Matt Rempe With Angst Prompt Theyre Lying To You Maybe Shes Hughes Sister And The Boys Dont Like Her

matt rempe with angst prompt “they’re lying to you” maybe she’s hughes sister and the boys don’t like her with a ranger player

Loving the Enemy - Matt Rempe

hockey masterlist || g's graduation celebration

synopsis: What was supposed to be an amazing night supporting her boyfriend's first NHL game, turns into a fight amongst siblings which leads to a broken heart. or in which Y/N Hughes is in love with the enemy.

word count: 4.5k

warnings: hockey inaccuracies, language, fighting, mentions of smut, break ups, angst

Being a Hughes sibling wasn’t easy. Being the only girl Hughes sibling was even harder. It wasn’t necessarily that you were a surprise, but your parents didn’t think that they would have a little girl after having three boys in a row. But you were their prized possession, and they would never say it out loud, but you were the favorite child. 

You were close with all your brothers, being the youngest, they had been absolutely enthralled with you when you were born. Quinn had always been more than delighted to be an older sibling, and having a little sister was like getting ice cream before dinner. Jack was a bit indifferent towards you until you were about thirteen and he had accidentally body checked you during a scrimmage. He instantly expected tears, like had happened anytime he accidentally (or purposely) bodychecked you, but instead, you hopped back up and delivered a high stick to him about five minutes later. 

But out of the three Hughes brothers, it was Luke, who you were the closest with. Only 18 months apart, some people believed that you two were twins. Not only did you both get the curly hair, but you both got the height gene that somehow missed Quinn and Jack. The two of you were also the quiet ones of the family, choosing to stick together and out of the spotlight. Luke was the first one you told that you didn’t like hockey, and you were the first one who Luke told he wasn’t going to go to the draft right away. But it wasn’t just the verbal communication that you two had, it was the silent glances and head nods that were understood from across the room. 

And it was because of that bond, that Luke knew there was something you were hiding. He wasn’t sure what it was, but there was something off about you. He could hear you late at night talking and giggling with someone over the phone. You had been coming home late at night, using some excuse that you had been out with a friend or studying at a cafe. He even noticed that you were wearing a shirt he had never known you owned the other day. And right now, he knew that you were hiding away in your bedroom, which was uncharacteristically off for you. Usually you loved sitting on the beanbag, making fun of him, Jack, and Nico for playing NHL. 

“Why is he here?” You whispered, peeking through the crack in your door, which gave you the perfect view of the living room, “I thought they were going to his place. Why are they here!?” 

A low chuckle sounded out from behind you, making you turn your head towards the tall, muscular, still half naked man on your bed, “And this is funny to you? You realize if they see you here, you’re dead.” 

“You don’t think I can’t fight them? Jack is what. . . five nine?”

You rolled your eyes, closing your door softly and walking back to your bed, flopping down next to him, “Five eleven and he’ll get out the measuring tape if you even doubt it.” 

He instantly pulled your body into his, making you rest your hand on his peck, “So, you’re telling me you’ve never had a boy in your room before?” A shit eating grin arose on his cheeks, making heat flood yours, “Are you saying that I took your precious-” 

“Oh shut up, Rempe,” You shook your head with a giggle, “It’s not cause you’re a boy, it’s because you’re a fucking Ranger.” 

It wasn’t like you meant for it to happen. 

You were sworn enemies. Well, supposed to be sworn enemies. The rivalry between the New Jersey Devils and the New York Rangers went farther back than you had been alive. The “cross river rivals”, just 10 miles away from each other. Though you hadn’t been a Devils fan until your brother Jack got drafted in 2019, and even then, you still kept somewhat mutual in your cheering for them. But when Luke got drafted three years later, you had sworn your allegiance to the team (even though you swore you would still put on a blue Canucks jersey to support Quinn. . . and even he knew that would only happen when the Canucks weren’t playing the Devils). 

You met Matt by accident. You had been leaving a coffee shop late after working on a research paper. Jack and Luke had told you over and over again to never go out walking in Jersey City alone at night by yourself. But you had never feared being out by yourself. There were plenty of times at UMich where you would leave the library by yourself and walk across campus to your dorm alone. Never had you felt terrified or in danger. But for some reason that night, you felt a shadow looming over your shoulder. 

You had just gathered your things, ready to step out the door and head for the subway, when a voice in your head told you not to go. Your eyes had darted around the shop, looking for someone who you could sit with or strike up a conversation long enough for you to text one of your brothers to come get you. The shop was basically vacant, and the barista behind the counter looked like she was waiting for you to leave so she could lock up. Taking a deep breath, you grabbed your backpack, placing your keys in between your fingers just in case. You had barely opened the door when someone placed their hand on your elbow. 

“Daphne? Oh my god, I thought it was you! How the hell have you been?” The man said to you. You could see it in his eyes he was begging for you to go along with it and there was something about him, that you knew you could trust him. 

“Kyle! Holy shit, where have you been!? It’s been what. . . four years?!” You said, overly excited. The barista from behind the counter cleared her throat, her eyes fleeting towards the clock behind her, “I was just about to hit up another spot, do you want to come with?” 

“I would love to, we have some catching up to do.” 

You felt a sigh of relief as you walked out of the coffee shop, the looming darkness fading away the further away you got, “Thank you for. . . that,” You muttered to him. 

“No problem,” He said back, “I’m Matt, by the way.” 

“Y/N,” You looked up at him, “I uh. . . I think I’m going to call an uber now or-” 

“I can take you. . . home. . .” He scratched the back of his neck nervously, “God, I just saved you from one creep now you probably think I’m a fucking creep but I promise I just want to make sure you get home safe and I-” 

“It’s okay,” You giggled, cutting off his rambling, “I would like a ride home, if that’s not too much of a struggle. I trust you. . . even if I just met you.” 

You thought he was good looking before, but the smile that arose on his face amplified that by a thousand. His brown eyes were soft as he held his large calloused and slightly bruised hand out towards you, which you took without second thought. The two of you walked down the street towards a black BMW. You slid your backpack off your shoulder, and he gently took it from your hand, opening the door with his other. He jogged around the back of the car after tossing your backpack in the backseat. 

“Sorry if it smells like a gym in here, I usually hit up Blair’s after practice,” He explained, though there was no smell at all, probably due to the air fresheners he had hanging around his rearview mirror. 

“Smells like winter apple,” You said, reading the label, “What sport do you play?” 

Matt placed his hand on the back of your seat as he backed out of the parking space, and you hated how attractive that was, “Hockey.” A cough spluttered out of your lips as you choked on your own spit at his revelation, “What? Not a hockey fan?” He asked with a nervous chuckle. 

“Who do you play for?” You asked, ignoring his question. 

“Hartford Wolf Pack, but I got signed with the Ranges-” 

“Oh god,” You groaned, holding your face in your hands, “Of course, I was standing in Rangers’ territory.” 

Matt’s brown eyes glanced over at you before looking back at the road in front of him, “Well, I’m sorry,” He shifted in his seat, “Are you like an Islanders fan or something?” 

“Even worse,” You mumbled, “My hot knight in shining armor, turns out to be a Ranger, just my luck.” You sighed, “My brothers play for the Devils.” 

“Wait,” Matt stepped on the brakes, “Brothers? Plural? Are you related to the Hugheses?” 

“Those would be the ones.” 

Matt shook his head, a laugh falling from his lips, “Wow, really fucked up here didn’t we?” You couldn’t help but smile, “Well, Miss Hughes,” Matt said as he pulled up in front of the high rise apartment building, “Is it crossing enemy lines if I ask for your number?” 

You bit your bottom lip, trying to hide the blush arising on your cheeks, “It is. . . but I’ve never been one to swear allegiance to just one place.” 

That night was six months ago, but for you it felt like it was just yesterday. There was a certain thrill about sneaking around with Matt, meeting when your brothers were gone or his roommates were out. You hated the rap he had developed in the AHL. He wasn’t the bad boy goonish hockey player with the fiery temper. He was a sweet, gentle giant, who loved to be the little spoon and have his hair played with. He sent you flowers and money to go get food cause he knew you forget to eat when you are in intense study sessions. Matt had become your everything in such a short amount of time, that you hated keeping him and your relationship from your family. 

It wasn’t that you wanted to keep your relationship a secret on purpose, but you both decided it was going to be the best for both sides. Matt was starting his second season with Hartford and then moving up to play for the Rangers in the Stadium Series. For you, Luke was starting his rookie season, and you were doing everything you can to remain lowkey and out of trouble for his sake. Mentioning that you not only had a boyfriend, but that said boyfriend was Matt Rempe. . . the whole house would be flipped on its side. 

“I have something to tell you,” Matt muttered, grabbing your hand and playing with your fingers. You loved the way that one of Matt’s hands could encase both of yours. You looked up into his soft brown eyes, that you swear resembled those of a baby cow, “The Rangers called. . . they want me to play in the Stadium Series.” 

You gasped in shock, climbing on top of Matt’s lap and grabbing his face in your hands, “They want you to play!? Matt! This is amazing!” 

A smile crawled across his lips, “Thank you,” You watched as a shadow of doubt and unease filled his eyes, “I want you there.” 

“I’ll be there,” You leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips, “I’ll be the loudest one there.” 

“Oh you better,” Matt said, one of his hands gliding up to rest on your ass, the other one tangling in your hair, “You know I love you, right.” 

“I love you too,” You smiled. Those three words would never fail to put a smile on your face. 

“Good,” Matt smirked, “Cause right now, I need you to be very, very quiet.” 

— — — 

You didn’t really think it through when you told Matt that you would be there for the Stadium Series game. Not only did you have to sneak past your brothers to take the train to MetLife, you had to also sneak past your parents. Being the youngest of three boys, your parents had perfected the craft of knowing when one of their kids was hiding something. 

“You sure you don’t want to come with us?” Luke asked, standing in the doorway of your room. 

“Positive,” You did your best trying to pretend you were sick, “My body just aches and my head hurts. I think I’m getting sick.” You hated lying to your brother. You hated lying to any of your brothers, but especially Luke. 

Luke frowned, “I hate that you’re missing this dinner.” Nico had decided to host a dinner for all the parents, friends and family that came into town to watch them play in yesterday’s stadium game. You also hated that you were missing spending time with your family, but it's Matt’s first game. You weren’t going to miss that for the world. 

“Can you bring me back some fries?” You asked meekly. 

“Of course, ducky,” Luke nodded, using the childhood nickname he gave you, “Text me if you need anything.” 

You waited until the front door closed, before climbing out of bed and getting dressed. You threw on a pair of black jeans and a white Rangers sweatshirt. You finished the outfit with a hat and your coat, hoping to conceal your identity amongst the crowd. The train ride to MetLife was short, and you followed the crowd into the stadium. Matt had done good with getting you a ticket, sitting you a few rows behind the Rangers bench. You had gotten there in time to see them warming up, Matt’s large frame skating around the ice with ease. 

It was as if he could sense that you were there, his brown eyes searching the stands until he found you. He sent you a small wave, which made your heart flutter as you returned the gesture. He looked extremely good in his white Rangers jersey and the eye black on his cheeks. You knew how important this game was to him, not only was it his first game, but it also fell on the anniversary of his dad’s death. You knew that all he wanted in the world was for his dad to see him play the sport they both loved. 

Within minutes of the puck dropping, the Rangers took control. You felt the familiar anxiety that you would get when watching your brothers take the ice, when Matt got off the bench. You clenched your fists tightly as the Rangers moved down the ice, skating flawlessly and making a goal. You stood up and cheered with the crowd as the goal horn went off, high fiving strangers and screaming in joy.

However the giddy feeling quickly went away, as you looked back towards the center, and saw your boyfriend in a fist fight. You knew he was a fighter at Hartford, and it wasn’t your favorite thing about his hockey game. He was a gifted player, with the height and reach other players would die for. You hated that the Wolfpack had set him up to be a goon within his first season there. 

You watched with bated breath as the refs let him and the Islanders player battle it out. Punches delivered from both players, until they finally came to a draw. You shook your head as Matt raised his arms, trying to get the crowd fired up as he skated towards the penalty box. His first NHL game and his first five minute penalty for fighting. 

As Matt sat down, taking the bag of ice from his trainer, he turned to scan the crowd, looking for you. He easily spotted you, standing out amongst the crowd as you gave him a look. 

“You okay?” You mouthed and Matt nodded, holding up his bruised hand. You playfully rolled your eyes, “Pay attention,” and pointed back to the game. Matt smirked, giving you a mock salute before turning back towards his team on the ice. 

When the game ended, in a Rangers victory, you left quickly. You wanted to stay and see Matt and hug him, but you knew that you would be cutting it close to when your brothers and parents would be back. You settled for sending him a text, and telling him you would come over as soon as you could to help celebrate with him. 

The apartment was dark when you arrived back, your siblings still out at the dinner with the team. You let out a sigh of relief, dashing back to your room and changing back into your pajamas. By the time you had settled down and turned on some cheesy romcom, the front door opened and the familiar sounds of your brothers and parents filtered into the apartment. 

“Ducky!” Luke shouted. 

“She’s probably sleeping, asshole,” Jack scolded him. 

“Don’t call your brother an asshole,” Your mom chided. 

“Ducky!” Luke called again, “I got you fries!” 

You giggled, pushing the covers back and going to greet your family. Their smiles were big and comforting as you sat down at the island, opening the to-go container of fries. Jack filled you in on everything you missed at dinner, your mother sitting behind you and playing with the ends of your hair like she used to do when you were younger. It felt like old times, the only person missing was Quinn. You knew he was doing great things out in Vancouver, but you missed having him around. The facetime calls weren’t enough. 

“So what did you do tonight, duck?” Your dad asked. 

“Oh uh,” You cleared your throat, “Just watched some movies and slept.” 

“You missed an exciting hockey game,” He said, “That Rempe kid is going to be a menace.” 

“Yeah,” You tried to hide the blush arising on your cheeks, “I’m gonna go back and lay down, still not feeling the best.” 

“Okay, sweetheart,” Your mom squeezed your shoulder, “We’ll see you in the morning.” 

You nodded your head, “Yeah, maybe we can go to that bakery on the corner-” 

“What the fuck were you doing at MetLife?” Luke’s cut you off. You looked at him, your heart thundering in your chest. 

“I-I wasn’t at M-MetLife,” You cursed your nervous stutter. 

“Bullshit,” Luke cursed, putting his phone on the counter, and clear as day there was a picture of you, in your white Rangers sweatshirt, sitting behind the bench, “I thought you were sick.” 

Tears began to cloud your eyes as you looked at your parents and then your brothers, “I’m sorry.” 

“Why did you lie, Y/N?” Your mom asked. And suddenly you felt like you were a child all over again, being scolded by your parents. You hated getting in trouble, you hated looking at your parents and seeing disappointment in their eyes. The only time you ever really cried was when you were in trouble. 

“I. . .” You huffed, “I went to watch Matt play in his first NHL game.” 

“Matt?” Luke asked, “. . . Matt fucking Rempe?” You nodded your head. You felt your mom shift behind you, her stance going into protective mode, “Why the fuck would you go watch Matt fucking Rempe play-” 

“Language, Luke,” Your mom spoke. 

“Because we are dating.” 

Silence spread across the kitchen for a moment, before laughter sounded out. A cruel sounding laughter as you looked at Luke. It was the fake sounding, teasing laughter that made you feel like a child. 

“No you’re not,” Luke shook his head, “There’s no way.” 

“Why?” You asked softly, “We’ve been together for six months.” 

“No,” Luke chuckled again, “You aren’t dating him. You are not dating a hockey player, let alone one that has more penalty minutes than time on the ice. You aren’t dating him, you might be fucking him-” 

“Luke!” 

“But you aren’t dating him.” 

You shook your head, tears falling down your cheeks, “He loves me.” 

“Yeah and when did he say that? Before or after you fucked-” 

“Enough!” Your mom stood up, her hands on the counter, “Y/N, you shouldn’t have lied to us about going to the game. If you wanted to go to support Matt, that’s all you needed to say,” You nodded, looking down at the counter, “Luke, you do not get to say those things about your sister and her relationship. You do not get to say those things about any woman for that matter. Now, apologize.” 

You looked up at your brother, expecting to see remorse in his eyes, but all you saw was anger. Luke looked at you, before grabbing his phone and going to his room. You closed your eyes, feeling regret and guilt rising in your body. You mom put her hand on your shoulder, as a small sob left your lips. 

— — — 

It had been two weeks since your fight with Luke. Your parents had flown back to Michigan, leaving Jack to play the mediator between the two of you. Your mom had not so secretly texted Quinn to tell him what happened. He had called you the night after they left, which led to another tearful confession about your relationship with Matt. Quinn, being the big brother that he is, said he was upset that you felt like you couldn’t tell him about your relationship, but was nonetheless happy for you as long as you were happy. 

But you weren’t sure if you were happy. Luke had refused to talk to you, or even be near you. If you entered the same room he was in, he would leave. He wouldn’t fix you a plate of food like he usually did, or tell you when he was leaving for the arena for a home game. He wouldn’t even respond in the groupchat when you would ask him a question directly. 

But your strained relationship with Luke wasn’t the only relationship on the rocks. You hadn’t talked to Matt since the night of the stadium series. He had sent you countless text messages and left voicemails. He even went as far as sending flowers daily to the apartment, which Luke would toss out if you weren’t quick enough to grab them.

You were laying in your bed, half watching an episode of Bridgerton, like you had been for the past two weeks. Normally, you would be out in the living room with your brothers, but your bedroom felt like the only safe space in the entire apartment. You could hear the occasional shout or jest from your brothers as they were playing some video game on their night off. Beside you, on your bedside table, your phone buzzed for probably the tenth time this evening, another missed call from the same person. 

You weren’t sure what you were doing. You knew it was hurtful to string Matt along like this, but you also didn’t have the heart to break up with him. These past two weeks had felt like your heart had been ripped out of your chest, and to even think about living a life without him in it hurt too much. 

You let out a slow breath as you closed your eyes, listening as the buzzing of your phone finally stopped. However, the loud sound of knocking pulled you from your moment of peace. 

“Did you order something?” Jack’s muffled voice sounded out. 

“No,” Luke said back. There was shuffling as the front door opened and the knocking ceased, “Oh you’re fucking kidding me. Why the hell are you here?” 

“Where’s Y/N?” Your heart sped up at the sound of the all too familiar voice. You quickly jumped up from your bed, opening your door and running to the living room. There in all his tall glory, stood the man you loved, “Y/N.” 

It felt like the air had been drawn back into your lungs as you looked at him, “Matt.” 

“I uh. . .I just needed to see that you were okay. You haven’t been answering my calls or my texts,” Matt scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, looking at you and then your two brothers, “I’m gonna go now.” 

“Wait,” You said, taking a step forward, “Can I talk to you?” Matt nodded his head, looking like a lost puppy dog. You looked at your two brothers, “Can I talk to him alone?” 

“Yeah, c’mon Moose, we got game film to look at,” Jack said. Luke looked Matt up and down once, before letting him into the apartment and following his older brother down the hall towards the office room. 

You silently walked over to the couch, Matt following behind you. The two of you sat there in silence for a moment, before you broke the ice. 

“Do you love me?” 

Matt’s head snapped towards you, as your eyes looked straight ahead at the tv, “What?” 

“Do you love me?” You looked over at him, “Do you mean it when you say-” 

“Yes,” Matt answered quickly, “Yes, I do love you. I mean it every single time I say it. Why are you asking me this?” 

You shook your head, “Luke said something and I-” 

“He’s lying to you,” Matt moved from the couch to kneel down in front of you. He took your hands in his, “I love you, Y/N Hughes. I know we’ve only been together for six months but it’s been the happiest six months of my life. Not even hockey fills me with the joy as being with you does. So yes, I love you. I love you so fucking much.” 

You sniffled, tears falling from your eyes. Matt quickly wiped his thumb over your cheekbone, “I’m sorry. I. . . It all fell apart so quickly. Luke found out I lied and went to the game, and then he got so mad. I didn’t want to have to choose between-” 

“No, you shouldn’t have to choose,” Matt said, tears brimming his own eyes. He was silent for a moment, warring thoughts in his head as he thought of what to say, “It would absolutely break me to pieces, but I won’t be the reason why you and your siblings don’t talk anymore. I. . . I can’t do that to you.” 

“Are you breaking up with me?” You gasped. 

“I don’t want you and Luke to not talk to each other because of me.” 

“No,” You shook your head, “It will be okay, I promise. He’ll get over it.” 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Matt said, tears flowing freely down his cheeks, “I know your family means everything to you, and I can’t stand to be the one who ruins that. I’m so, so sorry,” Matt leaned forward, placing a kiss on your forehead, “I’ll always love you. No matter what. You are it for me.” You closed your eyes, savoring the feeling of his warmth, “Goodbye Y/N.” 

You sat there, unmoving as Matt stood up and walked towards the door. Your eyes fluttered open at the sounds of your brothers' footsteps, moving towards you.

“Are you happy?” You sneered at Luke, “He broke up with me.” 

“Ducky-” Luke sighed. 

“No,” You stood up shaking your head, “The love of my life just walked out the door because he knows that I care too much about you and your opinion. So Luke, are you happy?”

Farmer's Market - Quinn Hughes

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

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

word count: ~1.4k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The guy looks down at it and smiles.

“That’s peridot.”

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

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

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

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

“Thanks so much, I’ll let you know.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know me so well, darling.”

taglist: @petite-potato4

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"]

[ NUZZLE ] sender presses their face into receiver’s neck

quinn hughes bringing his girlfriend home to meet his family and he has never brought home a girl before so his family knows she must be very very special and he is always talking about her! it’s very sweet and soft and she just fits in the family so well and makes quinn so happy

A Keeper - Q. Hughes

hockey masterlist || g's graduation celly

synopsis: Quinn finds himself at the lake in the off season, and this time, he isn't flying solo

word count: 3.6k

warnings: none! losing game seven

For as long as Quinn could remember, his whole life revolved around hockey. He’d wake up, eat a quick breakfast, go to hockey practice, shower, eat lunch, sit and watch film, come home and take a nap, then go back for another practice or a game. Everything he has ever known has been hockey. Hockey took up every moment of his life, every single thought. 

But since that buzzer went off signaling the end of the final period of game seven, Quinn couldn’t think of hockey anymore. 

He wasn’t the type of guy to cry, well, not in public at least. But standing on the ice at that moment, staring up at the scoreboard and seeing the final score, he felt that all too familiar burn behind his eyes and in his nose. He glanced around at his teammates, all of them wearing the same shocked and sad expression on their faces. He didn’t dare look over at Arty, knowing that the young goalie was going to be feeling this loss harder than anyone on the team, even though they all played in the game.

You stood off to the side as Quinn answered a couple of questions for the press. Your heart was also feeling heavy and you had that same all too familiar feeling of unshed tears in your eyes. You were so incredibly proud of your boyfriend and his team. The way they were able to turn everything around from the previous season and give Vancouver a play-off berth in over a decade was something to celebrate about. And, even with that knowledge, all you wanted to do was pull Quinn away from the press and give him a hug and a thousand kisses. You could tell just by looking at him he was physically and mentally exhausted. But Quinn wasn’t going to be rude and brush off the media, he was the captain. He would gladly stand and answer the dumb “how are you feeling after the loss?” question so his guys can go home and rest.

When Quinn was done, he silently walked over to you, grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers together. He silently led you towards the parking garage, wanting nothing more than to speed out of Rogers Arena and back home to your shared apartment. It was as if the fans knew that he wasn’t in the mood to stop and sign autographs like he usually did, instead they all seemed to give him space as he left the rink. 

The two of you seemed to move in silence as you walked into your apartment. You took Quinn’s bag from his hand, as he walked towards the bedroom. You were putting his clothes into the washer when you heard the shower turn on. You laid out a pair of sweatpants for him to put on when he was done, and went to start making him some tea. By the time he was done showering, you were sitting up against the headboard, scrolling briefly through social media, with a mug of camomile tea in your other hand. He quietly crawled into bed, and you shifted so he could lay down next to you. You held your arms open as he laid his head down on your chest. 

“I’m proud of you,” You said, running your hands through his hair. 

“Even though I lost,” He muttered. 

“You might’ve lost this one,” You pressed a kiss to his forehead, “But you’ve won so much more.” 

He looked up at you, tired green eyes locking on yours, “I love you.” 

“I love you too, Q.”

— — — 

You were a ball of nerves. 

You had never been the type to get nervous. Usually, you were so sure and confident in yourself, but there was something about flying across the continent to meet your boyfriend's family that had your stomach in knots. Quinn had assured you that there was nothing to worry about, that they already loved you. 

Ever since you landed back in Michigan, it was like the weight of the world had been lifted off of Quinn’s shoulders. You guys stuck around for a couple of days after the loss, Quinn having to do exit interviews and pack up his things. Quinn only packed one bag to go back to the lake (oh, and his precious golf clubs), while you seemed to pack your whole closet. Quinn couldn’t help but laugh at you as you were quickly shifting clothes from your suitcase to his in the middle of the airport because your bag was over the weight limit. 

“I should’ve told you that we could go shopping when we get here,” He said, one hand on the wheel and the other one intertwined with yours, “Get you a whole new closet to keep here for when we come back next summer.” 

“Okay mister ‘i make eight point six million a year’,” You playfully rolled your eyes, “And who says I’ll be invited back next year?” Quinn gave you a look, “What?!”

“You’ll be invited back next year,” He chuckled, “There’s only ever been one person I didn’t want to invite back.” 

“Hey, that’s not nice. Trevor is a nice kid,” Quinn shook his head with a laugh, “But I’m serious. What if your family doesn’t like me and doesn’t want me-” 

“They are going to love you, Y/N,” Quinn pulled your hand to his lips, placing a kiss on the back of it, “They have been begging me to fly back so that they can meet you. My mom has been sending me texts and asking me about your favorite foods and hobbies and card games.” 

You couldn’t help but blush and look down at your lap. You haven’t met Quinn’s family before, but from what he described, you can tell that they are very close. Quinn talks to his middle brother, Jack almost every day on the phone, and either texts Luke or calls him a couple times a week. He values his time with his family almost as much as he values his time on the ice with his teammates. 

“And here we are,” Quinn announced as he pulled into the driveway of a beautiful two-story lake house. Excitement and anxiety filled your body, making your stomach turn. Your hands felt sweaty as Quinn jumped out of the driver’s seat and the front door opened at the same time. A boy with longish brown hair and a similar face to Quinn came rushing out of the house, barefoot and shirtless. 

You watched as the two men embraced each other in a hug, another boy walking out of the house. He was slightly taller with curly hair, but had those same dark eyebags as Quinn. You slipped out of the car, walking up to the three boys who were engaged in a conversation. It was like Quinn had a sixth sense for you being near him, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you into his side, easing some of your nerves. 

“And who might this be?” The long haired boy asked, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“This would be my girl,” Quinn looked at you, “Y/N,” Heat arose in your cheeks as he looked at you like you hung the stars and the moon. 

“Well I’m Jack,” The long haired boy said, holding his hand out to you. You chuckled nervously, shaking his hand, “And it's a pleasure to meet the girl that has my older brother drooling.” 

“I am not drooling,” Quinn shot back. 

“Basically are, Q,” The taller boy said, “I’m Luke.” 

You shook his hand too, “It’s nice to meet you guys, finally. Quinn has told me so much about you. It’s good to see your healing well, Jack.” 

“Thanks,” Jack nodded, “Been a long season but I’m glad I got this taken care of,” He massaged his shoulder, and you could see a slightly still puffy, pink scar, “But don’t think I can’t beat your ass at pool, Q.” 

“I’d like to see you try, Rowdy.” 

“Boys!” A woman called from the doorway. You looked around Luke to see a beautiful blonde woman standing there, her hands on her hips, “Let your brother and his girlfriend get settled before you start your pool tournament!” 

“Yes mom,” Both Jack and Luke said. Quinn chuckled as he pulled you towards the front door, letting Jack and Luke bicker about who was going to carry your bags in. 

You squeezed Quinn’s hand as you walked up to the matriarch of the Hughes family. You had read up on Ellen Hughes when you had met Quinn. She was an incredible woman, being a former hockey star herself and raising three incredible players. You felt another wave of anxiety rush over you as she looked you over, her eyes similar to Quinn taking you in. It felt like you were standing in front of a judge; a judge who was going to decide if you are worthy enough for her eldest son. 

“Hey mom,” Quinn greeted her, leaving your side to give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek, “Good to see ya.” 

“You too, baby,” Ellen said, and held her son at an arm’s length. She tsked, grabbing his chin and running a finger over the scar on his cheek, “That should’ve been a damn high stick.” 

Quinn chuckled, “Not much we can do about it now. Besides, it adds to my cool factor.” 

“Mhm,” Ellen nodded, and playfully rolled her eyes, looking back towards you. 

You mouth felt dry and you stepped forward, holding your hand out to Ellen, “I’m Y/N, it’s nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Hughes.” 

It was silent for a moment, probably not as long as you felt like it was, but it was long enough, before Ellen pulled you in for a hug. 

“Handshakes are for business partners and old men,” Ellen told you as she gave you a squeeze. And just like that, all the tension you felt had melted away. Ellen pulled back and held you at arms length, the same way she did with Quinn, “My son seemed to be hiding you away,” She looked at Quinn, “Why were you hiding her away? You talk about her all the time.” 

Quinn chuckled, grabbing you gently out of his mother’s hold, “Because I wanted to keep her for myself for just a bit longer. I know once I bring her home, I’ll be fighting for her attention.” 

“Well, start fighting now,” Ellen said and you chuckled, “C’mon, I just finished making some sangria. The boys can take your stuff to your room.” 

For several hours, you sat in the kitchen with Ellen, getting to know her. It started off with just small talk; asking where you are from, what are your parents' names, what do they do, what do you do for work, how did you meet Quinn. Then the conversation transitioned into how to make the perfect cheesecake, something Ellen was famous for in their neighborhood back in Michigan. Before you knew it, you and Ellen were making dinner side by side, while the boys sat out on the back patio with their dad, Jim, watching the grill. 

“The boys used to volun-tell me to make raspberry cheesecake for every single end of season potluck,” Ellen shook her head with a laugh, “Oh I wanted to strangle them sometimes, cause of course, they never told more than a day or two in advance.” 

“Oh of course not,” You giggled, “Quinn signed me up to bake cookies for one of the Canucks charity events. Told me at eight o'clock the night before that he needed me to make three dozen chocolate chip cookies.” 

“Boys,” Ellen playfully rolled her eyes. 

“What about boys?” Quinn asked as he walked into the kitchen. 

“Oh nothing,” Ellen said, wiping her hands on the towel thrown over her shoulder, “Y/N makes a better sous chef than you.” 

“Taking my job?” Quinn looked at you. You nodded your head, “Traitor. This is my off-season gig,” He reached over to grab a cube of watermelon, but you swatted his hand back, “Hey!” 

“This is for dinner,” You scolded him. Quinn walked around to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, “Quinn, your begging isn’t going to make me cave.” 

“Please,” Quinn whined, “I lost game seven.” 

“Two weeks ago!” 

“I’m still wounded!” 

“Fine,” You muttered, grabbing a cube of watermelon and turning in his arms to face him, “Because you lost game seven. . . two weeks ago,” You fed it to him and he smiled. 

“Thanks baby,” He kissed your cheek before heading back out to the grill. 

You shook your head, going back to placing balls of cookie dough on the baking sheet. It was quiet and you could feel Ellen’s stare on you as you worked, causing you to overthink every little movement you made. You paused, looking at the cookies before looking up at Ellen. 

“Did I mess something up?” You asked, fear rising in your body. 

“Hm? Oh, no,” Ellen shook her head, “It’s just. . . he never used to joke about the games he lost. In fact, it was almost like a taboo subject to bring up any losses around him. It’s. . . refreshing to see him like that.” 

You blushed and nodded, going back to work, a small smile on your face. 

Dinner went off without a hitch. Jim had grilled enough hamburgers, chicken and steak to feed a whole hockey team instead of just the six of you. You fell into comfortable silence as you watched the Hughes family interact with each other. It was like no time had passed by them at all, as if they weren’t spread across North America and in different time zones. You felt comfortable and at ease with them. And Quinn could sense that as he looked at you. 

“Feeling okay?” He asked, nodding towards your barely touched plate. 

“Yeah, I feel fine,” You smiled, picking up your fork, “Just. . . taking it all in,” You sighed. Quinn smiled and placed his hand on your thigh. 

Ellen and Jim shared a knowing look across the table, watching you and their son interact. They were both taken aback when Quinn first mentioned a girl in his life. Quinn was always so focused on hockey that personal relationships (unless they were centered around hockey) came second to him. It wasn’t that Ellen feared that her son was going to be alone forever, she just knew the kind of man he was. She knew that hockey wasn’t going to be around forever, that there would come a time where Quinn would retire from the game, and she wanted him to have someone who would be there for when that time came. She wanted him to have someone for when he came home from those long roadies or hard fought games. She wanted him to have the kind of partner and relationship that she has with Jim. 

When dinner was over, you and Quinn packed up the boat, putting a small cooler of seltzers and water, a couple of blankets and towels. Quinn gave you one of his sweatshirts to wear, knowing that it would get cold once the sun went all the way down. You sat next to Ellen as the boys and Jim, pushed away from the dock, ready to set out on a slow sunset cruise around the lake. Quinn took up the captain spot, while Jack and Jim navigated, Luke opted to sit next to you and his mom. 

“So, who is the best driver?” You asked, looking at the three Hughes boys. 

“Oh for sure me,” Jack scoffed. 

“You only have one functioning arm,” Luke pointed. 

“It wasn’t chopped off,” Jack rolled his eyes, “I can still use my hands.” 

“Whatever you say, Bucky Barnes.” 

You giggled and looked at Ellen, “They always like this?” 

“Got worse with age,” Ellen sighed, “I was a little worried when they all went into the NHL. I have known some families that the competition gets the better of them, and they don’t talk anymore. But not these three. I think if anything, they talk more now than they ever had.” 

You smiled, “Quinn talks about them all the time. He has me record their games so he can watch them back after his.” 

Ellen’s heart swelled at your words, “He told them about you first,” You blushed, “Jack can’t keep a secret to save his life, and he texted me asking if I knew that Quinn had a girlfriend and I said no, and then Jack launched into this whole story that Quinn told them about you,” Ellen chuckled, “When Quinn told us about you, I told him I already knew.” 

“What did he say then?” You asked. 

“He said ‘of course Jack told you’,” You laughed and Ellen smiled, “It meant a lot to Jack that you sent him flowers after his surgery, and Luke when you sent some after his Calder nomination. They won’t admit that, but I know it.” 

“They mean a lot to him,” You gestured towards your boyfriend and his brothers who were sitting at the front of the boat, “So they mean a lot to me too.” 

Quinn glanced at you from where he sat, a smile on his face as you talked to his parents. His parents were two of the most important people in his life. He valued their opinion on almost everything, so it meant something to see you so easily getting along with them. His heart felt warm when he heard your laughter at a, no doubt, embarrassing story his dad was telling. 

“So when are you going to propose?” Jack said, pulling Quinn out of his trance. 

“What?” 

“You got a ring yet? I bet you got a ring already.” 

“Huh?” 

“You’re going to marry her!” Jack exclaimed, “And don’t even lie, I can see it. I have a sixth sense for these things.” 

“Yeah, and I talk to ghosts,” Quinn rolled his eyes. But his younger brother was right. Even though you and him had only been dating for six months, Quinn had already imagined proposing to you, getting married, buying a house, and hopefully, having a family. Quinn had never felt this way about someone before, and he would be lying if he wasn’t a bit scared of his feelings, but one look at you and all those fears melted away. 

“Whatever man,” Jack waved him off, “As long as I get to be the best man, I won’t complain.” 

“And who says you will be the best man?” Luke asked, “If anything, I think it would be me. I never broke his xbox controller.” 

“Luke, you’re literally like seven,” Jack scoffed, “It won’t be you.” 

“I’m twenty.” 

The sun was completely down by the time you guys had made it back to the dock. Quinn expertly parked the boat in the hoist, and helped you out, before raising it back up. Jack and Luke had run back to the house, shouting something about getting a fire started, Ellen and Jim walking hand in hand behind them. You stood on the dock, taking in the dark lake in the final strands of light from the sky. 

“No wonder you guys run away to this place at the end of the season,” You said, “It’s so peaceful here. I love it and I’ve only been here a couple of hours.” 

Quinn chuckled, “It feels like this is the one place on earth where I can be just Quinn Hughes. Not the hockey player or the captain of the Canucks. Just Quinn.” 

You turned around, draping your arms around his neck, “Well I like it, Just Quinn,” He smiled at you, his hands resting on your hips, “Thank you for bringing me here. For letting me into your life.” 

“Of course,” Quinn’s voice was full of sincerity as his thumbs brushed over your hip bones, “Thank you for being in my life. You’ve made me a better person.” You tilted your head up slightly, placing a kiss on his lips. One of his hands cupped your cheek, while the other one tangled in your hair, deepening the kiss. When you pulled apart for air, you rested your forehead against his, wanting to just stand in his embrace for a moment longer. 

“Hey lovebirds!” You broke apart, like two teenagers being caught by your parents. But instead of your parents, it was Jack, “Quit sucking face! We’re making smores!” 

“He is such a child,” Quinn huffed. You laughed, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the house. 

“Yes but you love him.” 

“Unfortunately, I do.” 

You sat on Quinn’s lap, your legs dangling off the side of the chair, by the fire, as Jack and Luke argued about how toasted a marshmallow should be for the perfect smore. Ellen and Jim sat across the firepit from you and Quinn, enjoying having their kids back home. Your eyes were growing heavier by the minute, the heat from the fire, being in Quinn’s embrace and the exhaustion from traveling finally catching up to you. Quinn could feel your body growing heavier and heavier with sleep, his hand running up and down your back, a soothing motion that he knew would lull you to sleep. 

“Tired?” He asked, looking at you. 

“A bit,” You yawned, “But I don’t want to go to bed yet, having too much fun.” 

“Just close your eyes,” Quinn whispered. You nodded, nuzzling your face into his neck. He leaned his cheek on top of your head. It wasn’t very long after that, that Quinn could feel your breathing start to slow, until you were sleeping in his arms. He looked down at you, a soft smile on his face, as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“She’s a keeper Quinn,” Jim said, raising his can of beer towards his son, “She’s gotta be a special one to deal with you.” 

“Yeah,” Quinn said, his eyes still on your sleeping frame, “I’m not letting her go anytime soon.”

note: I am thinking of creating a tag list. Is that something y'all would want? also, requests are open!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With a storm soon to come.

Alone.

With a storm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"End of discussion."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

˚⋆𓇼˚⊹ 𖦹 ⁺｡°

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

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

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

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

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

"Can I come in?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm sorry."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⊹ 𖦹 ⁺｡° Twelve hours earlier ⊹ 𖦹 ⁺｡°

"So what is it with her?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thank you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

"Luke?"

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

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

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

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

"Can we just... start over?"

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

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

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

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

The bastard was tickling you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Talked to someone. Shared a bed with her.

Like he was doing with you right now.

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

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

“No," came his simple response at last.

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

“Too many people."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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