Spit Kink Jamie Doing Something To Me. Itd Be So Funny To See What His Friends Would Say The First Few

spit kink jamie doing something to me. it’d be so funny to see what his friends would say the first few times you guys did it in front of them

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patreon saw it first! (on may 1, 2024)

ashdhdjk i love love love thinking abt this <3 ty for prompting me to actually write abt it (+ spit kink origin details — if you want more of a narrative, lmk!)

cw — alcohol consumption, doing lewd things in public places, sexual experimentation + kink exploration, d/s dynamics + smidge of brat taming, manhandling, having meddling menaces for friends

i feel like the very first time was accidental? or, at least, not premeditated. it just sorta happened, and its not inherently sexual.

like, maybe you both are a lil tipsy and you want a sip but he's being a jerk (affectionate) and trying to keep it away from you, eventually spilling it. all but what's in his mouth still... he taps your thigh and tilts his head back towards the kitchen, silently telling you to get up and he'll make you another one to share and you're like... or not? (bestie girl's really letting those intrusive thoughts win) and he's like oh 🤨 oh 😏

then he just... does it? casually. zero hesitation. no fanfare. jamie doesn't even check for on-lookers or think before he grabs your jaw, leans over, and spits whatever he'd been sipping straight into your mouth. and he definitely laughs at your shocked expression and the not-so-subtle clench of your thighs.

"i think you might've liked that more than you should."

"you're one to talk." — drawing attention to the tent in his pants :)

for some reason, i don't think y'all were necessarily "kinky" before this became a thing. you were comfortable and adventurous and playful, sure, but you never ventured too far off of the beaten path. this kinda unlocked a door for you... and everyone could tell and they constantly make jokes about it. like, "who would've thought jd and his girl, of all people, would swapping spit like birds on the reg" or jokingly patting him on the back because they "didn't think he had it in him" with regards to ~brat-taming~ because it was so out of left field (for them — we all know its the "quiet," normal-looking ones you gotta watch out for). i think they saw him do it from across the room/yard the very first time, but didn't think much of it because it was SO casual and it could be chalked up to drunkenness (but don't think this means they don't tease you both the next morning). then they saw it a second time... and a third... and it just kept happening?? (def get called "sick" and "disgusting" because if twenty-something boys are gonna do one thing, its hypocritically kink shame! and you know it comes from a place of jealousy, duh) but they never seriously protest because #freeshow

i do think there's a bit of shyness the first couple of times (back before you abandoned all sense of decorum). you don't ask for it upfront: you quietly ask for "sips" from his water or whatever he's drinking at the time. but everyone (and i mean everyone) knows what you're actually asking jamie for. or, rather, what you're asking him to do. even if they can't hear you or missed the initial request, your and jamie's eyes say enough (+ jamie keeps adjusting himself, and is bright red. for a little while, you cling to the ruse, bashful as you hide behind an innocent front. that is, when jamie isn't a menace who makes you "use your words" to ask for what you want 😵‍💫

jamie's no better, always tapping your jaw or your cheeks, or parting your lips with his thumb. no words necessary. procedural knowledge. as mindless as brushing your teeth or riding a bicycle. it brings you both immense satisfaction to move like this, to be so effortlessly in-sync. its a different kind of intimacy, like having a secret language, and it just makes everything else (sexual and not) feel better.

when you're in public or around friends, its short and sweet (usually — because there are... exceptions), intended to scratch the itch without causing too much of a scene, and that's about it. but when you're alone? he drags that shit out. makes you work for it, makes you cry for it. he wants you squirming and pouting and begging like a puppy desperate for a treat before he indulges you both. this, too, is done without conscious thought on his part. he acts in the moment, responding and reacting to your behavior, then recalls what he learned the next time an opportunity arises.

the "pleading period" grows as time goes on (as his resolve strengthens and your embarrassment fades). sometimes, its just because. because he can, because you let him. for his own amusement, to test your endurance, as foreplay. and he's not afraid to use your neediness against you whenever you're a brat (which is often — y'all get off on the push-and-pull / verbal sparring).

eventually, you have zero shame. sometimes, you'll ask nicely for it (jamie says this is his favorite, but everyone knows he LOVES when your claws come out). other times, you just walk up to him, open your mouth, and blink at him expectantly. he'll act all put-out and annoyed, sighing and rolling his eyes, but he stops what he's doing to tend to you, his sarcastic "happy now?" dripping with lust. jamie acts like its some big, annoying inconvenience, as if he didn't do it repeatedly of his own volition the night before?? or that he didn't walk into the room, grab your jaw from behind, then go about his business like nothing happened...

once your friends realize this shenanigan is here to stay get used to it, they definitely goad you both. not necessarily because they want to see the actual spit situation, but because its too damn fun to rile you up and pit you against one another. i feel like you n tz get into a lot of mischief in general, so its no surprise he's probably the main culprit when it comes to egging you on / pushing jamie's buttons for shits n giggs :) and i would't put it past anyone to create situations that make you irritable and bratty just to piss off your boyfriend — they think him trying to be a disciplinarian and being all authoritative top tier comedy.

it takes a lot to trigger a jd outburst, and this spit kink is like a cheat code...

i'm never gonna shut up abt this (and neither should u!!)

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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 1: surprise! (jack and quinn belong in hell)

Series Masterlist

Summary: Deciding to take a leap and surprise your best friend doesn't end the way you hoped.

A/n: Hello hello, it's me! Mario! Just kidding, it's just me, and I am once again back with the first chapter of a new lil series! This one is near and dear to my little heart because it's full-on friends-to-lovers (with lots of idiocy sprinkled in there somewhere) and boy am I excited for you guys to follow along with this lil story. This one is a little extra special to me because there are some real-life things I've experienced thrown in there, and also because I spent a long time (three months to be exact) coming up with not only the storyline but also the fake Lake and the history surrounding it. So without further ado, I hope you enjoy:)

------------------- ˚⋆𓇼˚⊹ 𖦹 ⁺｡° -------------------

June 14th

Jack Hughes had been in your life since you were born and he was an annoying little two-year-old. As the years passed and you grew up, he never stopped being annoying. When you were a teenager, you thought there must come a day when he wouldn't be a pain in your ass. That day had yet to come, and for all intents and purposes, today wasn’t that day either.

Because Jack Hughes had been calling you nonstop for thirty minutes.

You supposed you could have picked up and put yourself out of your misery, but you were no fool; Jack wanted something from you, and while you would have done anything for him, a brother from another mother and all that jazz, your willingness was significantly less present at 6:30 am.

At last, the agitating noise of his specially chosen ringtone (Party in the U.S.A, which you otherwise loved, but again, not at 6:30 am) finally stopped and silence once more encapsulated your tiny childhood bedroom. A sliver of sun slipped into the room from a crack in your blackout curtains, leaving a soft glow and promise of the summery weather to come later in the day.

You were too comfortable to get up and start said day, though, so you snuggled further into your pink and white sheets, determined to get at least two more hours of sleep. Just as you were halfway to drifting off, your phone once more lit up the room, and you were prepared to chuck it somewhere far, far away. But then the lyrics of Party Rock Anthem blasted through your phone's speakers, and you sat up so fast your vision filled with temporary black spots. Frantically searching for the device, your fingers closed around the pinkly colored titanium, and you accepted the call.

"Quinn? Is everything alright?"

"Wow, Chippy, answering Quinn right away but not me? Guess he truly is the favorite," Jack's mock-offended voice crackled through the line. You groaned and let yourself fall back onto your pillow with a huff.

"You stole Quinn's phone? Really?"

"No, he willingly gave it to me. We have important business to discuss with you," Jack tsked, "now answer the call."

"What, Jack-" A new call, this time a request for FaceTime, came through and you sighed deeply before answering. You weren't too worried about your less-than-impressive morning state; they'd seen you looking worse.

The call connected and soon the two idiots you (sometimes) liked to call your honorary brothers popped up on your screen.

"Asshat. Hi Quinny." Jack rolled his eyes at the endearment, Quinn greeting you with a small wave. Rolling over and onto your side, you propped your phone against one of your decorative pillows and waited for Jack to present whatever "important business" he had.

"Great, now that the committee is gathered: How soon can you be in Michigan?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Has NYU really hindered your sense of understanding that much? I thought it was supposed to do the opposite," Jack mused and stuck his tongue out at you when you did it first. You looked to Quinn for some clarity.

"Can you be in Michigan soon?" he asked, leaving you no more and no less understanding than before.

"Um, well, I was going to this week but my parents aren't going to the lake until the fourth and I don't know if I want to be alone at the house," you told them, brows furrowing, mainly because you had already told Luke this and had up until now been pretty sure he'd told his brothers.

When you were three years old, your parents bought a lake house by Lake Wesding, a smaller lake in central Michigan, wanting to have a designated spot for when you came to visit your dad's side of the family. Growing up in New Hampshire, you had seen your mom's side the most, and buying a lake house in Michigan allowed you to spend extended amounts of time with your dad's side too.

The lake house quickly became your favorite place in the world, second to only the Hughes household, and ever since you could remember, you'd spent every summer there, and sometimes Christmas too. When the Hughes family moved to Toronto and away from your neighborhood in New Hampshire, the lake house soon became your designated meeting spot. Most of those summers you spent there were often in the company of Jim, Ellen, Quinn, Jack, and Luke.

When Quinn and Jack signed their first NHL contracts, they had grown to love the lake just as much as you and decided to buy their own house there. And so the last few summers began, with you (or them) spending every waking moment running back and forth between the two houses. Or rather: sailing, as your family's house happened to only be two docks away.

"You can bring friends?" Jack suggested, wiggling his brows and having you visibly gagging. You knew how he felt about your friends, Annie in particular.

"Or, just stay with us?" Quinn suggested, the smack he landed on the back of Jack's head not going unnoticed by you.

"And why would I do that?" you played along, already planning the trip in your head. You missed the lake, the feeling of summer, the boys, and especially-

"Luke is driving us crazy!" Jack threw up his hands in despair, a pained expression on his boyish face. "And before you ask, more than he normally does," Quinn added and you broke out in a small laugh, more so at the mention of your best friend than his brothers' current feelings about him. Because truly, you missed Luke so much it hurt to breathe, and you'd only been away from him for a mere four weeks.

As his season ended and he packed up to head to worlds, you stayed back in your college apartment in New York for a few weeks, wanting to spend a little extra time with your roommates and best friends before not seeing them until the beginning of your senior year. And then as he'd gotten back to Michigan, less than a week ago, you'd taken the trip up to your childhood home in New Hampshire to be with your parents until you'd fly with them to Michigan.

But Luke was also your best friend since diapers, the one person you trusted most in this entire world and could never live without. After being spoiled for the hockey season with him close by, the distance seemed further than ever. Further than even when he was living in Toronto and you in New Hampshire, and then again when they moved to Michigan.

"Why was he driving you crazy? I figured he'd be sleeping most of the day." Your comment made the three of you chuckle, all knowing that that's exactly what Luke Hughes liked to do on his days off.

"He does, but the 20% of the day he's awake, he does nothing-" "And we mean nothing," Quinn butted in, "-but complain about how much he misses you."

"Surely you're exaggerating," you deadpanned, but their words still sent a little ball of fire through your chest. Especially since you felt the same way, and not telling your parents a gazillion times a day that you missed Luke was almost as hard as the act of missing him.

"No, we counted. Yesterday, he said your name 72 times."

"And the day before 85."

"And today ten times."

"That's a lie; he's not awake yet." He would've texted you the very second his eyes opened, you knew that. So did they.

"Okay, but I heard him saying it in his sleep when I went to get water this morning!"

"Do you not have anything better to do than count how many times your brother says my name?" You tried to divert them, thinking before your cheeks caught on fire and they'd figure out you enjoyed hearing how much Luke thought and talked about you when you weren't there. Jack sighed and ran his hand down his face, groaning into his palm. "Are you coming or not? We're going insane here."

You wanted to scream yes, to pack your bags and be on a plane to Michigan tonight. One little detail had you hesitating, though.

"Are you guys sure he'd want me there?" You tried to question them like you didn't care, but a bout of insecurity hit you like a truck. Rationally, you knew Luke wanted you at the lake, considering he asked when you were coming at least three times a day. Not so rationally though? You were worried he'd rather want to spend time with his brothers and friends for a little while before you joined them.

Quinn saw right through you, though, an annoying skill he'd somehow managed to pick up throughout his years of knowing you. He smiled, kindly, letting you know his next words were serious, not just the product of overdramatics and siblings who (affectionately) wanted to strangle their little brother.

"Promise, once he sees you he won't let go of you the entire summer."

⋆｡𖦹 °. 𓇼 ⋆❀˖°

And so it was decided. The plan was for you to move your already booked flight to Detroit up, and after light persuasion (aka name-dropping of Jack and Cole), so were your two friends, Annie and Isa. Since they both opted to stay in your shared apartment in New York after your final exams, they were to fly in together on the evening of the 16th, with you arriving earlier the same day.

As soon as you had finally gotten dumb and dumber to hang up the phone (not before a little catching up as well as some light gossiping, though), your first call had been to your friends before you went straight to packing. It had been slightly stressed and a lot rushed now that the time you previously thought you had to plan your summer outfits had been condensed to a mere two days. Yet, you somehow managed, and before you could say Lake Wesding, it was June 16th and you were standing on Michigan ground, having just stepped out of your Uber from the airport.

You breathed in the lake air for a few minutes, taking in your favorite place: the garden and the flowers your mom tended to as if they were her children. The white wooden exterior with blue shutters and the big wraparound porch, home to your precious porch swing, stood in contrast to the green and blue of the garden and lake in the background, and as with every time you were there, you just felt at peace.

Said peace didn't last too long, though, as "Hey Baby" once more blasted through your phone speaker and replaced the serenity with guilt. Truth be told, you were ignoring Luke's calls and only answered the occasional text, too afraid you'd spill your carefully crafted surprise. Jack and Quinn had assured you that it would be fun for all (mostly them, probably) if none of you told Luke you were coming. But you also hated lying to the curly-haired boy, and when you had turned off your location, almost immediately having him blowing up your phone in concern, you had almost cracked right then and there. Somehow, you had managed to play it off, and now you were only minutes away from seeing him, relieving yourself of the guilt, and hopefully, him of his worry.

Well, after a quick shower. The airport air was lingering on your skin, and reuniting with Luke while feeling icky wasn't something you wanted. Maybe a small, tiny, little insignificant part of you also wanted to look nice, but you weren't ready to dwell on that particular thought.

Exactly 57 minutes later, freshly showered and redressed in your favorite bikini and shorts combination, you found yourself standing in front of the Hughes residence, your baby pink bike discarded by their garage. Their lake house, composed of dark brick and serving as a stark contrast to your own family's, had always exuded the same amount of comfort, homey-ness, and brought forth the same amount of happy memories.

Trying to ignore the way your hand shook as you reached up to knock on the brown oak door and simultaneously trying to quell the nerves climbing up your throat, you braced yourself for whoever might open it. When a full minute without a response went by, you pressed the doorbell an annoying number of times. A few seconds later, the door swung open and revealed an irritated Quinn Hughes, scowl that almost seemed permanently stuck on his face. It was quickly replaced once he realized it wasn't a random door-to-door salesman, and the corners of his mouth tugged up into a warm, inviting smile.

"Chippy! It's so good to see you! You don't usually knock?"

Quinn pulled you into a bone-crushing hug, and before you even had a chance to react or answer his half-question, you were pulled from his arms and into Jack's instead. If you thought the passing around was finished then, you were sorely mistaken, because the next thing you knew, you were tugged into Trevor Zegras' side (accompanied by a ruffling of your carefully crafted braid), eventually ending your destination in the arms of Cole Caufield. You greeted them all with the same enthusiasm, having missed them just as much.

It was a strange thing, growing up with the same people and continuing to meet at the same place every year. Like clockwork, you instantly fell into your old routines, the same bickering and sibling-like teasing, chirping, and distribution of roles. There was nothing you loved more.

As the reunion in the hall of their house came to an end (only after a good few minutes of you trying to catch up with the lot of them and answering their many questions as well), Jack threw his heavy (non-recovering) arm over your shoulder and started leading you through the house.

"Luke has been moping around all day, even though the guys are here," he told you in a hush-hush tone, pushing the sliding door to the side and stepping out with you, still under his arm, onto the porch.

You were quick to spot Luke, his height setting him apart from the three other guys standing around by the pool. Despite only having met Dylan, the shorter, dark-haired one, you still recognized Ethan and Mark. Luke and you had spent countless hours on FaceTime telling each other about every single thing in your lives, including his best friends from college.

It was Mark who noticed your presence, smacking Dylan on the chest to get his attention. Without thinking, Dylan hit him back, mumbling "ow" under his breath. Mark rolled his eyes and pointed in your direction, the move catching Ethan's attention too.

A mischievous smirk formed on Dylan's face, the only one to recognize you, as he flipped the shade of Luke's cap up and poked his side, sing-songing, "Ooohhh Lukeeyyy, look who's hereeee!"

Your best friend turned, and you found yourself in a scene from a movie, where the guy turns around and suddenly everything is in slow motion. You saw the curls first, how they bounced a little with his quick movement, the way they seemed even curlier than just a few weeks ago. Then came his face, with his kind eyes and prominent nose, the sharp jaw, and his smile. Your favorite smile in the entire world.

It took Luke a few seconds to comprehend what was in front of him: You, here, in Michigan. Then his face split open into an earth-shattering grin at the sight of you, leaving you with no choice but to send him back one of your own. You continued your perusal of his figure, now realizing that he was shirtless, abs on full display, and somehow even more prominent than last summer, no doubt due to the past hockey season.

It was only when Luke said your name in disbelief that you realized you were staring at his stomach, and heat immediately travelled from your neck to your cheeks.

"Surprise!" Jack yelled from behind you, clasping a hand on your shoulder and pushing you towards his little brother. You stumbled a few steps but quickly regained your balance, just in time to hear Ethan's question.

"That's Y/n? Now it makes sense."

Dylan and Mark snickered at their friend, but the words seemed to flip a switch in Luke, who was in the process of closing the space between the two of you with quick steps. He faltered and looked back at his friends, then to you, and you could almost see the war going on inside his head. Stopping a few feet away from you, Luke sent you a small, almost dismissive smile.

Your brows knitted in confusion, the line between them only deepening once he leaned in for a half-hug. Luke and you never did half-hugs, only full-on attacks of affection, and you'd be lying if you said it didn't hurt a little bit that he didn't seem thrilled to see you after so many weeks apart. Truthfully, it had you confused too. Were his texts and tired drawls over late-night FaceTime sessions all just words he didn't truly mean?

"Hey, what are you doing here?" he asked, eyes half on you, half warily eyeing the boys behind him.

"Um, I came early. I thought you wanted me—I wanted to come early," you interrupted yourself, already pulling an invisible guard up. Something was off about him.

"To see me?" Luke didn't sound happy, didn't sound excited or thankful, or whatever silly little feelings you had been feeling inside up until two minutes ago.

"Well, yeah, but Jack and Quinn too, and Annie and Isa are coming later-"

"Cool, cool." Cool? That's all he had to say? You moved your flight up for him and all he could muster was cool? His eyes went distant, and it felt like you'd been slapped as he continued, avoiding looking you in the eyes at all costs. The light breeze you had been thankful for on the way over here suddenly felt too cold, not providing relief from the Michigan heat.

"You're probably wanting to go unpack. We're gonna go on the boat for a bit, but I'll see you around, yeah?" A pat on the arm was all the goodbye you got as he left you standing there on the deck, frozen and unsure of everything you had changed and moved and planned to come here, and if coming here was even a good idea in the first place.

One thing you knew for sure: You were going to kill Jack and Quinn Hughes.

family | luke hughes

luke hughes x fem!reader

you feel happy that your boyfriend’s brothers like you

You stood in front of the mirror, carefully applying the final touches of your makeup. The room was filled with the sounds of Luke humming a tune and Jack’s playful teasing. Luke was sprawled out on the bed, flipping through channels on the TV while Jack lounged on the other bed, tossing a hacky sack with his good arm.

“You almost ready?” Luke asked, watching you with such love.

“Almost,”you replied, glancing at him through the mirror with a smile. “Just need to fix my hair.”

Jack smirked and chimed in. “Come on, Y/N, it’s just a game. You don’t need to impress anyone.”

You rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “It’s family night, Jack. I want to look nice.”

Luke sat up and moved behind you, gently brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “You always look beautiful,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Ugh, you two are so gross,” Jack groaned, adjusting the sling that held his arm. “Get a room!”

“We have one, and you’re in it,” Luke shot back with a grin, catching the pillow Jack threw at him and tossing it back.

-

Family nights at games were always a highlight for the Hughes clan. Tensions buzzed in the air as you arrived at the Rogers Stadium.

you felt slightly uncomfortable going, but Ellen insisted saying that you’re “practically family” at this point with how long you’ve been with Luke.

Ellen helped you onto the ice while Luke tied his skates. Quinn skated over toward Ellen, giving her a hug, then Jack, Jim, Luke, and finally, you. He pulled you into a hug, which was rare for Quinn but made you feel giddy knowing that your boyfriend’s brother liked you.

Quinn pulled away, giving you a small but genuine smile. “Good to see you, Y/N.”

You returned the smile, feeling warmth spread through you. “Good to see you too, Quinn. Excited for the game?”

Quinn nodded, glancing around at his family. “Yeah, it’s always better with everyone here.”

Luke skated over, slipping his arm around your waist. “You wanna skate around with Dad and me?” he asked. You looked over at Luke. Quinn watched how much warmth radiated from you when you were with Luke; it made him happy.

You nodded, grabbing Luke’s outstretched hand. He gave Quinn a nod and you smiled at Quinn. “Hey, be careful out there,” Quinn called out, knowing how reckless his younger brother could be.

Jim helped you stay steady on the ice when Luke decided it would be funny to pick up the pace, Jim tighten his hold on you as you scolded Luke to slow down.

eventually the family hour was coming to a close and the game getting closer, photographers swarming to get photos of players and their families.

A photographer approached. “Can we get a Hughes family photo?” he asked, camera at the ready.

You instinctively stepped back, giving the Hughes family space for their moment. You watched as Luke, Jack, Ellen, and Jim gathered together, a perfect picture of familial love and support.

Just as the photographer was about to take the picture, Quinn looked up and noticed you standing off to the side. His usual stoic expression softened. “Y/N, get in here,” he called out, his voice carrying a tone of insistence that left no room for argument.

You face scrunched in confusion, he waved you over once more, quickly skating to Luke’s side. Luke wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. The photographer snapped the picture.

after the photo was taken Quinn hugged all of you before y’all were guided off the ice and into your seats.

-

Later, as you left the arena, you felt a warm hand slip into yours. You looked up to see Luke smiling down at you, his eyes filled with love.

Luke cleared his throat . “Quinn doesn’t usually do things like that. He really cares about you.”

you looked up, cheeks heated, “Yeah, I’m really happy. I’m just kinda bummed he just started liking me,” you said, half-joking, half-not.

Jack, walking behind you, snorted. “Quinn liked you since the very first time he met you. He kept on saying, ‘I like how Luke’s girl doesn’t post only when she’s with us. Luke’s girl this and that.’” Jack mocked him in a teasing tone.

“Shut up, dude,” Luke said, laughing. “But as he was saying, Quinn really likes you.” He smiled, kissing your cheek.

Jack obnoxiously gagged. “Alright, lovebirds, let’s get to the car.”

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.

SWEEP THE DECK | Lazar and Stein