#Ice skating verse

[verdantflamingo]

Emma and Scott back on the ice again!

Emma’s hair flows in the "wind," and this time, she’s sporting her iconic blue lipstick along with her signature, though completely impractical, high-heeled boots (yes, for skating). I’m not even sure if that’s possible, but you’d surely agree with me that if it is, Emma would definitely wear them.

Otherwise, she’s not wearing much—just a collar, a top that suspiciously resembles a bra, and shorts that don’t look far from being categorized as underwear. On the other hand, Scott is dressed from head to toe (well, to his hidden toes). He’s wearing a red patterned vest, a black shirt, black pants, and his signature visor, since he doesn’t like to risk his glasses slipping off. (Although, considering the last image, he probably skates with glasses sometimes.)

At the very least, Emma looks in love, but Scott is definitely in love too.

These illustrations are inspired by the story Frostbite, written by the author medievalkoala, who goes by the username @elusiveweekend on Tumblr.

P.S. I’m not at all hoping that this will give the author a little nudge to write more chapters of this story or any of her other stories... not at all.

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

Figure skating sketchbook AU where Kaisa is a singles skater and Johanna is a pairs skater and they start meeting at competitions. Kaisa is this black horse type of athlete who nobody knows where she came from but begins earning her success and fame because of her dramatic performances, flexibility and jumps, not to mention her witchy aesthetics. Johanna and her pair, Edmund, are known for their sync and impressive strength, their main focus being the storytelling that they’ve decided to direct towards stories that aren’t about romance, but rather about literally anything else, always with praise worthy creativity.

Kaisa tries to repress her feelings, of course. Johanna is obviously married to her partner, judging by how connected they are on the ice, and by the fact that they have the same surname.

She only realizes otherwise when Hilda shows up to congratulate her mother after a competition and yells “uncle, you did amazing!”

[randomly-generated-posts-machine]

put @biggest-gaudiest-patronuses and sans with winter aesthetic into a beach episode and see what happens

[118diazs]

⛸️: for our muses to go out ice skating together ( from bobert <3 )

festive scenarios, @medic4te

buying any gift for my husband is almost impossible because what do i get for the person that saved my life then continued to do so by loving me and my son every day unconditionally. even in the worst times his love was always felt by me and i want to do something that shows him that i don't take that for granted even now when we've been doing so good even during this very challenging year.

it took a few beers ( 2 packs ) and some video games ( until morning ) with buck but eventually we figured out the perfect idea. i'm not sure how i didn't possibly think of it sooner since we're working on healing our inner child in therapy since childhood trauma works itself into relationships and between the two of us we have an abundance of it.

" merry christmas. " my hands uncover his eyes to show an empty ice skating rink and in the middle of it is a table and their dinner already on it. " i rented it out for the two of us. i asked chris to come with us but he just gagged in my direction so i took that as a no. " smile forming on my lips because chris is at home waiting for us to come back instead of in texas like he has been all year. " i rented it out for a week so you or we can come whenever you want this week but i swear if i fall on my ass i'm divorcing you, Robert. "

[joyfcll]

||. yes i can and will reference parks and rec with every single verse i get the opportunity to do so. no i don't care how cliche that is.

[ericense]

@multianime sent in ;; [ SKATES ] for sender and receiver to go ice skating. (Izuku to Eri)

Eri’s missed out on a lot of things throughout her life. Some of the basics, like making friends her age, or things reserved typically for joy, like riding bikes. She’s wary on occasion, trying new experiences out, but more often than not Eri goes along with whatever suggestions Mr. Aizawa or Izuku or whomever makes because she trusts them and she knows they have her best interests in mind.

Ice skating, though? This one she’s not entirely sure of.

“I don’t know how to skate, Deku,” Eri speaks up almost meekly, brows knitted together in concern. As Deku helps secure the latches of her skates down, she looks down to eye them cautiously, wiggling a foot as if to test their weight. “Wh-What if we slip and fall?”

[imperitvs]

2: What is your character's alignment?

6: What companion are you platonically close with?

21: What is your Tav's favorite spell?

28: Is your character the de facto leader of the party? Or do they consider someone else to be the leader?

Baldur's Gate 3 Character Development Questions

2: What is your character's alignment? // Good/Neutral!

6: What companion are you platonically close with? // Wyll would probably be his closest. Osian agrees with all his sentiments and views, and Wyll's almost romantic view on tales keeps Osian hopeful. He admires Gale too much to see them as friends for a long time. But certainly would get along with him well enough when he eventually stops putting Gale on a pedestal. Karlach a close third once he realises she's not a danger to him.

21: What is your Tav's favorite spell? // YEESH! That's a hard one... Hmm... Fire and ice spells are the easiest for him to cast. Maybe a good ol' classic Ice Storm. Watch him ice skate around. He'd fucking love Armour Of Agathys though, if only he was able to learn it. Watch him tremble as he tries to convince Mizora to teach him but not make a pact XD Dumbass.

28: Is your character the de facto leader of the party? Or do they consider someone else to be the leader? // Oh God no. He would refuse to be a leader outright, and he'd be terrible at it. He's the 'shield' troupe, not the 'leader' troupe. In his canon, Finn is the leader. He becomes an almost second-in-command, he has some good strategies when he comes into his own later in the game. His time as a thief and his prowess with spells come in handy to create the most sneaky ideas around certain situations.

[starsasunder]

// if you've never seen yulia lipnitskaya's 2014 free skate program at sochi to schindler's list, she's the inspiration behind inanna being a figure skater.

[foreverascout]

@decidentia x

Jean didn't like making a fool of himself, he hated feeling embarrassed, didn't want to give someone any reason to poke fun at him. Well aware that he didn't take jabs to his pride very well. He was humble, yes, but sensitive. He had seen Annie around, watched from the cafe as she skated effortlessly round the rink, one spiling hot water over himself when he watched her for too long.

He had tried a few times to talk with her when she took breaks, watched her sit quietly as her father coached her. There was something about her, quiet and reserved but elegant. It was that curiosity that had him trying time and time again to strike up a conversation with her. Over time her walls had dropped, she agreed on a drink with him, in return he would put on some skates and join her on the ice.

It was a fun idea, a deal he was willing to take as long as she promised to hold his hand. But he was too eager, going solo only to end up on his ass somehow, back and head hitting the ice, elbows surely going to bruise as they were too slow to catch him. Jean blinked, looking up at the blonde angel leaning over him, a dumb smile on his face.

“You’re so hot.”

He drawled out, eyes spotting the pink on her cheeks against her golden hair. A laugh fell at the response, pushing up with his hands splayed on the ice, "Just a little bump, enough to know I would do it again just to see you look worried about me again" he smirked. He didn't make an effort to move, unsure where he would even start with getting up. Short from crawling to the edge but there was nothing dignified with that.

[decidentia]

◈ @foreverascout said: ❛ “you’re so hot.” ❜

It was one thing to cut him with the razor edge of her tongue, to shun him with the cold of her shoulder, to burn him with the permafrost of her eyes. Quite another to see him hurt, to hear the crack of a skull meeting the ice.

It was her fault. Her fault for allowing familiarity to erode her guard. Her fault for lighting like a damp match under his repeated, smiling attempts at conversation. Her fault for agreeing to hot cocoa at the rink’s café, with its rubber floor mats and cheap plastic chairs. Her fault for goading him into staying after hours. Her fault for insisting he pull on a pair of musty for-hire boots, for demanding he step onto the ice. Her fault for letting go of his hand too soon, her fists buried selfishly – shyly – in the pocket of her hooded sweatshirt. Her fault he was now lying face-up on the ice.

“Shit.”

Poverty bloomed in that utterance, a working class inflection that her father could not abide to hear. Impassive features cracked minutely – only that solitary word, the subtle widening of her eyes, the barest parting of her lips, spoke to her concern. Graceful movements closed the distance between them, blades flashing silver as they bit into the ice with each stroke. Filling the frame of Jean’s vision, hovering over him, she watched as the dazed chamomile-brown of his eyes focused on her. An impact like that had to hurt, had to have raced along his jaw, shivered in the roots of his teeth, traced the edges of his eye sockets. Annie knew that pain; she had felt it during some of her worse spills, and when the ridges of her father’s knuckles rapped where bruises would remain hidden by her head of platinum hair.

“You’re so hot.”

Annie, who had only ever come to life under the weight of her father’s gaze, shed layers of quiet despondency in surprise. Stern features thawed almost imperceptibly, the pink apples of colour hung in her cheeks no longer painted by the cold alone. Surely he had fallen so hard that he saw her crowned with stars.

“And clearly you have a head injury.”

[immortalmuses]

for @freezegirl, continued from here

ㅤㅤㅤKie's not wrong... Warren is gripping the wooden barrier encircling the ice rink so tightly that there are actual scorch marks on it in the shape of his palms. But it's fine, he's totally Fine, Okay?No matter that he hasn't a freakin' cluewhat a 'two-foot glide' is... or how he managed to do it... or how to do it again.

ㅤㅤㅤ( To say that Warren Peace is way out of his comfort zone would be an understatement. )

ㅤㅤㅤ"...it damn well looks like you're laughing at me..." He mutters, but gamely straightens up from his hunched position and loosens one hand from its deathgrip on the bannister. Warren promised Khione he'd give skating a shot if she was willing to sing alongside him, and he means to honor that deal. Never let it be said that a Peace doesn't hold up their end, right? "...hang on, I'm not down yet. Tell me again how to do the glide thing. Say it in Hockey terms, or somethin'..."

ㅤㅤㅤWhen he reaches for her, Warren flexes his hand carefully, ensuring his nerves haven't made him too hot to the touch before placing his palm in Kie's own. He relinquishes his final hold on the wall of the rink and slides a foot tentatively towards the Cryokinetic, letting it take his weight and instinctively pulling himself closer to her. When he doesn't immediately butt-plant on the ice, Peace exhales a gusty sigh. "Why does this look so freakin' effortless when you do it?"

[antisatiric]

tags (part 2).

sometimes we don't have a choice but to keep going. ⟹ verse; early days. there will always be somewhere to call home. ⟹ verse; entrance into the guild. in defense of wanting. ⟹ verse; fractures. the best path is the path you never asked for. ⟹ verse; steadfast endings. to those who were once wanderers. ⟹ verse; roadside. every world at your fingertips; we carry on and on. ⟹ verse; inheritor of the archives.

a neverending ruckus. ⟹ verse; baccano! hapless and hosted. ⟹ verse; baldur's gate 3. studies on ineptitude. ⟹ verse; the case study of vanitas. like and subscribe! ⟹ verse; log horizon. the past's clutches. ⟹ verse; moriarty the patriot. a literary nightmare. ⟹ verse; the owl house. skating your story. ⟹ verse; yuri!!! on ice. the immutable second. ⟹ verse; the witcher.

[glacierheart]

❝ sure, of course i will. since i'm betting it'll be horrible in taste anyway. ❞ judging from what little he's had to put in his system so far just to make it. it was no wonder why else he was so grumpy, he hadn't had real food since he fled from home. ❝ FEET? ❞ he was holding back his gag reflexes, pressing his fist to his mouth to keep from it as cheeks swell. hot garbage and feet did it for him. how can someone live in such conditions? ❝ does that mean that's what your room smells like too? ❞ caspian snorts, leaning down to sniff her hair, ❝ since i may have picked up on slight stench of it clinging to you, so i was wondering. ❞

he managed to keep laughter contained over teasing her about her room, but as soon as the reaction comes after pulling her hair... he can't hold back the laugh that bubbles over when she even comes to a stop, causing him to stand in place with amusement sounding from his throat. ❝ it's my thinky face, no matter what you say. and regardless, you think it's hot so ha-ha. ❞ the prince taunts. then brows perked, he initially had been playing around. because he knew it wasn't like he'd even allow that to happen in the first place, this talk about being dragged to some plank. however, now he felt like he ought to correct her.

amusement started to grow across his features for new reasons, eccentric in the way he was chill as ice in composure despite that unhinged chaos starting to glimmer behind icy hues. he was very touchy these days about his life being threatened. ❝ tragic. ❞ sarcasm laces tone; what an idiot whoever succumbed to their fate being crocodile food. ❝ except.... i'm not that poor last loser who fell victim, darling. there's a difference between them and i. the plank will reschedule for me to.... how about never. otherwise, the crocodiles will be sorry ever seeing me come. ❞ freeze their hearts, rip them out of their chests while still pumping and bloody and turn their home into an ice rink. oh, he'd terribly hate to stain his nice white clothing. but oh, the blood on his hands after turning the predator into prey would be satisfying at the anger, the rage he kept confined inside for a reason finally unleashing on the next thing or person that tried killing him. the next time someone or something tried to murder him, he won't hesitate to kill first. even dear old dad would reap what he sowed one of these days. ❝ or whoever for that matter. ❞ voice calmly added, smiling uncannily before reaching into his pocket. ❝ anyway...❞ he looked down to get his mind off violent ideas that become dangerously enticing when he started to dwell on that anger he didn't like to provoke because it frightened him at how quickly out of control and untamable it could become, unraveling the paper. popping blueberry mint gum into his mouth that he had brought from home. ❝ bubblegum? ❞ caspian offered a piece, back to smiling playfully.

❝ but of course. so long as you're willing to split the score. ❞ cake, however rotten && ruined, was still a hot commodity on the isle. the scarcity of sweet things, kara supposed. a tragedy in her opinion. the thought of cake has her stomach grumbling. she lets out a loud groan, hoping to play off the embarrassing noise, shaking her head. ❝ oh, i'm not lying. and that atrocity .. well ... words can't really describe it. it's something like a combination of sweat, hot garbage, feet, mildew, and a dash of death. ❞ okay, maybe she's stretching the truth for dramatic effect. but it was close enough. he keeps waving his hand around, a dangerous game indeed, but kara can admit he's got guts. she can admire a certain level of dedication. it's refreshing, if she's being honest. it's been a long time since someone's been willing and able to butt heads with her. it's been an even longer time since it was someone she could stand to be around.

❝ oh, are you now? news to me. ❞ a laugh, shaking her head. ❝ you're maybe in my top five, depending on how upset i am with my siblings. sometimes, they just don't know when to— ❞ YOINK. the tug stops her dead in her tracks, mouth hanging open in surprise. oh, it's a bold move indeed. she would kill him for it, if she weren't mildly impressed with the deft maneuver. ❝ —stop. ❞ she finishes, flatly. ❝ just so you know, the last person who tried that is decomposing in ol' tik tok's stomach. the plank reschedules for no one. especially when the crocs get restless. ❞ she snorts, shaking her head and pointing at him. ❝ broody face. get it right. and not criticizing, just stating the obvious. two things can co-exist. you can be both mopey AND hot. ❞

[fatedevour]

♢  —    @marehymn​ asked:💃 → performing a hidden talent + 🔄 (for theta, columbina ice skating maybe?) 

encounter my muse in a scenario 🔄  REVERSE -  💃 → my YOUR muse performing a hidden talent

   Color Theta SURPRISED when he sees Columbina ice skating beneath the stars. The lifting ot the latest blizzard means a larger willingness to go out for people now that they wouldn’t freeze in a mere five minutes to exposure to the frigid winds. But most still preferred to stay inside with the warmth of a fire and company. Dottore, however, had long LOST the same vulnerability to cold. It took a lot more from all his SELF-MODIFICATIONS and experiments, regardless of the segment. Not impossible to feel, but far more difficult and took far longer to get to that point.

   He hadn’t thought much on her request to come to these coordinates. But a performance? He hadn’t been expecting that at all, least of all ice skating. And YET, he comes to a halt with the crunch of snow beneath his feet to...watch. A pointless act, beneficial to no task at hand. This thought occurs, and it is just as easily dismissed in favor of red eyes continuing to watch the show before him.

   She seems.....happy. Like she is enjoying herself. A poet he was not, (absurd for a scholar to even contemplate!) but she seemed like something that stories would be told about. A spirit, perhaps? There’s grace in her movements that flow seamlessly from one pose to the next without hesitation or disruption. It captivates the mind, and he leans against a tree, for once quiet rather than loud or making commentary.

   At least, until she seemed to notice him and approach.

   “  No- No don’t go getting any ideas.  “  He holds up a warning finger.  “  I don’t skate. I don’t even know how.  “  Yet he had the sinking feeling that this was not going to dissuade her if she was intent on that.  He clears his throat, before adding after a split second. “...I didn’t know you could ice skate. It was very graceful and aesthetically pleasing.  “  His confident tone weakens towards the end despite any denial he might offer if it was pointed out, rather UNFAMILIAR with offering something like a compliment or praise to another.  

[azsazz]

Shut Out

Hockey!Azriel x Figure Skater!Reader

Summary: Req from @i-am-a-lost-girl16: Hockey Az and Figure Skater reader?

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1,493

Notes: See? I still write 😏

_________________________________________

“Hey! I still have the ice for another fifteen minutes,” you shout at the hockey players that are suddenly stampeding through the gate to the ice rink like animals.

You cut to a harsh stop, ice shavings spraying in your wake as you cross your arms over your chest and glare at the Velaris Bats hockey team gliding easily across the ice rink where you were just practicing your figure skating routine. Normally, you’d be ogling the broad players in their onyx and violet practice jerseys, already splitting into teams for a scrimmage as they ignore the fiery look on your face, but with only a few more weeks until nationals, you need every minute on the ice that you can get.

“Sorry, Princess,” Cassian “Bloodshed” Bailey says, flipping a puck onto the tip of his stick as he skates past, tossing it up and catching it again a few times as if it’s a display that should impress you. Right now, none of their tricks or flirtatious teases are doing anything of the sort. “Gotta big game against the Wolves this weekend. Coach wants us on extra ice time so we’re in tip-top shape.”

“I’m pretty sure when he said extra ice time, he didn’t mean to interrupt my ice time,” you growl at him, but he’s already distracted, bobbing the puck back and forth as he approaches the net. The sound of his stick on the ice echoes throughout the arena as he takes a slap shot.

You refrain from smiling smugly when the goalie stops his shot with a triumphant cackle.

You stubbornly want to stay on the ice, take up the time you’re allowed to practice your routine, but with all the pucks zipping around, it could be detrimental to your health if you were to trip or—Mother forbid—land on one as you come out of an axel.

Eyes flitting angrily around the colony of Bat’s players, you scour the ice for the team captain, Rhysand. The thing is, all dressed up in their pads and helmets, the players are a blur of clones, whipping by you on both sides as they warm up.

There’s always one player that never fails to stand out to you, no matter how much he tries to disappear from the crowd. He catches your eye as he skates by, the fallen strands of hair from your ponytail lifting with the speed that he’s moving, taking a puck down the ice as a breakaway ensues.

He dodges you easily, and your heart races in your chest at the fleeting glance he passes you. His hazel eyes have a hard, determined set to them, as if he knows before he’s even finished crossing the neutral line that he’s going to score a goal.

Azriel Teller.

He dips around the defensemen effortlessly, and if you were more well-versed in hockey to know if he was actually as good as he seems, you’d be sure that he’s a shoo-in for going to the big leagues after graduation.

Azriel feigns to the right, deking out the player in the violet practice jersey, before placing a well-aimed shot at the net.

It soars past the goalie, hitting the net and falling to the ice with a clatter that’s deafened by his teammates cheering and skating his way to clang their helmets together in celebration.

From the middle of the player puddle, those glittering hazel eyes find yours again and your breath whooshes from your chest at the smirk he pairs with it.

“(Y/N?) What are you still doing out here?” A voice startles you away from the glorious sight of Azriel. You flinch, teetering off balance as you whirl around, flailing your arms as you startle.

Rhysand catches you as you slip, steadying you against his chest. The sound of his hockey stick slapping the ice is loud in your ears and your cheeks heat with embarrassment as you clutch to the captain of the Velaris Bats jersey with an iron grip.

You were nearly born on the ice, your parents getting you into skating at a very early age, and here you are, tripping around like a newborn deer walking for the first time.

All in front of Azriel, too.

When you have your feet beneath you again, you slide back a pace, the frown returning to your face as you tilt your chin to address Rhysand.

“Your team cut into my time early,” you say sourly, but standing this close to Rhysand, you can’t seem to find that fire in the pit of your stomach that raged when the team first stepped onto the ice. The goal Azriel all but dedicated to you with that look snuffed it right out. “I don’t appreciate you guys barging in here on my time, thinking you own the damn place. I have nationals to practice for, you know.”

Rhysand grimaces in response. He’s someone you might even consider a friend, having run into the hockey boys on multiple occasions, the figure skaters and the hockey teams having to share one rink now that the other one is finally being updated with the generous donation the school received. He’s nice, a good team captain, if you’ve ever seen one, caring not only about his players, but the circumstances everyone at the Velaris Ice Center is facing with recent construction.

“I’m sorry about that,” he says, and he means it. “I was in a call with coach and wasn’t able to stop Cassian from leading the charge out here.”

“This is the second time it’s happened in two weeks, Rhys.” You all but huff. You don’t want to act like the prissy figure skater they probably all think you are, but enough is enough. Winning Nationals is important to you, and you can’t become distracted by hockey players or lose any ice time.

Rhysand opens his mouth to reply but before he can say anything, Azriel is whizzing past, shoulder checking his captain as if the consequences of that don’t bother him in the slightest.

You gasp as Rhys recoils, even more so when you see the cross look on Azriel’s face when he shoots a warning glower over his shoulder.

Rhys glares, flipping his friend off, and you have to tuck your lips between your teeth to keep from bursting into laughter at the sight of his gloved fingers thick with padding flipping Azriel off.

Rolling his eyes, the captain turns back to you.

“What was that all about?” You ask tentatively, not sure you want to know the answer. Your eyes are still on Azriel who’s hopped over the fence into the team’s bench and is currently squirting some water into his mouth. It drips down his chin, gliding down the thick column of his throat and into the neckline of his pads.

The sight makes your throat dry.

“I’ll try better,” Rhysand says, hands on his hips as he looks around the rink. His perfectly plucked brows are furrowed as he thinks, and you can’t help but wonder if he gets them professionally done or not. “Hey, assholes,” he suddenly shouts, and you flinch when his voice echoes around the arena. “Get on the benches, now!”

You swallow the lump that’s forming in your throat as the team follows their captains’ orders with grumbles. They don’t seem to want whatever lecture they think they’re going to get from Rhysand, but he ignores their grousing, turning back to you when the last ass has hit the bench.

“You have fifteen minutes, (Y/N),” Rhys says, skating backwards towards the bench.  When your jaw drops, his grin turns wicked.

He wants you to finish practicing right now? While the entire team watches? Is he fucking crazy?

“You can’t be serious,” you shriek, almost stomping your skate-clad foot on the ice. Yes, you’re used to performing in front of a crowd even larger than the team, but these guys are like fiends. Half of them glower at you while the other half is looking at you like they want to fool around on center ice.

“Totally am,” Rhysand shouts back, and you’re pretty sure your cheeks are hot enough to melt the ice beneath your skates. “C’mon now, you’re wasting precious practice time for the both of us!”

“Fuck you,” you grumble, but he’s right, you do want your time back. Preferably without a horde of horny college hockey players watching you, but you’ll take what you can get this time.

Skating over to where your phone is placed on the rail of the away team benches, you restart your song with a few beats of silence before so you can get into your starting position back in the middle of the rink.

When the first string of the violins starts, you’re off, determined now more than ever at getting this routine perfect.

You’re all too aware of the hazel eyes tracing your every move as you skate, though.

[rowdyluv]

Say Yes - qh43

Summary: Quinn’s girlfriend attends the Hughes Bowl at Rogers Arena. She’s overtly in love with him (kind of annoying tbh) Quinn surprises her after the game.

Warnings: fluff, obsessy gf, eyes don’t leave bf, use of y/n, oc?

Word Count: 2.35k

Notes: I chose a random name for readers best friend. Ahem split second appearance of other nhler with bff. May or may not have successfully? wrote something.

In the hustling and bustling heart of Vancouver, nestled between the towering skyscrapers and the gentle caress of the Pacific sea breeze, stood the mighty Rogers Arena. Its gleaming exterior reflected the city's vibrant energy, a beacon of excitement that drew in locals and tourists alike. The chilly winter evening had descended, casting a soft glow upon the cobblestone streets, as the anticipation for the night's event grew palpable.

The Hughes Bowl also known as the Vancouver Canucks versus the New Jersey Devils

Inside the arena, the air was electric. The mouthwatering scent of popcorn and nachos mingled with the faint aroma of fresh lemonade and the mixture of alcohol in some areas. The thunderous roar of the crowd grew louder with every passing second, echoing through the vast space like a crescendo of anticipation.

Y/N and Mia, perched in the first row by the glass barrier, were surrounded by a sea of blue and green jerseys. A few red and black jerseys sprinkled in the mix. Guests in attendance dressed out were the die-hard fans, their eyes glued to the rink, where the players currently skated about in a blur of motion, warming up for the night’s showdown between the Canucks and the Devils.

When the lights had dimmed and both national anthems for Canada and the United States had a chance to play, a collective chorus of cheers fell over the stadium.

The spotlights that once bathed the ice in a soft multicolored glow lifted replaced with the bright white, and the players took their positions.

Quinn, was the center of y/n’s attention, his eyes focused and intense. He looked over at Y/N and Mia, flashing a quick smile that sent her heart racing. The puck dropped, and the game was underway.

Throughout the first period, Y/N did all she could to try and memorize every move Quinn made. An attempt to hold on to his years in the league for when they’re long over. His stick-handling was mesmerizing, a dance of precision and power that left the opposition scrambling. Whenever he checked one of his brothers, she held onto a strange mix of pride and protectiveness that swelled within her. She knew that behind the smiles and jovial rivalry, they were all fighting for the same thing: victory.

Leaning over to Mia, she whispered excitedly, "Did you see that? He totally outplayed them both! Jack and Luke!" Each time she spoke, her voice grew a little louder, the excitement spilling over like a fizzy drink. Mia, ever the supportive best friend, nodded and cheered along, even though she wasn't as versed in the nuances of the game. Y/N's eyes never left the ice when her love was on for a shift, captivated by the grace and strength of the man she loved.

Midway through the second period, Quinn scored a breathtaking goal through the goalie’s 5-hole. He spun around, stick in the air, as the crowd erupted in a cacophony of cheers. Y/N's face lit up brighter than the goal lamp as she jumped to her feet, slapping the glass in exhilaration. Quinn skated to where she was sitting behind the glass. He blew her a kiss and yelled to her, “that was for you babygirl.” She turned to Mia, her eyes sparkling with pure joy, "I knew he was just as bad as you are!" Mia giggled, pulling her best friend in to a hug, the sound of their laughter lost in the deafening applause.

The game continued, each play more intense than the last. The tension grew as the score remained close, neither team willing to concede an inch of the ice. With every check, every pass, and every shot on net, Y/N felt her heart pound harder in her chest. Her eyes never left Quinn, not even when his brothers had the puck. It was as if she could feel his every move, his every breath. Her cheers grew louder, her hands slapping the glass more vigorously, leaving behind a smudge of her palm print like a silent applause.

In the third period, the game reached a fever pitch. The crowd was on the edge of their seats, a symphony of hope and nerves. The Devils had managed to tie the game, and the Canucks were desperate to pull ahead. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and the metallic tang of fear. With minutes to go, Quinn stole the puck from his youngest brother, breaking away on a two-on-one. The arena held its collective breath as he streaked down the ice, the sound of his skates slicing through the frozen surface like a knife through butter.

Y/N's eyes were glued to him, her heart racing in her chest. The play unfolded before her in slow motion, every second stretching into an eternity. Quinn passed the puck to his teammate, who whipped it back to him with the grace of a ballet dancer. The goalie saw it coming, but it was too late. Quinn's shot was a rocket, flying straight into the top corner of the net. The arena erupted into a frenzy of cheers and the sound of thousands of hands clapping together in unison. The goal lamp flashed red, the buzzer sounded, Quinn’s media tape looped on the scoreboard. His teammates rushed him for a celebration. Y/n was watching in awe of her man. Mia was watching her best friend in happy wonder.

Mia nudged her, "Looks like you got yourself a star player!" she said, her voice barely audible over the din. Y/N nodded, her smile so wide it hurt. She felt like she was floating, the adrenaline from the goal still pulsing through her veins. The final buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the game. The score was 3-2 in favor of the Canucks. The arena echoed with the chant of "Quinn! Quinn! Quinn!" She could see the pure elation on his face as he skated over to her, the grin stretching from ear to ear. He tapped the glass, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

Quinn had the last scoring game puck in his hand. He had already wrote on it and brought it straight to her, he pointed up towards the top of the barrier and then to her, a silent message he was tossing it to her. With a flick of his wrist, he flung it over, sending it soaring through the air. Time seemed to slow as it spun, a perfect arc of twisting team logos and black against the vibrant backdrop of the cheering crowd. Y/N's hand shot up, her palm open and ready to receive it. The puck smacked into her palm with a satisfying thud, the residual ice shavings from the game still clinging to it.

The crowd's roar grew even louder as they noticed the gesture, the cameras flashing from the stands and the Jumbotron spotlighted on her, capturing her disbelief and pure happiness. She clutched the puck to her chest, feeling its coldness against her skin, a stark contrast to the warmth flooding her cheeks. The moment was surreal, a memory she knew she'd cherish forever. She mouthed a silent "thank you" to Quinn, who was already being dragged away by his teammates for an impromptu interview.

As the players filed off the ice, the tension in the arena didn't dissipate. Instead, it transformed into a buzz of excitement and congratulations. Y/N watched Quinn closely, her eyes tracing his every move as he was interviewed, his voice steady and humble despite the victory. He talked about teamwork and the importance of family, never failing to mention his brothers and their shared love for the sport. Her heart bursting with pride as she heard him speak, his words resonating with the audience.

Finally, the moment came. The Zamboni glided onto the ice, smoothing out the battleground where Quinn had just claimed victory. He skated over to the bench, his gaze seeking hers through the throngs of people. She waved, the puck still clutched in her hand, a symbol of his triumph. He pointed at her, then at the locker room, signaling for her to wait for him. The crowd began to disperse, the blue and green jerseys forming rivers of humanity that flowed through the arena's exits.

Y/N and Mia remained in their seats before heading down to wait outside of the locker room, the excitement still coursing through them like an electric current. They chatted animatedly about the game, replaying Quinn's heroics in their minds, their voices a mix of disbelief and pride. As the last of the fans trickled out, the arena staff started prepare for the post-game cleanup.

The doors to the locker room finally swung open, and the players began to emerge, their faces flushed from exertion and their eyes gleaming with the adrenaline of victory. Quinn spotted Y/N immediately, his grin growing even wider when he saw the puck in her hand. His strides to her were urgent and quick, the sound of his skates, that were hanging off the side of his bag, clanking against one another echoing through the now-quiet corridor. He was dressed back in his game day suit, no tie, but perfectly put together.

Y/N looked up at him, her confusion palpable. "Why aren't you in your comfy clothes?" she questioned, gesturing to his suit.

Quinn chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. "I had to make an impression, didn't I?" He leaned down, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Besides, I had a surprise for you."

Y/N turned the puck over in her hand, her eyes widening as she read the message scrawled in black sharpie. "Best game of my life," it read, "make it better by saying yes." Her cheeks flushed, and she looked up at him, her eyes filling with unshed tears as he’s down on one knee. "Quinn, this is..."

"It’s crazy, yes but I couldn't wait. You're it for me, you're everything. And after that game, playing against my brothers, I just know this is right." His voice was earnest, his gaze unwavering as he pulled out a small velvet box. “Yes I know in front of the locker room isn’t ideal, but I just had the best game I’ve had in months, I finally beat my brothers. You’re the girl of my dreams and I can’t hold onto this any longer because I’m afraid the yahoos behind you will let it out while they’re here. So baby, please will you marry me?” Quinn asks tears of love in his eyes.

Y/N felt as if the world had stopped spinning. She looked down at the box in his hand, her heart racing like a bullet train. She assumed this was coming later on in life, but she never expected it to happen here, in the lower interior of the arena she had watched him play in so many times before. An indescribable warmth spread through her, expansive spread across her from her toes to her fingertips. She looked into his eyes, her voice shaking with raw emotion, "Yes, Quinn. Yes, I'll marry you."

The words hung in the air, suspended for a moment before reality crashed back in. The locker room doors opened wider, and his remaining teammates spilled out, cheering and clapping. They had been waiting for this moment, and now it was here. Quinn slipped the ring onto her finger, the diamond sparkling under the harsh fluorescent lights. It fit perfectly, as if it had been made just for her. She couldn't help but admire it, the way it caught the light and danced across her skin. Y/n turned to Jack and Luke to greet the brothers she was unaware were there until Quinn said something, but instead was met by Jim and Ellen.

“You’ll officially be our daughter!” Ellen saps pulling y/n into a hug.

“Can’t wait to have another female Hughesy!” Jim laughed with her, ruffling up her hair.

Y/n’s eyes are misty with happy tears. She hadn’t seen this coming like this at all, she had thought maybe it would happen in a year or two but not now.

It doesn’t matter the timing, Quinn is forever hers and she’s forever his.

“Quinn, This, here. It’s perfect.” She says, her voice full of wonder and love. “I wouldn’t want it any other way. So it is ideal. Don’t worry about what it looks like.”

Quinn broke away from Elias and Brock’s playful teasing, his smile growing as he wrapped her in a warm embrace. The cheers of his teammates and the small gathering of family erupting once more, but all Y/N could hear was the steady beat of his heart against her chest. He leaned down, cupping her face in his hands, and kissed her.

It was a kiss filled with the passion of a thousand suns, the promise of a lifetime together, and the sweetness of a love that had only grown stronger with each passing day. His lips were gentle yet firm, a declaration of his love and commitment. Hers responded eagerly, her arms snaking around his neck, the coldness of the ice forgotten in the heat of the moment.

Mia had been standing off to the side watching her best friend happily. As the couple kissed she muttered to what she thought was just herself “I’m so painfully single.”

“You and me both. Hi, name is Nico. Captain of the New Jersey Devils.”