Will You Go To Prom With Me?

Will you go to prom with me?

matt rempe x college!student reader, friends to lovers

warnings : the fluffiest fluff to have ever fluffed for 7.5k words

an : in honor of the rangers playing their game 1 of the 2nd round, i’ve been writing this for the past week and omggggg there must be so many mistakes in it but im so happy with it it’s so cute. idk about the rangers wives and stuff so christine is obviously made up sorryyyy

How did you get so lucky ?

Matthew gave you a ticket for tonight’s game and made you promise to stay after the game to wait for him.

You have gone to see his debut at the stadium series and this was his second game so you would have gone to see him play even if he hadn’t gotten you a ticket.

The two of you met when he was first invited to the Rangers summer camp. You were having a picnic with friends in Central Park on a hot summer evening. Matt was playing football with his friends not far from you and when the ball fell near you he ran up to get it.

The first time he just excused himself then went back to his game. But the second time his friend threw the ball your way intentionally you asked him if they wanted to eat something but you weren’t going to finish all the food you brought by yourselves.

It took all your courage to ask the tall cute guy that question. Especially because he was cute. Your friends had teased you for blushing the first time he came to get his ball and to defend your dignity you had to show them he didn’t affect you that much and you could be chill around tall attractive guys.

That improvised picnic turned into an ice cream date the next afternoon as you bonded over the fact that you were both foreigners in the US. Then that turned into another museum date, and a shopping date when he asked you for help to find his sister a present.

Superficial conversation turned into long conversations deep into the night so naturally.

Yet he had never tried to kiss you. You wanted to think those dates were really dates and that he felt the same way you did. But he never expressed any further interest into you so you settled for his friendship. You knew he would leave after the training camp to go back to Calgary and you would leave too to go back home.

When he came back for the second time for the training camp, you had already left New York. He had texted you that he was in town again and asked if you wanted to go get ice cream with him. You wanted to smash your head against a wall for leaving a week too early and missing him. But he promised that he would try to go to New York before the start of the season so you could catch up together.

After that first catch up in New York, you also went to Hartford for a weekend a few times when you didn’t have too many assignments.

You surprised him once by coming to a practice and staying for his game. Some of your friends teased you that you were head over heels for him and you “really wanted to get that d” in the words of your best friend but you never made any attempt at flirting and neither did he.

However now, he played in New York, for the Rangers and you couldn’t be any prouder of him. He had texted you that he was called up to play for them for the stadium series and you told him that you already got tickets with friends to go see the match. You missed your morning class to get breakfast with him before the game and congratulate him.

So you are now waiting awkwardly by the VIP entrance because he didn’t get you a special pass since he didn’t dare ask for it and you have no idea where the locker room is in this place. You check your phone from time to time to see if Matt has texted you but you just assume that he’s still busy.

At some point, a security guard approaches you and asks what you’re waiting for. You’re about to answer him and you hear a voice answering in your stead.

“For me. She’s waiting for me. But thanks for taking care of her.” He’s always been kinda hot, but that sentence? The messy post game hair? The sweaty look and slightly tired eyes?

You thank the security guard and walk towards Matt with a big smile on your face. “Congrats on your second game and second win champ. Looks like you’re this team’s lucky charm.” You give him a hug when you reach him and he keeps his arm around your shoulder not letting you go.

“Hmm no I think it’s you. You’ve been for every win too.” He winks at you.

“When did you get this cheesy?”, you tease.

“Winning makes me emotional.”

You aww at his honest response and jokingly tickle him. But you love how he’s not afraid to show his emotions in front of you and you cherish that.

“So.. we won… Do you know what that means?”, he asks with an amused look in his eyes.

“Free and good food?”, you inquire hopefully, batting your lashes at him to go overboard with it.

“Better. Free drinks !! I wanted you to come celebrate with us. I got out the looker room as soon as I could to not make you wait and have some time to convince you. The guys are ready to go.”

“It’s a wednesday night.”

“Perfect night to go out the bars are less crowded.”

“Matt I have classes tomorrow.”

He has a resolute look on his face and you know you’ve lost the argument here. “I’ll bring you back to your dorm by midnight.”

You admit defeat by nodding your head yes and he pumps his fist in an overly exaggerated way. Then he puts his arm back around your shoulder and drags you towards the exit.

“Schneider knows a nice place not far from here apparently.”, he informs you.

“You’re new best bud?”

“I would never dream of replacing you”, he says with a funny smirk.

When you walk out of the building you’re met with huge, impressive hockey players and their beautiful significant others. You smile politely and wave your hand when Matt introduces you but nobody pays you too much attention as everybody is eager to get to drinking.

The bar you get to is nice, not too big but still pretty loud and the players overjoyed from their win only make it louder.

You sit squeezed in between Matt and one of the girlfriends. She doesn’t particularly pay you attention except when she asked you who you are and how you met Matt.

When Matt leaves to get you a drink at the bar, Chytil’s girlfriend approaches you and introduces herself.

“So have you and Matt been together for a long time ?” Luckily, the lighting is bad and she can’t see you blush at her question.

“We’re just really good friends”, you answer her after a beat.

“Oh sorry, my bad.. It’s just that usually guys don’t bring such beautiful friends to bars when they try to find other girls to hook up with”, she explains jokingly and you try not to get such thoughts into your head.

“First of all it’s so nice of you to call me pretty. And no honestly i’m really supportive of him trying to hook up with girls if he wants to. He just promised to get me back to my dorm before midnight so he’ll probably have to do that afterwards.” She laughs at your words a bit too much and you laugh awkwardly as well, confused look on your face. Until she looks behind you and you understand.

“Always knew I could count on you to be my wingwoman” You turn around at Matt’s voice, the awkward smile still on your face. “And here’s your cosmopolitan.”

“I'm not even sure you need a wingwoman now that you’re in the NHL.”

“That’s not something we are going to test tonight because i’m here to celebrate with you and not some random girl.” He grins at you.

You spend the rest of the evening dancing and drinking your cocktails with Matt acting as the best body guard to ever exist on the dance floor. It’s not often that you don’t have any weirdo trying to approach you but having a 6’7 guy built like a refrigerator definitely helps so you can enjoy the music and just dance. Maybe you should go to the club with him more often.

You don’t leave before midnight as promised. It’s closer to 1am when you bid goodbye to Chytil’s girlfriend. She asks you if she will see you around more and you promise her to attend the next game.

When you’re outside the uber is already waiting for you and you get in with Matt still talking and laughing.

He then walks you up to your door and you turn around before opening. “So now you know where I leave”

“Yes this was my plan all along now I know where to come to steal the most comfortable blankets”, he says with a smirk

“I knew you were evil. You can’t be tall, hot and ambitious without something hiding under the surface.” Did you just call him hot ? You can blame it on the alcohol even if it was only 3 cocktails.

“Obviously. Now go get some good sleep and drink a glass of water.” He turns around to leave “Good night”

You yell after him “Drink some water too big boy” you giggle to yourself and cover your mouth aware of how loud you just were.

The next morning you have a mild migraine but it hits you when you are brushing your teeth a song from last night playing on your phone.

The reason no guy approached you last night was because Matt always had his hand on you, your hand, your hip, your waist. It was just so natural to have him that close you didn’t even notice in the moment.

——

Almost a week later, as you sit on your bed, music playing on your speaker because your roommate is out, you hear a loud repeated bang on your door.

You jump out of bed, turn off the music and run to the door. “Who’s there?”, you ask warily.

“Open up the door you deaf dumbass”

“Great to see you too my sugar plum”, you stick your tongue out to Matt when opening the door.

He walks right past you into your dorm room and sets a bag on your desk. “I brought us snacks and video games.”

“You know I don’t have anything to play video games on right?”, you look at him eyebrows raised, hands on your hips.

“That's why I brought my Xbox in my backpack?” He starts unpacking his stuff and setting up his gaming corner. Luckily you had a small TV you and your roommate chipped in together to buy.

“Make yourself at home I guess… I also hope you’re aware I won’t be playing with you I have to finish this essay for tomorrow morning.”

“I know. You said that you had to finish it tonight. I just thought it would be more fun to have company. And I haven’t seen you because of the roadie.” You smile at his logic. It’s non arguable. You would rather do anything and everything with him around than without him. And you missed him too.

Once he’s done setting it up, he sits at the end of your bed and looks at you expectantly. “I won’t be noisy I promise. Now can you bring the snacks?”

You smile like an idiot again, hand him the snacks and get back to your previous position in your bed.

He takes your feet on his lap and starts his game. Without even looking your way, he pushes the bag of your favorite candies towards you.

You sight contemptuously, a small smile adorning your face. This was so comfortable. A little too cozy for you to just see him as a friend.

Around 1am, you finish your assignment and Matt is already asleep at the feet of your bed. You lightly tap his shoulder and tell him to get under the covers because it’s too late for him to go home.

Still sleepy, he takes off his hoodie and gets comfortable while you go to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Then you get back to bed and try falling asleep but you are far too aware of his tall presence right next to you.

He is fast asleep when he sneaks one of his arms around you. Your bed isn’t large enough for you not to touch anyway so you decide to enjoy his warm, comforting cuddles and fall asleep much faster now that you’re not stressing over it.

When you wake up for your class in the morning, Matthew has already left for practice.

——

The game against the Devils has been brutal. You couldn’t attend but you were watching on your phone while at the library. You try to get done as much as you can before leaving the library and going to your closest 24/7 store.

You are ready to go around the whole city. You have a mission in mind and you will accomplish it : finding a Lego set (and food of course).

Luckily you only have to try two convenience stores before finding a good enough set. You also grab some snacks and head to Matt’s apartment.

You are already waiting in the lobby of his apartment building when he comes in.

He looks nasty and you can’t help but cringe.

He drops his bag on the floor when he’s near and wraps his arms around you. For a while, you just remain like that, hugging, passing your fingers through his hair in an attempt to soothe him.

“You wanna go up? I got us lego sets to build”, you ask in a small voice. He nods and pulls away without meeting your gaze.

You haven’t seen him since his huge fight in Toronto so the black eye is shocking at first. And now he’s been suspended for four games. You know that even if he likes causing chaos, he likes the game more.

You silently follow him up to his apartment. It’s a small studio, nothing crazy but it’s cozy and it’s clean.

You set your bags near the couch and go to the kitchen to look for something to cook dinner with. In the meantime, Matt gets another cold shower and changes into a pair of sweats.

When he comes out of his room, wet hair falling across his eyes, his t-shirt half up, your breath catches in your throat. Your gaze moves downwards and then you catch a glimpse of the bruises on his side as he finishes putting his shirt on.

“I left clothes for you on my bed if you wanna change into something more comfortable. I looked for the smallest sweatpants but hoodie might be just enough.”

He walks up to you and smells around, “What you’re cooking there?”

“Mac and cheese. Didn’t have too much choice” A pleasant smile appears on his face. “I can finish it, go get comfortable.”

He nudges you lightly so you let him take over and go to take a shower and change.

You had stayed at his place in Hartford the last two times you went up there. But this was different. You had always brought your own clothes and you would eat out with his friends before coming and crashing on his couch before leaving the next morning.

Now you are changing into his clothes, and as he said the hoodie almost reaches your knee so you don’t bother with trying on the pants. It smells of him and you try not to be weird about it but it brings you such a sense of comfort you can’t help but wrap your arms around yourself.

When you walk back into the open kitchen Matt is done with the Mac n cheese and getting the table ready.

“You can sit down. I’ll be ready in a minute.”

You listen to him and sit down and a few moments later so does he. You eat in silence until he asks you about your day.

You don’t want to press him about anything or upset him so you just go with his flow, letting him welcome you in when he’s ready.

When you’re done eating, it’s your turn to tell him to go get comfortable on the couch while you clean up the kitchen. Once you’re done you join him on the couch where he already started taking the legos out of their boxes.

You talk about your childhoods and how you used to play with legos and other toys, about your favorites and the ones you lost but just remembered how much you liked them.

When you finished the set, he put it on the shelf next to his TV and you both went to bed.

You insisted on sleeping on the couch to not bother him but he argued that he would.

Of course you wouldn’t let him, knowing the physical state he was in. So you agreed to both sleep in the bed.

Once you’re under the covers and the lights are off you can’t stop the words from falling out of your mouth as you turn towards him, “Does it hurt a lot?”

He turns around to face you too, “Where?”

It breaks your heart to hear him say this. Are there really so many hurtful part?

You slowly bring your hand to his abdomen under the covers. “Here?”

“I didn’t think you would see it”, he shuddered at your touch so you pull your hand back.

“I’m sorry”

“It’s okay.” your voices are no louder than a whisper.

“Can I hug you?”, there’s timidity in your voice that he has never heard before.

“Please”

You wrap your arms around him and press his head under your chin. You fall asleep in that position only a few minutes later.

——

Now, you are waiting for him by the north entrance after his game against Florida as he had asked you but you have no idea what to expect nor where he is taking you. It didn’t really matter anyway as you get to spend time with him.

He walks out the building wearing his suit, his bag slung over his shoulder.

“Congrats ! You played until the end” You laugh at him throwing your arms around his torso. God how you loved his hugs. It feels like being engulfed in the warmest cloud.

“And I got an assist”, he says pulling back from the hug and grinning at you.

Your smile widens as well as you crank your neck to look up at him “You did great champ!”

You pull away from his arms feeling yourself getting hungrier by the second. “Come one now take me to eat. You know cheering on you is such a physical activity.”

You catch sight of his crooked tie once you are completely out of his arms and reach to straighten it. “I changed as fast as I could so you wouldn’t have to wait long.” He explains looking down at you.

You can’t look up to meet his gaze, too busy trying to hide your blush.

When you’re done, you ask him to lead the way and he points to the left and tells you to follow him because “he knows a place”.

You walk for a few blocks until you’re in Times Square and then he stops.

“Matt don’t tell me you wanna play tourist right now. I swear I’m not kidding when I say I’m famished.” You look up at him with a pout.

He checks his watch, “Can you keep the whining down, I’m the one who’s paying for dinner, please?” He looks around at the billboard like he’s never seen them before.

“I’m hungry, come on let’s go I’ll pay for my meal if it’s what it takes.” You try to argue.

He stops turning around and you get in front of him to try and get his attention back on you. He checks his watch again. What is he waiting for?

“Matt the hell are you looking around for ? This is not your first time in Time Square. I hope the place you wanted to take me doesn’t close too soon…”

He looks behind you and his eyes light up. “This is where I wanted to take you.” He says grinning like a devil.

You want to ask what’s going on, mouth half open but he tells you to turn around so you do.

Mouth still hanging agape, the first thing your eyes lay on is a huge billboard with your name on it. And the question “Will you go to prom with me?”. You heart skips a beat there.

You’re speechless for a second and very confused when you turn back around to look at Matt. “What is this? What prom, Matt? Colleges don’t do proms and I’m in my senior year. What do you…”

He cuts you off seeing the frown on your face “You told me once that you never got to go to prom during high school. And I know how much you love those fancy dresses and dancing to 2000 music. I didn’t want you to feel sad again because you feel like you missed out on something.”

Oh you are so about to cry.

Tears are brimming your lashes already. Your stomach is doing somersaults.

“So will you go to prom with me? The one I organized just for us so you can’t really say no…” You hear the small quiver in his voice and how he slows down at the end. He is feeling unsure. It’s the sweetest thing ever.

The tears staining your face are happy ones so you nod your head vigorously, unable to speak because of the knot in your throat. A smile cracks its way onto your face and at the sight of it he leans down to hug you. You jump into his arms and wraps yours around his neck.

“I can’t believe you did this for me” You’re now sobbing into his shoulder, pushing your face into the crook of his neck to hide your tear stained, all red, face, from the crowd around you.

It feels like it’s just the two of you in the world. You don’t hear the crowd over your own beating heart anymore.

How did you get so lucky?

You want to tell him how much this means to you, how much he means to you. Yet it’s not the time to confess your feelings. You can’t ruin this moment with your selfish emotions when he’s done this for you as a friend. So you settle for thank yous.

“You’re the best, really.” You squeeze harder before trying to pull away but he still has you in his arms and your feet don’t even touch the ground.

Your faces are inches away, and you feel an itch you can’t quite scratch, because he’s not your boyfriend and kissing him could ruin all this.

“Thank you. Genuinely. I don’t know what I did to deserve you but you’re really the best Matt” You think he can probably feel your breath on his face. You hope he can’t hear your pulse this close. You hope you don’t smell of the beer you drank earlier at the game.

Oh no, you realise as he puts you down, your breath probably smells of the beer.

He shots the toothiest smile you’ve ever seen on him. “Good let’s go get you some food now.”

May the universe help your poor little heart, as you melt internally at his smile, words and actions.

——

You knew Matthew was a man of his word and if he said he would do it he will. But what you didn’t expect was for him to go so overboard with it.

A few days after his promposal, he texts you that after class you’re both going shopping the next day. He had called you after the game when they clinched the first spot and said that your fake prom would be before the playoffs.

He waits for you in front of your building, baseball cap sitting backwards on his head, two coffees in his hand.

Your heart skips a beat when you first catch sight of him, easy to notice him with such a height. You think you would recognise him even in the dark anyway, when everything in your body pulls you to him in the way it has done since you’ve met him.

He’s right here and so close and yet so out of reach because you can’t run up to him and kiss him like you would like to.

It has gotten harder to ignore your feelings since he started acting like the best boyfriend in the world while simultaneously not being your boyfriend.

You walk slowly to give yourself time to recompose yourself. He smiles broadly when he sees you too.

He doesn’t know how much he affects so you can’t blame him. He’s just being friendly, like he always was.

When you reach him, he hands you your cup of coffee then pulls you into his chest and your giggle gets muffled by his warm sweater.

He asks you about your day, your classes, why you’ve been up since he went away. He listens to your every word even though you’ve already told him all of this through texts.

You walk the streets of New York together until he stops in front of a dress shop.

“No, no, no Matt, I cant afford this.” You stop him before he walks inside, hand on his arm. “And ai’m not letting you pay for my dress. Just putting this out there hopefully before the thought even crosses your mind”

He takes your hand off his arms and wraps it with his. “Let’s just see what they have.”

He tugs you inside and you don’t have any other choice but to follow.

The shopping assistant greets you and after giving you a few minutes to look around she starts asking question about what you want, the type of event, the color preferences, the length.

Sure you had imagined the type of dress you would have worn if you ever got invited to prom when you were a teenager. But you were never invited by anyone and as you were starting to think about going alone your mom got very sick and you had to stay home while your dad went to work.

But asked this way on the spot you have no idea. You say blue for the colour. It’s you favourite one and Matt has a nice blue suit that could match.

The sales assistant picked out some dresses for you while you and Matt looked around. He made you promise to not look at the price until you’ve tried on all the dresses that you liked but you knew you wouldn’t be getting anything from here.

After going around the whole store, the sales assistant directed you to the back to try on the dresses. Struggling to tie up the dress, you peak your head outside the door to ask her for help but only see Matthew.

“She went to get you heels. Do you need help?” You nod, open the door wider as he gets closer and slowly turn around making sure the dress stays in place.

He gets on it with expert hands pulling the laces tight. “Tighter?” His voice is low, near your ear. It sends shivers down your spine.

You nod not trusting your voice just yet. You feel hot all over but you also shiver.

“Sorry my fingers are cold…”

He is almost done now so you want to break the awkward silence.

“You’re good at it.” Great remark, way to go.

“Yeah I helped my sister a few times.”

Did he just compare you to his sister? Amazing.

With perfect timing your sales assistant comes back with a pair of beautiful black heels. “Sorry for making you wait. Your boyfriend told me you shoe size but I had to find something that would match.”

So much for helping with the awkwardness…

“He um… we’re not um…” You tried articulating your thoughts pointing between you and Matt.

Instead of helping you, he looks at you with an amused look on his face then thanks the woman while taking the shoes from her.

“You can hold onto my shoulder.” He says kneeling down and setting the shoes on the ground in front of you. You lift your dress with one hand, grab his shoulder with the other one as he so kindly suggested, and then extend your foot to put the shoe on. He even helps you get the shoe on.

You were trying not to overthink his every move but it was impossible. Why is he acting this way all of a sudden ? Why didn’t he tell the sales assistant that you were just friends ? Why ..?

Your thoughts are cut off when Matthew stands up and you lose your balance and almost fall.

He extends an arm to catch but you stop him with your hand and a chuckle.

He steps back and he and the sales assistant both look at you. You start feeling flustered so you turn around to look for a mirror.

As you walk over to it, you can feel Matt’s gaze on your black, and the ghosts of his fingertips on your skin.

The dress looks beautiful but something is not right. It’s a bit too over the top and you just don’t feel it. Matthew sees it in your eyes when you look at him through the mirror.

You change into the second dress but you don’t like how it looks around your chest so you don’t even get out of the dressing room.

The third one was beautiful. The flowy fabric, the sea green color of the dress, the thin straps and square neckline accentuating all the right places. You look down at yourself one last time and take a peak at the price tag before walking out of the dressing room to show it to Matt. It breaks your heart to act like it’s not the most beautiful dress you have ever worn. But you can’t afford it.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Matthew looking at you this way. His mouth is slightly agape which gives you an insane boost of confidence.

“Yeah I’m not gonna take this one. You wouldn’t be able to handle it.” You tease him which makes him slightly blush. Oh this is getting funny.

“Should I do a spin ? Let me do a spin”

Maybe you could not eat for the next month or two ? Because if it triggers this type of reaction from Matt you would wear it everyday.

When you look at him again, he stares at you and gulps.

“You look.. you look like a washed up algue on the Jersey shore” He deadpans. A smirk threatens to crack his serious appearance.

You explode in laughter, “You sure know how to talk to a woman. But that settles it I’m not buying it.” You turn around to go back into the dressing room without seeing his disappointed look or leaving him the time to argue with you.

You try on the rest of the dresses but none of them are what you are looking for so you bid goodbye to the sales assistants and exit the store.

“This was very cute of you Matt but I promise I’ll find the perfect dress in a thrift shop without having to starve for the next month.” You assured him.

“Yeah sure sorry…” How dare he be this cute??

“I know that we went to this type of store with my sister for her proms and she loved it.” He argues

You smile at him, “So you wanted my experience to be as authentic as it gets.”

“Exactly” he gives you that cheeky childish grin. He’s proud of himself and he can be.

You shake your head at him and urge him in the direction of your favorite coffee shop.

“It’s too late for coffee I think”, he remarks which makes you look at the time on your phone.

“Wow I didn’t think we wasted that much time in the store” you were surprised, but then again time moves so fast when you were having fun with Matt.

“Hey come on it wasn’t a waste of time you got to try on beautiful dresses” he argued again, heading back in the direction of your dorm.

“You’re right but not walking faster to get to Phil’s surely is a waste of time” You saying grinning.

“When it comes to getting food it always sounds like you’re the 6’7 hockey players who needs to eat a lot of calories” He’s already caught up to you so you can punch his arm at the teasing.

“Yeah well where would I get the energy to annoy you if I didn’t eat this much?”, you give him the same sassy energy back.

The banter and the laughter doesn’t stop and suddenly he’s already walking you back to your dorm and hugging you goodbye.

Once you are in your pyjamas you get your laptop out and get to work on your assignment.

To your dismay, pretty boys don’t make uni work disappear…

——

You were looking at your eyeshadow palette, indecisive. Maybe you should just do a simple eyeliner ? You wanted to do your best, look your best, impress Matt after everything he’s done for you.

You were lucky to find a dress similar to the sea green one you had found in the store but just a tad lighter in colour. You put on your highest heels so the pictures with Matthew looked better. He promised to make it look as authentic as possible so he got one of the older guys on the team to let him borrow the apartment. Pictures by the fireplace are a must according to him.

So you gathered all the belongings you needed after your only class this morning and came to the address he had sent you. You called the number he had sent along when you were in front of the building and a nice woman who introduced herself as Christine told you what apartment to go to.

You were sort of starstruck when she first opened the door and wondered how these hockey players really bagged all these 10s. She wasn’t amongst the girls and women you had met both times you have gone with Matt to the bar to celebrate after a game and you understood why when you heard two kids arguing in the background.

She had quickly let you in and apologized for the noise they were making while taking you to the room where you could get ready. You had thanked her a million times over for welcoming you this way but she told you that they couldn’t say no when Matthew had explained his plan so sweetly. She had commented about how lucky you were to have him with a wink and you nodded, cheeks flustered.

Now you are almost done. You had begun with your hair, finally decided to just do a soft look on your eyes with some glitter and put on your dress.

You are putting on your pink gloss, looking at yourself in the mirror. You promise yourself that this is the night you will tell Matt how you feel, when you hear a knock on the door.

“Honey, are you ready? Matthew is here.” Christine calls out to you.

“I will be out in a minute.”, you answer as you put on your perfume finally.

You take a deep breath before opening the door and shake your arms in a manner to get the anxiety out of your body. You walk to the living room slowly to not scrap the parquet with your heels, looking down at your feet, dress in hand.

When you get there, you raise your head to find Matt already looking at you. He looks stunning in his suits, you already knew that. But there something that made him look particularly handsome. Probably knowing that he dressed up for you.

A smile creeps its way in your face as he stares at you in awe. You pat yourself on the back internally for doing a good job on the hair and makeup.

“You look um… you look beautiful.”, he finally manages to get out.

You giggle and thank him. He really makes you feel like a high schooler, you think.

“You don’t look bad yourself.” You smile.

“You see me in a suit every other day”, he’s being modest.

“But you have something particular about yourself today”

Oh god, you’re gonna be the death of him. Complementing him so effortlessly. He made more of an effort today it’s true. He wanted to look half as good as you at least. He also made a point of not fighting in his last games so he doesn’t have a bruised face on these pictures.

“Oh I got something for you.” He reaches out behind him on the fireplace and grabs a box. You walk closer, curious to see what it is and your eyes lay in a beautiful corsage for your wrist and a matching flower for his pocket.

You give him your hand and look at him while puts it on “It’s beautiful thank you.”

“Okay kids, let's take some cute pictures,” Christine says, clapping her hands, even though she already took ten pictures of you interacting.

“I see you’re fully playing your role” you laugh at her antics.

“Just rehearsing for the future”, she retorts with the same cocky smile you gave her. “Okay now get in front of the fireplace. Matt stands behind her.” She was giving instructions like a pro and you assumed she’s already done this for her own prom.

Just like she said, Matt walks up behind you and sneaks his arms around your waist. Instinctively, he spreads his fingers but his hands awkwardly cover your whole tummy so he holds your hips.

You try to relax for the picture but you’re overly aware of every inch of his body touching yours.

“Come on guys, give me your best smiles now!” Christine encourages you.

You try to focus on the pictures, the camera, your hair, your smile. You rearrange your dress to be sure it is okay.

Once she says she has a few good ones, you change your pose and you get used to it. You look at a few before takes and they do look beautiful.

Once you’re done, Matt thanks Christine and you both head out to the restaurant he had made a reservation for.

The taxi ride is not too long since you were already in a nice part of the city. The restaurant looks way too over priced and you feel bad for how much money he’s spending on you.

Once you’re sitting at your table, you can help but tease him, “I’m amazed you even managed to make such a reservation.”

“Schneider helped”, he admits.

“So this evening really is a team effort. If I wasn’t enjoy it so much, I would probably feel bad for bothering everybody”, you say half jokingly.

The whole dinner is amazing and delicious. You don’t think you’ve ever eaten in a place this fancy and frankly both of you probably look out of place.

More than once you laugh a little too loud and swear a little too often which earns you some pointed glances from the old rich people around you. That only makes you laugh even more.

By the time you’re out of them, you feel the slight buzz of the overpriced wine and can’t wait to see what Matt has planned next.

The next taxi ride takes you back to his apartment and you’re sad you didn’t get to dance. You think you might still convince Matt to put on some music to dance in the kitchen too.

You think of your arguments all the way up and when he makes you wait in the hallway. But you don’t need any once he opens the door and lets you see what he prepared inside.

There was glitter everywhere, colorful light effects and you couldn’t even catch a glimpse of a photo zone next to the bathroom door.

“I know we don’t have a prom party with all the people dancing around us and our friends but I hoped this would make do.”, he says looking at you from behind, studying your every emotion.

You turn to him, your brightest smile on your face “This is perfect Matt.” You grab his hand and drag him inside.

“Let’s take a picture first. We can set the timer and flash on my phone.” You set your phone in the place he prepared for it and push on the timer. You take your dutiful place in front of him in front of the photo zone and there’s no awkwardness as earlier.

Then you go back to the leaving room to put some music on, he goes to the kitchen and comes out with punch.

“Don’t we face the chaperones too? For the more authentic experience…”

“You plan on doing such naughty things you need a chaperone?” Oh, you weren’t expecting him to clap back this way.

“I don’t have enough alcohol in the system, bring that punch over here”, cowardly move but you didn’t lie. You need more liquid courage to tell him everything you think.

You take the drink from his hand when he extends it to you and down half of it.

You cradle the rest of your hand while Give me everything tonight plays in the background but it doesn’t take long for you to finish that too.

You dance to your favorite songs until a slow by Def Leppard comes on. “Wouldn’t be a full prom experience if we didn’t slow dance”, Matt defends his choice of putting it in the playlist.

“You’re right. Let’s dance”c you nod getting closer to him. Your fingers are intertwined behind his neck and his hands settle in your lower back.

With each sway to the rhythm, your bodies get closer.

You look amazing. He used beautiful earlier but that hadn’t been enough to describe how truly gorgeous you look. He wants to use every word he knows, compare you to stars and flowers and yet it still feels like it wouldn’t be enough. You are giving him your brightest smile and he feels proud at the thought that he is the one who put it on your face. He made you happy. He wants to make you happy everyday in the future.

You are so close to him. Right in front of him. He thinks he should gather his courage and tell you he likes you. He can feel the warmth radiating from your skin through your thin dress, your fingers running through his hair at the nape of his neck.

He thinks about all the times you’ve made him happy. The first time you ever talked to him and offered snacks to him and his friends who were just strangers in the park. The time when you first surprised him by coming to Hartford to see him play. He wasn’t seeing you in that light at the time. However recently, when you came to comfort him after he had been suspended for four games. He had wanted to kiss you then right in his lobby when he saw you. But he couldn’t use you like that to drown his sorrows. And what were the chances that you wouldn’t push him away and leave him all alone?

He always thought you were hot, even Schneider and Lafrenière commented on it when he had brought you to the bar with them to celebrate. He had told them to back off right then and there, to not even think about it. He thought it was due to friendly protectiveness. He later realised that he hated the thought of anyone else putting their hands on you and make you happy in that way.

“Why didn’t you ever kiss me?”, you interrupt his train of thought. He is completely caught out. Did he hear you right? He takes another few seconds to process but he can see the concern taking over your features.

“I could do that? I didn’t know I could?” he looks dumbfounded which makes you laugh. “Can I kiss you now?”

“Do you want to?”

“Stupid question. Can I kiss you?”, his breath is ragged.

“Stupid question.” you giggle, “Lose some more time asking others like this o-“.

He doesn’t let you finish before crashing his lips on yours and stealing your breath away. It’s passionate but sweet and oh so soft at the same time.

It’s so much better than you couldn’t have ever imagined. Sparks fly. Butterflies erupt in your stomach. Shivers run down your spine. You have wanted this for so long, was tempted to do it a million times and it is finally happening.

You need more. You wish he would never stop kissing you.

When he pulls away for air, slightly panting and lips and the skin around them sparkly from your gloss, you can’t help the chuckle.

“It tastes like cherry”, he says through a small laugh of his own.

“Oh yeah? wanna taste it some more?”

can i please request a summer blurb with lukey with a girl who overheats in the summer sun <3

"put this over your head" luke gives you no time to react before his shirt smacks you square in the face, the light blue fabric unceremoniously dumping down in your lap. you roll your eyes at your boyfriend's protectiveness and chuck the shirt back at him. I'm fine," you say, earning a mocking huff from luke. out the corner of your eye, you can tell jack and quinn are watching on in amusement, quinn alternating between steering the boat and watching luke and yourself.

"you look like you're about two seconds away from passing out" luke tsks, voice more stern this time, yet still laced with a hint of his usual concern for you.

"so adding another layer of fabric will surely help." you're not really sure why you're fighting him about this; truth be told, the heat is getting to you and had it not been for luke being so excited about his first boat day with his brothers since returning from worlds, you would've asked them to head back towards the dock hours ago. maybe you just don't want him to be too worried.

"it will shield your head from the sun and stop you from overheating completely," luke grumbles, attention half drifting to quinn as he pulls up to your usual bathing spot on the lake.

the boat wobbles slightly as it comes to a halt, and you decide now is the perfect time to move from your spot in the sun, into the shade. you never make it that far though, a bout of dizziness hitting you immediately as you stand up, the after-effects of the sun banging down on your head the whole day, no doubt. you stumble a few feet before two strong arms wrap around your lower waist, steadying you and pulling you down at the same time.

"i had it under control," you mumble, but nevertheless get comfortable in luke's lap. his chest vibrates against your back and you know it's because he's trying to keep his laugh in.

"uh-huh." twisting around in his lap, you find yourself mere inches from his pretty face. luke puckers his lips, obviously expecting a kiss, but instead, you decide to go the childish route and stick your tongue out at him. ever so softly, luke reaches up to push your face away from him, but his amused smile is quickly replaced by another wave of concern that washes over his features. "you're really hot baby." luke frowns, and while you know it's true and that you for sure should've found shade much earlier, you can't help but tease him, hoping it'll wash away some of his concern.

"why thank you, you're pretty hot yourself," you smirk and giggle slightly when he shakes his head and squeezes your waist chastingly. "maybe we both need to cool off, then," luke says, taking you by surprise and rising to his feet with you in his arms. a shriek leaves you as he starts moving, your hands gripping his bicep and neck for dear life, already knowing where he's going with this.

"luke, no. no no no, please-"

"what baby, you said you were hot. luckily for you, the lake is still nice and cold." luke steps closer to the edge, and before you can plead and beg a little more, he jumps in. the cold lake water wraps around you, immediately bringing all your senses to life, shocking your warm body and cooling you down at once. luke never lets go of you, not even when you trash, on instinct, around in the water and accidentally kick him in the nether regions.

instead, he brings the two of you back to the surface, repositioning you so your legs are around his waist and your arms around his neck. "helped?" he whispers as your forehead lands against his. after all, you appreciate his concern, knowing he's only looking out for you, and that despite your teasing, you did need to cool down. you nod and take the opportunity to cling a little tighter to him. "yeah, but you're sooo sleeping on the couch," you say, willing faux sternness into your voice, despite having a hard time stopping your lips from quirking upwards. both of you know that you're joking, but luke still gasps dramatically and momentarily forgets to thread water, leaving you dunking a little further into the lake before he regains the leverage. "but then i can't sleep," he pouts, hands sliding up your thighs. one stops there and grips the flesh, while the other slides further up and comes to rest on your hip. a shudder goes through you, this time not from the cold of the water, though.

"should've thought of that sooner," you shrug and lean your head down the tiniest bit, ready to meet his lips.

"hm. i'm sure i kind find a way to get back in your good graces," luke mumbles against your lips, finally closing the remaining gap between you.

series masterlist

Summary: The New Jersey Devils have a new coach. He has a cute daughter. Luke Hughes is screwed.

Or, in which Luke Hughes walks in on you changing, laying the groundwork for an interesting barbecue night at your parent's Hamptons house.

A/N: Hello my lovelies, I hope you are all well. It's been a while since you've gotten a full-length fic and let me tell you this one was on the drawing boards for a very long time. I started writing it before we knew who the new coach was and just hoped it would be announced before I was ready to publish it hehe. I hope you guys enjoy this very much, and I hope you enjoy it enough for part 2 (and 3, and 4, and-) because I may or may not be planning on making this a little series, depending on how much you guys would like that. Anyway, I enjoyed writing this a lot, from the team dynamics to the meddling teammates and parents and everything in between. If you do find this to be something worth a place in your heart, leave a little feedback? Also do that if you wish you'd never read it in the end, but please be nice, I might be sensitive. Okay, that's all for the word vommitting, enjoy everyone's favorite little simp embarrassing himself in front of his soon-to-be crush and then experience a ray of conflicting emotions<3

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"They'll be here in ten!" "I won't be ready in ten!"

You can almost see the way your mom is no doubt rolling her big brown eyes downstairs, standing with a perfectly manicured hand on the stairwell and shouting up the large open space for you and your brothers.

"No amount of that will make it better," your brother, Alex, deadpans as he walks by, throwing a judgy glance at the fluffy makeup brush in your hand, halfway through sliding it across your cheekbone. "Might as well come downstairs now," he continues his verbal assault, once again reminding you just how ruthless 14-year-olds can be.

"Get lost, yeah?" Throwing him a cursory glance, you kick the door shut with your bare foot, only just reachable from your place at your old-fashioned vanity. The blue Maple Leafs cap that you keep on the hooks behind the door falls from the force, reminding you once more what exactly you're getting ready for:

Meeting your dad's new team.

Truthfully, you knew it was coming the second the Leafs blew their playoff series. You just hadn't expected your dad's new coaching gig to be finalized so soon, nor that it would be in a state so close to your college. The decision to apply to NUY came easy, as you have always held a love for the city. Besides, with your family's beach house in the Hamptons, the very same place you're sitting in your bedroom right now, the city has always been close and you feel comfortable there, confident, even.

Both of those feelings are nowhere near present in this very moment, though, as the dread of meeting the entirety of the New Jersey Devils roster, plus their partners and children, leaves you already wanting to stay hidden and cooped up in your coastal-themed room, the navy blues and whites of your sheets looking much more inviting.

It isn't that you're nervous, per se, or even shy or introverted or whatever it might be, no.

Usually, you like to call yourself an extrovert. Just, an extrovert with a social battery that drains quickly around new people. Especially, around new people you need to give the very best impression. You want the players to like your dad, and as always, that extends to them liking you and the rest of your family. Which is why you've been taking all day to get ready for this team-get-together-barbecue.

And why you're still not ready, despite starting your makeup roughly two hours ago. In your defense, there might have been a few musical performances in between those hours, though.

As you manage the finishing touches of your makeup, car doors slam, and booming voices carry into your room through the open window.

That definitely wasn't ten minutes.

You decide you might as well take your time getting ready anyway, sure half the team isn't even here yet. Besides, your other younger brother, Evan, is still deep into his Fortnite game, judging by the occasional yells and swear words coming from his room across the hall, and no one's come to get him yet.

Finally finished with your hair and makeup, you rise, stop to hang the fallen cap back on its rightful hook, then walk the few steps to your full-length mirror where your two outfit choices are neatly hanging, and examine your options. In the end, you decide on your favorite little white and red sundress, the sweltering August heat putting you off your other option of flowy pants and a top. You also figure the inconspicuous nod to your new team colors won't hurt.

Slipping out of your pink robe, you reach for the dress and let it pool by your feet, deciding to step into it so as to not ruin your newly styled hair.

Just as you begin to bend down, the door to your room swings open with force, the poor Maple Leaf cap once more meeting the floor.

"Oh!" A tall boy stands in your doorway, head full of curls and mouth parted slightly. You're aware of who he is, of course you are. Growing up with your dad being, well, your dad and living in the city of hockey for a good four years, it would be weird if you didn't.

Especially considering Luke Hughes happens to be a well-talked-about player in hockey circles. You never realized he would be this cute up close, though. Okay, maybe that's a lie. Maybe, you know who he is and maybe your insistence on looking your absolute best has a little to do with him being here. Only maybe, though.

He stops dead in his tracks, his eyes widening in shock and locked on your half-covered figure. You let out a startled yelp, grabbing the nearest thing—your discarded robe—to cover yourself.

"What the hell?!" you shout, your heart racing.

Luke snaps back into motion, his face flushing red, the color beginning at the base of his neck up to the tip of his ears. If you weren't otherwise preoccupied with preserving your modesty, you might've taken a little more time to appreciate his broad shoulders and lean figure. Or maybe you would let your eyes linger on his flexed arm as he's gripping the door handle, maybe his square jaw and prominent jawline. You might have even wondered how his nose had come about to have a tiny scar on the bridge (a hockey incident?) if his eyes are hazel or green, or if he has female help to care for his curls.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry! Your mom, I'm assuming she's your mom - the nice lady with the blue pants and red shirt? - said I could use the bathroom up here - the two downstairs are both preoccupied -, and I thought this was it but I must have gotten the doors confused and-"

You lift your hand, effectively stopping his rambles without a word.

"It's fine-"

"I'm so sorry!" Luke backs out hastily and slams the door shut behind him before you can finish your sentence.

For a moment, you stand frozen, towel clutched to your chest, trying to calm your racing heart. Well, that's one way to make a first impression, you think wryly. Taking a deep breath, you quickly finish changing, trying to shake off the embarrassment that follows, even though you know it technically wasn't your fault. As you pull the sundress up, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, noticing the color on your cheeks matches Luke's.

Fully dressed, you smooth down your sundress and check your reflection one last time. With a final, steadying breath (and a small pep talk to yourself in the mirror) you head downstairs.  Already from the hall, the sounds of laughter and small talk reach your eyes, multiple rooms of the house filled with people.

Your mom spots you quickly as you near the door leading onto the patio, her eyes lighting up with approval (your choice of clothes) and a hint of relief.

"There she is," she announces, relief flooding her face now that she's no longer holding the fort as hostess all by herself. She's standing by the pool, the water sparkling in the August sun and making a quick swim seem more than tempting, surrounded by what must be a few of the players' significant others. As you reach them, your mom makes quick work of the introductions, well-practiced from years of being a coach's wife.  

You easily slip into the conversation, the girls not wasting time including you. A few of them must be around your age, you think, hoping it'll give you a few familiar faces at upcoming games. They tell you about how excited their respective players were to have a new coach, how they hope this might be the turning point for the team, and all the standard things you're sure there might be a secret manuscript for. But they also take you by surprise, inviting you to sit with them at the games and home to whoever's hosting some of their get-togethers when they learn you go to NYU.

Despite their friendliness, you find yourself mindlessly searching the outdoor party, not quite sure exactly what you're looking for.

Eyes bouncing over the small sea (maybe more a lake?) of people, never resting long on one thing, you soon come to realize it's not a what but instead a who that you're searching for, as you spot Luke from across the garden.

He's chatting awkwardly with your dad, who's starting up the grill, and a few of his teammates - who are trying to help your dad - and his face is still a bit red, but he's playing it off nicely. It seems that way, at least, as his hands move animately, his words backing them up. For the first time, you let yourself take him in, silently approving of the white polo shirt he's chosen and how it stretches across his chest.

You know you have to squash the attraction before it can fully manifest, your dad has always been uncompromising on where he stood on you and "doing stuff" (his words) with his younger players.

Well, all of his players, age-appropriate or not.

Yet, when Luke catches you staring and you grin at him, hoping it conveys forgiveness, a shy schoolgirl giggle threatens to leave your lips and you can't help but think maybe.

Yet, when his shoulders visibly relax and you receive a crooked, grateful smile in return that makes your stomach do a flip, you think what if?

And yet, when a wave of confidence seems to wash over you and you send him a wink that has his blush growing back in full force, you decide it might be okay to let a teeny, tiny, insignificant little crush grow. Besides, you're not going to act on it, and either way, your dad doesn't have to know.

A sharp bark of laughter echoes through the garden, refocusing not only your attention on them but your mother's too.

"You should go over there, introduce yourself," she nudges you, a smug smile on her face you can't quite figure out the reasoning behind. Deciding to let it go, you bid your group goodbye for now.

The smell of smoke from the firepit in the middle of the garden and the salty sea breeze mix as you make your way through various clusters of people, reminding you just how much you love summer nights and barbecues like this. It's a beautiful afternoon, the sun still high in the sky and bathing the entire garden in warmth.

Smiling, nodding, and trying to avoid getting run over by tiny little people zooming past, mini sticks in hand, you stay focused on your end destination.

"Dad!" you call out when you're a few feet away. He turns, his face breaking into a wide grin when he sees you. You keep your gaze on him, afraid your face might light aflame, should you lock eyes with Luke again. One thing is the confidence you can muster with half a yard between you. Being this close to him is another one entirely. You quickly figure he's much the same.

"Hey, sweetheart," he says, putting an arm around your shoulders and squeezing for dramatic effect. "This is my daughter, Y/n," he announces to the players surrounding him. His voice is light, proud even, and the chuckle that follows his words tells no story of the hard look in his eyes, a mute warning.

"Nice to meet you," an accented voice finally draws your attention to the players. Kind dark eyes meet yours as he extends his hand. "I'm Nico."

"Nice to meet you too, Cap," you reply, shaking his hand firmly, hoping the nickname doesn't cross a line but rather relaxes the otherwise awkward air.

"Uh, this is Jack, Alex, Dawson, Timo-" he's pointing the guys out for you one by one. You don't tell them you know who they are, a combination of watching the occasional game of theirs and studying their roster this morning.

"-and this is Luke," he claps him on the back, a shit-eating grin on his face, which instinctively has you raising your eyebrow in question. Had Luke told them about how he walked in on you?

You don't get an answer -not that you were planning on asking him about it in front of everyone anyway- because barreling out into the garden comes Alex, dragging Evan behind him.

They're quick to join you, and you introduce them to everyone. Alex immediately starts talking about his favorite players, not one of them being the guys he's standing in front of. They take it in stride, though, and let him ramble about Mitch Marner and Sidney Crosby to their faces.  

Evan, always the more reserved of the two, stands beside you quietly. You know it's a combination of him being uncomfortable around all these new people, but also because his favorite player is Jack, who's only a few feet away from him.

"He's nice, you can talk to him," you murmur to Evan when the conversation flows and no one pays the two of you any mind.

"I'm not cool enough."

"You're cooler than me and I talked to him." You nudge him, hoping he'll take the chance to talk to his favorite player. Not that he won't have one again, but you know he'll be sad when the barbecue is over and he still hasn't told Jack he plays hockey too.

Evan rolls his eyes, and mumbles "Everyone is cooler than you," but smiles slightly nonetheless. Squeezing his shoulder, you return your attention to the conversation, not missing the way Luke's eyes seem to be permanently stuck on you.

A while later, Evan is fully engaged in hockey talk with Jack, who looks just as excited about the subject as your brother does, Alex has somehow roped John Marino into telling him stories from when he played with Sidney Crosby, and you're currently on the sidelines along with Simon Nemec's girlfriend and Jesper Bratt's fiancee, watching the game of the night. Okay, maybe a third watching, one-third talking to the girls and getting to know them better, the last third being your eyes drifting to one specific player every once in a while.

The game of the night is a tournament in cornhole. Fancy, you're awake. And if you were to guess, tipsy cornhole. Either way, the teams are as follows:

Luke, Simon and Alexander Holtz

Nico, Timo and Jonas Siegenthaler

Jesper, Dougie Hamilton and Brendan Smith

Dawson, Curtis and Erik Haula

A little too many players, but somehow they've acquired six stars and stripes colored bean bags and that seems to make it work.

From what you're gathering, they're playing three rounds, the winners of the first two playing against each other in the finale.

So far, they're halfway through game two, chirps and lighthearted insults flying through the air. All the guys are competitive, hockey players after all, and it's shining through in the way they're playing the simple yard game. At one point, after Holtz stretched a little too far mid-throw, they even had to get Ondrej Palat to be the unbiased referee. He ruled in favor of the Swiss team, though. Words of disagreement were spoken. Bean bags were thrown. It was a sight.

The end of game two is nearing, team Jesper versus team Dawson, the teams currently tied. As Haula prepares to throw his last mini bean bag, the deciding one, everyone seems to pause and hold their breath.

He throws, and as if it was nothing, the bean bag lands square in the hole.

Team Dawson erupts in cheers, having moved on to the final round against team Luke.

The two losing teams join you on the sidelines, not wanting to miss the grand finale, and the two winning teams begin to set up for the final game.

You watch, hopefully discreetly, as Luke passes the bean bags around to his teammates, muscles flexing and face shadowed by the Yankees baseball cap he's acquired from somewhere. When he lifts his shirt to wipe his face, a tiny bit of abs showing, you quickly avert your eyes, though.

I should talk to him, you think, wondering how mad your dad would truly be, wondering if Luke would even want to talk back to you. As you ponder, you accidentally space out, retreating into your mind and completely missing the commotion happening in front of you. It's not until Haula's walking away and Dawson and Curtis are frantically searching for a replacement teammate, that you realize what's happening.

Still, then, it's Nico's nudge to your arm that brings you back to reality, a scheming smirk on his face.

"Y/n wants to play!" Nico speaks up, authoritative and captain-like, leaving no room for argument. You snap your head towards him in disbelief, mouth dropping open and eyes narrowing, trying to figure out what he's playing at. He simply shoots you another grin, identical to the one from before.

"Really? That would be awesome!" Dawson catches your eye, looking relieved and so puppy-like you can hardly let him down.

"Oh, uh. Sure?"

You let him drag you to your feet and throw his arm around your shoulder and he leads you the short distance to their board. The grass tickles your bare feet as you follow him and perhaps if that wasn't distracting you, perhaps if the sun didn't shine directly into your eyes, you would've noticed how Luke sends him a not-so-subtle glare.

"Alright," Dawson says, leaning down and a little closer than necessary. You get the strange feeling he's playing the closeness up, but brush it off under the impression that he might just be a little drunker than the rest. "The trick is to aim for the board but don't be afraid to go for the hole if you feel confident. It's all about the arc and the release," he tells you, voice solemn. You burst out laughing.

"I've played cornhole before," you tell him, but keep your voice light so he knows you're joking around. Still, you remove his arm from your shoulder (much to the relief of the tall boy down by the other board) and take your position after Curtis.

"I'm just trying to make sure we win," Dawson tsks and pats you on the head like you're a child. You roll your eyes and shove him back, pleased with the sibling dynamic you've started to develop with him.

"We're playing against Luke, he's got the aim of a toddler. We'll be fine," Curtis can't resist but says and raises his voice a little to make sure his victim hears. You snicker.

"Ha ha, you're so funny," Luke deadpans, but his eyes still flicker to yours, trying to gauge what you think. He visibly relaxes when you smile at him softly, then gets ready to shoot.

Turns out, Luke doesn't have the aim of a toddler.

In fact, he seems to be the best player they've got on his team, much to the annoyance of your teammates. Okay, you're annoyed too. After all, your dad's competitive streak runs in your blood too.

Eventually, it's your team's turn, and your turn to shoot. Holding one bean bag in each hand, you get in position. Trying to squint and see the hole while fighting a war against the sun, you launch the bean bag.

The sun wins the battle, though, and the beanbag lands next to the board with a depressing thump. Curtis is quick to defend your bad shot, yelling something about how your team has a clear disadvantage and it's a rigged game.

Your opponents laugh it off as you get ready to take your second shot. Stopping you just before you can shoot, though, Dawson offers his cap to you. Before you can even attempt to deny his offer, the argument of how he then won't be able to see dying on your tongue as Luke marches the thirty-something feet over to your side and promptly places his Yankees cap on your head. He doesn't say a word and doesn't offer any explanation to his teammates who complain about their loss of advantage as he returns to them. You're sure your face is beet red as you adjust the cap, trying to gauge what his stony face means and simultaneously trying to shake the butterflies in your stomach.

Nevertheless, you're thankful for his sacrifice, now able to see the board. As was it child's play, your next shot lands the bean bag right in the hole. Your teammates cheer as you move to trade places with Dawson.

The Canadian is quick with his two shots, one landing in the hole and the other resting comfortably on the top of the board.

Soon, he's returning to your side as you wait for Luke's team and their turn.

"Nice hat," Dawson whispers as you watch Simon throw his first bean bag.

"Suits you," Curtis joins in as Simon prepares for the second throw.

"I don't want to hear a word," you whisper back, hoping the heat in your face disguises itself as the effects of the sun and that your voice comes out authoritative enough that they'll listen.

"Noted." You love Dawson.

"Hey Luke, can you even see with all those curls falling in your eyes now?" Curtis? Not so much. Oh well, one out of two is good enough.

Smacking his arm lightly, you risk a glance at Luke. Pretending not to hear his older teammate, he tosses the bean bag. It lands just shy of the board.

"I'm sure that's not what he's blinded by!" Timo yells from the sideline, earning a few hearty laughs from the other guys. His own is short-lived, though, as he soon has to put those quick hockey reflexes to use and duck to avoid the bean bag Luke sends his way. Not quite fast enough, the bag hits him square in the chest.

"Oops." Luke shrugs as Nico throws the bag back to him, no one telling him he technically used one of his two shots.

You're getting bored. Honestly, you should've known playing a competitive game with a bunch of competitive man-children would end in an argument sooner or later. Somehow, someone, messed up the score and the final result is proving harder and harder to decide by the second.

"What about a shoot-out?" Dougie's suggestion cuts over the multiple loud voices, all of them stopping at once. "How would that even work?" Holtz questions, but it isn't a total dismissal of the idea. "Best out of five?" "Best out of three?"

"Or up the stakes, fastest to five?" Evan suggests, voice timid. You turn your attention to him, pleased he feels comfortable enough to butt in and acknowledge his idea.

"That's a good one little man," someone calls out, and you realize it's Luke.

Evan is beaming and you're pretty sure you're the definition of heart eyes as you turn to look at him.

A few more proposals get thrown around before you collectively agree on the fastest to five option.

It's arranged so that each team picks one shooter, and they each have three bean bags at the same time, shooting them in quick succession and at the same time, then all over again if no one gets more points than the other.

"Okay, pick your shooter." Nico uses the captain's voice again. He's somehow managed to assume the rule of game official and is now leading the game.

"We'll go with Y/n!" Dawson says before you have a chance to huddle up and agree. You shoot him a look, but come up short of an argument when he and Curtis both say you've been the most reliable shooter of theirs. Not to toot your own horn, but you're still wondering how they managed to make it to the finale. It must be Haula's merit, you think.

"You've got this, champ." Dawson grips your shoulders from behind, imitating a boxer coach, as you turn around to face the other team's chosen shooter. Rolling your eyes, you lift them to find Luke in the same position as you, Holtz behind him the same way Dawson is prepping you.

The Swede is talking lowly to Luke, most likely a pep talk, but then Luke's eyebrows fly into the air and he turns to look at his friend with an incredulous look. Huh. Interesting.

"You guys ready?" Nico asks. You hum. Luke nods.

"Don't go easy on me just because I'm a girl," you holler at Luke. The chirping part of hockey was always the only thing you were good at.

"I'd never," he smirks back.

"Go easy on me because I'm your coach's daughter," you say instead.

His eyes widen in fear. You laugh so he knows you're joking.

"3...2...1...Go!"

You take Luke's momentary surprise as your chance, shooting your first bean bag before he's collected himself. It hits its intended target, but that also seems to snap Luke out of his stupor, and he's quick to fire his first bag too.

You pout as it goes through the hole.

He apologizes.

You can tell it's sincere.

Simon chastises him for doing so.

Drowning out the cheers and hoots from the onlookers, consisting of pretty much the whole party now and most of them seeming to cheer you on, you focus on hitting the hole once more, and quickly.

Luke is just as fast as you, though, and somehow the beanbags manage to collide mid-air, stopping each other's momentum and falling to the ground in the middle of the two boards. A groan escapes you as the both of you scramble to throw the last bean bags. Just as you shoot, your eyes lock with Luke's green ones, and a flicker of something you can't quite place passes through them.

You both shoot.

Your bean bag lands in the hole.

Luke's bag falls a few feet to the left of the board.

"We won! You did it!!!" Dawson grabs your shoulders and shakes you as Curtis excitedly slaps his back and ruffles your covered hair, the cap sliding around, your head smaller than its owner's.

"Wait- what do we win?" Curtis turns to Nico, then to the losing team, who's mid-interrogating Luke on how he missed that shot. Truthfully, you're wondering the same thing.

"Umm, how about they carry your bags the first month of away games?" Nico suggests, Dawson and Curtis nodding along in agreement. You step towards Nico in protest, though.

"Uh, no, how does that get me anything?" You jokingly scowl, throwing a quick look at your teammates.

Curtis gets a contemplative look on his face as he shifts through ideas for a prize in his mind, while Dawson nods along to your words.

"That's true, she did win for us," he says.

"We buy you food?" Simon asks more than suggests and you turn to them, just missing the way Holtz smacks him on the back of the head.

You don't miss the quiet "No, Luke's the only one who'll do that," and the smirk accompanying his teasing. Nor do you miss the way Luke dishes out a smack to Holtz's head.

"Come to the first practice and you get to decide their drills," your dad cuts in. You're unclear on if it's to stop the not-so-subtle thing everyone's got going on about Luke and you, or if he's simply wanting to see his three youngest players suffering. Either way, you like the sound of his proposal.

So, it's decided: Luke, Simon and Holtz will be carrying Dawson and Curtis' luggage and whatnot for the first month of away games, and (after a little bargaining) you'll decide the three boy's drills for the first two practices.

"You're the hot Swede?!" You exclaim, trying to keep your patty in your mouth as you look at Holtz, or Holtzy as you're calling him now, in disbelief. He chuckles and takes a big bite of his own burger, wincing slightly at the charred taste. You love your dad, truly, but a master of the grill he'll never be. You know it, he knows it, your mom knows it, everyone knows it.

Why he insisted on grilling the food tonight and why anyone let him you have no idea.

Having sat down next to Holtzy at one of the tables scattered around the garden, you had quickly fallen into comfortable small talk, with Dawson, Jack and Evan (who haven't left Jack's side all night) joining.

Your conversations mostly consisted of random subjects, hockey taking up a majority of the words. That was until you had mentioned your freshman year roommate, and best friend, Claudia, and Holtzy's eyes had lit up with interest. He had asked if there was any chance you were talking about Claudia Dupont, and when you confirmed it was indeed her, he told you he'd been having an "arrangement" with her since he came to Jersey.

You know she has a semi-regular hookup and that it's been going on for a while, after all, you tell each other everything.

Well, almost everything, because for some reason, she never wanted to tell you the name of this mystery hookup, or anything about him. Besides the fact he's from Sweden, that is. You understand why now. Still, you were going to tease her endlessly about this.

"What can I say, it's the Swedish charm."

You fake gag, but it only eggs him on. Jack mumbles something about it probably just being something she's checking off on her naughty bucket list and the rest of the table collectively lets out an "oooh".

Except for Evan, his ears were covered by Jack before the forward spoke up.

Their chirping continues back and forth, and you decide it's your opportunity to grab another drink. Rising from your chair, you head towards the outdoor fridge, only stopping to have a brief chat with Simon's girlfriend, who you're coming to like more and more as the night goes on.

Promising to bring her back a Dr. Pepper, you leave her for your original destination. Finding her drink quickly, you take a minute to peruse the fridge for anything interesting and you end up trying to decide between a lemonade and coke.

"I'd go with the coke."

You jump at the sound of his scratchy voice, hurrying to turn around and bumping your knee against the fridge door in the process. Pain shoots through your leg and you wince, losing your balance in the process.

"Shit, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

Luke grabs ahold of your bicep, the action meant to steady you. Instead, it leaves you more disoriented, his cologne filling your nostrils and has your knees weak. If you were a betting woman, you'd put your money on him wearing Dior Sauvage and while it's cliche and you're trying not to roll your eyes at the predictability of him wearing that scent, you also can't deny that he smells good. Aaaaand you've been quiet for way too long analyzing his cologne and this is getting embarrassing for you the longer you don't say anything.

"You're good, don't worry," you tell him as you regain your hold of yourself and manage to take a step away from him. Not that you don't want to be near him, but you're pretty sure if you keep standing so close you can feel the heat radiating from his body, you might do something stupid.

Like touching the scar just to the right of his chin.

Stealing a glance at him, you're surprised that you have to crane your neck so much, even while standing a few feet away. He's tall, which you knew, of course, but he's tall and has such a cute smile, and his shoulders are so broad, his eyes are so pretty and his curls are practically beckoning you to touch them. His curls. His curls that you can see, because you're still wearing his cap, you realize.

Luke's lips, which are sporting his crooked smile that you've come to adore in the last few hours, quickly slide south as you reach up to remove the hat from your head.

"Here, you'll want this back-"

"No, no! It looks better on you! I mean, it looks better than the Maple Leafs one does, I'm sure. Not that you don't look good in that, I think you'd look good in anything, but-"

"Luke," you giggle and he stops, the realization that he's been rambling once more in your company settling in. You don't mind, the way he seems to be much more confident when you're further away and surrounded by his teammates intriguing you. Maybe you're more alike than you realized.

Besides, it means, at least you hope it means, that your blooming crush isn't entirely one-sided.

"I'm sorry," he says again, large palm moving to the back of his neck and his eyes not quite wanting to meet yours again, long fingers playing with the hem of his shirt. The motion brings forth flashbacks of when you got a peek at his abs earlier, and it suddenly feels like the temperature rises a few degrees.

Deciding to bail him, and yourself, out, you change the subject.

"You let me win."

It sounds more accusatory than you'd like, but you mean it as more of a statement. You've been replaying the cornhole game over and over in your head, specifically Luke's last toss and it's the only explanation you've come to believe. Luke lets out a strangled cough and you think your change of subject didn't get him as much off the hook as you had planned.

"I wanted you to be impressed with my cornhole skills so I was playing my best. But then you joined the enemy and put me in a tough spot," he mumbles, color flooding his cheeks.

"And you thought the impression would be better if you let me win?"

"Eh, I try to be a gentleman."

"Oh reaaally?"

He shoves your shoulder gently when you teasingly arch a brow at him.

"Did it work?" He asks anyway.

"The impressing or the gentlemanning," he laughs at your made-up word, and the corners of his eyes crinkle sweetly. Maybe you're already more down bad than you realized.

"Both?" There's a vulnerable note to his voice, and in a moment of weakness, you lay your hand on his bicep. He tenses the muscle, leaving you unsure if he's trying to show off or is simply a little uncomfortable.

"I was impressed," you admit, hoping it'll instill a little more confidence in him again and that he'll get the double meaning. He flexes once more. Showing off. You smile. Your hand slides down his arm, briefly touching his hand on its way back to your side. His fingers momentarily stretch out to chase yours, a movement you're sure he doesn't even realize he's doing, and yet.

Yet, you let hope bloom in your chest.

"And the gentlemanning?" Getting bolder, Luke takes a step towards you.

"To be decided." Your head tilts back as he invades your space, not willing to break eye contact, not willing to back down from whatever's changed between you within the last minute.

"Do I have any say in which way the judge sways?" His hand comes to lay beside you, resting on the fridge you're leaning up against. It feels like you've just finished running a marathon, your heart about to beat out of your chest, air leaving your lungs and your voice coming out a little breathy. You're acutely aware of where you are, who you are, who he is, and who may be watching.

"I'll be back in the city beginning of September," you say, answering his question without an answer. His brows briefly furrow, but then a look of realization spreads on his handsome face and your heart does a weird thump thump thump as his smile widens.

Deciding you've put your heart enough on the line, for now, at least, you grab the Dr. Pepper and your own Coke and head back towards the party. You can't resist but glance at him over your shoulder, though.

He's standing frozen, hand still on the fridge, watching you walk away. You smile at him. He winks. You wonder once more about the confidence from afar. It's better than lingering on the giddy feeling in your chest.

As you drop off the Dr. Pepper to Simon's girlfriend and return to your table, Dawson nudges you, letting you know he saw that entire thing.

You shrug him off. "It's nothing," you whisper.

"Sure, and I suck at hockey," he whispers back.

"Weeell..." Your eyes drift to where Luke sits next to Simon, two tables over.

"Rude. You know Luke's-" He starts, a mischievous smile breaking free from its restraints.

"Eat your food." Luke turns his head, curls bouncing a little, and catches you staring. Shit. You return your attention to Dawson.

"Yes, Ma'am." He salutes you, but the grin remains as he digs into his food.

Following his lead, you try to immerse yourself in the conversation around the table. Still, you can't help but occasionally find Luke across the tables. If Dawson notices he says nothing, and for that, you're grateful because your mind is busy running a million scenarios through.

You've just set yourself up for the biggest heartbreak of your life, or maybe, just maybe, your happy ever after.

Chapter 2: 'twas a dark, stormy night...

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Summary: As a storm moves over Lake Wesding, you have no choice but to spend the night at the Hughes' house. Might the bout of bad luck lead to reconciliation between two friends?

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For as long as you could remember, you'd hated storms.

They never seemed to bring anything but trouble with them, and throughout the years, this theory of yours had only proved to be true again and again.

When you were four, a storm prevented you from spending Christmas Eve with your dad's family in Michigan.

When you were six, you broke your leg while riding your bike at the onset of a storm.

When you were ten, a tree fell on the roof of your house during a bad storm, forever instilling fear of the weather in you.

When you were twelve, there was such a violent storm the night before your birthday that none of the decorations you had helped your mom put up in the tent in the backyard survived.

When you were fourteen, your beloved kitten somehow got out during a storm and didn't survive the night.

When you were sixteen, you and Luke had your worst (and first) fight just before a storm broke out. He wasn't there to comfort you over the phone as he usually did. You both felt terrible still.

When you were eighteen, your most important soccer match yet got canceled due to looming bad weather.

This one looked to be no different. When Luke had left you high and dry shoreside with his brothers, not even sparing as much as a glance in your general direction, and steered the boat away from the dock, you had truly thought your day couldn't get any worse. He'd left you with a bunch of unresolved feelings, the biggest of them all burning embarrassment, that had made you want to crawl into a hole and disappear forever. Or maybe just burst into tears. So when you'd gotten more bad news, a text saying that a storm was moving over central Michigan and all flights were canceled, that's exactly what you did.

For thirty minutes, you had been inconsolable, tears streaming down your face and jumbled blabbering no one was able to decode spilling from your lips. Quinn had looked at you in concern, Jack had seemed unaware of how to handle your current state, and so it was Trevor and Cole who assumed the roles of court jesters to get you back in good spirits. They tried everything: poking fun of Luke, making fun of each other, pushing each other in the pool, and still, nothing helped.

Finally, Quinn got the bright idea of getting Annie and Isa on the phone, and while that helped a bit, the damage had already been done. Because as much as you loved the guys, Luke's hot and cold behavior had you looking forward to debriefing with Annie and Isa, and they simply couldn't compare. Not that you'd ever spill your inner tumult about Luke to the guys, though.

You talked to the girls for a bit, but with their plane never going airborne, they were scrambling to find other options. It resulted in them being rebooked to a flight the following day, meaning you'd have to spend a night all alone at your lake house.

With a storm soon to come.

Alone.

With a storm.

Did you mention you were going to be alone in a big empty lake house with a storm raging outside?

Thankfully, knowing how enthusiastic (not) you felt about that whole thing, Quinn had been quick to offer you a room at their house for the night, much like his initial suggestion had been when they were trying to convince you to come to Michigan in the first place. You didn't even try to pretend you were fine with going back to your own house.

The only flaw in the oldest Hughes' plan was that, although a big house, it only consisted of five bedrooms, all of which were currently occupied by various hockey boys. Quinn, Jack, and Luke all had their own, with Trevor and Cole sharing one of the guest bedrooms and Dylan, Ethan, and Mark sharing the other.

Fortunately for you (or unfortunately, depending on how you viewed the situation at hand), that had been the exact moment Luke and his friends had returned from their boating adventures, wandering into the living room right as you were telling Quinn you could just sleep on their couch.

"No, take my room," Luke grumbled as he passed you, trying to get to the fridge. Opening it and taking a slow perusal, you eyed the perfect opportunity to shoot daggers into his broad back. Who was he to come in and be all bossy with you? What if you didn't want to sleep in his bed?

But then again, you did want to. Somehow, his bed was the most comfortable one you'd ever laid in, but to be honest, your hurt and upset were clouding your rational thoughts. Which explained why you decided to be a pain in his ass and go the stubborn route.

"No, I'll take the couch," you bit back, only to receive a roll of his green eyes as he turned back around, Tupperware filled with some sort of leftovers in hand. "No, I'll take the couch. You take my room, end of discussion."

You huffed and opened your mouth to argue once more, but he simply held a hand in the air and pointed his fork at you.

"End of discussion."

Truthfully, you had thought he deserved a night on the uncomfortable, slightly dirty (it was the party hook-up spot) pull-out couch they kept in the basement, so you decided to let him win said discussion. Sure, the two of you could have shared his room, not strangers to sharing beds and the occasional cuddle, but it also didn't take a genius to realize the vibes were off between you.

And you hated it, hated how you hadn't gotten a proper hug from him or had him tell you about everything he had seen in Prague. Well, had him tell you a second time, but in your mind, Facetime hadn't properly counted, and it certainly hadn't compared to seeing the emotions flicker across his face in real time, in real life.

The rest of the day had gone no better, with an awkward, tense atmosphere lingering in the air. The boys had walked around on eggshells around Luke and you, no matter how much you could tell they tried to hide it with their usual jokes and weird antics. It had all felt strained and forced, and you worried the rest of the summer might continue like this.

Fights between Luke and you had been rare and far between, and you could only count the ones where you'd gone days without speaking on one hand. This also meant that everyone else around you seemingly forgot how to act.

Usually, you would have been nestled under Luke's arm during stormy movie nights, but due to the current circumstances, you were instead situated between Quinn and Cole, with Luke sprawled out on the other end of the big couch in the den. As everyone else filed into the room, ready for your Mighty Ducks marathon, they all shot you weird looks, trying to determine where to sit. You felt bad for making them uncomfortable, but Luke was still half-ignoring you and you weren't going to be the one to crack first and demand an explanation. Besides, Quinn and Jack had invited you, and sure, it was with the intent of coming for their little brother, but they had invited you nonetheless, and if Luke wasn't thrilled you were here, at least they were.

All day you had been passed around, a hot commodity (or more likely: someone new to talk to), and by the time evening had rolled around, Jack had been non-stop talking your ear off about all the weirdest little hobbies he'd acquired since his shoulder surgery had left him partly immobile. Quinn softly told you about the playoffs, Trevor tried to make you catch popcorn he was throwing from a two-person distance, and Cole not-so-subtly inquired about Isa's current love life.

The storm had officially begun not too long ago, washing in over Lake Wesding and the house, casting a gloomy glow over the room. Despite the loud noise of the TV and feeling safe with Quinn and Cole trying their best to distract you, you were still shaking.

On the other side of the couch, you briefly registered Ethan showing the rest of the Umich boys someone's Instagram, but the teasing words you had prepped and ready to go got stuck in your throat as lightning struck, thunder soon following. Immediately, Luke's eyes moved to yours, concern written all over his face.

Ignoring him, you pulled the blanket Cole and you were sharing tighter around you and moved closer to him in the process. Luke didn't get to be concerned if he couldn't even try to act happy seeing you. But as Cole tried his best to distract you, showing you dumb cat videos on his phone and wrapping his arm around you, you completely missed the way Luke's eyes hardened, his mouth forming a thin line, and his jaw clenching.

˚⋆𓇼˚⊹ 𖦹 ⁺｡°

It was late. Everyone had gone to bed, and you regretted not taking Trevor up on his suggestion to spend the night in his and Cole's room, joke or not.

The rain came down hard on the roof, and thunder and lightning continued to light up Luke's room before the clapping of thunder followed, making you jump each time. You were nestled in the middle of his bed, his comforters drawn up tight around you, and wearing his hoodie (his most recently used one that you'd stolen from the giant mountain of clothes piling on a chair in the corner of the room) with the hood up around your ears, trying to muffle the sounds. It wasn't helping in the slightest.

Had it not been for the alarm clock on Luke's bedside table flashing bright red lights of 2:03 am, you would have swallowed back your pride and ventured downstairs to find him. Luke had always been the one thing, the one person, who could distract you from a bad storm and simultaneously make you feel safe during it.

What you weren't going to do, though, was wake up the whole house in the process. And, perhaps, you were trying to cling onto the last shred of dignity you had left too.

Luke's room lit up once more, and you mentally prepared yourself for the boom of thunder that would inevitably follow. It did, only a few seconds later, telling you that the storm was moving closer. But this time, it wasn't the loud noise that sent a fright through your body. No, it was the way the bedroom door cracked open, and all you could see was a dark silhouette in the dim light coming from the hall.

"Can I come in?"

Luke. The person was Luke, and at the realization, you released a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding.

"Y/n? Are you asleep?" You both knew you could never sleep through a storm this bad.

"No, you can come in." Your voice was shaky, and you cursed yourself for it, hating the way you were twenty years old and still afraid of rough weather.

The door creaked as he carefully shut it, once more encapsulating the room in darkness. Neither of you said anything as he tiptoed towards you, the silence almost sacred, something not to be broken. However, that didn't stop the small giggle you let out when you heard him bang his toe against the bedframe, a small curse leaving his lips.

"Are you okay?" he whispered once he found the bed, not asking for permission to lie down next to you and wiggle under the navy covers.

"Uh-huh," you were cut off by another flash of light, this one illuminating his sleep-riddled face and messy, laid-on curls. You almost felt bad that you had him awake at this time of night, but then you remembered he chose to come in here himself. Damn him and his thoughtfulness.

The boom brought you out of your thoughts, catching you off guard, and a pathetic little yelp escaped you. Luke didn't waste any time and quickly found your body in the darkness, pulling you closer and wrapping you in his toned arms. Deciding not to dwell on how this was the first time you were this close to him all day, you instead focused your attention on smushing your face into the center of his chest and taking in his comforting smell. You were both quiet as Luke rubbed soothing circles along your back, keeping you safely tucked into his body, and for the first time since the storm rolled around, you could relax.

That was until Luke decided to bring up the elephant in the room.

"You're upset with me." Not a question, not a pondering, merely a statement that was painfully obvious. The soft fabric of his t-shirt rubbed along your cheek as you nodded into his chest, foregoing words. He didn't deserve them yet.

"I'm sorry."

Pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, Luke held you closer, already having anticipated the clap of thunder that followed not even two seconds later.

"I really am, I acted like a shithead."

"Yeah," you whispered into his shirt, and he breathed out, the beginning of a laugh coming out choked as you continued.

"It's okay if you weren't happy to see me or if you do not want me here, Luke. We don't have to be together twenty-four-seven—" Your fingers found his shirt, and you grabbed onto it, bunching it up into your fist as you tried to play off the vulnerable note in your voice as sleep.

"No! I mean, I do want you here. God, I'm so happy you are here. I was going crazy without you," he was quick to interrupt you, pulling away a few inches so he could look you in the eye, or at least in the general direction of them, seeing as his room was pitch black. You could imagine his without any light, though. They were clear as day in your mind, the dark green orbs and the way they'd be ridden with guilt and regret.

"Then why—" Your voice cracked as a wet, hot tear landed on your cheek, momentarily distracting you. Always having been an emotional crier, whether said emotion was anger, sadness, or happiness, you were sure Luke had anticipated it.

"I—" Luke started, but he didn't seem to have an end to his sentence ready. Instead, you could feel him mentally check out of your conversation, mind going somewhere you couldn't follow, couldn't read him like an open book as you were usually so good at. Maybe to a place where he had an excuse.

⊹ 𖦹 ⁺｡° Twelve hours earlier ⊹ 𖦹 ⁺｡°

"So what is it with her?"

Luke would say he was pretty good at drowning out the nonsense his friends tended to spew. He'd been around them for three years, they never seemed to shut up. Learning by conditioning, he liked to say.

"He's into her," Ethan declared. Luke was still only listening with half an ear. It was a beautiful day, the sun shining hitting the lake just right and making it like someone had dumped a truck full of glitter into it. He should take a picture of it for Y/n, he thought, knowing it's one of your most treasured phenomenons.

"Yeah, he's been crushing die-hard on Y/n for ageees," Cole agreed, and at this, Luke snapped to attention and immediately lifted his head from the pool floatie it had been resting on. The floatie wobbled, and he tried to shift his weight evenly so it would stop.

Looking around at the gathering of guys (his brothers, Trevor, Cole, Ethan, Mark, and Dylan) in frantic bewilderment, he tried to gather his wits to defend himself.

"On Y/n? What? No! We're best friends—" His argument fell on deaf ears.

"Who said we were talking about you?" Well, except for Trevor's, but he ignored that. He knew they were. The way they were all sending him shit-eating grins confirmed as much.

"No, not a crush—" Dylan said, and to that, he listened, agreed, even.

"Thank you."

"—he's practically in love with her." Maybe he had spoken too soon.

"I'm not in love with her!" Somehow, his body reacted to the force he put behind those words, and the pink floatie Y/n tended to favor wobbled once more. This time his attempts to save himself bore no fruit, and soon he was standing on the floor of the pool, drenched from head to toe.

"Yes, you are; you talk about her all the time," Dylan deadpanned. The rest of his so-called friends murmured their agreement.

"That's not true," and yet, despite his words, Luke had a hard time coming up with evidence that disproved them.

"Hey Luke, where should we get lunch?" Trevor interrupted, momentarily distracting him from his efforts.

"Oh! Y/n mentioned wings the other day, and I've been wanting to go." Luke realized too late he'd been conned. Trevor spread his arms out in front of him as if to say, "See?"

So maybe Luke did talk about Y/n a lot, but she was his best friend. That was no crime; Jack mentioned his best friends all the time too.

His best friends aren't a girl, a gorgeous one at that, are they now? a traitorous voice in his head said. He shooed it away. Girls and guys could be platonic friends their entire lives without feelings ever being involved. They could share beds and cuddle and talk almost all hours of the day, and so what if one random New Year's Eve party ended up with them slee-

"How come we've never met this girl?" Mark asked, breaking the repetitive conversation of how much on a scale of one to ten Luke was down bad for his best friend. The question hung in the air, as still and expectant as the calm waters of the lake. Yet, Luke felt a storm brewing.

"Luke likes to keep her to himself," Dylan snickered. Luke splashed water onto him. It didn't shut him up, but it was worth a try. The dirty look he got from Quinn, who unfortunately ended up being collateral, had him retreating to the floatie, though.

"No, last year you guys just left before she got here," Luke avoided telling them he had planned it that way on purpose and that the plan came about after Ethan's "she's kinda hot" comment when he saw a Polaroid of her in Luke's college bedroom. It was simply an insignificant little detail, not one important to the overall explanation. Besides, Luke knew she was hot; he had eyes. That didn't mean he was in love with her, though. Did it?

---

"Luke?"

He had been quiet for a few minutes, and if it weren't for the way he was still caressing your back, your first thought would've been that he had fallen asleep.

The sound of your small voice seemed to bring him out of whatever haze he was in, and he cleared his throat as he pulled you closer once more.

"I don't know. I guess I was surprised to see you, and I didn't handle it well. I'm sorry." He was lying through his teeth, you could tell. Not about the sorry part; you knew that was sincere. A few years back, you had made a promise to each other that you'd only ever say the word sorry if you truly meant it.

No, he knew why he had acted off, and you could respect it if he didn't want to tell you. That didn't mean your mind wouldn't be racing 300 miles a minute trying to figure it out, though.

"Can we just... start over?"

Wondering for a brief second if you should push him to come clean, you decided to take the high road and instead nodded into his shirt. A deep breath escaped the boy curled around you, limbs relaxing into you in a more comfortable hold. But then, he rolled away from you, catching you off guard and leaving you wondering if you had done anything wrong.

As Luke moved to the other side of the bed, the cold quickly encapsulated you, your body mourning the loss of his heat.

"What are you—" You barely got the words out before he slung his long, lanky body on top of yours again, the weight of it crushing you and making you let out an oof.

"Ohmygoshyou'rehereImissedyousomuchwhatareyoudoingheresoearlyI'msohappyyourehere," Luke rushed out, cradling you into him, holding your head in his grasp like you were a precious thing. Your confusion quickly subsided as you realized he was quite literally starting over, pretending this was the first time today that he saw you. The ridiculousness of it all had you laughing, unable to stop once his fingers attached themselves to the side of your waist and started hurriedly moving up and down your sides.

The bastard was tickling you.

Soon, your laugh turned into cries of pleas, begging him to stop his assault, but there was no real force behind your request. It was nice having your dynamic back to normal.

"I missed you," Luke said once he had finally stopped and you were back in his arms, covers wrapped around you once more, despite them being all twisted and messed up from your antics. His face was closer to you now, and you could feel his warm breath on your cheek. The heat from it traveled all over your body, not just staying at the place it touched, and you scrambled to distract yourself from it.

"So I've been told," you teased him, squirming when his hand quickly shot down to poke your waist. "I missed you too."

Your admittance hung in the air for a second, and then, almost like magic, it was as if the past few hours had never happened. Like you were just Y/n and Luke again, no weirdness, no nothing. Despite the late hour, the two of you were quick to launch into a hushed catching up, telling each other what you had been up to in the last few weeks in such detail the other could almost pretend they were there.

You told him about your two weeks in New York and how you had found a bunch of food spots the two of you needed to try once the season and your school year started back up. You told him about the Yankees game you had gone to (he pouted and told you he wished he had been there. You shared the sentiment) and the elderly woman across the street whom you had started helping with groceries. You told him about how you hadn't realized you had missed your parents and your childhood home so much until you stood in the hall and had them welcome you back. You told him about all the hikes you had taken Wayne, your elderly Labrador, on and how excited you were for him and your parents to come to the lake.

And then he told you about Prague, about the city and how different it was from New York. He told you about getting to play in the World Championship again, how he had wished at least one of his brothers had been there but having Trevor and Cole had helped a little. He told you about how horrible he had felt when they had lost, and how happy he had been to be back on US soil. He told you that being in Jersey for a few days without you there had sucked, that he had been counting down the days until he came to the lake and you would be there.

Soon, you both went quiet. Except for the occasional thunder and light patter of rain, the only sound you could hear was Luke's heavy breathing and the feel of the steady rise and fall of his chest beside you in the darkness. You were so sure he was almost tipping over the edge into dreamland.

But one thing lingered in your mind; how he hadn't mentioned going to the Duke Lake House during Memorial weekend.

Maybe he forgot, you thought. Maybe it wasn't interesting enough to recount. Or maybe the nausea you'd been feeling the entire time he was there hadn't been unwarranted. He'd been texting you the entire weekend, Facetime was not an uncommon occurrence either.

But you knew Dylan's sister's friends were there that weekend as well, and you knew they were all pretty sorority girls, with long legs and no doubt experts in applying fake tan without it ending up patchy.

And as much as you were telling yourself you didn't care, that Luke was just your best friend and nothing more, nothing less, you couldn't help but wonder if he hadn't told you because he'd met someone there.

Talked to someone. Shared a bed with her.

Like he was doing with you right now.

“Did you have fun in Ohio?" you asked him when the tip of your tongue almost fell off from biting it. Your question lacked all the tact and nonchalance in the world, but you hoped he was too tired to pick up on it.

Luke was quiet for a second and took a beat to process your words. Possibly to figure out an answer. Or a lie, Negative Nancy whispered. But why would he lie to you if he had hooked up with someone? You were best friends, they talked about stuff like that. Except, that had never been the nature of your relationship. Ever.

“No," came his simple response at last.

“Oh, why not?” Stop pressing, you thought to yourself.

“Too many people."

You should've known that would be his reasoning. After all, Luke was your favorite introvert, and his social battery tended to drain quicker than a sieve. Not with you, though, never with you. Unless he just hid it better. But then why would he drag you with him when sneaking away from events and large family gatherings? Why would he come over to your house to seek refuge from the craziness going on in his own?

Big questions for three a.m., and you were losing track of the original conversation.

“Lots of people in this house too. You didn’t have a little fun?”

Luke hummed and scooted up so your head could rest in the crook of his neck. His nose had brushed against your hair, and you had quickly found yourself so comfortable that you'd almost forgotten you asked a question.

“Rather be here with you. Like the people here more."

You had been lying so close together that you could hear the words rumble up his throat, hear how it took him much more effort to get them out than a few minutes ago. He had been tired, and so had you, so you had taken his words at face value and had tried to convince yourself they weren't a deflection.

Either way, you had been the one he was lying wrapped around in that very moment, and that very thought was what finally had put you to sleep.

“Like clockwork” - Luke Hughes x Reader

Summary: I don’t really have one except for unrequited love.

Warnings: this is angst and garnered the reaction “that’s actually really sad” by my beta reader so beware. It’s short though, so you won’t be suffering for too long!

—————————

You knew he didn’t love you back. You knew he’d never blush with a simple touch of your hands. Dream about your wedding or name your future children in his head. You knew he would never think about you first thing in the morning; you knew his words of adoration would only fall from his pink lips when you were tangled in the sheets.

You knew, and yet every summer, as the leaves turned green, and the flowers bloomed, you’d let yourself pretend, if only for the few weeks you stayed with him. Coming to the lake house was like clockwork, the same every summer, with the same outings on the boat, the same failure trying to learn how to wake surf, the same bonfire nights, barbecues, and fireworks on the Fourth of July. 

But it was also the same way you’d dance around each other for the first week. Pretending not to be affected by his stares, pretend not to notice how his eyes would linger on your bikini-clad body, always stopping shy of your face. Pretending you wouldn’t end up in his bed on the sixth night, with large hands roaming your body and kisses swallowing your moans. 

And you'd pretend you didn’t care. Pretend that every time he kissed you, you wished it was with a different intent. Wished he’d finally break down, come clean and say he’d kept his feelings hidden; finally tell you that you were all he wanted and forever too. 

Those wishes never came true, though. And instead of spilling your own love declarations, you’d bite them back. Let him hold you through the night, only to pretend he hadn’t kissed every part of your skin in the light of day. You’d watch him joke around with his brothers and his friends, too, about girls and the freedom of being young and single. He never cared if you were close enough to hear; he knew you’d still wind up beneath him at the end of the day. 

And you let him. Let him treat you like you were invisible, because if this was the only way you could have him, you’d take it. Even if it meant you were the one to break your own heart in the process. He was far too kind to do it, or maybe he liked having you on his string. Liked the security and predictability of a girl in the summer—that he didn’t have to work for it because you’d be there.

You would always be there. 

Even when he went back to Jersey when the weather turned cold. Even when he started dating a New York model. Even when he blocked you and removed you from his social media just to come back when it didn't work out with her.

And you let him. Because loving Luke Hughes isn’t something you just quit. He’s an addiction that lasts a lifetime, albeit a short one. Because, in the end, it’ll kill you. 

simps, certified a luke Hughes x established relationship!reader masterlist

main masterlist

a collection of fics & blurbs that don't really have anything to do with each other but are all simply just about how much luke and his girlfriend, the reader, are simps for each other.

none of these have to be read in any kind of order or anything like that. they have no timeline or actual plots (most of the time) and are separate works of fiction that simply have the common theme of luke x established relationship!reader and the domestic sides of a relationship<3

i hope you enjoy:)

♥"Drunk, drunk, drunk in love"

♥"In Sickness and in Health"

♥"Ohhh how the turntables"

♥“Kiss you in a crowded room”