held, but Luke was there to grab the bandage from your hand as your grip loosened in your shock. He attempted a smile, but winced when it pulled at his scar, and chose to nod at you instead.

“Uh…” You put the plate down into the bedside table, straightening your shirt, “Hi.”

He’d never said hi before.

He didn’t say anything else after that, just let you do what you did, but your mind remained a whirlwind. He said hi. That’s a completely normal thing for him to do, and yet you were reeling from it.

Once you had changed his dressings, you headed for the door and allowed him to eat his breakfast. Your hand wrapped around the metal of the handle and turned it, pulling open the wooden door and stepping one foot into the hall before the voice sounded again.

“Bye.”

You chuckled this time, not looking back, “Bye.”

ii. WEEK TWO

It was an average morning, the blistering sun from last week finally fading and allowing you to walk comfortably outside. You never knew what your dad’s problem with you was last week, but you suspected that it had something to do with the cabin counsellor who slept on the second floor of the Big House with a bandage across his eye.

Like usual, you were heading up the stairs, breakfast plate in hand, ready to give your first checkup of the day. If Luke was healing like he should’ve been, you wouldn’t have to change his dressing at lunch, and you were crossing your fingers that he was.

Pushing the door open with your back, you walked in slowly and headed towards the desk like usual. You grabbed the bandage, made your way over to Luke and put the plate down next to his small lamp. Then you straightened up and put the new bandage under your arm, holding it in place while you moved to unwrap his eye.

Before you could, however, Luke was pulling the bandage from where it was trapped against your ribcage and held it in his own hands. You looked at him, and he gave you a weak smile, “Thought it’d be easier if I held it for you.”

You murmured out a thanks and smiled at him, keeping it there even as you peeled back the old dressings and revealed his still healing scar. Usually, it wouldn’t take this long for a demigod wound to heal itself, but because Luke had gone so long without nectar or ambrosia — or any form of medical help, that is — it was in worse condition. You had to scrape out the infected skin from it a few days back, and it left Luke blinking hard to try and hide the tears.

Nowadays he seemed to be better — not as broody as he seemed last week. But you always caught him drifting off, staring at nothing. You wondered if he was reliving it, asking himself what would’ve changed had he done it differently. Your guess? Not much — you’d read up on Ladon the dragon after finding out it was he who caused Luke’s pain, just in case there was something you needed to know before starting the healing process. He was vicious, not even Hercules could get past him. And while Luke was the best swordsman camp had seen in three centuries, even he would struggle going at Ladon alone.

Once you had redressed his face, you stepped back like you always did, your footfalls sounding out the same metronome as they did three times a day. You wondered if you would wear a mark into the floor from your constant repeating path — door to the desk, desk to the bed, bed to the door. You briefly thought that wouldn’t be possible, something like that would take years to indent, but then you looked back at Luke — his forlorn expression, the bandage across his eye and the bags under’t — and wondered how long it would be before he could build the courage to stand up from the bed, return to a camp that relied so heavily on his skill set, and take the weight of his failure with him.

He pulled the plate onto his lap and you don’t think you’ve ever seen someone look so sad while stuffing their face with bacon.

“Hey, uh —“ You started, hand on the doorframe in an attempt to look casual. You couldn’t just leave him like that, right? “Do you…know — uh, know where the spare practising swords are kept?” A measly excuse, but it had him looking at you again.

He swallowed his food before speaking, “The wooden ones are in these old boxes in the back of weapon storage, but I think the celestial bronze ones are kept in the Hephaestus cabin now.”

You nodded, tapping your hand against the wood. That didn’t work in the way you wanted it to, but you weren’t going to force it. So you turned, went to open the door and leave —

“Why?”

Nevermind!

You whirled around — not too eagerly! You didn’t want to scare him off, now — “Oh! Uh, some Ares kid snapped one in half the other day, we needed a replacement.”

Luke nodded. Shit, say something else. Get him talking!

“Odd weather we’ve been having.”

What?

His lips parted, and he had the gall to look amused, “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Oh, yeah.” You breathed, humiliated. You pressed your lips together, ready to give up, until a thought came to you, “Hey, you haven’t been outside in, like, a week.”

Luke nodded, shadows falling across his face like the mere mention of the fact that he hadn’t been outside was a painful reminder of his circumstances, “Yeah, I, uh, don’t think I want anyone to know that I’m back yet. Not until I’m healed, y’know?”

You knew. You also knew that probably wasn’t the only reason he refused to let anyone know he was safe in the Big House, but you didn’t say that.

“Right, but —“ A breathy chuckle, “You need, like, sunlight. Fresh air.”

“I don’t wanna risk it.”

“Ok.” And that was that. You said goodbye, left him to his own devices, and didn’t mention the sun thing again for two days.

It was on Wednesday that you finally gave in. Now that you’d put the thought in your own head, you kept noticing the effects that being cooped indoors was having on Luke. His skin, once tanned and glistening under the sun, was paling by the hour. He winced whenever he had to straighten his back, and even though his scar was healing nicely, he seemed to be more sensitive to the pain of it than he was a week earlier.

So on Tuesday night you formed a plan, and on Wednesday morning at breakfast you put it into action. It started with asking Lee — ever so casually, of course — what the activities schedule was looking like. He started yapping about their cabin, and you waited patiently for him to bring up the Amphitheatre. Then, when he said the Apollo kids were training at two, you said —

“I thought we trained at twelve on Wednesdays?”

“No, that’s Ares and Hephaestus.”

“Oh, but don’t they train at four?”

“No, Hermes and Athena train at four.”

“Then who trains at ten?”

“Nobody.”

Bingo.

Luke was halfway through pulling on a pair of shorts when you burst into the room. He jumped, yanking them up the rest of the way before turning to look at you — his face was a mix of shock and unbridled anger until he realised it was you, then it softened into something calmer. But you saw him, even for just a split second, and the animosity in his gaze made you take a quiet step back. It was fearful almost — you’d seen him annoyed, irritated. You’d even bore witness to the Carden Cross Hot Cross Bun Incident of 2002,

(Carden Cross was this fifteen year old Ares kid. He threw one too many hot cross buns at the Aphrodite table and a then-sixteen-year-old Luke had wrung him out in front of everyone.

Nobody had ever heard Luke raise his voice like that, and Carden avoided everyone for a week straight).

but you had never seen such indignation in his gaze. It was gone in a flash, and you could’ve told yourself it was never there, but it was. You were hit with the humbling realisation that whatever Luke had gone through on his quest was more damaging than you could ever imagine, and no amount of fresh air would change him back to who he was before.

That saddened you, but then you realised he was shirtless again and all morbid thoughts went straight out the window. You grinned at him, “Sorry. But we don’t have a lot of time.”

He stared at you, then at your hands that were empty of breakfast food or bandages, and asked, “Time for what?”

“For some fresh air!” You sang, throwing in some jazz hands as if they would wipe the hesitant frown that had graced his features, “Put some shoes on, let’s go!”

He said your name softly, “I can’t go outside.”

You straightened up from where you had leaned dramatically into the room and sent him a blank look, eyes still sparkling, “You can. I checked the schedule, the Amphitheatre is free from ten till twelve and it is currently…nine forty-five. If we hurry, we’ll miss the post-breakfast rush.”

Luke looked a little more at ease now, but he made no move to put his shoes on. His body twitched like he was thinking about it, but when he couldn’t come up with a valid excuse to get out of it, he sighed and nodded, “Alright. Doctors orders, I guess.”

“Awesome.” You smiled, “I’ll let you get ready.”

It took some convincing, even after you’d gotten him to follow you down the stairs, to get him out the door. But a few firm words (and a couple of threats) and he was basking in the morning sunlight just as you’d planned.

Well — more like squinting painfully. Turns out, after a week and a half in a dark room, it takes a minute to get used to the sunlight again. You ensured nobody was around and took the long way to the Ampitheatre, letting out a content sigh when you knew you were away from prying eyes. Luke seemed more relaxed already, and you could practically see his muscles getting looser.

“Damn.” He muttered, hand over his eyes, “I needed this.”

“Yeah.” You spoke over an unattractive snort, “I’m an Apollo kid, I know a Vitamin D deficiency when I’m looking at one.”

“Alright.” He rolled his eyes at you, amused, and moved towards the steps. He climbed up two before turning and sitting, leaning back on his elbows and blinking at the sky, “Think your dad made it extra sunny just for me?”

“Probably.” You smiled, standing in front of him — but still making sure you weren’t blocking the sun from his face. “After some convincing from your dad.”

Luke’s smile faded. His eyes remained closed but his hands tightened into loose fists, “I don’t think so.”

Now you were desperate to change the subject. Your eyes darted to the wall, and the rack of swords sitting in its usual spot, “Hey, wanna swing some bronze?”

“Gods.” He let out a rough laugh, and you grinned in satisfaction, “Swinging Bronze. Haven’t heard that in a while.”

You nodded, glad he was back to being somewhat happy, “We thought we were so cool.”

“We thought it’d catch on.”

You shared a laugh, and Luke peeked an eye open, looking at you, “How come we were never friends back then?”

A meek shrug, “We weren’t really friends until a couple of days ago. That's if you even count us as that now.”

He just kept looking at you, and his gaze burned into your skin. You stepped back, closer to the middle of the arena space, “We never really spoke.”

He looked at you as if he was thinking hard about what you said, and what he was gonna say next. Apparently he came up short, because seconds later he was clicking his tongue and pushing himself up, joining you in the middle of the arena, “Alright. Let’s swing some bronze.”

You let out a shaky breath, nodding. This was going well. He was outside, he was laughing, he was about to pick up a sword for the first time since he’d angrily thrown his own at the porch of the Big House when he got back a week and a half ago.

He handed you a wooden practice sword, and you raised a brow. Usually the wooden ones were for first-timers, or younger kids. He shrugged, you let it go.

Despite the fact that you and Luke had been at camp together for five years, you’d never actually gone one-on-one in a sword fight with him. It was rare that Apollo and Hermes were paired together for activities, since they were the two highest populated cabins, but even when Luke was running the practice he always picked the people he knew the best for demonstrations. You lingered at the back, watching.

So you were slightly nervous, but you also didn’t want to show it. Sure, on any normal day Luke would reassure you with kind eyes and that Luke Castellan Smile, but he wasn’t exactly himself right now. You swallowed down your nerves, matched his stance, and swung.

Best Sword Fighter in Three Hundred Years — not an exaggeration. His moves were swift, calculated, and he stayed calm the entire time. It was as if he knew everything you were going to do before you did it, and had three counterattacks on the back burner for when you would strike. Your swords clashed every time you made a move and suddenly you realised why he wanted you to use wooden swords — the clang of wood was a lot quieter than the clang of bronze, it was less likely anyone would hear you fighting. It made sense, but you couldn’t focus on that when he was practically parrying your thoughts with sweat dripping down his temple.

You held your own, though. You were quite impressed with yourself when you blocked his swipes and sidestepped his jabs. It was making him groan in frustration, and the edges of your mouth perked up. You didn’t realise how good you were at this.

Then Luke stumbled. He grunted, righted himself, and swung again. You blocked it, and he steadied his shoulders. You slowed, focusing on the way he heaved for breath, taking in gulps of air, while you were hardly breaking a sweat. The way he kept readjusting his grip on the hilt of his sword, and how his fingers shook on his free hand. He went for you again and you sidestepped him, making him trip up. He didn’t fall, but he did let out a long angry groan at his mistake, throwing the sword to the ground in frustration.

You flinched, “Luke.”

“This was a bad idea.” He snapped. He wasn’t looking at you, pacing up and down with his hands in his hair. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”

“You’re still recovering —“ You tried to reason, but he wasn’t listening to you.

“I’m the best damn swordsman this camp has ever seen. What the fuck is wrong with me? Why can’t I do this? Why —“

“Luke.” You stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. He looked at you, “It’s okay.”

“No it’s not.” He gritted through his teeth, “I fail one quest and suddenly I can’t do anything anymore? Yeah, that’s typical.”

You shook your head, “You just need time to get better.”

“I was better! Better than everyone else here, I —“ He paused, a faraway look in his eyes that unnerved you for a second before he was looking at you again, “I can hear people.”

You perked your ears up. He was right, you could hear the chatter of camp if you listened carefully enough — but it wasn’t anything to worry about. They were all doing their own tasks, far away from where they were. If someone was coming, it would be more clear. You told him that, but he shook his head.

“I need to go back. This was a bad idea.”

“Hey, it’s okay, we can go —“

“No, not we. Me.” He said firmly, a hard look in his gaze that he didn’t have before, “I’m going back. You’re staying here. And I’m never going anywhere with you again.”

iii. WEEK THREE

You hadn’t seen him in five days.

Chiron had pulled you out of Archery to ask about Luke — and why he had seen him storm angrily back into his room and lock the door. You just told him you thought it was best for him to find someone else to take care of him for the time being. You didn’t think Luke would want to see you again, ever.

All you wanted was for him to be his old self again. The guy you always saw helping out someone else with a smile on his face, the one who made others laugh and laughed with them. The one who waved at anyone who waved at him. The one who was completely oblivious to the flirting and just thought they were being friendly. The Luke Castellan who everyone gushed about, who everyone loved.

That man up there, with the scar on his face and the look in his eye, wasn't Luke Castellan. And maybe he never would be again, not completely. But he could come close — he could still smile, he could still laugh.

But you’d fucked all that up just by bringing him outside.

You didn’t know who Chiron had asked to replace you, because you never saw anyone else get up after breakfast with an extra plate. You didn’t see anyone sneaking out of the Hermes cabin with a pile of clothes. You stood in the fields for hours a day, watching those thin curtains stand stiff at the window, never to open. You thought you’d seen a shadow, but maybe it was your mind playing tricks on you.

The weekend came and went, and you spent the whole time worrying about Luke. Did this new person know that he preferred fatty bacon? Did they know that he liked keeping the curtains closed? Or would they just bring him a plate of pancakes? Ask him too many questions about his quest? Your mind whirred — would they make him worse?

No. That’s not what you were scared of.

Would they make him better?

Would they understand him more than you did? Would they coerce more words out of him? Would they even need to coerce him, or would he be comfortable holding a conversation with them no problem? What if he was better now than he ever had been with you?

You flinched when your name was called. Looking up from the bracelet you were crafting with some younger kids and meeting the eyes of Dionysus, “Sir.”

“Our, uh, special guest is requesting your presence.” He said with a stupid look on his face, “So get off your ass and get up there, I can’t stand his whining any longer.”

You did as asked with a slight roll of your eyes that made the six year old who was next to you giggle into their hands. It brought a grin to your otherwise down expression, unsure of what Luke wanted to say to you.

The room was dark when you cracked the door open — there was no response after you knocked, but you could hear him shuffling inside, so you went ahead and opened it an inch. It was a lot darker than it used to be — or maybe you too had gotten used to the shade after spending so much time there.

You pushed it open more, and there he was, in his usual spot on the edge of the bed. Head down, hands fiddling with something by his eye. He was muttering in frustration, and you stepped into the room in concern. The floor creaked, he looked up, and you gasped.

The side of his face where his scar sat was red with blood — you almost missed the bandage he was attempting to tie around it because it had been stained pink. His fingers were shaking and he pursed his trembling lips at you, “I can’t do it.”

You surged forward, immediately taking the fabric from his hands. He let them drop into his lap as you peeled it back and looked at the damage. You winced — not as bad as the blood had made it seem, but bad enough. The wound had reopened at the top, and the blood was dripping into his eye and along the curve of his jaw.

It took a few panicky minutes, but eventually the bleeding had stopped, Luke’s face was clean of blood, and you were staring at him in shock, your own fingers still red from the damage. He was avoiding your eyes, the only other thing he’d said to you being a strained thank you when you had stepped back.

“What —“ You were at a loss.

“I tried to change them myself.” He shrugged, picking at his fingernails, still not looking at you. “I’d watched you do it so many times, I figured I had it handled. Apparently I didn’t, because I woke up and it was freakin’ bleeding everywhere.”

“Oh, Luke.” You breathed, “Why didn’t you wait for someone to help you?”

“You never came back.” He said like it was obvious.

“What — so you’ve been doing this yourself for five days?” You asked, a shocked exclamation, “Chiron never sent someone else to help you?”

“He asked me who I wanted,” He shrugged, “I said you. You weren’t an option, so I did it myself.”

“You said —“

“I know what I said, alright?” He stressed, head in his hands now, “It was stupid. I was angry, hurt, whatever. It was at myself, but I took it out on you. I’m sorry. I don’t — “ His voice cracked, “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

“Luke.” You murmured. You took a step closer, kneeled before him, and gently pried his hands away from his eyes so he would look at you. His expression was so…sad. So distraught. “What happened on your quest?”

And he told you everything.

iv. THE AFTER

Luke was ashamed to admit it — but he had no idea what your name was when you started looking after him.

Sure, he’d seen you around. You were one of the Apollo kids who spent more time in the infirmary than on the archery fields, but he was too good at his job to get injured. Hence why he didn’t know your name. He knew your face, he smiled at you and you would smile back. He was friendly with your brother, Lee. But that was about it.

That’s what made it so perfect.

You wouldn’t ask him about his quest. You wouldn’t try your hardest to get him to open up. You would do your job, and leave him to mope. That was all he wanted.

Until he learned your name.

And just from glancing at your smile — all awkward and nervous as you introduced yourself — he knew he wanted to be near you. He knew you were the type of person he could sit in silence with and walk away from it with a happy memory.

He thought he knew enough about you to determine who you were to him (a stranger). But he didn’t know your name, your voice, he didn’t know your touch or your smile — the real one you give when someone truly makes you laugh. Not the one he thought he knew.

He stood stiffly on the porch of the Big House — three weeks was all it took before Mr D was kicking him out, telling him to get a grip and face the music. Luke was ready; physically. His scar was nothing but that — a memory, faded into his skin forever. There was no other reason for him to keep himself hidden other than the fact that he wanted to. If it was up to him, nobody would ever bear the burden of seeing him ever again.

For weeks he told himself that his quest was pointless. He screamed it at the gods, at Chiron, at you. He cursed his dad every night for sending him on a path to failure and not even acknowledging it. He cursed himself for ruining the first chance he had at gaining his fathers pride in seventeen years — he sat in the dark, fists clenched, and asked himself what it was all for.

The five years on the run, the endless monster attacks, the relentless training, the offerings, the prayers. Would his life be any better had he just let that first monster kill him?

No. Because he wouldn’t have met Thalia, or Annabeth. He wouldn’t have seen the brighter side of being a halfblood — he wouldn’t have met his siblings, he wouldn’t have found his calling. He wouldn’t have experienced the joy of helping a new camper, of being the guiding hand he never got to hold.

But what of his quest? His mission for his father brought nothing but pain — a pointless trip, a humiliating failure, a deep jagged scar. For weeks he asked himself why he was given the quest in the first place, and for years to come he will question himself each and every day.

But each and every day he asks himself what the gods had ever given him, he would be reminded of the day he learnt your name. And he would tell himself had he not taken that trip, had he not fallen to Ladon, he never would have felt the searing touch of your fingertips on his skin.

So maybe it was worth it after all.

He stepped off the porch.

#the title is a play on words #cos it wasn’t just the physical wounds #get it?#i’ll shut up #luke castellan #percy jackson and the olympians #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #percy jackson

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hockeyboistrash · 2 months ago

Text

me and @star2fishmeg were talking about Luke's lil wings and so my brain created this drabble. enjoy :)

You were staring. You knew you were staring but you couldn't help it. Luke also knew you were staring judging by his shit eating grin. You bit your lip, averting your gaze. It was too late though because Luke had caught you and he was not going to let it go.

"Will you stop." You grumbled, pouting at your boyfriend.

"You were the one staring." He pointed out trying to hide his laugh. You refused to look at him knowing you'd melt into a puddle, revealing every secret, every thought, your resolve gone. "You gonna tell me why you were staring?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." You tried to brush it off but Luke wasn't having any of it. He wants to know why you were staring and he was going to get it out of you one way or another.

He spun you around on the stool at the breakfast bar, his leg pushed between your open thighs. His arms caging you in. He was in such close proximity that you could smell his cologne. "I've got all day baby." His voice was raspy. Whatever Luke was doing it was working. He could feel you clench your thighs a little around his leg.

"Your hair." Was all you managed to get out. Your thoughts started off innocent. You were watching a game while they had a long stretch of away games, curled up on the couch. The camera caught your boyfriend skating around after the whistle blew for a faceoff. Your heart hurt from missing him. You missed cuddling in bed, running your fingers through his hair. His hair which has gotten a little long, the ends peaking out of his helmet. His hair which you wanted to tug whilst sitting on his lap.

"My hair?" Luke asked not getting it. His long fingers titled your chin up so he could look at you in the eyes whilst his other hand laid on your thigh. "Come on baby, don't leave me hanging."

"I like your hair." You said, biting your lip as fingers made their way up your thigh. "And- and I want to run my fingers through it whilst I ride you." Luke's fingers were like a truth potion, everything you kept in spilling the moment they danced along your skin.

"Is that all?" He asked, his voice deep as the image ran through his head. You nodded, heat rising to your cheeks as you admitted a fantasy of yours, something you've never done before. "All you had to do was ask. baby." Luke said before hungrily crashing his lips onto yours.

please be nice. i dont really write spicy stuff so this is as spicy as i get.

#luke hughes imagine #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes #new jersey devils imagine #new jersey devils #nhl imagine

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voguesriot · 1 year ago

Text

DON’T HURT YOURSELF ✹ luke castellan

( summary ) social media au where your boyfriend became the asshole everyone warned you he’d be and now you’re looking for revenge (& luke is a down bad loser w no game)

( pairings ) luke castellan x fem aphrodite counsellor!reader

DIRECT MESSAGES

sarahdawson: hey girly ik we’re not like close or anything but something happened last night that i need to tell you about

sarahdawson: so i was getting strawberries yesterday and max was there and he was being really weird and like flirty and i’m so sorry i feel like such a horrible person even though i turned him down right away but he tried to kiss me and i hit him and then i went back to my cabin but i had to tell you

sarahdawson: i’m so sorry

yourusername: THAT FUCKING ASSHOLE I KNEW HE WASNT WORTH SHIT

yourusername: this is clarisse btw i took her phone

yourusername: (me again) thank you for telling me sarah it rlly means a lot 🫶

sarahdawson: if it makes any difference you’re way too hot for him and literally anything you need (even rigging archery lessons so the new kids take shots just as he’s walking by), i’m your girl x

♫ Don’t Hurt Yourself by Beyoncé feat. Jack White

♡ liked by silenabeauregard , connorstroll , and others

yourusername love god herself (love u mama) 💋

sarahdawson AHHH YOURE SO PRETTY

yourusername THANK YOU GORGEOUS 🥹🥹

clarisselarue too good for anyone 😮‍💨

silenabeauregard prettiest girl everrrr

chrisrodriguez pur girlie

yourusername what.

chrisrodriguez gods forbid a man expresses an ounce of girlish whimsy

yourusername nooo queen i appreciate you thank you

seaweedbrain you ate ‼️‼️‼️

seaweedbrain ate my dessert*

seaweedbrain it’s all fun and games until you end up stealing from the youth

seaweedbrain count your days miss counsellor

yourusername my girl sally should’ve kept you on a leash for a bit longer because you are rabid my love

seaweedbrain I WAS NEVER ON A LEASH WTF

racheledare STUNNA GIRL STUNNA GIRL I CHOOSE U BABY OVER A HUNDRED GIRLS

yourusername ME AND U 4EVERR 🙏🙏

lukecastellan nice dress!!

this comment was deleted.

clarisselarue lukecastellan i saw that.

lukecastellan why are you so ominous

clarisselarue why are you such a loser

lukecastellan have you ever been chill for a day in your life

clarisselarue have you ever known the loving touch of a woman

chrisrodriguez FOUL 😭😭😭

♫ Feather by Sabrina Carpenter

♡ liked by drewtanaka , pipermclean , and others

[ tagged: yourusername , clarisselarue , silenabeauregard , drewtanaka , hazellevesque , pipermclean ]

sarahdawson girls night w my favs 💘

silenabeauregard APOLLO CABIN 🔛🔝

yourusername FORREALLL

yourusername best night i’ve had in a long time i love u all sm ☹️🫶 ( liked by sarahdawson , clarisselarue , silenabeauregard , drewtanaka , hazellevesque , pipermclean )

silenabeauregard MY GIRLSSSSS

wisegirll prettiest girls in the world 💕💕

clarisselarue sarah girl love ya but maybe leave the singing to ur siblings 🙏

sarahdawson RUDE

yourusername sarahdawson dw baby i loved our duet xx

sarahdawson we simply are destiny’s child

drewtanaka yk who is shaking in his boots

seaweedbrain oh yeah cool i didn’t even want an invite it’s totally chill

yourusername calm down lil guy maybe when you’re older

clarisselarue if zeus doesn’t smite his ass before he gets the chance 😭

seaweedbrain clarisselarue I BEAT YOUR DADS ASS HES LITERALLY A DEADBEAT DADDY

wisegirll too far

seaweedbrain sorry clarisse

lukecastellan yourusername we could hear you singing all the way in hermes ☠️

yourusername NO THATS SO EMBARRASSING WHICH SONG

lukecastellan i think it was never lose me or smth

clarisselarue bros acting like he hasn’t been thinking ab it nonstop

yourusername lukecastellan i’m so sorry for any pain i’ve caused

chrisrodriguez AYY BRO MAKING MOVES

groverunderwood you call those moves? 😭

chrisrodriguez baby steps are still steps let me celebrate my guy in peace 😔

♫ Heartless by The Weeknd

♡ liked by connorstroll , and others

maxwalsh never been better

clarisselarue oh that’s not ☠️

lukecastellan this what you’ve been doing instead of coming to sparring?

maxwalsh it’s a better challenge

drewtanaka THE CLAWS ARE OUT MEOW

yourusername just posted to their story!

DIRECT MESSAGES

lukecastellan: you look really pretty

#luke castellan x aphrodite!reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #percy jackson x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo x reader #camp half blood x reader

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slu7formen · 11 months ago

Note

But imagine homewrecker!Luke x fem Aphrodite!reader, where reader’s already in a relationship but Luke just wants her sooo bad, so he flirts with her when no ones looking, teases her, and absolute shits on the man shes’s with in every opportunity he gets (there’s a scene from Avatar legend of Korra where she says to Mako “yeah, but when you’re with her you’re thinking about me, aren’t you?” And I can see him saying the same thing to her while giving her the most devius smirk EVER) she’s only “human” so she gives in eventually and it could be smut in the end (could you pretty please write something like this <33)

MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader

idk who you are but you’re a genius, I fucking love you for this

warnings: luke’s a home wrecker but that OKAY because it’s him, also he’s so mean, kinda possessive, mention of masturbation, lil smut towards the end (oral, f receiving)

₊˚⊹♡

Another night. Sleep, the supposed thing he´s been wanting all day, remained out of reach. It had been like this for weeks, a relentless torment that gnawed at his insides with the intensity of a starving Furie. And who´s fault was it? You.

He groaned against his pillow, the sheet sticking uncomfortably to his sweaty torso. Night after night, it was the same, but he couldn´t help himself, how could he keep himself from thinking about you? Being an Aphrodite´s daughter, you simply stood out from the rest, but there was something more.

The way you carried yourself; applying the smallest amount of makeup that managed to accentuate your features, making your eyes sparkle and your lips look impossibly kissable. Your voice, seductive even when you didn´t mean for it to be. Even the hideous orange camp shirt, a piece of clothing that seemed designed to make someone look dowdy, couldn't diminish your aura. He could practically smell the faint scent of your perfume, a mix of coconut and something inexplicably you, that lingered in the air even after you’d left.

It was an obsession, a problem. He wasn´t naive though, he knew he wasn't the only one who felt this way about you. How boys tripped on their own feet and walk straight into trees because of you, but that was then. Because there was a tiny, slight problem now.

You were taken.

The feeling was hot and acid. You weren't his to have. You belonged to someone else, a possession proudly displayed by your ever-present boyfriend, a hulking son of Ares who never seemed to leave your side. And Luke shouldn’t feel this way, he knows it. He shouldn't feel the hot wave of need to break the guy´s jaw every time he saw you with him.

You were happy, he was sure of it, you showed it. Your mother was the goddess of love, so you surely enjoyed it when you had it wrapped around your hands. But with him, you could be even happier. You deserved more. You deserved him. Luke let out a low growl, no-, he deserved you.

Luke could take everything you had for him and more, things that he was sure, your boyfriend couldn´t, and never will be able to.

He should feel scared about some Hypnos kid sweeping into his dreams accidentally and taking a glimpse of his dreams. How he wanted to begin to play, to have his own fun. He was determined to play for keeps.

And you, his prize, would be his reward.

Luke wasn't stupid. He wouldn't blatantly flaunt his desires in front of your man. No, his approach was far more subtle, a slow burn.

It started with those little greetings. A passing "Hey there, pretty" as he walked by you on his way to archery practice, his armor straps purposefully being adjusted in a way that accentuated the broadness of his shoulders. You'd respond with a simple "Hi" a smile playing on your glossy lips as you continued your conversation with your sister, both of you blissfully unaware of the first move in his carefully calculated game.

He began weaving himself into your periphery, appearing near you at mealtimes, offering unsolicited help with chores, lingering just a tad too long during conversations.

It couldn't be denied, Luke was undeniably handsome. You always knew he was attractive, a dark-haired rebel with an edge that appealed to a certain kind of girl. He had a way of carrying himself, a cocky self-assurance that some could find arrogant, but others, like you, couldn't help but find strangely magnetic. Being a daughter of Aphrodite, you were keenly aware of the power of charm, and Luke possessed it in spades.

You found yourself strangely drawn to it.

But he had to act faster than that.

He'd find you reading under a tree, the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves and casting an ethereal glow around you. He'd saunter over, a slow, predatory grace in his movements.

"Mind if I join you, beautiful?"

You looked up, rolling your eyes playfully. "My boyfriend's gonna kill you if he hears you calling me that" you chuckled, flipping a page of your book.

Luke, for a split second, allowed a flicker of irritation to cross his features, quickly masked by a sardonic smile. "Blame it on your mother, then. I can't help but speak the truth."

You couldn't help but bite your lip, a laugh bubbling up in your chest as he settled next to you comfortably, arm bumping your own.

"What are you reading?" he asked, his voice dropping a fraction lower as he leaned closer, the scent of leather filling your senses.

You mumbled the title, the close proximity of his body making you uncomfortably aware of the heat radiating from him. It took him a hot minute to open his mouth again, a almost mockery sigh escaping his lips as he leaned back on his elbows.

"You know," he began, his voice dropping even lower, "Your boyfriend doesn't seem to be around much lately."

You bit your lip, a mixture of annoyance and something else entirely bubbling within you. "He has his own training schedule, Luke" you pointed out, your voice taking on a slight comprehensive edge.

He nodded slowly, a sly smile playing on his lips. "Of course" he drawled, stretching the word out like a piece of taffy. "But it´s been quite some time, right? Does he always leave you alone like this?"

You shrugged your shoulders. “He doesn´t” you stammered. “He´s just-, busy”

Busy. In summer. Gods, you were so…

Fucking cute.

He couldn't help but find it incredibly mesmerizing and astonishing, the way you were so transparently in love with your boyfriend, a love that Luke was determined to break, piece by piece. It only fueled his perverse desire to rip that very love away, to replace your blind devotion with a burning desire for him. He didn't want to break your heart — not exactly. He just wanted to re-route it, to steer its affection towards him.

The once-casual hangouts became more frequent. Tonight, you found yourself huddled next to him at the flickering bonfire. You chat casually, occasionally finding yourself hypnotized by the way his adam´s apple bobbed up and down every time he spoke.

“New skirt?” he then asked. He knew he shouldn't be looking, shouldn't have allowed his gaze to drop to the way the fabric clung to your thighs, drawing his attention to the delicious way they were pressed together ever since the moment you sat down. Yet, he couldn't help himself. The image seared itself into his memory, a forbidden fruit he desperately wanted to taste.

"Yeah" you chirped, a playful lilt in your voice. "You noticed?" There was a glint in your eyes, a spark of something that made his pulse quicken. Had he ever noticed your clothes before? Gods, yes, he knew every article in your meager wardrobe — the worn out oxford jeans, the simple white t-shirts that hugged your curves just perfectly, the tight cargo shorts, and now, this new skirt that showcased your legs in a way that made his blood run hot.

But he wouldn´t tell you that.

"Of course I noticed" he replied, forcing a casualness he didn't feel.

"Really?" you pressed, looking down at your clothes.

"You're impossible to miss” he pointed out. “It´s pretty” one of his fingers playfully tugged at the edge of your skirt, stealing a short giggle from you.

Your smile faltered for a moment though, a flicker of something crossing your face that Luke couldn't quite decipher. “He didn´t notice, you know?” you say.

A smug satisfaction bloomed in Luke's chest. Now, what could be better fuel for his twisted plan than a little unspoken resentment towards your oblivious boyfriend?

"Didn't notice?" he feigned obliviousness, milking the moment for all its worth.

"The skirt" you explain, kicking your feet playfully in the dirt. "Don´t really know why I care, though. He doesn't pay much attention to these things”

There it was, the confirmation he craved. Your fucking dumb boyfriend was failing you in all the ways that truly mattered. And Luke, oh, Luke was more than happy to fill that void.

In the mean way.

"Well, he's an idiot then" Luke stated firmly, his voice low and intense.

“Luke” you whined.

“What?” he cut you off with a humorless laugh, the sound tinged with a bitterness that made you uneasy. "Is it because of his busy schedule?" he mocked, his eyes narrowing. “Can’t say nice things to his girlfriend?”

You stared at him for a moment, your gaze unwavering. Your brows furrowed in a frown, and you tilted your head slightly, studying him with an intensity that made Luke suddenly feel analyzed. You leaned in, resting your chin in the palm of your hand. The movement brought you closer. His breath hitched a second as your eyes met his, framed by those long, mesmerizing lashes. It was as if you were looking not just at him, but right through him, searching for something.

"Why do you hate him so much?" you blurted out, the question tumbling from your lips before you could stop yourself.

Luke scoffed, the sound harsh and dismissive. "I don't hate him" he stated, but his voice lacked conviction. You raised your eyebrows, hiding a smile forming on your lips. “Hey, I mean it” he insisted, playfully pushing at your shoulder. "Just… feels like you're with someone who doesn't pay attention to you" he continued, his voice low and intense.

The casual tone he used, disarming and friendly, made you physically jolt a little. Luke managed to bite his tongue, swallow the jealousy and anger like a thick pill. He was a master manipulator. He wouldn't play his hand this early.

Unease settled in your stomach. "It's not always like that" you mumbled defensively.

"No?" he countered, his gaze unwavering. The firelight danced in his eyes, you couldn't help but look away, his intensity a little too much to handle.

"No" you repeated, your voice barely a whisper. "It's not his fault he's not interested in the things I like."

"Yeah, but you’re interested in everything about him, right?" Luke pressed, his voice soft but laced with something like a challenge, making you think twice before you answer.

His words hit a nerve, and you found yourself looking down at your lap, picking at a loose thread on your skirt. He was right, of course.

The silence stretched. A slow, teasing smile played on Luke's lips. He saw the doubt creeping into your eyes, the seed of discontent he'd been carefully planting beginning to sprout.

"You should find someone else, sweetheart" he said finally, his voice a husky murmur. He reached out and gently brushed a stray strand of hair that had escaped your braid and gotten caught in your earring.

You met his gaze, your eyes wide and searching. The playful banter had completely vanished, replaced by a tension so thick you could almost cut it with a knife.

"There are a couple of guys out there," he continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "who would kill for you to even look at them." He punctuated his sentence with a quick wink.

You breath out a nervous laugh, heat flooding to your cheeks. "You're such a drama queen, Luke" you finally managed, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes.

"’M not sure about that" he conceded, leaning back slightly, but never taking his eyes off you. "But sometimes that´s what you need. A little drama, excitement. Could make you see things a little clearer”

Days went by, and the conversation with Luke replayed on loop in your head.

´Drama. Excitement´

On the surface, everything seemed fine. Your boyfriend was kind, reliable, everything you thought you wanted. It felt comfortable and safe, yet… predictable. That sparkle that Luke talked about, that was absent.

You´d try to shake off your thoughts. One moment you'd convince yourself it was all a silly game you were willing to play. The next, you'd find yourself lost in a daydream, picturing Luke's dark eyes burning into yours, his voice, his touch. You tried to maintain a facade of normalcy, telling yourself he was just a friend, a confidante.

But the traitorous part of you craved more.

Luke, meanwhile, felt like a predator closing in on his prey. Your growing confusion fueled his ambition, every stolen glance, every conversation, a victory in his twisted and sick game. He watched your boyfriend with growing contempt, the sight of his hand roaming in the curves of your body making him clench his fists in rage. It should be him, Luke, pulling you close at night in his bed, whispering in your ear. He yearned to see you smile for him. He yearned to claim you, to make you his own for once and for all.

So his façade started to fall off. His possessiveness became more blatant, his touches lingering a fraction of a second too long. His calculating approach was slowly giving way to a burning need, a possessive hunger he couldn't suppress much longer.

One night at the bonfire, while everyone enjoyed a good time and shared laughter and music, Luke didn´t see you there. He shifted his gaze to his surroundings, his attention snagged on the figure of you nestled deeper into the shadows.

As usual, you were captivating, your animated expression and rapid-fire gestures suggesting a heated conversation with someone unseen. The distance made it impossible to discern the words, but the set of your jaw and the slight flush creeping up your neck told a clear story – you were arguing.

Then he noticed. It was your boyfriend.

And as soon as he saw you storm off in anger, alone, into the woods. He followed.

He kept a safe distance, ensuring you wouldn't notice his presence. The woods, shrouded in darkness except for the occasional sliver of moonlight filtering through the leaves, were easy to navigate for him. Finally, he spotted you. You were huddled on the floor, your knees drawn up to your chest, a muffled groan escaping your lips.

“Hey” he called out softly.

You spun around. Luke´s figure stood behind you, hands in his cargo pockets, the shadows painting his face. “Hi” you reply, getting on your feet again, turning to him.

He knew what he wanted to say, what he needed to say for you to dip into his arms. But he was good at playing dumb too, so he waited a little more.

"Um… is everything alright?" he asked, feigning concern.

You crossed your arms over your chest, a shadow of your earlier anger flickering in your eyes. "Yeah, just…" you trailed off, searching for the right words. "Feeling the need to punch something that's not my boyfriend's face."

A sardonic chuckle escaped Luke's lips. "Now that's a feeling I can relate to," he said, taking a tentative step closer. You shot him a glare. “That´s a joke, sweetheart” he added. He didn´t manage to make you laugh, but you rolled your eyes and your lips curved into a small smile.

You leaned back against the rough bark of a tree, letting out a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the world.

"Wanna tell me what happened?" Luke's voice asked, gently. He was standing a few feet away from you.

"It's been like this for days" you finally began, your voice thick with frustration. "And it's my fault. He says I'm acting weird, different, like something's in my head” You sigh “And maybe he's right."

Luke followed your gaze as it drifted to a patch of wildflowers growing at your feet. "So he just can't stand you having second thoughts about your relationship?" he asked, his voice laced with a hint of amusement.

You bristled at his words. "I never said I'm having second thoughts," you defended, a spark of defiance igniting in your eyes.

"But you are" he countered, his voice low and steady.

You shook your head, the movement sharp and jerky. "No" you insisted, a tremor in your voice betraying a touch of uncertainty. "I don't want to leave him, but…" Your voice trailed off, and you shifted your gaze, avoiding his eyes. "That conversation we had," you continued softly, your voice barely above a whisper, "what you said. It got me thinking."

A surge of satisfaction coursed through Luke. Bingo. He'd managed to plant the seeds of doubt, to make you question a relationship that once seemed solid.

"Yeah?" he pressed, his voice barely a murmur, encouraging you to elaborate.

You paused, your brow furrowed in concentration. It was strange, you were confiding in him, this boy who was practically your opposite. Yet, his words had resonated with you, stirred something you hadn't quite acknowledged before.

"Or maybe you're just trying to get to my head 'cause you never liked him" you suddenly accused, a hint of suspicion coloring your voice.

He chuckled, a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. "Maybe" he admitted shamelessly.

Doubt flickered in your eyes, chasing away the spark of defiance just as quickly as it appeared. "What are you trying to do, Luke?" you asked, your voice dropping to a soft whisper. "It feels like you're always trying to say something else to me," you continued, your voice barely above a breath, "but you never do."

The way you spoke, the vulnerability in your tone, it wrapped around Luke's brain and squeezed. His ears popped, a strange sensation accompanying the warmth that spread through his chest. You noticed. You saw the shift within him, the way his carefully constructed facade began to crack.

"Do you want me to be honest?" he finally asked, his voice husky and laced with a dangerous honesty.

You nodded, mesmerized by the raw intensity radiating from him. Gods, you were so naive, so blissfully unaware of the storm brewing within him. Luke wouldn't, couldn't, reveal the full extent of his obsession. He wouldn't confess to the months he'd spent dreaming about you, the way he'd snuck into your cabin late at night to steal something from your dresser, just to have a piece of you close. He wouldn´t confess how he let his mind race to the most sinful places, digging into thoughts about you that would eventually leave to him jerking one off in the bathroom.

He wasn't going to scare you away. No, his plan was far more subtle, a slow seduction that would eventually have you falling helplessly into his arms. He was going to peel back his facade just enough, letting you see a glimpse of the man beneath the rebellious exterior, a man who craved you and would treat you the way you deserved.

So he took another step closer.

"I can't stop thinking about you, yn" he confessed, his voice a husky murmur that sent shivers down your spine. The words hit you like a physical blow, unexpected and raw. A scoff escaped your lips, a nervous reaction to the sudden shift in the dynamic. You looked away, unable to hold his gaze any longer.

“Gods, Luke, you´re-,” you cut yourself off when his fingers brushed against your chin, gently tilting your face back towards his.

"It's true" he continued, his voice laced with a desperate honesty. "And I can't handle the fact that you're with someone who doesn't deserve you."

“Don´t be ridiculous, Luke” you say.

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze roaming over your face. "You're perfect, yn" he murmured, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "So beautiful, so smart. And you know it. Yet you settle for someone who takes you for granted. That's a little dumb of you, isn't it?"

The last sentence, delivered with a playful smirk, should have stung. It should have made you angry. But instead, a strange warmth bloomed in your chest. Perhaps it was the forbidden nature of the conversation, the way he was making you feel like a coveted prize.

And a terrible truth dawned on you - you weren't entirely innocent in this either. You had been feeling the same pull towards him, a flicker of something that went beyond friendship. You had enjoyed his attention, his way of seeing you, of truly seeing you.

But the reality of the situation slammed into you. "I have a boyfriend" you finally managed to say, your voice laced with a desperate attempt at determination.

He let out a chuckle, easily stepping on the thought of your boyfriend like some slug. "That´s a reminder to nobody but you, sweetheart"

Another tense silence. Luke raised his hand, placing it on the rough bark of the tree behind you, effectively trapping you.

"I know you've been thinking about what I said" he said, his voice dropping to a low murmur. His eyes scanned your face, searching for any sign of doubt, any flicker of vulnerability. And he found it.

Doubt, like a poisonous vine, slowly crept through your mind. His words, his raw honesty, had shaken the foundation of your relationship.

"But you think too much of it, angel" he continued, his voice a seductive coo. He used the nickname with such ease, as if it had always been his right.

He leaned in closer, the space between you shrinking to a hair's breadth. His hand reached out, a single finger tracing the delicate outline of your jawline.

"There's nothing wrong with having a little fun sometimes" he whispered. "It's what you want, after all, right?” he tilted his head slightly, his gaze locking onto yours. "Nobody's going to judge you" he continued, his voice a seductive promise. "It's just you and me. A little secret between us."

Your heart hammered a frantic rhythm against your ribs. Every fiber of your being screamed that this was wrong, a betrayal of everything you held dear. Yet, a part of you, a selfish, yearning part, craved the thrill he offered.

"Don't get me wrong, Luke" you began, your voice trembling slightly. "I… I want this" you confessed, the words catching in your throat. "But I can't. I'm taken and you know it." The words tasted bitter on your tongue, a lie even to your own ears.

A slow, evil smirk spread across his face. It wasn't the dangerous kind of thrill you craved, but a chilling realization of the game he was playing.

"Oh, I get you, sweetheart" he said, his voice dripping with a mockery that made you flinch. "But when you're with him, you think about me, don't you?" Gods, he'd caught you. You couldn't deny it. Even with the guilt gnawing at you, the truth was undeniable.

Luke leaned closer, the space between you shrinking with each passing breath. He tilted his head, his curls tickling your cheek. He wanted to kiss you. You knew it, felt it in the way his lips hovered a breath away from yours.

And he stayed there, asking, as your breaths tangled together in shared exhales.

"But this is wrong, Luke" you whispered, your last attempt to hold onto the remnants of your sanity.

“No, it´s not” he breathed out, and in a swift motion, he grabbed you by the back of your neck and smashed his lips against yours. The other hand found your waist, pulling you flush against him.

It already surprassed your expectations the moment you felt his lips against yours. His desire was palpable, but it didn´t manifest as an animalistic manner. He was tender, passionate, and incredibly intoxicating.

His lips moved against yours in a way that left you breathless, his tongue pressing against yours and making it´s way inside your mouth with the fiflthiest wet sounds.

It was so delicious. You couldn´t imagine you´d find actual taste in someone´s lips, but whatever it was that Luke had on his, you wanted it all the time. He was hungry for you, pressing your back against the tree more and his hands travelled down to your hips, pulling you into his own.

But then you remembered; your boyfriend could be looking for you. "Luke?" you said. As you tried to speak, to convey some restraint, Luke´s kisses grew more insistent, refusing to let you utter a word. You attempted to push him away, but you only managed to rest your hands on his chest, pulling him closer instead by gripping fists on his shirt.

"Luke" you managed to call again. "We shouldn´t" you managed to murmur in between kisses, your words a weak attempt to resist the pull of his desire. But Luke only smirked into your lips, then started to softly, slowly, trail kisses down your neck.

"Just a little more, angel" he whispered against your skin a low and deep voice.

The sensation sent a shockwave through your body, each one drawing a sigh of pleassure from your lips as you instinctivily threw your head back, offering him more. The sensation was electric, leaving you squirming with anticipation under Luke´s skillful touch.

And then, he dropped to his knees.

His lips started to trail kisses on your knees and thighs, gripping on the soft flesh with his eyes up, looking at you, devouring you.

"Luke, no. Not here" you whispered, placing both hands on his shoulders in an attempt to resist the overwhelming power of his kisses. But he simply sushed you, drawing soft circles on your knees with his thumbs.

"Shhh" he cooed softly. "It´s okay, sweetheart. I´ll make you feel good, I promise" he reassured you, resuming his kisses up your legs.

You moaned when his teeth grazed a particularly sensitive part of your inner thigh. His hands found their way underneath your skirt, his touch already making you grow in excitement. He pulled your panties to the side with a confident ease.

Your clit was almost throbbing. Swollen and desperate for attention; he felt it the moment he dipped the tip of his finger on your entrace to coat over your sensitve bud with your own arousal.

"I´ll make you see what´s worth it, baby. Who is" he whispered against your skin, his voice thick with desire as he leaned in, dangerously.

"I´ll make you feel what the little bitch of your boyfriend can´t"

Your heart raced against your ribs at a scary pace. Partly because your boyfriend, or anyone, could walk into the scene, and partly because Luke´s head was burried in between your thighs, and he showed no signals of stopping anytime soon.

He was enthusiastic about it; gripping onto your legs and squeezing at the soft flesh as his tongue circled and licked in between your folds. You knew there was more to that, more that he wasn´t gonna show you yet, he was only getting started.

You moaned out loud and tugged at his curls when he pulled your lips apart with his thumbs and pressed a wet kiss straight to your clit, pulsing and desperate for attention, just like you were.

"Such a pretty girl" he planted a quick kiss on your inner thigh. "He doesn´t make you feel this good, does he?"

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always-just-red · 7 months ago

Note

I wanted a slightly suggestive fluff with the twins if that's alright👁️👄👁️

A scenario in which they're finally done with Sylus's tasks for the day and get to spend some time with MC

CRYINGGG anon I low-key did deviate from the brief but I had this idea and I just ended up running with it. I hope you enjoy, regardless! I went into this ambivalent towards Luke and Kieran but something just possessed me honestly. Also dragged Sylus into it because there's no way in hell I wasn't subjecting him to this dynamic!! 😇 (I made MC here separate from canon MC for plot reasons, but if you want a fic with the twins and canon MC, just let me know!)

Onychinus' Finest

Luke and Kieran x Reader

Summary: All in a day's work for Sylus's loyal and committed worker bees crows

Genre: fluff & shenanigans

Warnings/Additional tags: MDNI (not smut but it's a lil spicy and I'd rather play it safe tbh), f!reader, nonMC!reader, platonic Sylus x reader, humour, swearing, suggestion, kisses, the twins are just obsessed with your legs honestly and who could blame them

| Word count: 2.1k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Your call connects almost instantly.

“What?” Sylus hisses from the other end, and you get the impression he’s disappointed.

“Oof,” you groan, smiling, “what’s the matter, boss? Waiting on a call from a certain Deepspace Hunter?”

There’s silence in your ear, but not far from you, Kieran snickers. Your smile broadens. “You have three seconds,” Sylus seethes, with the precarity of a pot that could boil over at any moment, “to tell me what I want to hear.”

Three seconds is a bit of a push. You’re sat on a desk and Kieran is tapping away at the computer beside you, the light of the screen catching the sharp features of his mask; he looks like something from a horror story. You nudge his knee with your foot. He glances at you.

Wrap it up, you signal with a twirl of your forefinger.

His mask tilts downwards, almost imperceptibly, and you know he’s glaring at you from behind it. He flashes his middle finger back and you chuckle, watching him return to his work. “Files should be on their way shortly,” you explain to Sylus, because you know when to stop pushing your luck. “Ever’s upped the security on these damn computers. The device that guy sold you didn’t do shit.”

It’s also now pieces of a device, shattered against the floor from when Kieran had thrown it down and stepped on it in frustration. You’re not gonna mention that.

Sylus sighs impatiently, but there’s a hint of regret. “I knew there was something off about that deal. Do you think he tipped them off?”

You glance around the room and it’s littered with bodies. Not dead! Just… unconscious. At least, most of them, you think. “Yeah…” you muse. It was a lot more security than there should have been in a high-rise office in the middle of the night. “You might be onto something there, boss.”

Another sigh from Sylus. You watch Luke as he finishes looting— wait, no— checking the last of the security guards for anything helpful. He’s found a phone and he’s staring down at it, head tilted, reminding you of Mephisto. You briefly wonder what came first: the crow masks or the crow-like behaviour. Maybe you’ll ask Sylus one day.

Luke lifts the phone, holding it at arm’s length, and you realise he’s taking a selfie. He pivots until you and Kieran are in the background, and you lean into the frame, making a peace sign with your free hand. The moment is captured. Luke tosses the phone over his shoulder and it hits the floor with a crack.

“Are you all alright?” Sylus checks, and you know his eyes are burning with frustration, even though you can’t see them. He wears a mask too— most of the time— it’s just a little more figurative than yours or the twins’. You’re an expert at reading past them by now.

“Yeah,” you say, “we signed up for this, remember? You’ve got the best of the best, right here.” You glance between Luke and Kieran. “Well, the best of the best and her sidekicks.”

“Hey!” Kieran interjects. “You wanna have a go on this computer?”

“No,” you lilt back sweetly. What’s he gonna do— make you? Sure enough, he goes back to tapping away, his head sagging slightly, and you can tell he’s pouting.

Luke has wandered closer to the pair of you. “How much longer?” he whines, throwing himself into a wheely chair, setting it on a slow collision course with Kieran’s. You stop it with your leg.

“Shut up,” Kieran snaps. “At least I’m doing something.”

“I can do something,” Luke retorts. He captures your ankle, pulling it away from the leg of his chair, and rests a hand on your shin.

“Something isn’t in the mood right now.” You lift your foot from his grasp, inching it up his lower abdomen, and he groans as you plant it against his chest. “So unprofessional,” you tut.

You’d stifled your phone against your chest, but you can hear a deep voice leaking out of it. “Say that again, boss?” you request, bringing it back to your ear.

“How long is this going to take?” Sylus repeats.

“Not long. You know what they say, though…” You meet the eyes of Luke’s mask. Your tone drops: “All good things to those who wait.”

Luke’s chair squeaks, rolling back as you push him away with a soft kick.

“Fine,” Sylus murmurs, “Mephisto is with me. Stay on the line, and send the files through when you can. I’ll check them before you leave. If they knew we were coming, there’s a chance that—”

“Yeah, yeah, I get the picture,” you interrupt. You get Kieran’s attention again, then gesture between the computer and the phone. The beak of his mask dips as he nods.

Luke has used your lapse of focus to draw himself close to you again. He takes your ankle once more and guides it to rest in his lap, one hand tight— holding you in place— and the other deftly undoing the buckles on your boot. After a few clinks, he pulls it from your foot, the leather dragging down over your skin and leaving it cold. He throws the boot at his twin’s leg.

Kieran huffs as it tumbles to the floor. He doesn’t look away from the computer, but you know he wants to. Now that’s professional.

Decidedly committed to another priority, Luke draws shapes on your lower leg, his finger grazing over your shin and ankle. He’s staring down, fixated, and maybe they aren’t shapes— maybe they’re letters. Every stroke of his finger is deliberate. You could ask what he’s writing, but you really don’t care so long as it’s more than a word or two.

If it is, he doesn’t have the patience for it. His fingers walk higher, stopping only as they reach your knee. The fabric of your dress is draped over your leg and he pushes it aside, letting it slink closer to the floor. He looks up at you, head angled like a question.

“Any progress?” Sylus asks.

You’re holding your phone between your ear and your shoulder, both hands splayed on the desk beside you so you can lean slightly back. “Getting there,” you say, lips curving. You’re not looking at the computer.

You could swear you hear Luke laugh, but it’s ever so faint. He rests his whole hand on you, warming your lower leg with broader strokes, and whatever he wrote has been erased. Your breath catches as his touch moves above your knee, and it’s a tiny sound; no-one would notice.

Kieran’s mask turns towards you. “Oh, come on,” he sighs. “No fair.”

It’s an intimate art: seeing behind a mask. You have to notice everything.

“So hurry up,” Luke answers, his voice heavier than the last time he spoke. His chest rises and falls with every breath, just a little slower, a little deeper.

Kieran rolls his eyes—you guess, from the listless way his attention goes back to the screen— and you detect a huff. “Not fair,” he says to himself. He repeats it as he punches keys with his fingers: “Not fair. Not fair.”

Luke shakes his head gently: a fond exasperation rather than anything serious. He rolls his chair closer until he’s framed by your legs, then lifts your ankle to rest on his shoulder. His fingers curl, the pads of them brushing over the top of your foot idly, but it tickles, so you try to pull away. He grasps your ankle again. “Nuh-uh, kitten,” he teases.

It’s one of your favourite in-jokes; you laugh. Sylus can still hear you, and you’re glad he doesn’t know it’s at his expense. “Something funny?” he asks. Maybe he does know.

“Yeah,” you say. He could string you upside-down with his Evol and you’d still never tell him what.

Luke is chuckling to himself, and the sound changes as he lifts his mask just enough to free the lower half of his face. It’s not the first time, but it sobers you instantly. He turns to press his lips to your ankle, leans in— kisses further up. Leans in again— his mouth moves higher.

“Why so wriggly?” he speaks into your knee. “Stop.”

“You stop,” you counter, reaching forward to grab one of the horns peeking out of his hood. You use it to pull him away. Make him look at you. “Your little book on conquest doesn’t work on me.”

His lips widen into a smirk.

“What book?” Sylus’s voice echoes.

You smirk as well. “Ask your pet hunter.”

You’re interrupted by a thud and your head spins. Kieran is standing up, slapping the top of the computer in frustration. “C’mon, work!” he urges. “So freakin’ slow.”

“Ah, ah, ah.” You shoo him away from the computer like you would a too-friendly pigeon from your lunch.

He flaps back in answer, his hand engaging yours in a brief slap-fight before he backs down. He slumps into his chair, defeated. “It’s almost there,” he groans, folding his arms. “Hey, Luke? Wanna swap?”

“No.”

“Do it,” you prompt.

Luke’s head rolls begrudgingly. “Yes ma’am. Jeez.” He plants a warm kiss on your leg again before clambering out from underneath it, pulling his mask back down over his face.

Another moment later and Kieran is in front of you instead. “You ok?” you wonder out loud.

“Bored.” He rests his head sideways on your thigh. His fingers find your bare lower leg and he runs them up, down, up, down, but it’s soft and purposeless. Soon, his head lifts— thin, red eyes staring up at you. The gaze doesn’t waver as he leans back in his chair and starts to unfasten your other boot.

“She’s gonna get cold,” Luke quips from the computer.

“Nah. She’s not.”

Your skin prickles as Kieran pulls away your boot, like a reflection of his brother, but tortuously more slow. He lets the cool air of the room set in. “Huh,” he corrects himself. “Maybe she is.”

You get the sense you’re being punished; both of them are petty. You’re pettier, though. “Sylus?” you speak into the phone.

“Mmm?”

“Did I ever tell you about the time that Kieran— ah!”

In a heartbeat Kieran has lifted his mask— not enough, but enough— and planted a kiss above your knee. His hand is around your leg, pushing it further from the other, and you can’t help but gasp again.

“What are you…” Sylus starts to ask, but then he changes his mind. “No. I don’t want to know.”

“You sure, boss?” you chuckle breathlessly. “It might surprise you.”

“Nothing would surprise me at this point, sweetie. Those files had better be on their way.”

You tear your gaze away from Kieran to glance over at Luke. He’s sat, propped on an elbow, his chin in his palm, and he’s definitely not looking at the computer. He sits up straight under your scrutiny. Turns to the screen. After a few more drums of the keyboard, he gives you a thumbs up.

“Got it,” Sylus chimes in, no doubt perusing the files already. “Nothing seems amiss. Nice work.”

“Thanks, boss,” you grin. “I’ve been working very, very hard.”

The phone is snatched from your hand. “She has, sir!” Kieran speaks into it. He stands, putting it on speaker before setting it down beside you. “I think she deserves the night off.”

There’s a crash as he shoves the computer from the desk, and Luke leans back, swinging his feet up onto the now empty space. He lifts his mask marginally to put two fingers to his lips, whistling in celebration. There’s a slow clap for good measure, too.

Kieran bows to him with a flourish. Then to you; you bow your head back.

“I’m hanging up,” Sylus states plainly.

“Ok,” you chirp, distracted. “I hope she calls you soon, boss!”

“I don’t… I’m not…” your leader stutters. He reconsiders. “Thank you. Don’t think, however, that I’m—”

He doesn’t get to finish the warning, threat, or whatever else it was. Luke’s finger stands proudly on the phone, still connected to the ‘end call’ button. “What?” he dismisses as you and Kieran look at him. “I slipped! If boss asks, you saw me slip.”

“I did see it,” Kieran nods.

“I saw it too,” you add solemnly.

There’s silence for a single moment, and there’s never silence with you three around. It lasts as long as it usually does.

You all burst into laughter.

#🖋rach is actually writing #luke and kieran x reader #luke and kieran #love and deepspace #platonic sylus x reader #sylus #lads #lnds #l&ds

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puckinghischier · 1 year ago

Text

Jersey Talk

nico hischier x fem!reader, jack hughes x platonic!reader, luke hughes x platonic!reader

summary: reader finds herself engaging in a lot of jersey talk

notes: part 3 of my lil unnamed nico series!! i loved writing this part and hope you enjoy it as much as i do 🥹 also, i didn’t really proofread so ignore any mistakes. and just a disclaimer, i don’t claim to know everything there is to know about any of the players mentioned in my writing, so if there’s inaccuracies on timelines or personality traits, just ignore them and assume it’s for the plot 😌

p.s.!! i’m thinking about starting a tag list for this/any of my writing i post so if you want to be a part of that, let me know!!

part 1, part 2, part 4

[6.4k]

You absolutely love how foot travel friendly New Jersey is. Coming from an area where foot travel is virtually nonexistent, the change is a welcomed one. You appreciate being able to simply grab your favorite totes, your headphones, and make the fifteen-minute walk to the small corner store. Surely in the winter you’ll feel differently about the five-block trek, but hopefully you’ll have your car by then. For now, the comfortable Autumn air makes the walk enjoyable. The fresh air, the beautiful buildings, and the surprising friendliness of the strangers you pass on the street make you feel like you made the right decision in relocating your life to the garden state.

Luckily this grocery run was fairly light, only needing to pick up some essentials until one of the boys gives you a ride to the larger chain grocery store on one of their upcoming off days. You really just needed the ingredients to make dinner tonight, making good on your promise to be their personal shopper and occasional chef in exchange for a place to live. You even stopped in a small bakery about a block from your apartment and picked up a few assorted pastries for a sweet treat later, knowing how much Luke loves his dessert.

As you walk into the apartment, courtesy of your shiny new key Jack gave you last week, you see both him and Luke on the couch, each with one hand on an iPad held out so both could view the contents on the screen. You assume they’re watching game film, preparing for their game later in the week against the Rangers. Your assumption is confirmed when you hear the unmistakable sound of sticks slapping against pucks and ice coming from the iPad in question.

They’re both so engrossed in the game film on the screen that they have no clue that you’ve even walked through the door. You make your way to the kitchen to unload what’s in your hands, putting away what little groceries you bought. Once you’re finished in the kitchen, you make your way back out into the living room, wanting to catch up with your roommates on how their midday practice had gone. As you walk towards the living area, rounding the loveseat adjacent to the sectional where the boys sit, Luke catches your moving figure from the corner of his eye. His body jerks slightly, clearly startled until he notices its only you.

“Oh my god you just scared the shit out of me,” you hear him exhale, holding his hand to his chest.

You just chuckle as you see Jack whip his head up, confused as to what Luke was referring to until he saw you sitting down, tucking your feet up under your legs to get comfortable.

“When did you get home? Have you been here the whole time?” Jack asks, pausing the game film and sitting the iPad on the small coffee table in the center of the room.

“No, you two were just lost in hockey land when I came in. I went to the corner mart a few blocks down to get stuff to make dinner, then put it all away before coming in here. Thought I’d give you guys a few more minutes before I came in here and interrupted,” you replied, resting your chin on your hands that are placed on the arm of the loveseat.

“Well, you have our full attention now. What’s up?” Jack leans back into the couch once again, stretching his arms above his head.

“Just wanted to talk to my boys. See how practice went today. Figure out how you guys are going to fare against the Rags,” you throw in a small dig at their biggest rival team.

“The Rags? Since when do you participate in hockey talk?” Luke chimes into the conversation, laughing slightly at your attempt to assimilate into the world of hockey.

“Since I overheard a conversation at this cute little bakery down the street. While I was waiting in line there was a man in front of me with a Devils hat on and the guy working the counter was asking him about his thoughts on the game this week. He was talking about how much he wishes ‘the boys can pull their heads out of their asses and beat the damn Rags’ and I thought it was funny. Figured I should probably adopt the local vernacular if I want to fit in around here. You know, participate in the Jersey talk,” you recall with a shrug of your shoulders.

The two brothers let out a little chuckle at your story, amused at your attempt to insert yourself into their world. The two of them and Quinn taught you a lot about how hockey is played and the rules over the years, but their hope of you fully getting involved in all of the aspects of hockey and the fanbase quickly dissolved. They would sit and force you to watch reruns of games with them over the summer at the lake, and you would sit there and whine because of how badly you wanted to go out on the boat or drive the golf cart down to the local ice cream shop, not listening to a single word the trio would say to you. Once you made the decision to move in with the two youngest brothers, you figured you should probably put a little more effort into the whole hockey fan experience, considering you would likely be attending games on a regular basis.

“Well, we’ve been preparing for the Rags, so that old man in the bakery can rest easy knowing we’re working our asses off, which our heads aren’t in, by the way,” Jack speaks, correcting the stranger’s statement.

“Yeah, we’re doing really well, actually. We keep splitting the team up and forcing one half to mimic the Rangers and some of their techniques, so we’re actually getting really good at stopping them from getting the puck into our zone. Plus, our goalies are putting out some insane stops during practice, so I really think we’ve got this in the bag,” Luke adds, excited to showcase their hard work.

You’ve noticed that practices must have been hard for the boys this week. A lot of naps and ibuprofen consumed. You haven’t really seen much of them, if you’re being honest. They’re usually gone by the time you wake up in the mornings and so tired by the time they come home that they go straight to the couch or their bedrooms and fall asleep. By the time they wake up from their naps you’re usually already cooking dinner, at least getting to chat a bit while you cook. After finishing dinner they’re back to the couch, watching game film or heading back to the arena for various events and strategy meetings. They go to bed fairly early, considering all of their early morning starts, so evenings are usually spent in your room by yourself watching tv or catching up with your friends back home. You suppose you should get used to spending time by yourself, though, knowing you’ll be here by yourself more often than not during the season.

They had a game in Boston a few days prior, leaving you with your apartment to yourself for the first time in the two weeks you’ve lived with them. They were only gone for one night, but it was definitely lonely. You really haven’t been here long enough to have an abundance of people to call up anytime Jack and Luke were unavailable, so you had passed the time by exploring the area around your apartment complex a little, finding the perfect park to go sit at to soak up some much-needed sunshine. You couldn’t hide your excitement when the two brothers returned home the next evening, though. You got up from the couch and ran over to the door, ready to greet them and ask them all about the game (you had watched it on tv, but you really just wanted to talk to someone after a full day with no one’s company but your own), but you were greeted with tired eyes and frowns, despite their win the previous night. You simply gave each of them a hug and then sent them off to bed, knowing once they got some sleep they would be up for conversation.

This is why, right now, even though you have zero knowledge of what preparing for a rival hockey game consists of, you’re taking in every word the two have to offer about the subject. You’re just happy to have a few uninterrupted minutes to sit and talk with them.

“Good! That’s great! Really…good,” you say, giving a thumbs up and awkward smile after failing to come up with a better response to Luke’s statements.

Luke just laughs, appreciating your attempts at interest in their jobs.

“You’re coming to the game, right? We put back a ticket for you, but if you can’t make it that’s okay, too. Got you a pretty sick seat, though. Glass seat, right beside the net,” Jack reveals, raising his eyebrows a bit, as if trying to convince you.

“Of course I’ll be there, I wouldn’t miss it for the world!” you exclaim, a little offended at the mere thought you’d skip out on such a big game for them.

“You won’t be disappointed, I swear. We’re gonna kick some major Rags ass,” Luke adds, excitement showing at the idea of you being in the crowd.

“The real question here shouldn’t be if I’m coming to the game or not. It’s whose jersey am I going to wear?” you throw out, poking fun at the two.

“Pshh, c’mon that one’s a no brainer. You’ll obviously wear mine, I’m your favorite,” Jack waves off your words, fully confident that you’ll agree with him.

“I don’t know, Rowdy. I feel like plenty of people will have 86 jerseys on. It is Moose’s rookie season, maybe I should wear his so he feels included.”

“Yeah, dickhead. You have a whole arena full of people wearing your number, she should wear mine. We all know it’s the better number anyways,” Luke retorts.

Jack rolls his eyes, opening his mouth to fire back an insult at Luke, but he’s cut off by a knock at the door. You look over at the two boys to see if they know who might be at the door, but both of their faces mirror your confused look. So much for your uninterrupted time with them.

“Did you guys invite someone over? Or should I be worried that there’s a murderer standing on the other side of our door right now,” you ask.

“Well first of all I don’t think a murderer would knock on the door. They would probably pick the lock or something. Isn’t the whole point of murdering someone to do it when they don’t see it coming?” Jack responds, standing up. “Second of all, it’s probably just Nico. I had mentioned watching game film together at practice earlier and he told me he’d see how he was feeling later. Kinda forgot about it, if I’m being honest, but this is around the time he wakes up from his post-practice nap.”

You sit up a little straighter when Jack mentions his teammate and captain. You hadn’t seen him since your first night in town about two weeks ago. You’d caught little bits of information about him in passing from both Jack and Luke, but tried to keep your questions about him to a minimum. The two of you were still practically strangers, not having had any reason to communicate after that night. You assume he’s been as busy as Jack and Luke, coming and going far more than you. Still, you’re surprised you haven’t even run into him once. You figure his captain duties keep him far busier than even Luke and Jack.

You hear the front door open and then two sets of voices making their way down the short hallway. You look over to see Nico in a hoodie and sweats, a hat hiding his long hair. You think back to that night at the bar when his hair was uncovered and he was having to push it out of his eyes for most of the night, wishing you could catch a glimpse of the brown locks right now. The two were continuing their short conversation from the door, so Nico had yet to acknowledge you or Luke yet. You look away, starting to pick at a loose thread on your socks, knowing you needed to avert your eyes before you were caught staring.

Unknown to you, Luke had already noticed your stare, observing how fixated you were on his captain. You look over to find Luke staring at you, an undecipherable expression on his face. You give him a puzzled look, as if to say ‘what?’ and he responds by simply shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders a bit.

“Oh, hey you two. How’s it going?” Nico’s voice pulls you from your silent conversation with Luke, noticing Jack was no longer next to him.

“Hey, man. How was your nap? Your shoulder okay?” Luke asks him, adjusting his body slightly on the couch to make room for Nico to sit down.

You turn your head to look at Nico once again, a small hint of worry surfacing. He doesn’t look injured? His arm isn’t in a sling or anything, and he’s not holding it in pain. You watch as he sits down to see if even the smallest wince makes its way across his face as his back comes to rest against the plush cushions. If he’s in any sort of pain, he’s not letting it show in his actions.

“Yeah, perfectly fine. Don’t give yourself that much credit, kid. You don’t hit nearly as hard as you think you do,” Nico chuckles, taking his hand and tapping Luke on the knee a few times.

“Trying to hurt your captain before a huge game, Luke?” you speak for the first time since Nico entered the apartment. “Maybe I should wear Jack’s jersey on Saturday.”

“I knew it! See, my jersey is clearly the better choice, Moose. Sucks to suck, huh?” Jack interjects with a grin, walking from the direction of the kitchen, glass of water in hand.

“Now c’mon, Y/N, that isn’t even fair. It was an accident!” Luke cries out. “We were running drills and I was trying to stop, but I misjudged and ran into Nico. He didn’t even hit the glass that hard, you heard him!”he argues, looking between you and his brother.

“All I’m saying is, it won’t look good if the rookie is the reason the captain can’t play against public enemy number one. Then you’ll become public enemy number one, and I can’t be caught at a game wearing the new public enemy’s jersey. I’m already a newcomer, I can’t tarnish my reputation this early,” you hold your hands up in defense.

“What have I just walked into?” Nico asks, eyes darting between the three of you.

“Well, right before you walked in, we were talking about which jersey Y/N was going to wear to the game on Saturday. I told her the obvious choice was mine, but she decided to spew some bullshit about there being too many 86 jerseys already, so she should wear Luke’s since he’s new and needs to feel included,” Jack uses finger quotes around the last part of his sentence.

“Well, she has a point.”

“See! Even Cap thinks so! That’s it, you’re wearing my jersey, Y/N. Cap’s word is final,” Luke leans back, taking in his assumed victory.

Your mind wanders back to Nico’s words he spoke to you at the bar a couple of weeks ago, wondering if Luke’s statement includes those words, too.

“Maybe I should be fair and not wear either jersey. Just go down the roster and pick a random name and then buy it,” you joke, watching the brothers widen their eyes like you just told them you ran over their childhood pet.

“That’s…not even funny. How dare you even joke about something so important,” Jack stares at you, seriousness painted on his features.

“C’mon, Y/N, that’s just…that’s just cruel,” Luke emphasizes the last word dramatically.

“I think you should do it. In fact, I have a spare jersey I think you can wear,” Nico adds, looking at you with mischievous eyes.

“Oh, well that actually sounds lovely, Nico, thank you! What better way to show my support at my first Devils game than sporting the captain’s jersey?”

Jack and Luke both turn their heads to glare at their captain sitting between them. If looks could kill, the poor Swiss man would be six feet under right now. The Hughes brothers don’t play around when it comes to their jerseys. You remember when you had gone to one of Luke’s games while he was playing for Michigan, wanting to buy a Michigan jersey in support, but the gift shop had run out of Luke’s number once he announced his contract with the Devils. You knew you could have simply asked him for a jersey, knowing he had several lying around his dorm room, but the trip was supposed to be a surprise.

You were forced to buy a random jersey with some lesser known last name on it, because you still wanted to show up in Michigan attire. You don’t even remember whose name and number it was, but you remember the look on Luke’s face when he saw you during warm ups, going from pure joy to disgust in seconds. He skated off, going to the locker room briefly before returning with a yellow Jersey that he then threw over the glass to your seat, motioning for you to put it on. You just laughed and did as you were told. You’ve had similar arguments with both Jack and Quinn over threatening to wear a teammates jersey over the years, but you just like to poke fun at how protective the three are over you. Jack explained to you that they want you to wear their jersey’s because it shows their teammates that you’re to be left alone, knowing the reputations of their fellow players.

“Cap, please don’t make me kick you out of this apartment right now,” Jack looks at Nico with complete seriousness.

“Maybe I need to work on my body checks in practice tomorrow, Cap,” Luke tries to threaten.

Nico simply laughs, shaking his head at the sudden unity between the two bickering brothers.

“Alright, chill out you two, all jokes. Unless…” You trail off, standing up.

“No, no unless. You’re wearing one of our jerseys, preferably mine. Hey! Where are you going, this is serious!” Jack yells after you as you walk towards the kitchen.

“Unless you want to starve tonight, someone has to start making dinner. Plus, I have some jersey shopping to do,” you say, hearing Nico’s laughter ringing out once more as you enter the kitchen.

———————————————————————————

“Hey, Nico! Are you staying for dinner? I need to know how much pasta to make!” you shout from your spot by the stove, having just sat down a large pot of water on the hot eye.

You walk over to the cabinet to grab the box of pasta and a couple jars of sauce, waiting for an answer from the living room. You decided to go with just simple spaghetti and salad tonight, not really in the mood for having to prep a ton of food and spend an hour and a half cooking. Jack will probably complain about the amount of carbs he’s consuming, but he’ll get over it. As if he doesn’t burn enough calories from practice and his personal workouts he does on a daily basis. Luke will just be happy to have something that isn’t chicken, seeing as that’s all you made for the first few days of your new living arrangement, trying to stick to the meal plan Jack had the nutritionist send you.

After the third night of some form of chicken and vegetables, Luke was quick to inform you that no one on the team follows the meal plan so strictly. You also learned that Jack is going through some phase of eating nothing but chicken or steak and brown rice, Luke revealing that’s what the two mostly lived on during the weeks leading up to your move. You had told Luke he should learn to cook for himself, and then he wouldn’t be forced to eat what Jack or you decide to make if he doesn’t like it, but he had rolled his eyes and told you “this was the agreement, right? We won’t let you pay rent, so you told us you would contribute by cooking. So really, I’m just helping you fulfill your roommate duties.”

You still don’t have an answer from the three in the living room. You figure they’re too busy with game film to hear you, so you decide to just make enough for Nico, too. You can always pack up the leftovers and have them for lunch the next few days if needed. You dump what you think to be the proper amount of pasta for four people into the pot once it reaches a boil, then work on pouring the sauce into a pan to let it heat up. You cheated on the salad, too, deciding to just buy two bags of salad mix, dumping the bag into a large bowl and adding the small packets of toppings. You’ve just dumped the now done pasta into the colander in the sink, turning to put the pot back onto the stove to cool off a bit when a voice causes you to nearly drop the hot pot in your hands.

“It smells delicious in here,” Nico announces his presence, walking through the doorway towards the fridge.

You settle yourself before setting the pot down safely on the stovetop before speaking. “You know, I really need to get on ordering those squeaky shoes if I want to avoid a heart attack by 25.”

Turning your body, you see Nico hunched over looking in the fridge, arm reaching towards a water bottle before raising up, flashing you a smile.

“Nah, even if you buy them I wouldn’t wear them. This is like, our thing now. Me sneaking up on you, you getting mad, me getting a good laugh out of it,” he stands back at his full height now.

“How comforting that you find enjoyment out of my jumpiness. Such an admirable trait to have,” you grumble, taking the pasta from the sink and transfer it into the pan filled with sauce. “I was going to ask if you wanted to stay for dinner, seeing as it looks like I made enough to feed the entire team, but I think I’ll just leave you to fend for yourself. See how funny that is.”

This earns another laugh, Nico moving to lean against the counter opposite of you, watching you try to combine the sauce and the pasta without making a giant mess.

“Why don’t you just put it back in the pot you cooked the pasta in. You’ll be able to mix it easier.”

“Because apparently that would have been too easy,” you step back and huff, wondering why you didn’t think of that before you created an overflowing mess of sauce and noodles.

Nico makes his way over to you, placing his hands on your shoulders to move you out of the way. He picks up the pan and dumps the contents into the pot sitting next to it, not spilling a single drop.

“There, now you can mix it easier and it won’t spill out over the sides and cause an even bigger mess,” he states, placing the dirty pan in the sink behind you.

“Okay, captain chef, next time you’re cooking dinner, since you clearly have more kitchen skills than me,” you tell him, making your way across the kitchen to collect plates to sit on the table.

Nico just chuckles as he watches you grab the plates, sitting one in front of each chair around the small dining table that sits in the kitchen.

“It smells so good in here, please tell me its almost done,” Jack enters the kitchen, Luke trailing behind him.

“It is, just finished actually,” you look up, Nico carrying the pot of steaming pasta from the stove to the table, careful not to drop it.

“Rowdy, grab the salad over there by the sink for me while I grab some forks for everyone,” you move towards the silverware drawer, walking around the Swiss man in your kitchen, having to turn your body slightly as he steps back from the table.

“Well, I better get going, my leftovers aren’t going to heat themselves up,” Nico announces, starting to make his way out of the kitchen.

“Cap, are you crazy? Do you not see how much food Bouy made?” Jack places the bowl of salad next to the pot of pasta, taking his seat at the table.

“Jack, I’m being so serious right now, if you keep using that stupid nickname for me I will sneak laxatives into your protein shakes.” You take the seat across from Jack, Luke falling into the seat to your left.

“Well, as long as it’s okay with Bouy, I’d love to stay.” Nico walks back over to the table, taking the seat next to Jack, smirking while avoiding eye contact with you.

“I know where you live, so the threat extends to you too, Cap” you glare at Nico.

The rest of the meal is mostly filled with talk between the three hockey players, you chiming in here and there, until Jack shifts the topic of conversation to you.

“So, what’s the update with your new job? You have everything lined up and ready to go?”

“Yeah, talked to them earlier today, actually. They said they’d have my office ready in about a week, so I should be starting not long after that.” You shrug, not wanting to bore them with the details of the corporate scene in New Jersey.

“Where are you going to be working?” Nico asks, genuine interest present in his tone, wiping his mouth with his napkin.

“I got offered a position with a small publishing company not too far from here, actually. Mostly independent, up and coming authors, but still exciting,” you reveal, perking up a bit at the opportunity to talk about your passion.

“Was super worried I wasn’t going to be able to use my degree after college, seeing as the market for English lit degrees isn’t too wide unless you want to teach. At least, that’s how it is back home. After I graduated and Jack offered the spare room here, I applied to a few positions here in Jersey and a few in New York, willing to make the commute if needed. Only heard back from one place, though. And it just so happened to be a thirty-minute drive from here, so I accepted and started packing,” you explained.

“It was meant to be. The gang back together once again,” Jack beams.

“Well, the gang minus Quinn. The fucker just had to end up in Vancouver of all places,” Luke grumbles, still upset the oldest Hughes is so far away.

“Lucky for us I can work remotely if I ever need or want to, so this summer at the lake we can all be together again,” you try to cheer Luke up, knowing how much he wishes the three brothers could have played on the same team while making their dreams come true.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Jack celebrates. “This is going to be the best summer at the lake house yet. We’re all grown, most of us legal drinking age, but don’t worry, we won’t tell if you won’t, Lukey,” Jack winks over at Luke, knowing the underage drinking rule has never really applied in the sacred space of the lake houses, “and we’ll all finally be there together again after, what, like 6 years?”

“It’s been awhile, at least that long,” you try to think back to the last time everyone was there together.

It was the summer before Quinn got drafted. Quinn had signed to play hockey at Michigan a few months before everyone was set to arrive at the summer oasis. You remember being so proud of him. You couldn’t wait to finally see him and congratulate him in person, knowing how hard he had worked for it. You figured things would stay the same for a few more years, expecting him to come home every summer for the next four years before moving on to the NHL. You had no clue that he would be drafted only a summer later and that it would be the beginning of the end for the summers of fun at the lake house.

“Nico, you should come up this summer! It’s always such a good time!” Jack pulls you from your reminiscing.

“I mean, maybe. I’ve been talking to my parents about flying home during the off season this year, since I didn’t make it over there last year. But I could probably come for a few days, at least,” he shrugs his shoulders.

You try to picture Nico at the lake house, hat covering his hair, swim trunks and a t-shirt covering his body. You picture him lounging on the boat in the sun while Jack takes everyone out for a midday ride, finding a secluded spot somewhere on the lake to stop and swim for a while. You picture him trying to wake surf, wondering if he’d be instantly good at it or if he would end up wiping out in the water. You picture him sitting around the fire at night, a light hoodie on to the mask the chill that never fails to make an appearance on Michigan summer nights, the glow from the fire illuminating his face just enough for you to admire him. You picture him with a slight sunburn on his nose, tan skin glowing from being in the sun so often.

You must have been lost in your thoughts for longer than you realized, because you came back to the conversation with several calls of your name from the seat next to you.

“Are you even listening to us anymore? Or do you really not want Cap coming to the lake house?” Luke looks over at you, slightly waving his hand in front of your face.

“What? No,” you say, looking around at the expectant faces surrounding you. “I mean, no I don’t care if he comes. It would be fun, yeah. If he can make it, of course. You heard him, I’m sure he’s excited to see his family.”

“I’m sure I can work something out. Have the best of both worlds. These two have talked about the infamous lake house so much I’m curious to see if it really lives up to all the hype,” Nico leans back, nodding his head towards both Jack and Luke.

“Then its settled! Cap is coming to Michigan this summer!” Jack cheers, throwing his arms up in celebration.

You laugh in response to Jack’s excitement, noticing that everyone seems to be done eating, plates clean and glasses empty. You stand up and start to take some of the dishes to the sink, setting them in there before walking back over to the table.

“Since you’re in such a good mood, I think now would be the best time to tell you that you and Luke have dish duty tonight.” You clear the last of the dishes off the table.

You watch Jack’s face fall, while Luke’s does a sharp turn in your direction. You turn your back to them to walk back over to the counter, opening the cabinet below you to find Tupperware to store the leftovers in.

“On that note, I better get going. Have some laundry I need to get done before practice in the morning,” Nico stands, bringing over a few stray pieces of silverware you seemed to have missed.

“Oh, no you don’t, Cap. You heard her, she cooked, we clean,” Jack turns to look at his captain as he makes his way to the sink.

“No, I said you and Luke have dish duty tonight. Nico’s name was never mentioned. Guests don’t do the dishes, Jack. I know Ellen raised you better than that.”

“Nico is hardly a guest. He’s over here all the time!” Luke chimes in, opening one of the drawers by the sink, grabbing a towel to dry dishes with.

��He doesn’t pay any rent for the apartment, therefore he’s a guest. Just accept your fate, you two. You’ll survive, I promise.” You hand the pot you just emptied to Jack, taking the food in your hands to the fridge a few steps away.

“You don’t pay any rent, and you’re not a guest,” Jack mumbles, hands covered in soapy suds.

“Exactly! That means I don’t do the dishes, either. I knew you’d catch on eventually! And they say you’re just a pretty face,” you shut the fridge door, looking over at Jack with an amused grin.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!” Jack whines.

“C’mon, man, you walked right into that one,” Nico adds, laughing at his teammate.

Jack glares at the taller man. “I thought you said you were leaving, that you had laundry to do or some shit.”

“I am, I am,” Nico throws his hands up in defense.

“I’ll walk you out, Nico. Leave the children to pout while doing their chores,” you jest, walking toward the kitchen’s exit.

“Thanks for dinner, Y/N. Ten times better than whatever I would’ve found in my fridge,” Nico says as you pass through the living room.

“Anytime, Cap,” you use his title, blaming Jack and Luke for the new habit. “After all, I owed you for rescuing me from sleeping in the hallway.”

This earns another one of those laughs you love to hear fall from his mouth, smiling to yourself as he follows you down the small hallway towards the front door.

“I feel like you definitely had to put in more effort on your end of that deal,” he steps through the door you’re holding open.

“I’ll just wait until you owe me a favor, then I’ll make sure to cash in some extravagant request,” you joke, leaning against the door as he stands in the hallway.

“I’ll be eagerly awaiting the day.”

Nico takes his apartment key from his pocket and unlocks his door, opening it and stepping inside, turning around to face you once again, his stance mirroring your own in his own doorway.

“So, I’ll see you at the game on Saturday, then?” He stalls a goodbye.

“Yep, I’ll be there. Still deciding which brother I’m going to piss off,” you reference the earlier argument over whose jersey you’ll wear.

“Oh, that reminds me-“ Nico says before propping his door open, leaving you alone in your doorway, confused as to where he could’ve gone.

After about a minute of you standing there, wondering if he was going to come back, he returns, holding a red jersey in his hand.

“Here, figured there’s no sense in you going out and buying one if you really wanted to mess with their heads.”

He hands you the jersey, stepping back into his doorway. You unfold the jersey and notice the big black C on the upper left corner of the jersey. It was a solid red jersey, the team’s symbol in the middle, two black stripes on the forearms of each sleeve, more black accents on the shoulders of the jersey. You look up at him, a little surprised.

“I- I can’t take one of your jerseys, Nico. What if I mess it up, or spill something on it? I’ll just wear one of the ones I have. This looks too nice to risk it,” you attempt to hand the jersey back across the hallway.

“No, I insist. I think it’ll be fun to mess around with them a little. Especially Jack, since he seemed so convinced you were going to wear his. They’ll never even see it coming,” Nico refuses.

You run the idea through your head for a second, thinking about how it would be a funny little dig at the boys. You also think about the implications of wearing a jersey that doesn’t belong to one of Hughes brothers. It’s harmless, though, right? Nico said it was just a fun way to get under their skin. ‘Don’t jump to conclusions, Y/N’ you think to yourself, trying to kick your habit of creative narratives in your head.

“Okay, but if I end up getting kicked out of my apartment I’m knocking on your door to sleep on your couch,” you finally agree.

“My door’s always open for you.”

You look back down to the jersey in your hands to hide the blush that appears on your face at his words. You know you’ve only known him for a short period of time, tonight being the first real chunk of time you’ve spent in his presence, but Nico is making it really hard for you to keep your feelings for him casual. You’ve always had a habit of getting a case of the heart eyes fast, but you’re trying to be normal, for once.

He’s likely just being his normal, personable self and you’re letting every smile and joke go to your head, placing more meaning on them than is warranted. There’s just something about him, though. He’s extremely attractive, for one. But it’s more than that. From all that you’ve learned about him through Jack and Luke, and the easy conversation that has flowed between the two of you from the moment you first spoke to him in the hallway, you can’t lie to yourself and say you’re not drawn to the Swiss captain.

Your mind circles back to the idea of wearing his jersey this weekend and what Jack and Luke will think. What if you seriously hurt their feelings? What if it affects how they play because they’re mad at you? What if they ignore you the whole game? You know the two brothers love you, but you also know how petty they can both be when mad.

“Stop overthinking it. I can see you getting lost up in that head of yours. It’s a harmless joke. They’re not going to freak out on the ice or anything. And if they do, I’m in more danger than you are,” Nico reassures you, pulling you from your thoughts.

“You better at least score a goal if I’m risking being homeless for you,” you tell him, looking back up at his face.

“How about I do you one better. If you promise to wear my jersey, I’ll score a hatty for your first ever New Jersey Devils hockey experience,” Nico offers, his eyes flashing with something you assume is delight at a challenge.

“Well then you better work on your slapshot tomorrow morning, Captain. I’ll be holding you to that Saturday night,” you take the bait, knowing how difficult a hat trick is to pull off.

“No need, I know I’ll have the right motivation night of to get it done,” he winks at you, causing your stomach to fill with butterflies. “And if I don’t, consider it your IOU for that extravagant request you might need one day,” He responds, crossing his arms and shrugging his shoulders, the nonchalance of his body language making you hope for his failure, just so you can think of some ridiculous task for him to perform.

“Thanks for the heads up, I’ll get right to brainstorming,” you respond, trying to prevent your thoughts from spiraling yet again.

Nico lets out a small laugh, standing up straight and placing his hand on the handle of his door. “Think hard. Let me know what you come up with. Have a good night, Bouy, see you Saturday.” He shuts the door before you can berate him for using the nickname you hate.

You walk back into your apartment, door shutting behind you, going straight to your room to hide the jersey before either of the boys see it. You think back on the entire interaction, a smile on your face at the possibility of being able to have Nico do anything you ask him. As you’re walking past the kitchen you hear Jack’s voice.

“Luke, am I stupid or did Y/N call me stupid earlier?” he recalls your earlier comment about him being ‘just a pretty face’.

“Think about how you worded the first part of your question and you’ll have your answer,” you hear Luke respond as you make it past the kitchen unnoticed, making you stifle a giggle so you won’t be discovered.

Oh how you loved being back with your boys.

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