Farmer's Market - Quinn Hughes

Farmer's Market - Quinn Hughes

a/n: trying my hardest to find motivation for these so i can keep getting them out :) i'm still 10 days behind but it doesn't entirely matter. anyways. enjoy as always! <3

sumarry: you and quinn tape a trip to your local farmer's market and he buys you a special present when you are distracted

word count: ~1.4k

Every Saturday in your little Vancouver town, there’s a farmer’s market that’s filled with fresh fruits and vegetables, homemade goods like jams, chocolates and baked goods, and even handmade items, ranging from jewelry to shirts, and even decorations.

When you first moved here, Quinn wasn’t too keen on the idea, mainly because he liked to go on a run Saturday mornings and then clean things around the house. But the third week that you had been living there, he agreed to move his routine around and went with you.

Since then, he’s made it a habit of going for a run early in the morning before you are even awake, coming back to shower, get ready with you, and head into town for the market. There are some days where the weather is bad so you are unable to go, but weather permitting, you try to make it every week, just to have some fresh fruit in the house.

Quinn also loves picking out a new dessert to snack on for the week, talking with the people that make his favorite goods about how it was, if he disliked anything about it, and what he was wanting to try this week.

Your favorite item from them was slices of banana bread that they make fresh every Friday, with pieces of walnut mixed into the soft, cake-like structure; that was one thing you made sure to get every week.

As you and Quinn drive into town, it was a cloudy spring day, and both of you were dressed appropriately, in cozy sweaters, yours you actually bought locally made from the market by a vendor who no longer has a stall there due to family emergencies.

Quinn finds a parking spot and you walk around the front of the car to grab his hand, resting your head on his shoulder as you walk to where the stalls are located. You go right to the fruit section, parting ways with your boyfriend to pick out your favorite fruits independently.

He has his reusable tote bag and after paying for everything altogether, he puts the fruit in the bag and guides you over to the vegetables.

“I found this recipe for sautéed green beans and steak that I want to try this week,” he says, walking past a large lot of string beans, pausing to look at the price. He picks out a good handful and sets them in the basket provided. You pick out some cucumbers and broccoli as well, ringing out with that vendor shortly after. 

After getting the rest of your usual things, including a new dessert for Quinn, a peach cobbler that they made specially for him, you stroll around, looking at the new stalls and scanning over the handmade items they have.

Quinn spots a new jewelry stand and smiles to himself, suddenly getting an idea

“Hey, weren’t you mentioning how you needed a new bag?” He asks you, pointing in the opposite direction at the stall he was needing to look at. “It looks like they have some new stuff.” You cheer quietly and run off to the booth that has tote bags with different sayings and designs on them.

Quinn waits until you are far enough away to walk to the jewelry stall, looking down at all the silver and gold gemstone rings.

“Wow,” he whispers to himself, picking up a pink sapphire ring.

“All are handmade sterling silver or gold-filled, stones are ethically sourced, and these,” the guy gestures to a different section, “are sea glass I collected from different parts of the world.”

“They’re beautiful, oh my gosh,” Quinn compliments, looking over everything. He glances over his shoulder to make sure you were still distracted. “I’m looking for a ring for my girlfriend as an anniversary present. She loves gems and I think she’d love one of these.”

“Do you have an idea of what color she’d like?”

“I’m not sure…” his voice tapers off, running his fingers over different shades of blue and pink stones, to clear quartz and finally, he lands on a peridot ring, a simple band with a smooth bezel and a hammered band. It was slightly rustic but still quite elegant. “This one.”

The guy looks down at it and smiles.

“That’s peridot.”

“I remember her saying she wanted a green ring because it matches my eyes,” Quinn blushes as he thinks back your words. “It’s perfect.”

“Great! That’ll be…” the guy looks up the price of the ring on a sheet of laminated paper, “Forty-five dollars.”

Quinn sticks out the exact amount of cash to the guy, who carefully sets the ring in a small ring box, handing it off to the brunette.

“I hope she enjoys it,” the guy grins as Quinn drops the box into his bag.

“Thanks so much, I’ll let you know.” 

Quinn walks over to you, still standing at the designed tote bags that you have a large collection of at this point, wrapping his arm around your waist. 

“Find something you like?” He asks, leaning over to kiss your cheek.

“I did.” You show him the bag that you spent some time picking out, a simple design on it with some saying about reading. “We can share it.”

He laughs, taking it in his hands to get a better look at it.

“Nice choice. Think we’re done for the day?” He wonders, glancing around at the rather quiet market space. Suddenly, you feel a drop of rain on your forehead, both you and Quinn looking up to the sky and then to each other.

“I guess so,” you giggle, grabbing his hand and heading for his car. The rain picks up rather quickly, but luckily, you shut the doors and are sheltered just as it starts to pour down rain. Quinn looks over at you and laughs loudly, running his hands through his hair.

“Looks like got lucky,” he says, starting the car and putting it in reverse to back out of his spot.

“I didn’t think it was supposed to rain,” you say, staring out the window as he drives back home.

“I thought they said in the afternoon, so it must have changed.”

As soon as you get home, Quinn takes the liberty of stocking the fruits in veggies in the places that you keep them, taking the small black box and putting it in his pocket. He wanted to wait to give it to you, but he was so excited and he knew it was going to be difficult to sit on it.

You step into the kitchen just as he shuts the fridge, walking over to give him a hug. His arms circle around your shoulders, holding you close to him.

“I bought you something today,” he whispers against your forehead. Raising your head, you narrow your eyes at him.

“You were with me the whole time…?” Your voice tapers off into a question, confusion crossing your face. 

“Not when you went to go look at tote bags. I got this for you.” He pulls the ring box from his pocket and hands it to you, allowing you to open it up. Your eyebrows furrow together when he places it on your hands, but as you open it, a gasp escapes you and your hand flies up to your face.

“Wh…” you are rendered speechless as you stare at the gorgeous ring in front of you.

“I wanted to give it to you for our anniversary, but I really couldn’t wait, I wanted you to have it,” he says, stepping closer to you and setting his hands on your waist.

“It’s beautiful, Quinn. Where did you even find it?”

“There was a new jewelry stall and I had to distract you, which is why i sent you over to pick out a bag,” he chuckles nervously, his fingertips fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

“I love it, holy shit.” He laughs and you slide the ring onto a finger to try and gauge the size, and surprisingly, it fit your ring finger perfectly. Quinn smiles, relief washing over him when he sees that it fits at least one finger, and brings your hand up to his face.

“It looks perfect on you,” he whispers, kissing your knuckles just below the ring, gazing lovingly at you.

“It reminds me of your eyes,” you say, staring down at it, admiring the way it sparkles ever so slightly in the light. Quinn’s cheeks heat up and he looks down at the floor.

“That’s, uh, that’s why I picked it out. I knew you would think that.” Your hands cup your lover’s cheeks and you kiss him sweetly, his hands tightening around your waist.

“You know me so well, darling.”

taglist: @petite-potato4

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”

"For better and for worse" - Luke Hughes x Reader

summary: luke's hit the rookie wall and it all comes crashing down after a tough loss to the Rangers.

a/n: I’m sorry this is sad pookie but I promise he’s happy by the end<3

___________________________________________________

You can tell Luke isn't in the best mood before he's even close enough for you to see the patchy stubble lining his jaw. Shoulders slouched, black beanie pulled down low and eyes not leaving the floor, you can tell he's past anger and frustration. Instead, disappointment is now possessing your lovely boy, and you find yourself grateful you're there for him to go home with, there to keep him company so he doesn't have to sit alone with his thoughts and feelings. Sure, Jack would be home, but he always complains about how it isn't the same.

You're aware of how the game played out, the loss to the Rangers had happened in front of your own two eyes too. As with all Devils' losses, you're affected by it too, taking on Luke's feelings as were they your own. Nevertheless, you hadn't been on the ice, hadn't had the puck on your stick and hadn't needed to answer questions about your performance after sixty minutes of hell.

Luke had, though, which is why, when he's within reach of your hands, you waste no time wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. His face finds its usual spot in the crook of your neck. Immediately, a sigh escapes him, the boy finding comfort and reassurance in your touch and the way your fingers thread through his curls.

You stand in a tight embrace for a few minutes, until your arms begin to fall asleep and your calves prickle in warning of an upcoming cramp, and you softly ask him if he's ready to leave. After a sort of confirming nod, you pull away, grab his hand, and gently pull him in the direction of the parking garage where you've parked his car after dropping him off earlier.

Luke tries to reach for the car key in the pocket of your jacket, but you swat his hand away before his long fingers can close around it and redirect him to the passenger seat. He huffs but complies, and soon, you're sitting side by side in silence as you turn on the BMW. You're not sure what to say or if you should even open your mouth at all. So, you let the silence envelop the car like a blanket, not even wanting to turn on the radio before Luke gives you any sort of hint that he's okay with it.

"When I was nine or ten, I hated playing hockey for a while." His words catch you off guard, not prepared for him to be ready to talk so soon and certainly not prepared for those words. "Huh?" Immediately scolding yourself for that reaction, you open your mouth to say more, but he beats you to it.

"My team went through a losing streak. Five or ten games with only one or two wins. Almost every game, one or more of those goals were against me." Luke coughs to hide the way his voice breaks somewhere between goals and me, but you still notice. You notice everything when it comes to your boy. Your heart breaks a little for tiny Luke, even if you don't completely understand why he's bringing it up now. So, you lay a comforting hand on his thigh, rub along the muscle with your thumb and silently encourage him to continue.

"I hated it. I hated going to the rink and getting on the ice. Dad had to force me into the car." He goes silent for a while, the only sound in the car is the hum of the engine and the muffled sounds of the other guys driving off and home. "Why, baby?" You try, tip-toeing in case he wants to backtrack and not spill his thoughts like this.

"The winning didn't seem worth the losses anymore. The guys on the team blamed me. I didn't enjoy playing. I wasn't on the outdoor rink with Quinn and Jack that whole winter." As he talks, you slowly back out of the designated spot for his car, manoeuvring the car around and heading towards the exit.

"Why are you thinking of this, baby?" you can't help but ask, not meaning to sound as distracted as you do, but the parking garage is narrow and you're trying your best to focus both on listening to your boyfriend, who's seemingly going somewhere with his little anecdote, and not scratch his car.

"That's what it feels like right now." His voice is much quieter than before, so low you almost don't hear, but when a tiny sniffle follows, one you can tell he tries to hide, alarm bells instantly go off in your mind. You pull into a random parking spot, still not out of the garage due to your slow driving, and put the car in park. In a split second, your seatbelt is gone, body turning ninety degrees towards the one next to you, and your eyes searching for his in the dim light.

What meets you instead is the back of his head, a few curls peeking out below the bottom of his beanie, whatever would have been visible of his face hidden by his large hand. That's when you realise his shoulders are shaking, his breath coming out ragged. An "Oh, Luke." slips out before you can stop yourself, and you reach up to intertwine your fingers with the hand hiding his face.

At the action, Luke turns towards you again, revealing his red-brimmed eyes, the green of his irises highlighted by it. Your heart breaks for him, the way he's always so hard on himself, how he feels a hundred times deeper than people seem to think. Luke doesn't hold your gaze for long, instead opting to fidget with your fingers, twisting and turning the ring on your middle digit.

"I don't know if I'm in love with the game anymore. Or if I deserve to be here at all." he scoffs out the last part, mainly speaking to your hand. Acting on instinct, you lift yourself a bit, then swing one leg over the centre console, the other following after, so you're on his lap, now face to face with him. Wasting no time, you grab his face between your hands, forcing him to look at you and rendering him unable to look away.

Not that he would have, though, considering looking at you is all he ever wants to do. Long arms come to rest around your back, trying to pull you in for a hug, but you persist, needing to get your point across to him. "First of all: No one is blaming you for anything, pretty boy." You squeeze his head a little extra, trying to almost push the words inside his head. Green eyes glaze over, and you know you've lost him to derogatory thoughts about himself again.

"That's not true. I see what they say on Twitter, and I read and hear hockey news-" Luke can't help but counter-argue, almost as if he voices one of those thoughts without meaning. Once again, holding his head a little tighter and giving it a small shake, you kiss the top of his cheekbone to interrupt him and get him to refocus all at once.

"Let me stop you right there and rephrase: no one who matters blames you. Not your teammates, not your brother, not coach-" "You obviously didn't hear him..." Luke mumbles, making you stop your ramble and change the course of the train of words escaping your mouth.

Sure, you had heard how Lindy Ruff was yelling at his team after the loss. Sure, you had heard his criticism. And yet: "Giving you pointers isn't the same as blaming you for an entire string of losses, Luke. Sure, you have some things you need to work on, and sure, maybe a puck got past you, but hockey is a team sport. The sole responsibility doesn't lie on you, not when you're out there with five other guys."

Your chest is heaving by the time you finish the small monologue, not even registering how Luke's hands have crept up under your shirt, caressing the soft skin of your waist and drawing the usual random shapes he likes to do when he's nervous or needs comfort. "I'm scared they'll send me to Utica," he says then, breaking your heart all over again by how small his voice comes out, how he refuses to look you in the eye, something he usually never shies away from.

"They won't, and should they for some reason decide to, we're going to figure it out- Wait, is this why you couldn't sleep yesterday?" You didn't realise the extent of his doubts in himself before now, and maybe you should have. After all, you have been spending almost every waking, and sleeping, moment together since you confessed your feelings to each other a few weeks back. But those weeks have also consisted of a lot of...not talking, you rationalise, reminding yourself he would have told you if he was ready like he seems to be now.

"You noticed?" you hum yes, letting your hands slide off his face and instead find their way around his neck, once more playing with your favourite curls, ever soft despite his lack of proper care for them. A shudder moves through Luke's body at the contact, subconsciously making him draw you closer as he closes his eyes and whispers; "I'm worried you'll wake up one day and realise I'm not the hockey prodigy that you started dating."

Time stands still, and you find yourself in a state of shock and conflicted feelings come alive, rushing through your body in tact with the fast beating of your heart. Is he implying I'm some sort of gold digger? You can't help but think, the thought slamming into the front of your mind almost immediately before you get a hold of yourself. Luke is upset. Surely he doesn't mean it like that. Your mom always says it's better to assume a misspeaking of words than intended harm, yet you can't stop yourself from asking your boy to explain himself.

"You think I only like you because you're good at hockey?" It comes out more accusingly than you would have liked or meant to, but there's no stopping them now, and you can only pray it doesn't upset him more. Your intent isn't to fight with him, only to set the record straight, should that be his actual perception.

"No, well, not like whatever's going through your pretty head right now," he gives you a pointed look before continuing, "It's just. It's a big part of why you know me and our life together. Would you have even looked twice at me if I was just some random guy you met through a random friend? Would you still be with me if I quit hockey or got sacked and it wasn't a part of me anymore?"

His voice cracks again, a hot tear sliding down his cheek, which he's quick to wipe away, the movement harsh and rushed like he doesn't want you to see it. At this moment, you know he doesn't actually believe whatever he's spilling to you. No, his mind is just running through different self-deprecating scenarios, and his insecurities have started to take over his common sense. Much like when he's going over game plays and scenarios in his head, his mind always analytical and prepared for every situation, Luke is simply trying to prepare himself for what could be a bad play.

You're having none of it, though, desperately needing your smiley boy back, needing the confident Luke who knows how good he is back, but also not trying to dismiss the way he's obviously got himself worked into a spiral of hockey defines me. His entire body is tense, jaw clenched and muscles straining not to let out another sob.

"Luke Hughes, I need you to hear me and promise me you believe me when I tell you that you could be playing in the worst beer league in the world or never have even touched a pair of skates, and I still would feel the exact same." Pausing quickly to collect your thoughts, you take the opportunity to wipe another tear away from the corner of his eye.

"I like you for you, not for the hockey Luke or the famous Hughes Brother. I like Luke who snores. Who leaves his socks everywhere and plays trivial pursuit with my dad. I like just Luke, but that doesn't mean I don't like all of Luke too, the twenty-year-old guy and the NHL player and everything in between included." At the mention of trivial pursuit, his mouth jumps the tiniest bit skyward, your favourite crooked smile threatening to say hello. It's what you need to finish your spiel, briefly touching the left corner of his mouth as if trying to make the smile stick.

"Hockey isn't what defines you. Sure, it's a part of you, but it certainly is not all you are. I like all the other parts too, maybe even more, and I hope you know that."

Luke lets out a deep breath, maybe it's a sigh of relief, or maybe it's because the insecurities have been weighing on his chest, but nevertheless, he seems more relaxed, his tears no longer threatening to spill over and his arms once again go soft around your middle. Turning his head, he presses a quick peck to the palm of your hand resting on his cheek, before he briefly closes his eyes and leans forward, touching his forehead to yours.

"I do, I'm sorry. I just don't want to lose you. I just got you." He explains, trying his best to not make it sound like he just admitted his biggest fear to you.

"You've always had me, Luke, from the moment we locked eyes, and besides, you won't. Not now because of this, not if you get sent to Utica or stop playing hockey altogether. Not now, not ever. I'll always be yours."

All of the cars, except for Carl the Zamboni man's, have left the garage now. They should probably have left and had this conversation at home, but you're sure something about the dim lighting and the quiet of not only the car, but the surroundings as well, made Luke feel like he could spill his guts. That the garage exists as a form of pocket in time where he can be vulnerable.

Granted, you want to yell that he can always be vulnerable with you. No matter what, though, you're just honoured he decided you're worth being vulnerable with and that he trusts you enough to handle him with care.

"I'll always be yours too," Luke echoes and pulls you closer into a full hug now, seemingly not caring about the limited space in the car. You don't either, despite your knee digging into the passenger side door and your head continuously bumping against the roof, because you know he needs this. Needs to hug you so tight it almost hurts, physically feel your forever presence. Hearts beating in sync, chests rising and falling together like one has you melting into the hug, your hands softly running up and down the silky material of his suit covering his back.

"Thank you. You're amazing," he mumbles into your collarbone, pressing a little kiss on the bone to accentuate his point. You squeeze him tighter, words escaping you at his kind ones, before making sure he's done with the hug so you can move back in the driver's seat.

"Can I buy you an 'I'm-sorry-I- word-vomited-all-over-you-apology' ice cream on the way home?" Luke says as he helps you back over the console, a supporting hand on the curve of your ass. Obviously, he's feeling much better.

This also means you can't help but say: "I'm the one driving," with a roll of your eyes as you plop back into the seat, pulling on your seatbelt and referring to the fact that you driving means you pulling into the drive-through and, consequently, you paying.

"So you're buying me an 'I'm-sorry-you-word-vomited-all-over-me' ice cream?" Voice light and teasing, Luke's smile is back in full force as you finally pull out of the garage and onto the road home.

Despite his teasing, you're happy he's feeling better, his smile making your heart speed up and a steady rhythm of I love him, I love him, I love him echoing through your body. The intense feelings for the boy next to you don't scare you, despite neither of you having muttered the three little words to the other yet. Instead, they fill you with calmness, a sense of home and purpose because you know it's true. You love Luke, are in love with him, and nothing has ever felt so right.

"Dweeb," you mumble in response, pushing his shoulder softly and keeping your eyes on the lit-up roads of Newark.

"Pretty," he fires back as he leans over to ruffle your hair.

I love him, I love him, I love him, you think as his hand settles on your thigh.

I love him, I love him, I love him, you think as he leans over you to pay for your ice cream.

I love him, I love him, I love him, you think as he cuddles into your side once you get into his bed.

I love him, I love him, I love him, you think as the last thing before falling asleep, no doubt in your mind the words will be repeating themselves all over again once you wake up.

uh oh | luke hughes

luke hughes x lazar!reader

you're trying to sneak out your boyfriend but their is one thing standing in your way, Curtis.

my masterlist!

You're not sure how all of this happened, but all you know is that you were trying to get your boyfriend out of your brother's house before morning skate.

You tiptoe through the dimly lit hallway, every creak in the floorboard causing your heart to race. The morning sun filters through the curtains, you glance back at Luke who’s following your lead, trying to make as little noise as possible.

You grab Luke's hand, tugging him down the stairs, his hair messy and wearing last night's clothing that was scattered around your bedroom floor. You hear Curtis's bedroom door shutting. You turn to Luke, whose eyes are wide. He motions for you to go upstairs. You and he quickly and quietly make your way back upstairs.

You shut your bedroom door behind you, closing your eyes in relief. When you open them, you find Luke staring at you, a sly boyish grin on his face. "I feel like I'm 16 again," he jokes, pressing himself against you and placing soft kisses all over your face and neck.

You push him away playfully. "You didn't get any play when you were 16," you tease.

He lets out a huff, pulling you in for a kiss. It's sweet, his hands dancing around your back, but it becomes more needy. Then you hear a knock. "Hey, sissy, I'm gonna get going," Curtis calls out.

Your voice is hoarse as you reply, "Okay, Curt, see you later." You feel Luke's breath fanning against your cheek as he presses harder into you, trying to stay hidden.

"Hey, are you okay?" Curtis asks, and you see the door handle beginning to twist.

Luke slams you against the door, pressing harder into you if possible. "Curt, I'm changing, give me a second," you call out, and the door handle stops twisting.

Luke stands in the middle of your room awkwardly. You push him into your closet, giving him one last peck on the lips before closing the door.

You grab your robe, wrapping it around your body, and open the door. Curtis steps in, his expression concerned. "You feeling alright? You sounded a little nasally," he says, placing a hand on your forehead to check your temperature.

"And your lips are looking pinker than usual," he presses on, his eyes narrowing slightly. Your cheeks flush, flashes of the night before still in your memory.

You can almost see the face Luke is making inside the closet, trying to stay quiet and unseen.

"I'm fine, Curtis," you say, trying to sound nonchalant. "Just a bit tired."

Curtis frowns, still not entirely convinced. "Alright, if you say so. Just make sure you get some rest. And drink plenty of water."

"I will, thanks," you reply, ushering him out of the room as quickly as you can without seeming too eager.

Once Curtis is finally gone, you open the closet door. Luke stumbles out, looking both amused and relieved. "That was close," he whispers.

"Too close," you agree, shaking your head. "We need to be more careful."

Luke nods, pulling you into a hug. "Definitely. But it was kind of fun, sneaking around like that."

You laugh softly, leaning into his embrace. "Yeah, it was. But next time, let's avoid getting rocked by my brother."

"Deal," Luke says with a grin, kissing the top of your head.

The two of you quickly get dressed, fixing his wrinkled shirt you say, "Alright, you should get going before Curtis gets suspicious. Where did you park?" you ask, giving Luke a quick peck on the lips.

Luke pulls his keys out of his pocket. "Around back. Why?"

Your eyes widen. "Curtis takes the trash out today," you remind him. Luke's jaw drops slightly, and his gaze shifts to your window. Without hesitation, he opens it. "It's not that far down," he reassures you.

You stare at him bewildered. "So, are you just gonna stand there and not kiss me goodbye if I die?" he asks with a smirk.

You roll your eyes playfully and give him a chaste kiss. Closing the window behind him, Luke gives you a wink before climbing out and jumping down. You watch as he tumbles through the grass but quickly gets up, giving you a thumbs up.

"Dork," you giggle, shaking your head fondly.

Luke dusts himself off and heads around the house to where he parked. You stay by the window for a moment, watching him disappear from view before letting out a sigh of relief.

-

At morning skate, Luke is in the locker room changing into his gear. The room is filled with the usual chatter and chirps, but it doesn't take long for his sharp-eyed teammates to notice a few things.

"Hey, Lukey," Jack calls out, smirking. "What happened to your neck? Looks like you've been attacked by a vampire."

He knew Luke was sneaking out to meet someone, he just didn't know it was you, yet.

Luke tries to play it cool, tugging at his collar to hide the faint love bites scattered around his neck and chest. "Oh, you know, just an overly enthusiastic mosquito," he jokes, but his attempt at nonchalance only draws more attention.

"Yeah, right," Timo chirps. "Must be some mosquito."

As Luke continues to change, pulling on his practice jersey, Dawson, points out something else. "Hey, man, nice socks. Didn't know you were into... strawberries?"

Luke looks down, realizing too late that he's wearing your themed strawberry socks. He quickly tugs his hockey socks over them, but the damage is done. The locker room erupts in laughter and playful teasing.

"Nice touch, Luke," Jack adds, nudging Curtis. "You see those socks? They look like something your sister would wear."

Curtis, who had been lacing up his skates, glances over at Luke's feet. His eyes narrow slightly as he takes in the strawberry socks peeking out from under Luke's gear. A moment of realization crosses his face.

"Wait a minute," Curtis says slowly, his gaze shifting from the socks to Luke's face. "Are those... my sister's socks?"

The locker room falls silent, all eyes on Luke. He freezes, unsure of how to respond. His mind races for an excuse, but nothing comes to mind.

Curtis stands up, his expression a mix of confusion and dawning comprehension. "Luke," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "Why are you wearing my sister's socks? And why do you have those marks on your neck?"

Luke swallows hard, realizing there's no easy way out of this. "Curtis, I can explain," he starts, but Curtis holds up a hand to stop him.

"Save it," Curtis snaps. "I think I just figured it out."

The room is tense, everyone waiting to see what Curtis will do next. He takes a step closer to Luke, his eyes hard. "You and my sister? Really?"

Luke nods, his voice barely above a whisper. "Yeah, we've been seeing each other."

Curtis's jaw clenches, but then he surprises everyone by letting out a long sigh. "Out of everyone on this team, she chose you," Curtis says, unable to resist a teasing jab at his teammate. "You gotta be kidding me. I gotta deal with you at home now too. You better take care of her, man, or else you're gonna go flying into a wall."

Luke nods earnestly. "I promise, Curtis. I care about her a lot."

Curtis studies him for a moment longer before finally stepping back. "Alright. But I'm watching you."

The tension in the room eases, other teammates exchanging relieved glances. Practice goes on, but the dynamics have shifted. Luke feels the weight of Curtis's gaze on him, but he also feels a sense of relief. The secret is out, and now, you guys can move on without sneaking around.

As they pile into the locker room, Luke walks over to Curtis. "Thanks for understanding," he says sincerely.

Curtis nods, his expression softening slightly. "Just remember what I said. And maybe next time, don't wear her socks."

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.

would you ever consider writing for Luke x hischier!sister again? I loved ur fic on it and honestly Nico gives huge protective big bro vibes to me 😭

CAP’S SISTER — luke hughes x hischier sister!reader

Summary: two times Nico was a certified Luke hater and the time he got a grip.

note: I always love writing sister fics so enjoy!

1. the date aftermath

Luke’s arm was around your shoulder, your hand reaching up to interlock your fingers with his as the two of you rode up in the elevator. You leaned into his warmth, basking in the post-date bliss.

Luke had taken you out for lunch and a walk around the city, the two of you immersed in one another. The winter chill did little to deter you two as he ensured you were wrapped up well in one of his hoodies and beanies and your own jacket and scarf. He had the entire day off from hockey, allowing the both of you to relish the free time.

The elevator dinged as it reached your floor and the two of you stepped out, still wrapped up in each other. The only noise in the hallway was the soft shuffle of your steps and the faint hum mindlessly escaping Luke’s lips. His hand slipped from your fingers to your waist, pulling you closer as you approached the apartment you shared with your brother.

He turned you so that your chest brushed his, his eyes twinkling with that familiar affectionate gleam. Your head tilted up to look at him with a soft smile pulling at your lips, as he lifted his hand to cup your cheek.

“You going to kiss me, Hughes?” You whispered, your eyebrow raising as he emitted a low chuckle.

"Come here," Luke murmured, pulling you closer into his comfort. His lips gently pressed against your forehead, then your nose, before finally meeting your lips in a familiar kiss. It was slow and sweet, the kind of kiss that stroked the embers of your desires.

"Today was fun," you mumbled, you pulled back slightly, resting your forehead against his as he bent down to reach your height.

He smiled, his fingers tracing patterns on your back. "I’m glad you enjoyed it," he replied softly. "Are you sure you can’t come over to mine tonight?" You shook your head carefully as Luke’s lips downturned.

“I promised Nico a family only night,” you explained, as Luke tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Between hockey and everything else, it’s been a while.”

"I love you," you said, the words coming out effortlessly, as you leaned into him, savoring the moment. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in your little bubble of happiness.

"I love you too," Luke’s voice was filled with sincerity, his warm eyes softening.

The door to the apartment swung open revealing a disgruntled Nico.

“And I love it when you don’t linger outside,” He huffed, “I can already hear the complaints from the neighbours about inappropriate touching in the hallway.”

“Nico!” You laughed out, your hand covering your mouth as you glanced between your boyfriend and brother.

It’s not like your brother disliked Luke, that wasn’t the issue. Nico simply enjoyed his role as the protective older brother, and his gruff exterior was just part of his charm. Luke chuckled, his arm still securely around you as he looked over at Nico.

"Sorry, man," Luke apologised with a grin. "Just saying goodbye."

"Yeah, yeah,” Nico rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He turned his gaze to you. “Just get her inside before you guys freeze out there."

“I’ll be in, in a second,” you hummed, watching as Nico slowly nodded and closed the door. You waited for the click of the door before chuckling and facing your boyfriend once again.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Luke ducked his head to look you in the eyes, his hand faltering on your waist for a moment longer. "Text me when you can."

"I will," You nodded, giving him one last kiss before he reluctantly let you go. “Night, Luke."

"Night sweet girl," he replied, his eyes lingering on you before he turned and walked back down the hallway.

2. the team night out

As a team, the Devils didn’t often get to go out where everyone could attend, this night, however, was the exception. Every player and significant other was in attendance in a small bar they’d cordoned off just for the team night out.

You sat at a table beside your brother, laughing away at something his teammates were saying. Music filtered through the air and happiness wove in and out of every conversation floating around.

Luke and Jack were running late, per usual. It was nearing an hour into the night and they’d only just pulled up outside the bar. Luke was antsy as he ran a hand through his hair and smoothed down his shirt for the umpteenth time. Jack slapped him on the back with a grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Relax, man,” He shook his head knowingly. “She’s not going anywhere.” Luke shot his brother a glare as they exited the car.

“I know, I know. It’s just…” he huffed as he shoved his hands in his pockets nervously. “I haven’t seen her in almost a week because of away games.”

Jack rolled his eyes in his typical good-nature as they walked through the entrance and into the bar. The room was buzzing with the team's energy, laughter echoing off the walls, and glasses clinking in toasts. Luke’s spared not a single second as he instantly began to look around the room in search for you.

His eyes continued to scan the crowd until they eventually landed on you at your table. You were seated beside Nico, your face alight with a pure joy, whilst you engaged in animated conversation with your brother and a few of his teammates.

Luke's heart skipped a beat. No matter how many times he saw you, the sight of your smile, the smile he adored, always had a way of grounding him, filling him with the feeling that he was the luckiest guy in the world.

“I’m going to go say hi to the team and get some drinks,” Jack called over his shoulder as he passed by, heading towards the table you’d abandoned with a knowing smirk.

You were mid-laugh when you inevitably spotted your boyfriend in the crowd. Your smile had immediately widened, and you found yourself quickly excusing yourself from the conversation, rising from your seat to meet him. Luke's eyes followed you as you approached, his pace quickening to meet you halfway.

“Hey,” you spoke softly as you reached him, the noise of the bar fading into background noise, your sole focus being your boy.

“Hey,” he echoed, his arms pulling you into a tight hug. You wrapped your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes to reach as you cling onto him. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his warmth and familiarity.

“How’s the night been?” Luke asked, his voice low and only for you to hear as he pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands resting lightly on your hips.

“Good,” you replied, your eyes shining as you combed through the curls at the back of his neck. “Better now that you’re here, I was starting to think you weren’t coming.”

“I would never leave you alone with these idiots,” Luke smiled through a laugh as he leaned down to give you a quick, sweet kiss which you gladly reciprocated.

As this entire exchange occurred, Jack had plopped down in the seat you’d once sat in beside Nico who was watching his youngest sister with hawk eyes, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Dude, you have to lighten up,” Jack drawled, tilting his head towards the captain. His eyes flickered towards you and Luke who were immersed in their own little bubble. The world seemed to not exist when you two were in each other’s orbit.

“She’s his baby sister and Luke is Luke,” Lazar cut in, placing his round of drinks in front of the table. His teasing voice caused a few of the people at the table to stifle their laughter. “Lightening up isn’t possible.”

“They’ve been dating for almost eight months,” Jack argued, “they’re good together, I mean look at them.”

All eyes fell on you and Luke as he pulled away from kissing you, a beaming grin plastered across of your face as he softly smiled and listened to you speaking.

“You have to admit that they’re happy, Cap,” Marino reckoned, his head turning to face a grumbling Nico.

Nico sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know, I know," he admitted, his voice carrying a hint of resignation. "It's just... she's my little sister, you know? I can't help but worry."

"We all get it, man.” Jack clapped a hand on Nico's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “But Luke’s a good guy. He cares about her a lot. She’s in good hands."

Nico nodded, though the protective brother in him wasn’t entirely convinced.

Luke and you oblivious to the tables conversation, made your way back to it, your hands still intertwined. The moment you sat down, he kept his arm around your shoulder, his thumb gently caressing your skin in absentminded circles as you instinctively leaned into him.

“Hey, everyone,” you greeted, your smile lingering son your face. “Sorry for disappearing.”

“No worries,” Mercer answered with a grin. “We know you had important business to attend to.” Laughter rippled through the group, easing any tension remaining.

3. acceptance

“I’m going on a run,” Nico announced, adjusting his headphone as he walked out into the living room of the apartment. You looked over your shoulder at your brother, who had yet to look up from his phone.

“Have fun,” you chirped, a stifled chuckle caused Nico’s head to dart you. You were curled up on the couch, engulfed in an oversized hoodie with Luke’s arm draped over your shoulders as the two of you watched a movie.

“I didn’t realise Luke was here,” Nico awkwardly scratched his head as he glanced between you and your boyfriend.

“He only came over five minutes ago,” you explained, entangling your hand with Luke’s.

“Oh, okay,” Nico inwardly cringed at the awkwardness and popped in his other headphone. “Well, I’ll be back in a hour or so.”

With a quick nod, Nico jogged out the door, leaving you and Luke to the quiet of the living room. The movie droned on, a soothing background hum as you leaned into Luke's shoulder, his warmth cocooning you. You felt your eyes grow heavy, the dreariness of the day pressing down, lulling you into a peaceful haze.

Luke shifted slightly, pulling you closer, and you glanced up to see a soft smile playing on his lips.

"Comfortable?" he murmured, his voice gentle rumbling against your temple.

"Very," you whispered back as your fingers traced idle patterns on his arm. "I could fall asleep."

"Then do," he encouraged, pressing a light kiss to your forehead. "I'll keep watch."

“How chivalrous,” You let out a soft laugh, the sound mingling with the faint dialogue from the screen. "But, we both know you’ll nap too.”

"Maybe so, but I’m just doing my duty, sweet girl," he joked, his eyes twinkling with amusement. It only took a few moments for the rhythmic rise and fall of Luke's chest beneath your cheek to be the last thing you registered before sleep fell upon you, drifting off in peace.

—

Nico returned from his run an hour after he initially left, a light sheen of sweat on his brow and a flushed red face. He quietly entered the apartment, turning off his music and heading towards the kitchen to grab some water.

As he walked deeper into the apartment, he noticed the darkness shrouding it, all apart from the soft glow of the TV. He paused in the doorway, his eyes adjusting to the dim light. A small smile tugged at his lips as he noticed you lying atop of a sleeping Luke, the two of you holding hands as you remained fast asleep on the couch. Luke’s other arm held you close, grasping you as if you were his most treasured belonging.

Quietly, Nico sighed and grabbed a blanket from the closet and gently draped it over you and Luke.

He turned off the TV, plunging the room into further darkness, and made his way to his room. As he closed the door behind him, he couldn't help but feel something settle in his chest.

It was nice to see you happy and if Luke was the source, then who was he to deny you it.