SWEEP THE DECK | Lazar And Stein

SWEEP THE DECK | Lazar and Stein

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:)

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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.

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.

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."

fics and things: masterlist

hi! requests are open, so feel free to send in any ideas you'd like to see. all my works are under the cut:

personally, i found it very attractive: l. hughes

blurb: in which an interview with the devils' upcoming rookie takes the intern by suprise. / word count: 1.5k / pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader

definitely a surpise: l. hughes

[blurb: in which you and luke introduce the daughter the world never even knew you had to the nhl. / word count: 1.3k / pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader]

the pop-tart debacle: l. hughes

[blurb: this entire idea is based off of clips from The Basement Yard Podcast, which I will be using (for all self-indulging purposes,) as markers in which these conversations are based off of. this one is based off of episode #388 (no warnings, just minor cussing and mentions of drunkness/alcohol consumption!)  / word count: 1.04k / pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader]

basement yard conversations: l. hughes

[blurb: in which you overhear luke say that you’re much more attractive than him while he’s talking to jack and quinn.  / word count: 1.7k / pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader]

i'll take care of you: l. hughes

[blurb: in which luke takes care of you while on your period.  / word count: 0.9k / pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader (WARNING: mentions of pain and blood, period cramps too, but they are minimal.)]

kilby girl: l. hughes

[blurb: in which luke takes meets his kilby girl.  / word count: 2.2k / pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader]

the (infamous) hughes brothers sleepovers: l. hughes

[blurb: in which the hughes brothers continue their sleepover traditions.  / word count: 1.8k / pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader]

sweet girl / take a break: q. hughes

[blurb: in which quinn takes care of you when you need it most — this was originally an ask i wrote for @/ sweetestdesire and i am not finally reposting!  / word count: 1.4k / pairing: quinn hughes x fem!reader (WARNING: mentions of anxiety, anxiet attack, mental health.)]

strawberry wine: l. hughes

[blurb: in which luke is teased for how he treats you, but he doesn’t mind. Not if all of it’s for you / word count: 1.3k / pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader]

enchanted: q. hughes

[blurb: what taylor swift said. / word count: 2.4k / pairing: quinn hughes x fem!reader]

story of us: l. hughes

[blurb: the story between you and luke was over. / word count: 2.1k / pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader]

the good i'll do: j. quinn

[blurb: falling in love with jack; inspired by "the good i'll do" by zach bryan. / word count: 1.1k / pairing: jack quinn x fem!reader]

moments in june: l. hughes

[blurb: moments in june, falling in love and getting put back together by luke.  / word count: 1.5k / pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader / tw: mentions of anxiety and panic attacks; depression.]

making it through july: l. hughes

[blurb: moments in june, falling in love and getting put back together by luke.  / word count: 2.2k / pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader / tw: mentions of anxiety and panic attacks; general anxiety about getting older and change.part two to "moments in june"]

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐬 - 𝐫𝐲𝐚𝐧 𝐥𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐝

☄. *. ⋆ synopsis: 4 times ryan's friend wouldn't leave the two of you alone, and the one time they did

☄. *. ⋆ warning: slight swearing, not proofread

☄. *. ⋆ disclaimer: this is my first time writing a 3+1 type of fic, so if it's shitty sorry

☄. *. ⋆ wc: 2.5k

ONE

ryan grinned as he walked into a small cafe right off the edge of campus, spoting you right away in the same corner as always. he had just gotten out of his only class for the day, and he could not wait to hold you in his arm again.

"hi, baby." he mumbled with a smile as he leaned down to kiss your forehead. you looked up from your book at his presence, a smile of your own appearing.

"hi, bubba." you smiled as he sat down next to you, letting one of his arm fall to the back of your chair. you leaned your head onto his shoulder as a reflex, hanging him his coffee. "how was class?"

"teacher made gabe improv in front of everyone, you really missed something, babe." your boyfriend laughed as he let his eyes drift to your notebook in front of you. "exam soon?" he questioned, he knew you only took color coded notes when you had an exam approaching.

"monday at like 8:30." you groaned, closing your books so all your attention was on the freckled man next to you. "i'm dreading it already."

"you're gonna do great, like always, love." he whispered, placing a kiss against your temple. you lifted your head from his shoulder, looking up at him with a smile before pressing a peck to his lips.

"okay, yuck." you heard someone exclaim from behind you, making you and ryan pull apart. your eyes fell into a couple of his teammates taking seats next to ryan.

"what do you want?" your boyfriend asked, pulling you a little closer to his side as one of your hands fell onto his thigh.

"that's no way to talk to your friends, leno." will smirked as he patted the boy on the back.

"dude, seriously, we're a bit busy here." ryan said through gritted teeth. his teammates just looked at him with innocent looks, making ryan a little angry.

"it's fine. i need to go to class anyways. i'll see you late, ry. bye, boys." you said, placing a hand on ryan's thigh, hoping it would calm him down, before packing your bag and making your way out the door.

once ryan was sure you were gone, he smacked his best friends behind the head, making all of them groan.

"you guys are the worst."

"what'd we do?" gabe knew he was pushing the limit, but he had never seen his best friend act like this because of a girl before. they all found it so cute how ryan was such a menace on the ice, getting in everyone's faces, always being in the middle of a scum, but he was always so gentle with you.

"we've barely spent time together because of hockey, and the one minute we get alone you guys just have to show up?" ryan mumbled underneath his breath as he started standing up from his spot.

"come on, leno. we're just messing with you." aram said, which only worsened the freckled boy's mood.

"i'm leaving."

TWO

you threw your head back, laughing at a story ryan was telling you about one of his classes this week. it was monday night, meaning date night. the two of you were currently sitting in a movie theater, waiting for the movie to start. you each had your own drinks, but shared the same popcorn, mainly because ryan insisted on it.

ryan had been away for the weekend because of hockey, meaning the two of you had barely seen each other in the last five days. of course, you always face timed or texted whenever you could, but nothing compared to spending quality one on one time with each other.

"i missed you." ryan mumbled, throwing his arm around you shoulder and bringing you close to his side. you smiled up at him before pressing your lips to his cheek.

"missed you more, ry." you answered with a smile and ryan leaned down to press a kiss to your lips. there were maybe three other groups in the room with you, a family of four, an old couple, and a group of friends about your age. it was pretty silent, only for the small whispers within the groups.

you and ryan were in your own little world, you sat in the back corner of the room, everyone else choosing the middle of the room to sit. no one around the two, truly having being able to just focus on each other.

of course, all of that quickly ended when almost all of ryan's team walked into the theater, their eyes obviously looking for the two of you. they quickly made their way over to the two of you once the captain spotted you.

"i'm gonna kill them one day." ryan let out a frustrated sigh. he had made it very clear that tonight was only for you and him, granted he made the mistake of telling the guys which movie you were going to watch, where, and at what time.

"let me know when you wanna do it." you mumbled as the guys started sitting around you.

"hi guys!" will said sitting behind the two of you and reaching for the popcorn between your bodies.

"no." ryan was quickly to pull the bag away from his friends reach, making the blond frown.

"that's not nice." gabe intervened from besides the blond boy.

"why do you guys always have to just ruin everything? i told you it was just me and y/n tonight."

"are we not allowed to come enjoy a movie as a team, ryan?" drew said from besides the boy.

"you couldn't have picked any other movie? it had to be this one? at this cinema, seriously?"

"it's a very popular cinema, ryan." cutter said, smirking at his teammate. you rolled you eyes, your boyfriend doing the same, before shushing the boy since the lights were starting to dim.

thankfully, the boys were quiet while watching the movie, which surprised you a lot, well for the most part. they would whisper between each other whenever one of them did not understand what had just happened in the movie, and of course had little reactions every time the two of you interacted. some of them even going as far as gagging whenever you leaned your head on his shoulder.

"where're you guys going?" will asked as you and ryan quickly left the movie theater once the movie ended.

"far away from you guys." ryan said harshly before quickly hurrying the two of you out of the cinema, and quickly making your way to his car, where he was fast to drive off in the direction of your dorm.

THREE

you cheered loudly as your roommate scored yet another goal, ryan cheering as well from besides you. the two of you were among few in the crowd for the women's lacrosse game, the only other people in the stands being family and friends of the players.

you had came to almost every game this year, always ready to support your roommate, and now best friend. ryan had started coming along after the two of you dated, the games being another way the two of you could be alone.

the two of you should have figured that these games alone would not last long once the guy realized the two of you disappeared every time there was a game, but you choose to ignore it. probably one of the reasons why you were both so frustrated when some of ryan's teammates joined the two of you in the stands.

"seriously?" ryan called out, dropping down to his seat, a slightly frown on his face.

"are we not allowed to come cheer on our school?" drew said with an innocent smile.

"and you had to do it here?" you spoke out, shocking the guys a little. ryan was always the one who protested, never you. you always just stayed quiet, not wanting to say things you would later regret, but you had enough.

"wh--"

"i mean seriously? you guys never come to these games, but since we do, you guys wanna start coming too? you never go to the movies, but when we do, you suddenly want to as well? do you not have anything better to do in your lives than bothering us? it's pathetic." you said, anger filling your veins, before grabbing your bag and making your way to the bathroom, leaving all the guys dumbfounded, even your own boyfriend.

"shes' right, ya know. you guys are annoying. it was funny the first couple of times, but you're taking it too far. i mean, we barely get to spend time together, and when we do you guys just have to ruin it all the time. sometimes she doesn't even want to hangout with me because she knows you guys are just gonna show up and ruin everything. so, please, just leave us alone." ryan said, before getting up and following after you.

your boyfriend walked around the stadium for a bit, before eventually hearing some sniffles coming from one of the bathrooms. "Y/N?"

"in here." you confirmed, and ryan was quick to make his way inside, he did not care if there was anyone else in there, he needed to make sure his girl was okay. "oh, baby." he whispered when he saw a tear rolling down your cheek, quickly bringing you into his chest.

"i'm so tired of them, ry." you whispered into his chest, letting out a sigh of frustration.

"i know, hons, me too." he said softly, one hand rubbing down your back while the other landed on the top of your head, softly combing through your hair.

"i'm sorry i snapped at them like that." you said after a couple of minutes of silent, the two of you just holding onto each other. this was probably the longest the two of you had been able to hug each other for weeks without any of the guys interrupting.

"don't be, y/n. they're assholes... and it was hot. very hot." he giggled, making you look up at him only to see him smirking down at you. you knew that look all too well, making you roll your eyes.

"ryan." you warned him, smiling slightly, which only made his smirk grown bigger. the two of you had not been able to be intimate with each other in a long time, and after all, ryan was just a teenage boy.

"your rooms empty." he whispered, bring his lips down to yours. you took a deep shaky breath, trying your best to control yourself. "and the game's not even half way done." he added, letting both of his hands fall lower and lower on your back.

"promised the girls i'd meet up with them after." you mumbled as ryan attached his lips to your neck. you had grown close to the other freshman on the lacrosse team, finding your own little friend group.

"they'll understand, baby." he whispered against your neck as he brought your bodies even closer together. you were about to say something when his phone started ringing loudly from his front pocket, making him groan into your neck.

"what?" he grumbled as he answered the phone, making you let out a sigh. "no, i don't want to go to dinner with you guys. i don't care, will. well, tell eamon that i can't make it. then, i'll do suicides, i don't care. whatever, bye." he argued before letting out yet another groan as he hung up the phone.

"what was that about?"

"stupid team dinner or whatever, i'm not going."

"ryan." you said sternly. you had made it very clear throughout your relationship that missing team events to hangout with you was not something you were okay with.

"it's not an official one, babe. the coaches aren't gonna be there, they don't even know it's happening! eamon can't expect all of us to just stop our lives to go to dinner with him. someone of us have more important people to go on dates with." he said, his voice going from angry to soft at the end.

"you're an idiot."

"you love it."

"mm, i do." you smiled before finally connecting your lips together.

FOUR

"hide." ryan whispered loudly, hiding his face with the menu in his hands.

"what?"

"the guys are here!"

"what?" you exclaimed before turning around to the door, quickly spotting a small group of hockey players. some of them were quick to spot the two of you, smiling before following their host. "you'd tell them we were coming here?"

"no! i picked a different restaurant just so they wouldn't know where we are!" ryan said, quickly looking at his friends before hiding behind his menu again.

"ryan, idiot, they already saw you, there's no point in hiding." you said, grabbing the menu from his hands.

"oh." he said before the two of you looked over at them again. you saw a couple of them about to get up, before someone of the freshman said something, quickly making all of them sit back down. the next second, ryan's phone dinged, a message from jacob appearing on his screen.

sorry, though you guys would be going to the same place as always. we won't bother you, enjoy your night

your boyfriend read the message out loud, shocking the two of you slightly. you both looked over at them again, only to find none of them looking over at you, instead focused on the menus. then, ryan's phone rang again.

also i think drew's scared of y/n now

ryan laughed as he read the message in his head, before turning his phone so you could see it. you giggle slightly, a small blush taking over your face.

"i guess we're both menaces now." ryan smiled, making yours drops.

"absolutely not." you gasped, making your boyfriend laugh out loud. surprisingly, the boys kept their, leaving the two of you alone for the whole night. but not without sneaking a couple of pictures of the two of you, which they later sent to ryan. they did not even bother the two of you when you walked near their table to leave the restaurant, none of them even looking up at the two of you.

when the two of you made it back to his dorm, you talked for almost an hour at how you could not believe they had somehow managed the be in the same room as the two of you and not bother you guys. it felt great, it truly did, to finally have some time alone with ryan, some real quality time where all you had to focus on was each other.

and you were soon very thankful that found out it would not be the only time the two of you would be left alone. of course, the guys still popped out every now and then, but if one of you ever gave them a look, they'd be gone the next second. especially if they came from you.