New Oilers Reaction Image Just Dropped

No Quinny or bedsy goal

BUT Canucks win!!!

And Quinny assist

I’m trying to manifest a Canucks win rn!

I want a Quinny goal and bedsy because he’s home for the first time but overall Canuck win

CONNOR BROWN!!!

I LOVE YOU

I miss Vinny😭

He would have boxed Reeves for that hit on nursey

blurb: picking luke up after a roadie - lh43xreader

₊˚ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

you're a bit early, but you didn't want to accidentally miss the bus' arrival time and leave him standing in the parking lot.

after twenty minutes of sitting in luke's car, playing with his ambience lights (which he'll no doubt make you switch back) and jamming out to old one direction, the team bus finally comes into view.

a few minutes after it successfully parks behind the prudential center, luke comes trudging out, holtz following behind. together, they stand and wait for the driver to unload their small suitcases, no doubt joking around with each other. still, you can't help but take note of the way Luke slouches, no doubt tired from the long travel and rough few games on the west coast.

however, as he turns in your direction and spots his own car, the tiredness seems to momentarily leave him. only shooting a rushed goodbye over his shoulder to the guys, he practically sprints in your direction.

it's pouring rain, but getting soaked is the last thing on your mind as you jump out of the car and run to meet him halfway, his bright smile almost like a beacon of light in the dark night.

you collide in a tight hug, luke's arms smoothly closing around your waist and lifting you a few inches, your own moving around his neck. without missing a beat, he drops your most favourite i-missed-you-kiss onto your awaiting lips, then buries his face in the crook of your neck.

"welcome back," you mumble as he begins to walk back towards his car, never letting your feet touch the floor, never letting go of you or even loosening his grip even the tiniest bit.

"i missed you so much. never leaving for a week again," he says, voice muffled by your collarbone and almost unintelligible, had you not learned to decode his mumbles long ago. you don't bother correcting him and telling him that he'll most likely will have to go on a week-long roadie again, you both know he will. in the moment, you're more inclined to agree with his promise. because you've missed him just as much, missed his smell and his warm embrace and his kisses and his curls and his crooked smile and the way he wakes you up with tiny little kisses to your face.

luke deposits you by the drivers side, both of you having long ago agreed that he doesn't get to drive when he comes back as tired as he is tonight.

he waits for you to get in, quickly leans in and presses another kiss to your lips, before closing the door and hurrying over to the passenger side door. just as he reaches it, you move over to unlock it for him and he shoots you a grateful smile as he slides in. 

for a minute, neither of you say anything, instead opting to take each other in, stupid, lovestruck smiles on both of your faces. luke’s hair is dripping wet and little droplets keeps rolling over his face, making his nose scrunch up. finally, he can’t take the distance anymore and leans over the the centre console, his hands quickly finding the sides of your head. 

luke takes his time, staring into your eyes so intensely it brings heat to your cheeks and almost makes you want to bow your head and flicker your eyes anywhere else. but just as you’re about to, he leans in and captures your lips with his own, pouring all of his love and longing for you into the kiss. 

it’s not until timo drives past your car and honks that you break apart, your thoughts all jumped and lips parting as you try to catch your breath.

luke doesn’t seem to be affected (you know he is, he’s just better at hiding it), a cocky grin resting on his handsome face as he leans back in his seat. 

his large palm find your right thigh as you start the car and pull out onto the street, not bothering to contort to the passenger princess rule he’s made himself. 

you’re also pretty sure he might just die if he doesn’t keep a permanent hand on you when he’s been away for long.

for a while, you sit in comfortable silence, only the soft hum of the previous playlist you put on earlier filling the car with noise. that is, at least, until luke decides to break the peace.

“pink? really?” he’s referring to your change of the ambience lights, a slight distaste for the colour bleeding into his words.

“thought it would make it a bit more cute,” you shrug, twitching and letting out a small yelp when he pinches your thigh in return.

“mmm, just change it back to the blue as before when we park.”

“we’ll see, maybe a little change is good for you.”

“’s long as it’s just the car, baby,” he relents, taking your hand in his and pressing a kiss to your palm. you smile, curling your fingers around his, and bring your hands back to your lap.

This is literally so adorable

New Job - Jeremy Swayman

a/n: hello! this is my first time writing for hockey, so please be aware :) i am a baseball girlie through and through but thanks to tiktok i now have a new obsession and new crushes, which means new motivation to write :D

summary: refer to this request

word count: ~2.6k

A new city, a new team, and a new opportunity. It was all so exciting, but that also came with stepping out of your comfort zone.

With your new position as a photographer for the Boston Bruins, you were being introduced to everyone on the team, every manager, every coach, a ton of people. However, you were a very shy person, preferring to keep to yourself most of the time; it’s why photography was perfect for you.

But it was all part of the job, to get to know the people you are photographing and allow them to trust you and feel comfortable around you, enough for them to smile for the camera and not ignore you. And you would be absolutely crazy if you turned this offer down, sports photography is your dream, and to be able to live it every day was wonderful.

This whole process was a regular occurrence for you, as you had bounced around a few teams, so it was nothing out of the ordinary, but things felt different this time around. When it was time to finally meet the team before practice one day, you sat near the entrance where players come in, with the other photographer who was “training” you, in a sense, and showing you around the arena and such.

Everyone was very nice and friendly, asking where you came from, how long you’ve been doing this, getting to know you a little bit better, it was great. But when Jeremy Swayman walked in, everything lit up. He was on his own, a black backpack on his back, a beanie covering his hair, but he had a huge smile on his face.

“Hello, hello!!” He begins to walk you and Cindy, the other photographer by your side. “You must be new.” He stops in front of you and reaches his hand out.

“I’m (Y/N), I’m the new additional photographer for the team,” you introduce yourself, shaking his hand. Both of you pause as your hands meet, taking notice of how warm and soft his skin is, gazing into his eyes as you do.

“I’m Jeremy, it’s nice to meet you. So you’ll be the one following us around with a phone and asking us questions as we walk into practice?” He teases, nudging your arm gently, feeling comfortable doing so.

“Uh, no, not exactly,” you chuckle, looking down at your camera. “I’ll be the one up in the rafters taking aeiral shots and be on the sidelines during games,.” His eyes widen in surprise as you describe part of your duties.

“Are you serious? That’s sick.” Since no one else was coming in right now, you took a moment to show him some of your popular photos with other teams, one of which being a shot from above after the Florida Panthers beat the Carolina Hurricanes, sending them to the Stanley Cup, confetti falling all around the rink, the team crowding together to celebrate.

“Wait, I saw this photo! The NHL posted it in like a photo dump they did of that week’s games. This is yours?”

“Yeah, all mine,” your face heats up a little at how excited he is. There was no denying it, Jeremy is a very handsome man, and you had to admit, when you got into photographing hockey, he was one of the first players that you had a small crush on.

“Well, you’re incredibly talented,” he compliments, sending you a wink while beginning to walk away. “See you around, (Y/N)!” He threw up a piece sign and was off to the locker room to get ready for practice.

“Jeremy’s the sunshine of the team, literally,” Cindy finally says, the last few players finally coming through the doors, both of you pausing to snap some candids.

“He is?”

“He always has a smile on his face and is almost always in a good mood. So if you need cheering up, he’s the one to go to.”

“Isn’t that unprofessional, though?”

“Not here. I’ve been with this team for years, they do things a little differently. They enjoy getting to know the media and those that work around them, becoming work friends and such. But if that’s uncomfortable for you, feel free to tell them, or me. I’ll put a stop to it.”

“No, no, it’s alright. It’s nice that they treat photographers and others not within the actual team like human beings,” a chuckle escapes you, deciding that keeping your mouth shut regarding how a team you previously worked for outside of the NHL was like.

Your first game went quite well, the Bruins ended up winning against the Colorado Avalanche, giving you the perfect opportunity to capture the iconic goalie hug between Jeremy and Linus. With your camera lined up, Jeremy comes into view and skates right to Linus, you snap photo after photo, not taking your finger off the shutter button.

After they skate off the ice, you smile to yourself, knowing you got some good ones. Finding Cindy in all the chaos of fans cheering and trying to leave, she guides you down the tunnel and back to the makeshift office that’s usually set up for the media.

She goes through all the steps of how to upload the photos for the editors, and even though all of it was pretty similar to other teams, it was nice having a refresher and getting to know their way of doing things. She describes the process of what is expected after games, setting everything up that you would need, and making sure you had everything and were ready to go for their next game in a couple days.

As time goes by, you start to get the hang of things with your new team. Everything was going smoother than you expected, you were quickly finding your place here, and it was all working out so well.

One night, after a rather tough loss to the Leafs, you sat in the media room, scrolling through the photos you took throughout the game, exhaustion setting in, the long day finally catching up with you. Suddenly, a soft knock sounds, your body turning around on instinct to find the source.

There stands Jeremy, a smile on his face, clean and dressed in his post-game clothes.

“How’d the photos come out?” 

He made a small habit of doing this. On his way out of the stadium after games, he would make a stop by your office, saying hi and asking if he could see some photos. You would always tell him that the raw photos aren’t going to be the best and there would be a ton to look through every time, but he didn’t care.

He claims to enjoy your company and the peace and quiet of the office after such intense games. But you were your normal self, not very talkative, doing your job as you would if he was not beside you, and oftentimes forgetting that he was even there.

“So, what’s your postgame routine? What do you like to do once you get home?” Jeremy asks as you pack your things up, carefully placing your camera in its protective bag. After shutting your laptop down, you slide it into the case, and then the case into your backpack.

“I sometimes get food on the way home, or I head straight home, shower, get ready for bed, and  then read or scroll on social media, depending on what I’m in the mood for,” you explain softly, gathering all of your things, wanting to head home.

“What kind of books do you like?” He was wanting to make conversation, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him you were far too burnt out from running around the arena, especially since you’ve been here since early in the morning.

“Mainly romance and fantasy,” you grin. Jeremy doesn’t seem deterred by your short response, but he can tell, just by your body language, that you’d like to get going.

“That’s a nice way to escape the world after days like this. Well, I’ll see you around, have a nice night,” he smiles and waves at you as he exits the room, leaving you on your own.

That’s how things continued for every game. You ended up telling Cindy one day, and she couldn’t help but laugh; since you were with the media team, you got to room together at hotels for away games. The team was in Seattle to play the Kraken, and since it was a late game, you didn’t need to be at the arena until closer to four.

That’s how the two of you ended up sharing experiences you’ve had with the team and specific players, and Cindy lands on none other than the brunette goalie.

“Sway has actually told me that he’s been sitting with you while you browse through the photos after games,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows in a teasing manner. Your face heats up at her statement, and you hide your face in your hands.

“He, uh, he does. I told him it’s nothing special, but he insists it’s a nice way to decompress.”

“He told me that you’re quiet,” she says. You freeze and stare at her. Immediately, her eyes widen and she feels embarrassed. “Oh! No, no, I didn’t mean to make it sound like he said it in a bad way. But he…okay, don’t tell him I told you this, but he thinks it’s sweet. I promise. And, it is pretty cute.”

“What is?” You wonder. Your heart was racing with all of this, you didn’t think Jeremy thought of you in that way, but here you were.

“You know, the sunshine, golden retriever boyfriend and the black cat girlfriend. You’re grumpy, he’s sunshine.”

“I’m not grumpy,” you defend, crossing your arms. “Just…quiet.”

“Exactly. Jer really enjoys being with you, from what he’s told me. And he said you even let him edit some photos?” You chuckle softly and look down at your hands that relaxed in your lap.

“I let him edit some of him and Linus for fun. I didn’t send them off to the actual editors or social media team, I promise, it was a little-”

“I think you should,” she cuts you off, her eyes lighting up. “That would be such a neat idea, if we let the players edit photos of themselves and send them to the admins for their socials!” She starts going on and on about the idea and how it would be such a fun concept, if the players even want to participate.

“We’ll have to ask either during arrivals or on the plane tomorrow if they’d be up for it.”

She continues on, but your mind was on Jeremy, he thought you were charming and sweet, and that’s all you cared about.

After the game ends in another loss, right on time, Jeremy steps into your little makeshift office, and you were more than prepared for him this time.

“Am I allowed to see these shots tonight? Or should I wait until they’re posted in an article?” He wonders. You chuckle quietly and shake your head. He had mentioned to you the last time that he reads articles here and there just for the off chance that your photos are included. And you couldn’t ignore the flutter in your heart when he told you this.

“I got a pretty good one of you making a save in the first period,” you say, turning your laptop towards him to show him. His left leg was stretched out just as the puck makes contact with the padding, blocking it and shoving it away.

“Shit, who knew I’d look so good making saves,” he jokes, running a hand over his slightly damp hair, having showered already.

You laugh with him and turn the laptop back, remembering what you and Cindy talked about earlier in the day.

“I think I already know your answer for this, but Cindy and I were talking and she thinks it would be fun to get you and the guys to maybe edit some photos, like you did, but they would actually be posted. With credits for the editing, of course,” you tease. Just like Cindy, his eyes light up in amazement.

“Hell yes!” He immediately responds, scooting closer to you to look at any more photos he could edit. “Can I do like five? Because one was not enough, I wanna do more.” You can’t help but smile at his eagerness, allowing him to scroll through some of the better photos you’ve taken the past few games.

“You can do as many as you’d like but I can’t promise they’d all get posted. If you want to ask the guys if they’d be interested, I’ll have one person come in here after every game and edit, and then we’ll have a collection in a few weeks to post.”

“Uh, I think it would be a good idea, but…” he starts, but pauses his train of thought, his hand coming up to tug at his lip as he silently decides if he should continue.

“But…what?” You push, hoping he would just speak his mind.

“I like this being our thing,” he murmurs, shy, almost. He doesn’t meet your eyes, and this is a different side of Jeremy you haven’t seen before.

“What?” You are very lost with what he’s trying to say, but you give him time to explain himself.

“I like having this time with you, after games. It’s become a routine for me, something I look forward to, and I really love being in your presence, especially after tough games that end in losses. It’s like you reading fantasy books, it takes you out of reality, and for a time, I can forget that I took part in a loss for my team and take my mind away from it.”

“By looking at photos of said game?” You counteract. But Jeremy sees your point. How can he be taken away from a game his team lost when he’s actively looking at photos of them losing from the entire night?

“By…being around you,” he whispers, looking up at you. Your cheeks felt like they were on fire at this point. Was he being serious? “Spending time with you, everything else disappears. And I know that sounds cheesy and we don’t fully know each other aside from talking about your work and such, but, if you are up for it, I’d like to take you out on a real date.”

Now you were beyond confused, but thoroughly surprised in a good way. And by your reaction, or lack thereof, he must have assumed you weren’t interested, because he immediately deflects.

“Or, if you prefer we keep things professional, that’s totally okay. I understand you work for the team and it would complicate things, but-”

“I’d love to go on a date with you, Sway,” you reply, a small smile stretching on your face. He slowly grins and leans closer to you.

“Really?” He asks in disbelief.

“Yeah. I think you’re a very wonderful guy and I’d love to get to know you outside of this…informal and professional setting, let’s put it that way,” you laugh, turning towards him to let him know you were serious.

“Good. Because I think you’re very cute and I need more than these after-game meetings,” he replies, a bright smile on his face as well.

“So are you going to be upset if I ask the other guys to come in here and do the same, to edit photos?” You wonder, your voice dripping with a teasing tone. Jeremy laughs softly and leans over and kisses your cheek.

“As long as none of the meetings end the way this one did tonight, I’ll be alright.”

⋆·˚ ༘ * oh, my, my, my ⋆·˚ ༘ *

nhl masterlist !

pairings: quinn hughes x childhood friend!reader, jack hughes x platonic best friend!reader, quinn x artist!reader

warnings: angst and comfort, fluff

summary: you and quinn throughout the years, and how you fall in love <3

song: mary's song (oh my my my) by taylor swift

word count: 4.4 k

notes: I love lake quinn sm :)

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

our daddies used to joke about the two of us, growing up and falling in love, our mamas smiled, and rolled their eyes

"oh, she's so tiny!" ellen cooes, cradling the little bundle of pink, "and she has your eyes, birdie."

your mother smiles at the nickname her college friend had given her freshman year, when a bird had pooped on her head during a girl's night out.

it stuck (literally), and almost 10 years later, as her best friend holds her babygirl, she's reminded of everything they'd been through together.

"congrats, man. the first girl in the family!" jim slaps your dad on the shoulder, the two men smiling at their wives.

"oh, she's just precious." you yawn, and all of the adults are reduced to an awwing mess.

quinn toddles over, chubby toddler legs still unsure. he lands on his butt half a foot away from ellen, who lifts him up with the hand that wasn't holding you.

"look, quinny."

quinn reaches out a finger towards you, and jim is about to chide him when your tiny little fist locks around it. his wide eyes widen even more. you gurgle happily at him, and for the first time in a while, he goes completely still, enraptured by the baby in front of him.

"oh." your father whispers.

"well, that's your son-in-law now," jim laughs.

"hey, don't count out jack! they're closer in age, after all."

your mom rolls her eyes, as ellen snorts, "let's not pre-write our kid's futures before they're five, please."

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

i was seven and you were nine, i looked at you like the stars that shine

"y'know, birdie," ellen starts, "the boys might be right."

"no, they cannot eat four pb and j's and then go to the carnival-"

"no, not the little ones!", ellen laughs, "our husbands. they might be right."

"oh, that? the whole son-in-law thing?" your mom grins, as she watches luke chase after you with a worm.

the two women are silent and thoughtful as you - screaming at the top of your lungs - duck behind quinn, who sternly tells off his little brother. your sticky hands lace with his, naturally, albeit a bit awkward the way only kids can be.

you absolutely adore quinn. he's your protector, the one you turn to more often than not. jack is your best friend, and you remind her of that often. luke is your baby brother, the one you coddle and fuss over.

and the boys adore you just as much; jack plays pirates with you all day, Luke follows you like a puppy, and quinn...

he's staked a claim on you that makes your mom laugh, but worry a little when your older and you inevitably find someone who isn't him.

it never occurred to her that he might be the one.

"oh my god." your mom says as your dad walks in with jim.

"ha! see? I know I put money on my son for good reason." jim says gleefully, and quickly pipes down at ellen's dirty look.

"jack is also your son, man." your dad shakes his head.

"seriously? you guys made bets on the future love lives of your prepubescent kids?"

"birdie, it's just a joke!"

he eats his words as quinn leads you through the door. you're in tears, a nasty scrape on your knee. he's got your hand cradled in his.

ellen and your mom fawn over it, how brave you were, but all you could remember is how quinn held your hand the whole time.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

take me back when our world was one block wide, i dared you to kiss me and ran when you tried

when you're ten, you almost have your first kiss.

you're going through a phase, really, when all you would wear were your overall jean shorts, a big t-shirt and your red converses. you have little pen drawings all over your shoes and shorts.

now, when you look at the photos from back then, you cringe a little at how lanky and young you look.

you're with the boys at one of the neighbouring lake houses, a couple of other girls and a few guys too.

everyone there lived on the same block, so it was odd that you hadn't all hung out together before.

quinn can tell you're uncomfortable around the other guys, who are loud and frankly very obnoxious. even his 12-year-old self can tell.

he tells you that you can all leave and go get ice cream near the boardwalk, but you refuse. you're 10 already, you can handle a few new strangers.

somehow, spin the bottle is brought up and you find yourself sitting cross-legged as one of the older girls - who's kind and much more grown than you - tellsdyou how to spin the bottle.

your hands shake and the backs of your knees are slick with sweat, but you spin anyways. you want to seem cool and older too.

you watch the root beer bottled patter as it turns, the ting, ting sound dissonant with your thumping heart.

it lands on quinn.

your quinn who knows all of the words to the spider man movies, who gives the last popsicle to you and lets you tuck your feet under his thighs when you get cold.

this is a disaster, you think, because you don't know how to kiss! are you supposed to use your tongue? you almost gag at the thought.

quinn can see your very apparent panic, and the only thing on his mind was to make it of away.

he wants to hold your hand, but when you turned nine you had decided that boys had cooties, so you refused to touch him or his brothers.

"...we don't have to," he offers, scratching his neck. one of the boys boo, and you flush.

you shook your head, "i want to."

he smiles, shy and boyish and your heart goes into overdrive.

his face matches yours in colour as he scoots forward awkwardly, cupping your face the way he'd seen his dad do to his mom.

as he leans forward, you burst into tears. if you kiss him, and he's disgusted by your kissing skills - or lack thereof - he wouldn't be your quinn anymore.

you run out embarrassed, leaving quinn's hand outstretched and the older girl from earlier confused and worried.

you think that you had ruined it all, but later that night when quinn offers to take you to get ice cream and lets you get two scoops, you know nothing can tear the two of you apart.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

take me back to the creek beds we turned up, two A.M. riding in your truck and all I need is you next to me

the year quinn turned 16, he gets his boating and drivers license.

when the first real day of summer - he doesn't count the days until he sees you and the lake house again - starts and he finds you making eggs and bacon in the kitchen, he gives you an offer.

"hey, chickie." he tugs playfully at the string of your apron. jim had given you that nickname because of your mom's. chickie, like a baby bird. jack liked to call you chicklet, and Luke followed suit.

the adults think you've outgrown that name, and only call you chickie sporadically.

it's become special for you and quinn, sacred even,

"hi, quinny." you answer in the same tone, swatting him with the spatula in your hand.

"give me a piece of bacon and i'll take you out onto the water. i'll even let you drive a bit when we're far out." he murmurs as you turn the stove off.

"really?" you squeal, and he winces jokingly.

"yes, yes! finally!" you throw yourself at him, letting the older boy catch you around the waist. he grins into your hair, his cheek muscles unused by the seasons without you.

"okay, kid. pipe down. where's my bacon?" he grumbles, but he smiles when you turn around to fix him a whole plate.

you forget in all of your excitement that he doesn't even like bacon.

it's pathetic, really, but he missed you. he still does even though you're less than a foot away from him, salting your scrambled eggs.

he finishes his food faster than you do, and leaves to set up the boat with your promises that you would hurry.

he's excited; he hasn't seen you since christmas, and then, he had to share you with jack and luke and his parents too.

that year, you and jack had become decidedly closer, and quinn knows he has to establish that boat time was for you and him only.

so when jack and luke both follow you onto the boat, whooping and screaming, he's pissed.

and on top of that, he has to drive the boat while you and jack banter and threaten to shove each other off of the moving vessel.

it wasn't fair: you're his person. you guys did gas station runs together, you always looked at him with sad puppy eyes when you were cold.

he'd always grumbled and give you his sweatshirt when you refused to bring a jacket and ended up shivering. you always begged to braid his hair when the sun was at it's highest and there was nothing to do.

so yeah, excuse him if he was mad that your time together was interrupted by jack and luke of all people.

so when you walk up to him, hair messy and wearing nothing but your bathing suit and one of his old hockey jerseys, he tries his best to ignore you.

"quinny!" you exclaim, nudging his shoulder, and once more when he doesn't answer.

he glances quickly at you, but one look is enough to make his chest squeeze in that way that it started to do since last summer.

you had always been beautiful, but you were starting to be seriously gorgeous.

your hair is windblown, skin tanned and freckled with eyes bright from the sheer novelty of it being summer again.

you'd started to fill out more; the tiny bikinis you - and he - loved made something hot tug in his lower stomach.

tucking your hand into the crook of his elbow in the way that always makes him soften like butter, "I thought you were gonna let me drive!"

"ask jack to teach you," he snarks, and regrets it immediately at the hurt on your face.

his chest tightens, like someone has taken the hurt on your features and shoved it between his rib cage so he couldn't breathe.

the two of you don't talk for the rest of the day.

quinn feels like an asshole, and he really doesn't like how you refuse to sit in your normal spot next to him during movie night, instead opting to tuck yourself between the edge of the couch and luke.

and the salt on the wound was when you don't laugh at the stupid jokes he makes for you, especially.

his mom asks him what he had done when he goes to get more popcorn in the kitchen.

"what? why did you automatically assume I didn't something?" he asked, offended.

"because, that girl sticks to you like a magnet," ellen smooths his temple, "and because no one makes you smile and talk like she does. you've been silent all day."

the next night, he shows up at the door of your room in the lake house your two families shared.

he knocks, and pokes his head in, "chickie?

you're at your table, drawing again like you always were.

he keeps the little sketch of him you made last summer in his wallet, tucked under the picture of all of the hughes boys and you.

you ignore him, and he flops on your bed. the floral sheets your mom bought when you were 11 smells like you. he tries not to be creepy and inhale - at least too noticeably.

"gas station run?" he asks.

you finally spare him a glance, "quinny, it's past one o'clock, and it'll take at least 20 minuted to get there."

"please? I really want chips."

you sigh, ever the martyr, and agree. neither of you mention how the hughes stock up enough snacks to last at least 2 months the beginning of every summer.

the battle of who cracks first kept on, until finally, on the way back from the gas station, quinn sighs, "I'm sorry.

you frown, clearly not impressed, "I don't even know why you're sorry."

"god, this is embarrassing-"

"quintin, i swear-"

"i wanted the boat ride to be just us two!" he exclaims loudly.

there was a beat of silence, only the chirp of crickets that crept in the tall grass you could hear through the open windows of jim's truck.

the light on the radio shined, 1:59 AM.

"what?" you ask, a little confused and very much flustered.

"i missed you, chickie, and jack is always monopolizing your time! you're my person and-"

"are you jealous?"

"what?"

"oh my god, you are! you're jealous!"

"no!" he splutters, grateful that it's pitch black outside, because he can feel his ears heating up.

you laugh, tugging at one of his curls, as he grumbles something about not letting you eat any of his salt and vinegar chips.

"quinny?" you ask a little while later, when he's pulling back into the drive way, "y'know that you're my person too, right?"

you look soft and sleepy, under the light of the car, in one of his hoodies and sleep shorts.

he swears he turns into liquid in the drivers seat.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

well, i was sixteen when suddenly, i wasn't that little girl you used to see

"I wouldn't worry about that, chicklet." jack throws his arm around you, and you roll your eyes at the many girls starting to glare at you.

"I don't know what you're talking about." except you do.

there's a girl flirting with quinn, and she's pretty. she's got tattoos on her arms, and she's tall, almost tall at him.

you take a break from the self-deprecating comparison between yourself and her to admire quinn for one second.

he's gotten so tall and broad, all the signs of boyhood gone, except when he smiles that special smile for you. the one when his eyes get all squinty and he bares all of his pretty teeth.

your heart twists, because he hasn't smiled at you like that all summer.

you don't know what you did wrong. maybe he's outgrowing you. he'll be a college man next fall, and you're still in high school.

he's got the whole world in front of him, and well, you couldn't blame him if he didn't want to settle for you.

you realize your feelings for him the beginning of the summer.

or you uncover them, because if you're honest, they've always been there.

and right now, you're wearing your heart on your sleeve, because he looks so handsome in a tight black t-shirt and shorts, a backwards cap on his curls.

his biceps look huge, and between the teenage hormones and the two shots in your system, you want to climb him like a tree.

the more romantic side of you wished you had your charcoal and parchment, so you can copy down his likeness for when your old and greying and you can't remember how he looks illuminated by the moon and bonfire.

"yeah, sure. you're clueless." jack snorts, and he makes his way to the drink table at the party you're at.

you pass by Luke, who's preoccupied by a girl way too old for him, and go sit closer to the fire.

you're mad.

you're mad because you've dressed up real cute, in a tiny black tube top and denim shorts.

you're mad because your hair is curled the way quinn likes it.

you know that for a fact because every time it looks like that, he comes up behind you to wind his fingers through a strand. it was a hassle, and he won't even look at you.

"what's a pretty girl like you doing alone?"

it's a boy with mussed, brown hair and a nice smile.

he's cute. peter, or pierre, he introduces himself. he reminds you a bit of the boyfriend you had first semester of sophomore year.

you've had boyfriends, and quinn has had his relationships, but summer was sacred.

that's why you felt ill when you flirted with him, not because quinn was a mere 20 feet away, starting to glance over and frown.

quinn has always been a jealous motherfucker; you'd give it 5 minutes before he comes over.

you try not to gloat when he comes over in 2.

"hey, chickie. time to go." he tells you, taking you cup and winding an arm around your waist.

you roll your eyes, pushing him off, "no, I'm good here,"

quinn crosses his arms and puffs out his chest, biceps flexing in front of you.

the boy smiles - you've already forgotten his name, something p - and shrugs at quinn.

he's mad now, you can tell, but you wrap you're fingers around the other boy's elbow to egg him on.

"oh, for- that's it. c'mon."

suddenly, your feet are swept out from under you, and you're thrown over his shoulder.

you frown, realizing that you're in the air.

"hey!" you protest weakly as people turn to look at you. quinn continues his trudge all the way to where he's parked his dad's truck and dumps you on the hood like you weigh nothing.

"what are you doing?" he asks, eyes dark, "that guy is no good-"

"no! what are you doing?" all of your frustration pools in your throat, and embarrassing tears are starting to prick at your eyes.

"you won't even look at me all summer, you're flirting with some girl and you get mad at me? you're being such-"

he shakes his head, looking as exasperated as you feel.

"do you know how hard it is-" he breathes out shakily, "how difficult it is to control myself around you?"

"what?" you ask, heart beating in your ears, "what?"

"i have been in love with you since i was 12, chickie." his tone is begging, and so are his eyes.

he looks pained, and you want to relieve it so, so badly. but he still won't touch you. he's hovering away from you, like he has for the past month.

"i love you, and you see me nothing more than a brother, like how you see jack. and it hurts, here," he rubs the heel of his palm between his ribs, "to know that you'll never want me the same way."

"quinn-"

"no, let me talk. I've spent the past 6 years pining after you. I've tried to move on, but all...nothing compares to you. I want you so bad, chickie, but..." he turns from you, head in his hands.

now, if you weren't like 3 beers and 2 shots deep, you would realize that he can't really go anywhere because you're quite literally on the top of his car.

but drunk you is clearly a dumbass, because you think he's trying to leave. so you tell him what's actually on your mind.

"i love you!" you blurt out.

he turns slowly, "what?"

"i love you too. i thought you didn't want me because you're leaving for college, but i want you so bad, please-"

the next thing you know, he's between your legs, so warm and solid, pulling you in by your cheek like during that spin the bottle game 6 years ago.

you let him kiss you for real this time, you let him push up your shorts to feel more of your skin, you let him lick into your mouth.

he pulls away, and you whine, tugging him in again.

he laughs, which makes you laugh in turn, and you slide down the hood as you giggle. he catches you, because he always does.

"i love you." you tell him, and he flushes, nuzzling into your neck.

"say it again," he demands, just because he can.

"i love you, my quinny." you coo, and he wants to crawl into your skin and settle there forever.

"i love you too, chickie."

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

oh, my, my, my

"told you so." Jim tells the rest of the parents.

the four of them - the weirdos - are on the second floor, leaning on the bannister as you make breakfast with quinn.

well, you make breakfast and he's distracting you.

he's got his arms wrapped around your shoulders from the back, and the two of you waddle like a pair of penguins around the kitchen gathering ingredients for pancakes.

you're giggling, and he's got a half-smile on his face.

you look so happy together than ellen and your mom are ignoring jim's gloating.

they are even kind enough to ignore the exchange of money between the two men, after all, your dad had bet on jack and lost.

"i can't wait for their wedding."

"hold on, now!"

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

a few years had gone and come around, we were sitting at our favorite spot in town and you looked at me, got down on one knee

you're on Quinn's lap, content and warm. the two of you had gotten up to watch the sunrise, first day of the summer at the lake house.

it's nice to have everyone in one place again, the two of you coming from vancouver, the boys from new jersey.

the past couple of years had been hard; a year or two long distance, until you went to study architecture at UBC after quinn had been drafted.

this year, 24 and 22, you finally get some rest and the promise of settling down more.

quinn's captain, and you have a good job that lets you work remote and do what you love.

and more importantly, the two of you are always together.

"babe?" quinn asks, running a hand down your arms, "c'mon, let's go to the dock?"

you don't protest, just happy to be at your childhood lake house.

he leads you there, like he always does.

"pretty." you stare out at the water, orange and pink sky meeting in the still horizon.

"yeah." quinn gives you a smile, rare for anyone else.

but he has always smiled for you, and you greedily hoard them in your memories.

"got something to show you," he pulls his wallet out, the two pictures in the clear flaps catch your eye.

one is a polaroid of you and your boys. quinn is 15, jack is 14, you're 13 and luke is 11. all of you are lanky and awkward, wrapped around each other and grinning ear to ear.

the other is also a polaroid, taken by ellen a year or two ago, when all of your parents came to visit your Vancouver apartment.

quinn's arm is around your shoulders and you're clinging to his side, one hand curled around his waist and the other on his chest. you're smiling at the camera, and quinn is smiling at you.

"cute," you tell him, but he digs a finger into the little pocket.

"fuck," he swears when whatever he's looking for doesn't come out.

"here, let me," you offer. you retrieve a piece of thick parchment with your smaller hands.

it's a sketch of quinn you did when you were in your early teens.

it's not great, you have to admit. the lines aren't smooth like how you sketch now, but the ink and paper is in pristine condition.

"quinn...you kept this?" you ask softly, oddly emotional.

when you look at him, he has a weird look on his face. he scratches his neck.

you stare at each other for a moment, the familiarity of your love almost stifling in the cool morning air.

and then he drops down on one knee.

you start crying, immediately.

that sets him off, and the two of you are blubbering as he tries to get through the speech he wrote in his notes 7 months ago after he got the ring and you were in the shower.

he tells you he loves you, how he's never going to leave you, that you're going to build a life together, just like how you've done everything together since you were kids.

you believe him, because your quinn is nothing if not earnest and steady.

you let him slip the simple ring onto your finger, and he lifts you up into strong arms to kiss you.

you're so deliriously happy that your teeth clash with his in a smiling kiss.

your families cheers from the porch, and you laugh, watery and heart full.

jack runs up first, swinging you around and clapping his hand down on quinn's shoulder.

Luke kisses your cheek and hugs his older brother, as ellen and your mom hug you together.

jim wraps his arms around you, pressing his lips to your forehead, "thanks for helping me win the bet, chickie." you chuckle, reaching for your dad next.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

take me back to the time when we walked down the aisle, our whole town came and our mamas cried, you said I do and I did too

the wedding takes place a year later, in a small winery near the house, because ellen and your mom refused to let you have the wedding on the dock.

this was your compromise, because it's a small affair.

your dad walks you down the aisle to quinn. you're smiling, like there's a hanger in your mouth because you're just so happy.

he cries when he sees you, and so do the other hughes boys.

you hear your mom and ellen, tears meeting shaky smiles on their faces.

your own college friend, your birdie, fixes your veil and holds your bouquet.

sweet promises are exchanged in your vows, and when you have your first kiss as mr. and mrs. hughes, all of your loved ones cheer.

quinn sweeps you off your feet and bridal carries you to a change room so you can switch into your reception dress.

he sees you later as jack, who volunteered to be the mc, announces you guys as mr. and mrs. hughes.

quinn's eyes are hot and dark as he sees your smooth skin under white lace, and whispers something into the shell of your ear that makes you pink.

you dance together, with his brothers and his dad, with your own too.

but the last dance is saved for the two of you.

"i can't wait to grow old with you, chickie." he whispers romantically.

"you'd make such a cute old man," you tell him, and he rolls his eyes.

you laugh, and so does he.

forever sounds real good to you.

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

© sweetteainthesummerx.tumblr. all rights reserved. unauthorized copying, translation, or claiming of my writing or any works as your own is strictly prohibited.

Moodboard for the name ,,Rheannon" 🐈‍⬛

(Pictures from Pinterest, gif from Insta)

side-tummy sleeping with one leg curled up and the other straight out is top tier sleeping and you can’t change my mind.

having flashbacks to that one flames scrum….

2024, except it’s just Gene Principe