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whatwouldsylwrite · 1 year

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hockey!Abby x dancer!reader pt8 (end)

pt 1 pt 7.75

Abby gets injured during practice.

Tags: modern au, fluff, fem!reader, shy reader, reader is into sexy/girly dances, Abby is a sweetheart, switching pov. Swearing (a lot of), kissing.

Notes: inaccurate display of: hockey player's injuries (it's not the most common one, but I'm not hurting Abby's pretty face); american health system - i just decided if it's so expensive they probably give you everything at the hospital? google didn't really help here, so sorry if it offends anyone.

A/N: that's all, folks! This is the last part of this story. Thank you all so much for reading it and enjoying it with me! The story was pretty fluffy and I wanted to give it some balance, so this part happened. I hope you'll like it as well.

But as I said before, I'm going to write some blurbs about them, so this is not their last appearance. (currently I have like 5-6 ideas for them, and half of them are requests that I really liked but didn't have time/mental space to write).

Thank you again! <3

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"You know what, Abs?" Manny asked while they were changing for the practice. "I could really use some love advice."

Abby scoffed and raised her eyebrows at him, not really sure what the fuck he meant by it and why he even needed it.

"Love advice? Do I look like the Elle girl advice column to you?"

"You got your chick somehow, yeah? So you probably did something right."

"Do you want to ask your weather girl out?" Abby finally put two and two together. She knew they were friends with benefits, but she didn't expect Manny, of all people, to catch feelings. "Man, you fucked up."

"Come on, share your lady loving wisdom."

"Just be honest with her. It will only get worse if you keep it bottled up." Abby shrugged and put her helmet on, eager to escape Manny and his strange love problems.

"That's how you got (y/n) to date you?" Manny asked with suspicion while they were going on the ice for the warmup.

"I asked her on a date. Do the same." Abby said sharply and skated away. She wasn't going to deal with Manny's uncertainties when everything was resolvable if he'd decide not to be a coward.

Something was…not right with the way Abby's right skate slid on ice, but Abby couldn't really understand what and didn't pay any mind to it, thinking she was just imagining things and getting paranoid. She thought if she just willed her mind to think her skate was fine, it'd actually become fine.

And it was fine during the first half of the warmup, so Abby decided she was just overthinking and seeing things that were not there. Eric instructed them on the group warmup and Abby gladly got into the position, ready to kick her teammates' asses. Everything was just the same, she skated as fast as she could, getting past her pretend opponents and scored a few times.

And then everything wasn't just the same.

Abby was doing a hockey stop when something happened and suddenly she was falling on the ice with the speed of a fast hockey player, her head, shoulder and knee hit the floor so hard and painful she didn't even notice the real problem yet. She groaned and sat up immediately, while Manny skated to her, worried.

"Abs, are you okay?"

"Shit." Abby groaned as her head spun a little. She moved her shoulder to check if anything serious happened, but it was mostly fine. She started to stand up, but when she put weight on her right foot the pain shot through her body and she actually let out a short cry as she fell on her ass. "My ankle, fuck, I can't stand on it." Abby said, panting from sudden pain that wasn't going away.

Everyone was coming to them to check if everything was alright, and Abby hated it, hated having attention in a moment of weakness, hated that people got worried.

"You need a doctor." Manny said and motioned to their teammates to help him get Abby up.

Him and Jesse pulled Abby up and let her put her weight on them as they skated her back to benches. Abby tried to close off from everyone emotionally, but Eric's disgruntled face made her irrationally upset. Boys helped her sit on a bench and Abby started untying her skate on the right ankle with a rush, hoping to prove she was fine and she just twisted it and everything was going to be fine.

"What happened?" Eric asked in a tense voice.

"I have no fucking idea." Abby growled and took her skate off, examining it.

The fucking screw. The fucking screw fell off and her blade was unstable and that was why she felt off on the ice the whole practice. Abby wanted to smack herself in the face - she always checked her skates, she knew it could happen, it was a fucking rookie mistake.

"The blade got unscrewed." Abby said way too neutral.

"You didn't check your skates before you went on ice?!" Eric erupted, annoyed and angry. "Anderson, are you five?"

Abby didn't say anything, because she didn't have an explanation why she forgot to check, she couldn't even understand it herself.

"Amazing." Eric huffed. "Abby, the next game is in a week, what the fuck are we supposed to do now?"

"I just twisted my ankle." Abby bit back. "I'll be fine in three days."

Abby took the second skate off and stood up to prove her point, but she immediately sat back down as she felt her ankle just sinking down to her foot as if nothing was keeping it in place.

"Yeah no shit you twisted it." Eric rolled his eyes. "Fucking hell, Abby, the whole fucking season will go to shit now because you didn't fucking check your skates."

"Don't be dramatic." Abby rolled her eyes, but his words were getting to her. She knew her ankle wasn't twisted - it was more serious, and she wouldn't be on ice for god knows how long, and she was one of the best in their team, people were relying on her, and now she let them down.

"Come on Abs, you need to go to the hospital, it doesn't look good." Jesse pointed at her already swollen ankle.

"Yeah I know." Abby bit back and Jesse just rolled his eyes in return, refusing to deal with her shit.

"I'll drive you. Come on, let's go pack your bag." Manny said too cheerfully, knowing what a bitch Abby could be when something was out of her life order. Eric just huffed and went out of Manny's way.

Abby didn't say anything and let Manny support her as she hopped all the way to the lockers on one leg. They didn't talk and Abby was glad - she really didn't want to discuss the whole situation. She clumsily changed her clothes while Manny waited and chuckled when Abby swore in irritation.

"Ready?"

Abby glared at him and Manny just laughed, taking her bag in one hand and supporting Abby with the other as they slowly made their way to Abby's car.

Fuck, she couldn't drive anymore. Abby felt her chest tighten from her frustration, but she kept it to herself. Manny took her driving seat and started the car.

"Maybe call (y/n), let her know what happened?" Manny suggested carefully.

The thought of worrying you almost made Abby cry from anger - not only she let her team down, but now she couldn't take care of you the way she wanted, and even more, you'd be the one to worry about her and take care of her, because she knew you wouldn't leave her alone and let her lick her wounds in peace, you were just as caring as she was.

Abby opened your chat, going for an easy option - she couldn't handle hearing your concerned voice and managing her emotions at the same time right now.

to: dancing queen

I hurt my ankle during practice

Manny is taking me to the hospital

Abby sent her messages and locked her phone, not sure now if she'd be able to handle your concerned texts. She tapped her fingers nervously and Manny looked at her, curious.

"You texted her?"

"Yes."

"Good." Manny turned the wheel. "You know Eric is an asshole, right? He talks shit all the time."

"But he is right, if I'm not on the ice the whole team is fucked."

"Fuck you, we can play just fine." Manny laughed. "If we always relied on you then what's the whole point of the team? I promise you, I'll personally put these pucks for you while you're home. Each one of them is going to be for you, Anderson."

"Yeah, I don't think there's going to be a lot." Abby snorted, getting some sense of normality back with the way they bantered. Manny hit her shoulder playfully and she laughed a little.

Her phone buzzed with the notification.

from: dancing queen

r you okay?

I mean

Obviously not

But how bad is it?

Abby felt her heart clench in her chest with how typically you your texts were.

to: dancing queen

Can't step on my foot, i need to get an x-ray

from: dancing queen

this sucks :(

I'll come to your place tonight

If it's okay

to: dancing queen

Ofc

Abby typed it, but she wasn't sure if it was a good idea: she wanted you to comfort her, but the thought of you seeing her being weak made her feel ashamed. She couldn't say anything else to you now, her head was not in the right space anymore, so she locked her phone until she got a new notification.

from: dancing queen

Text me when you get your results, ok?

to: dancing queen

Yes ma'am

from: dancing queen

Love you ❤️

we'll figure it out

to: dancing queen

Love you too

Abby took a sharp breath to keep her tears at bay, trying to ignore your last message: she was supposed to say these things to you, she was supposed to take care of you, to soothe you and fix your problems, not the other way around, and if she just fucking checked her fucking skates nothing of this would have to happen.

Manny didn't try to talk to Abby anymore until they came to the hospital.

The whole ordeal didn't take a long time: they quickly got Abby's information, the doctor looked her ankle over and sent her for an x-ray, all professionally uncaring, just like all doctors were. It kept Abby grounded, the familiar place and familiar attitude of her father, all calm and all-knowing, like everything was manageable and fixable and nothing was truly a disaster.

Manny helped Abby to get to the x-ray room and after that they just stayed and waited for a doctor to come and tell what was wrong with her ankle. Abby already knew he'd say it sprained, and she knew it meant 3 weeks of not leaving home and not stepping on her foot, a few days of RICE, and a bunch of fucking problems and a nasty recovery.

Fuck she felt awful.

The doctor came and said the same thing - she sprained her ankle, no movements, put the ice on, wear compressions and keep the foot on something higher than her body position. Abby knew all of it.

The doctor gave her two options for her ankle: either a cast or a heavy duty ankle brace, which was a much better option, so Abby got her brace and a pair of crutches.

Abby looked at them with a heavy heart: she knew how useful they were and how much her life would be better with them, but for some reason she felt like they were the last thing that just cemented the thought that this was it. She was going to be dependent on other people, and she would be taken care of, not the other way around. And it made her feel weak, and she hated it. Her independence and self-reliance was something she just couldn't let go of, and this situation was forcing her to let go, and it was making her angry.

Abby accepted the crutches and it took her a few minutes to get the hang of it, but it was so much easier to move now and Abby felt relieved - at least she didn't need Manny to help her walk now. She was wrong - the crutches were not the last nail in the coffin with her independence, they were the thread that kept her independence alive.

from: Abby

My ankle is sprained, but it's not too serious

Manny is driving me home rn

You looked at your phone and sighed from relief: you were worried Abby's ankle might be broken, or worse, her ligaments fully torn. The sprains were nasty and annoying, you knew it from experience, but it was manageable and it didn't leave you fully immobile, which was a plus you get to appreciate after you get immobile.

to: Abby

I'm relieved it's not broken

I'm on my way

You already packed your bag with everything Abby'd need for her injury, including some snacks that could lift her mood up. You suspected she was upset but didn't want to show it or even talk about it - in these months you've been together sometimes it was a struggle to support Abby emotionally because she wouldn't share what was bothering her. Not every time, but she had some touchy topics and she'd be grumpy for a few days, processing it by herself, but trying her best not to be a bitch to you because of it. You appreciated that and didn't pressure her to talk to you, but sometimes you just felt like you didn't give Abby enough support.

It was cold outside, but Abby's hoodie kept you warm under your coat as you waited on the stairs of Abby's apartment building for her to come home. You put your cold hands into your pocket and waited until you saw the familiar car pulling over.

Manny was driving, and you felt like it was wrong, but you were really thankful Abby had someone to take care of her and help her when you weren't around. You came closer to the car while Manny helped Abby get out of it, handing her her crutches.

"Hi." You said gently and hugged Abby as carefully as possible. She couldn't return your hug, her arms supporting her weight, but you didn't expect her to. "How are you?"

"Fine." Abby said in a blank voice, but you didn't comment on it - she was definitely not in the mood and it was justified.

You looked at Manny and he just rolled his eyes, definitely telling how much not in the mood Abby was.

You decided not to ask any questions until you got Abby comfortable and safe, so you made some small talk with both of them, trying to bring Abby back from her head. She was keeping up with the conversation, but you saw how slowly but surely she was getting pissed off because it took her so long to climb the stairs. After a flight she just handed her crutches to Manny and started jumping over the stairs, holding to the railings as she went. It was indeed faster, and after ten minutes you were finally home.

"Thanks man." Abby said when Manny put her bag down on the floor.

"That's nice to hear." Manny smirked and patted her shoulder. "Get better, Abs. Make your ankle your bitch and heal it."

Abby chuckled and you hugged Manny goodbye.

"Thank you for taking care of her." You said quietly.

"That's what friends are for. She gave me love advice, I gave her a ride to the hospital. Good night, ladies."

Abby let out a long sigh and started taking her coat off. You did the same, and when all street clothes were taken off, you followed Abby to the hall, patiently waiting for her to move. Abby sat down on the sofa and you sat beside her, taking her hand in yours.

"What did the doctor say?"

"The ligament isn't torn fully, but it won't heal fast." Abby said, her voice just a little tense. "Three weeks at home."

You opened your bag and took a bottle of chocolate milk you bought for her.

"That's to cheer you up a little." You smiled and got a small, faint smile in return, but it was more than enough for you. "Okay. I've been through this shit before, so I bought some things that can make it easier and faster."

You took a few tubes and showed them to Abby, who was still grumpy and tense.

"This is from the bruises, because they're going to be big, this is a painkiller but actually has some repair effect, and these are vitamins that can help with healing."

You laid it all on the sofa and Abby looked it over with the most blank face you saw in all this time you knew her, and it was making you anxious.

"You also need to put something cold on it right now, it'll help with the swelling."

"Yeah, I fucking know, I'm a fucking med student." Abby rolled her eyes and you froze, immediately shutting up.

That hurt. You swallowed the lump that suddenly got stuck in your throat, wounded by Abby's tone and her irritation with you when all you wanted was to help her and take care of her.

There was a tense silence and Abby shut her eyes in guilt as the situation dawned on her, but before she could say anything you started talking despite the lump in your throat and pain in your chest and shaking hands.

"Abby, don't talk to me like that. I know you're upset, but please don't take your frustrations on me." You said in a surprisingly steady and strict voice. You didn't deserve to be treated like this, especially by your girlfriend, especially when you were trying to take care of her.

Abby looked guilty, but her face got closed off for a moment as if she considered shutting you out, and you felt like something was dying inside of you because of it.

"Fuck, sorry." Abby sighed with guilt, not looking at you, clearly too vulnerable for her liking. Something eased up in you after you heard her voice: she was trying to resolve this, and this what actually mattered. Abby looked at you, finally, with guilty puppy eyes and it calmed you down a little, knowing she wasn't turning it into a fight. "I just- fuck."

You got closer to her, taking her hand in yours again. You put your feelings away for now, fully concentrating on making Abby feel safe to open up.

"Hey, I understand." You said in a gentle soft voice. "Been there. We can talk about it if you want, or you can vent. It's fucking annoying, isn't it?"

Abby shut her eyes tightly, her jaw tense - she was trying so hard to keep calm and not cry. She even turned away from you, embarrassed of her weakness, but you were patient.

"Yeah." She said in a strained voice, her crying bubbling up in her throat.

You hugged Abby carefully and the dam broke. Abby sniffled and silently cried in your arms, all frustration and guilt from the day getting out as you caressed her head and shoulders, soothing her. Abby relaxed against you, fully leaning on you not physically, but emotionally.

"It's so fucking annoying, the stupid screw fucked everything up." Abby said in a hoarse voice somewhere in your neck, her tears hot on your collarbones. "And fucking Eric just kept saying shit how we'll lose now because I'm not going to play."

"Asshole." You huffed. "Fuck him."

Abby chuckled halfheartedly and stayed in your arms for a few minutes, calming down, her head getting clearer.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you." Abby said in a small voice. "This whole thing sucks."

"It does." You kissed the top of her head. "Abby, I'm not scared of your anger or any negative emotions, okay? You can fuck this whole room up and I'll cheer you on, but don't fuck me up because of it."

You were shaking but your voice was steady. You knew Abby needed to hear that, and you needed to show her your limits, so even if your anxiety was going through the roof as you were saying these words, they needed to be said.

"'m sorry." She said again, now even more guilty.

"Thank you." You kissed her forehead. "It wasn't okay, but we're okay." You said just as gently as before and Abby hugged you tighter.

You were still a little shaky, your heart still ached, but you weren't mad anymore. You kissed her forehead again, the desire to soothe her growing by the second.

"What happened?"

"My blade got unscrewed. I felt that something was wrong, but ignored it. So I went for a stop and my skate broke down."

"Oh god." You imagined Abby falling on the ice and you felt awful. "Does anything else hurt?"

"Shoulder's bruised I think."

"Okay. What if I run you a bath, then we will sort out all the medicine and then you'll rest? I'll order some food if you want."

Abby suddenly got very aware of how hungry she was.

"Yeah."

"Cool." You kissed Abby quickly, happy she was letting you take care of her.

Abby felt shy for some reason, waiting for you to run her a bath. She wasn't used to anyone taking care of her, so it made her feel useless and confused, but in a good way. Abby felt awkward just waiting, she wanted to do something, so she started stripping while you fixed the water temperature. Her right shoulder was bruised, but it didn't really hurt to move it.

"Okay. So, as a sprained ankle veteran, I have some tips." You said comically and Abby smiled. "I know you're tough and strong, but don't try to get inside in one go. Sit on the edge and then slowly turn around."

Abby huffed - that should have been obvious, but she also wanted to get in the bath in one go because she was not a little bitch, so you caught her there. The pants were tricky to take off, but you helped Abby with it, sitting her down on the edge as you tugged them all the way down. The brace was lying on top of Abby's clothes and you looked over her swollen ankle.

"My poor baby." You cooed and kissed Abby's cheek. Abby huffed, embarrassed, but deep down she enjoyed you babying her like this. "I can tell you something that I'm not supposed to tell you."

Abby got in the bath carefully, relaxing and letting the long sigh out.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I usually get so fed up with hopping, I start putting my weight on my ankle after a week. It's a bad idea, so don't do it."

"I think you told me that so I could do it." Abby chuckled.

"Well, I know you'll get fed up with it, so I thought I could get you to not stand on your foot for at least a week." You smiled bashfully.

Abby's mood was going up a little as you talked to her. It felt almost normal, as if you were just hanging out.

"Can I wash your hair?" You asked, shy, and Abby felt her chest bubbling up with affection. She squeezed your hand and nodded.

You moved behind her and started massaging her scalp tenderly, and Abby relaxed, enjoying your fingers in her hair. Abby always got sleepy when someone was playing with her hair, and after this awful day your hands felt like a blessing, lulling her worries and anger away. You were so careful and gentle, so fucking loving Abby wanted to cry and to pray to whatever deity that made her stay at the dance studio that day.

"Close your eyes, baby." You said quietly and Abby obeyed, letting you wash the shampoo away. She felt like with this shampoo something nasty went away, something that made her want to tell you to fuck off a half an hour ago when you were so kind to her. Abby couldn't deal with kindness very well, especially when she felt weak. Abby always reacted to people caring about her with anger, like a wounded animal that attacks a helping hand thinking it’s there to kill it. Abby hated pity, and kindness tore her apart and made her achingly vulnerable, but she was safe with you. You were handling her shit with care and love and she snapped at you in return and she wanted to cry again now.

"I'll never be mean to you again." Abby said nearly choked up by her shame, but she wanted to say it out loud, to promise this to you.

"Baby." You said in a fond voice and Abby felt like she was on fucking fire from you being so gentle when she was vulnerable. She couldn’t actually say anything in return, her emotions, positive and negative, were making a molotov cocktail in her chest, burning through her as your fingers tenderly went over her body.

After bath you helped Abby dry her hair and change, and then you were both back on the couch while you explained some things to Abby about living with a sprained ankle that she probably didn't know, like wearing high socks with a brace because it would hurt otherwise. Abby put some ointments on while you went to get her high socks, and then you ordered some food while Abby put the brace on. Abby sipped her chocolate milk, so pleased with having something sweet to boost her mood. You really knew her, didn't you?

"I'm going to be super unpleasant, but you need to email your professors." You said, and Abby groaned. She forgot about her classes, and now it would be such a pain in the ass to keep her grades in check while she would be at home.

“Oh yeah, my profs are going to kill me.”

“Not if I kill them first.” You said, completely serious, and Abby laughed. You looked like you were ready to kick her professors’ asses if they’d even think about not accommodating Abby now. “I’m serious, I’ll hunt them down if they give you a hard time.”

“Doll, you won’t hurt a fly.” Abby cooed at you and enjoyed your stern expression that made you even more cute.

“I usually don’t have a good enough reason.” You shrugged. “I could be downright nasty if I wanted to.”

Abby, who's seen you telling people off, decided not to argue with that.

“Do you want me to stay the night? Or would you prefer to have some space?” You asked carefully, and Abby got upset like a baby from the thought that you might leave, so she grabbed your hand and pulled you closer.

“Please stay.”

This night Abby fell asleep in your arms as you hugged her from behind, her head tucked under your chin. Your breathing was deep and steady and Abby felt like your little form was protecting her from every worry, every self-deprecating thought, soothing her desperate anger, calming her sea storm like some kind of ancient goddess, turning her violent waves into a quiet tide as your gentle hands caressed her skin.

Abby was safe with you in a way she wasn't safe with anyone since she was a small baby, and she seared this feeling on her heart, not letting herself ever forget how you made her feel.

"Hey, (y/n)." Abby called quietly, not sure if you were awake.

"Mhm?"

"I'm going to marry you."

You laughed quietly and kissed the top of her head, and Abby let you think she was just joking, but she knew that one day she'd buy a ring and get on one knee in front of you and make you hers for the rest of your lives, because you were the one for her.

#abby anderson x you #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #abby tlou #hockey!abby

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hangmansgbaby · 10 months

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Puck Around and Find Out

A TGM Hockey AU

The San Diego Daggers has together for 5 years and the players have grown extremely close. And with a close team comes with everyone being there to witness every step of your life. Read along as the Daggers work through major moments in their's and each other’s lives.

| Meet the Team |

*listed in timeline order*

P U C K I N G F I N A L L Y Playlist | Taglist

Javy Machado x Natasha Trace | Prequel | Javy and Nat had been on again, off again since freshman year of college, ending on off again at the time of graduation. A year later, Nat is in desperate need of a date to her cousin’s wedding where everyone is convinced her and Javy have been together for the last year and a half, including her parents. Javy agrees to pretend so long as Nat tells them they broke up soon after. A weekend together though may just make them change their minds, but will they say something or just let the opportunity for something more serious pass them by?

R O Y A L L Y P U C K E D Playlist | Taglist

Jake Seresin x Layne Thomas (Athletic Trainer) | Layne Thomas is the new physical therapist for the San Diego Daggers but on day one, she runs into an all too familiar face, who is also the captain of the Daggers. Jake Seresin, who met Layne by chance in Denver, Colorado after a game, has nonstop thought of her ever since that one night and now she’s here before him in San Diego. Jake pines after his Denver girl while Layne does everything to ignore his advances, even going as far to show more interest in his alternate captain despite her own feelings for him blooming.

W H A T T H E P U C K Playlist | Taglist

Bradley Bradshaw x Riley "Racer" St. James (Dagger Ice Girls Captain) | Riley St James is the captain of the Dagger Ice Girls and long time friend, recently turned girlfriend, of Alt Captain Bradley Bradshaw. When Bradley’s ex shows up and drops a baby in his arms before leaving, Bradley’s entire world is flipped upside down. Between Bradley’s new found fatherhood and the possibility of losing her spot on the team, Racer has to work hard to prove she is still a devote girlfriend and worthy of her spot as an Ice Girl.

P U C K I N G S H O T S Playlist | Taglist

Bob Floyd x Beatrice "Bug" St. James (Team Photographer) | The SD Dagger photographer sees every side of of the team, but her favorite view is Bob Floyd. The sweet, wouldn’t hurt a fly boy is one of the toughest goalies in the game and Bug has he sights, and lens, set on him and she’s willing to break every rule in the handbook to win him over.

B E Y O N D P U C K E D Playlist | Taglist

Mickey Garcia x Mia Floyd (Dancer) | Bob’s sister, Mia Floyd, just moved to San Diego to be apart of a local dance troupe and catches the eye of one Mickey Garcia. Despite being labeled off limits by her older brother, Mickey can’t help to try his hardest to win over the dancer.

S O C I A L P U C K S Playlist | Taglist

Reuben Fitch x Jessica "Click" Monroe (Social Media Manager) | Jessica Monroe has been the social media manager for the Daggers since their inception. Although her strict no player/coworker policy, a scandal involving Reuben Fitch’s name breaks out and the only way to save his image is to convince the world he is long since taken, only… the press seems to have a different plan that the PR team.

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chupenguin · 1 year

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Can you tell me about the hunting dogs (tachihara included) :]

OH GOD SURE I'M SO HAPPY I CAN RAMBLE ABOUT MY AU

(by first lenguage isn't english sorry if there's any mistake or if i get to techilical)

Out of them Tachihara and Tetcho are the only figure skaters, but that doesn't mean the others are not atheletes

Fukichi was a hockey player when he was younger, and an olympic athelet at the same time Fukuzawa was so, hockey player x figure skater, but make it childhood friends to crushes to exes without even dating to strangers. Fukichi is now Sports and Culture minister and works to support diferent winter sports fedesatiosn, because those ones tend to be played less atention

Jouno I haven't planed a lot, because i want to research on paralimpic winter sports for blind or partially sighted atheletes but I haven't had the time, my first idea was skiing

Teruko is a hockey player, captain of the Japan woman team

Tetcho is the one with more development because I choose him as the same countru rival for Chuuya, so he's a figure skater but he's a more powerfull one. Lots of quads, simpler choreos and steps sq, plain outfits.... take Nathan Chen as en exanple. Or maybe even Keegan Messing (if you make him seruous intead of goofy, but that kind of power). Like, his edges are never called, he tends to overotate triples, and his spins tend to be lower level because he's not very flexible, but he's a really good skater. He always choose clasic japaness songs as music.

Tachihara i'm working on his part of the fic rn! He was a single skater, following his brother footsteps but never really got anywhere, so when he joined Yokohama Stray Club, they suggested he could change into pairs. He was paired with Gin, and neither of them were happy with it at first, but then they realized they were a good team (trained under Hirotsu eye) and stared to say: Hey, what if we fuck up with the ISU???? So they skate to punk music, wear the same costumes (Gin doesn't wear a dress), do reverse lifts.... everything the ISU hates. My inspo for them is mostly. I don't really have any inspo for them, because most skating pairs still lean more into ellegant and clasic sides of the discipline.

But (even if they're ice dancers and not pairs skaters) Lim/Quan have pretty much the vibe I want for Tachihara and Gin: happy and defiant

#bsd #ask #bsd hunting dogs #sorry if it got to long

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smoll-tangerine · 2 years

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update: january 2023 (i’m alive)

hello, hello, hello! i believe an update post is long overdue. and yes, if it wasn’t obvious, i’m alive!! (but just barely hanging there).

i know i said that i was going to update once i’ve settled in the new city and after getting used to grad school, but these past few months have been brutal in terms of workload and having — or trying to have — a healthy work/school-life balance. tbh, the next semester’s going to be brutal as well so i don’t want to keep making empty promises and say that i will update soon when i barely have the time for myself.

with that being said, i’m also not saying that i’m giving up on writing completely. i still have a couple of fics and requests that i need to complete/post/write, and even if i am hella busy, i actually don’t see myself leaving tumblr or even closing this blog down. or even if i am planning on closing this blog down, it won’t be for a hot while.

i’ll try my best to post/update these for 2023:

complete my one-year anniversary requests

current status: 17/22 completed

complete ten reasons why i hate you

current status: 5/10 chapters posted

complete un amour d’été timestamps mini-series

current status: 2/5 timestamps posted

post pandora’s box

current wc: 9089

just a lot of world-building to do since it’s the first book of a trilogy and everything has to make sense for jaehyun’s and taeyong’s stories

post tabula rasa

current wc: 5333

also just a lot of world-building since it’s an isekai!au + sci-fi fic

post a promise of infinity

current wc: 6901

lowkey lost a lot of inspo for this fic so it’s at the bottom of my priorities but who knows

i have a lot more fics in my drafts/google docs drive, but i thought it’d be best to have a sort of list of fics for me to focus, as opposed to writing wtv fic i want (which is still what i do most of the time, but i wanted something more concrete).

speaking of fics in my drafts, these are the ones that i’ve been working on the most (aka, they all have around 1~5k words written, not just an idea or a synopsis):

god complex:

neurosurgeon!jaehyun x cardio surgeon!female surgeon

angst, romance, slice of life, fluff, exes-to-lovers!au

racine de l’arborescence:

demigod!jaehyun x demigod!female reader

romance, friendship, action, slight angst, drama, greek myth!au, pjo!au

for the thrill of the ride:

richboy!jaehyun x streetracer!female reader

romance, action, richkid!au

(take it) with a pinch of salt:

chef!jaehyun x food critic!female reader

romance, comedy, enemies-to-lovers!au

you wish me well, i wish you hell:

ice dancer!jaehyun x ice dancer!female reader! x ice dancer!johnny

romance, drama, love triangle, enemies-to-lovers!au

spinning out:

hockey player!mark x figure skater!female reader

romance, drama, enemies-to-lovers!au, college!au, athletes!au

hope you are all excited!! let me know which fic are you most excited about in my ask/inbox!!! (ɔ◔‿◔)ɔ♥

p-s: i will be updating ten reasons and will post chapter 6 by sunday/monday.

#nini.updates

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callmemana · 7 months

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Birb’s AU Idea List:

It’s not a secret I love to read and I like to see ideas that are out of the box! So here is a list of aus that I think aren’t seen or used enough that I’d personally love for writers to be creative with and see where they take it!

Charlie’s Angels au

Proposal au

Eastside Female x Southside Boy

Tattoo artist female x mafia/mc male

Dazed and Confused au

MC male x Preschool teacher female

50 First Dates au

Writer female x UFC fighter Male

Fake Dating au

Doctor Female x Millionaire Male (either as a single parent)

Small town farm Female x Dancer (hip hop) Male

Pre-K teacher Female x Training Olympic Swimmer Male

College - Injury!Retired!Softball player x Baseball player

Sarcastic Teacher Aid Female x College F-Boy

Injury!Retired! Bar-Owner Female x Academic Male (Reverse Cheers! Vibes)

Baker Female x Firefighter Male

Paramedic Female x CEO Male

Band au - could be a series where each member has a different story line but all connect

Photographer Female x Police Officer Male

Critically Ill Female x Military Male (or reversed)

Seamstress Female x NFL! Male

Burlesque Au

Paramedic Female x Electrician Male

Hairstylist Female x Widower!Single Dad

Cosmetology Female x Widower!Single Dad

Firefighter! Female x ProfessionalChef! Male

Camp Counselor Female x Lifeguard! Male

Neurodivergent Female x Athletic Male

Coffee Shop Female x Eye Doc! Male

Reporter/Athletic Trainer! Female x Hockey player! Male

Violinist Female x Mafia/Mob Male

Dog!Mom Female x VetTech!Male (dog mom’s bf is caught cheating bc dog ate underoos and spoiler alert - not hers)

Persephone x Hades (PLEASE!!!)

Hera x Zeus

Runaway!Abused!Wife! Female x Bounty Hunter! Male

Professional!Chef! Female x Hunting Guide! Male

Weird Science au

The Goonies/Indiana Jones au

Powers au

Breakfast Club au

Fast Times at Ridgemont High au

Dirty Dancing au

City Girl! Female x Farm Hand! Male au

Gymnast! Female x Hockey Player! Male

Stand By Me/Coming of Age au

Ice Skater! Female x Gamer! Male

Bartender! Female x Construction Worker! Male

College Student! Single Mom! x UFC! Male

Single Mom! Waitress! x Emergency Worker! Male

Single Mom! Bartender! x MC Male

MAGIC MIKE au

Sweet Home Alabama au

The Wedding Singer au

Wedding Crashers au

My Big Fat (Greek) Wedding au

Enchanted au

Jane the Virgin au

Sorry for all the sports, I’m a sporty girl lol

#callmemana #birdie reads #birdie chirps #callmemanaficrecs #out of the box #list of aus #let’s be creative!#birds aus #writers are welcome to use!#I’d love to read any if used!

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angelinaheartshapedbox · 2 years

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A Slapshot To The Heart

eren jaeger x gn!reader <3

college au/smau. hockey player eren<333. musician/dancer reader.

summary: y/n l/n is a sophomore at paradis university with a scholarship in music. while taking a necessary technology course to complete their major, they meet the infamous hockey player, eren jaeger. y/n does their best to avoid him, but their efforts fail as they continue to run into him everywhere. they soon find that eren isn't the douche bag every depicts him as, and grows very fond of his company.

WARNINGS: swearing, lower case intended, reader uses they/them pronouns, reader is attracted to all genders, eren is a huge himbo dork, any major trigger warnings will be given before each chapter.

this series is entirely sfw. mild suggestive themes, but nothing explicit.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

point three!

"you're really sweet."

wordcount: 2.1k

chapter tws: mentions of alcohol, drunk people, and smoking. all characters are of legal age. y/n is under the influence.

y/n's instagram story

dinner was amazing. jean paid the full bill, which was so awesome. we were now arriving at the party, and i was regretting everything. it's not like i don't like hanging out with people, i just don't want to right now. well, i'm here now, so it's too late. my only goal of the night is to go back to my own place, and keep my dinner in my stomach.

i can hear the music blasting from the front yard, there's a few people hanging around outside. connie opens the door for us, i let jean and sasha in before me. when i entered i immediately smelled alcohol, weed, and sweat. keeping my food down might be harder than expected.

my face scrunches up as i look at the sea of people. i notice the people in the backyard, too. i also noticed that almost everyone has a drink in hand. i'm gonna need one of those.

"try to have fun!" sasha yells over the music, shaking me.

"i'll try!" i shouted.

"okay! i'm gonna go find mikasa! go have a drink, or something!" she hugs me, and leaves.

"sasha, you give me a headache" i mumble to myself, making my way to the couch.

everyone in the living room is smoking. i don't mind, but i don't think i'm gonna smoke tonight. i'm anxious enough as it is, i don't need paranoia on top of that.

"hey" a voice says from behind me, really close to my ear.

i jump, spinning myself around, and eren is there. he's leaning downing with a stupid smile on his face, and a beer in his hand. i can't see the brand.

"jesus christ, you scared the shit outta me!" i take a deep breath as he laughs.

"sorry, i wasn't trying to. it was funny, though" he said with an even bigger smile than before.

"yeah, haha, very funny" i roll my eyes.

"c'mon, i'll make you a drink. like, uh, a peace offering" he stands up straight, gesturing for me to come with him.

i climb over the back of the couch, eren helps me not fall over. "let's go."

i follow eren through the crowd, he takes me to a door next to the kitchen. a big sign hangs over the door "DRINKS HERE" with a big arrow.

"sketchy" i comment as he turns the door knob.

"yeah, porco made the sign," eren replied, pushing the door open.

he opens the door, revealing an entire bar and bartender. there's shelves filled with liquor, wine coolers, and an ice chest with beer and seltzer.

"shit, you have a whole bar in here?" i say, my voice echoes through the garage.

"it was a house warming gift from my brother," he tells me, approaching the bartender, "your drink of choice?"

i turn to him, "oh, yeah, vodka cran, please."

he smiles, returning to the bartender, "a vodka cran, and just another one," he hold up his empty corona bottle, "thanks."

i stand next to eren with my arms crossed, watching the bartender intensively. he very carefully measures the vodka, and pours it into the iced glass of cranberry juice.

"do you stare like that all the time?" eren asks me.

"oh, i'm just really cautious about my drinks. being drugged was not in my plans tonight- thank you" the bartender slides my drink over, as well as eren's.

"i get that" eren chuckles, taking a sip from his drink.

i laugh too, but before i could get a sip my phone chimes.

i tuck my phone in my pocket with a grin on my face. i take my first sip of my drink, and fuck it's good.

"what's the smile for?" eren teases.

"that was jean," i began, "i should get outta here before he comes, and hits you or something."

"we could go to the basement" eren offers.

i raise an eyebrow. the last thing i want to do is go to some basement in a house i've never been to, with a guy i barely know. i think eren senses my suspicion.

"there's other people there. i think mikasa's down there, if that makes you feel better" he said with that awkward smile that he gave me in class.

i think about it for a second. before giving eren a solid, "alright," and heading back out.

as we're leaving the garage, we see jean talking to armin. eren puts his hand on my lower back, and pushes me forward. we run to the hallway where there's a door that he opens. i go down the stairs, eren follows.

he wasn't lying. there were people in the basement, including mikasa who was playing pool with sasha. annie sat on a bean bag chair in the corner, she was smoking something.

"hey, look who's here," annie announced, pointing at me.

sasha spun around, "y/n! i missed you!" she stumbled over, and threw her arms around me.

"hey, sash. how much have you had to drink?" i practically had to hold her up as i hugged her.

"too much," mikasa replied, walking over, "hey, love, how about we go lie down for a bit?"

"okay" sasha slurred, gripping onto mikasa. she took sasha to one of the other bean bag chairs.

i look at eren, "she's a lightweight."

"i can tell" he watched as mikasa struggled to get sasha to sit down. "do you wanna sit, or we could play pool, but i suck. we can do whatever you want-"

"we can sit down" i put an end to his blabbering, and flop onto the couch.

eren sits next to me, body facing me, and arm hanging off the back of the couch. i pulled my legs up, sitting sideways to look at him too. his eyes are really, really pretty. i've said that before, but i can't help but notice them now, too. even in the dull basement light, they're gorgeous.

"what do you play?," eren's voice stops my train of thought, "like, instrument wise."

"i play guitar for the band. i can play bass too, but we already have two bass players. i sing too. i was singing before i did guitar" i explain, i could feel my lips curling into a grin talking about it.

"that's so cool. i can't wait to hear you guys play" he says for the tenth time since i've met him.

i take a drink of my vodka cran before asking him, "how about your hockey stuff ? i know the season just started."

"oh, you know, it's what it is. some of the guys are being a little weird this season, but we're working hard" he shrugs, and takes a drink.

"acting weird?" i tilt my head in curiosity.

"just not super motivated, i guess. christian is suddenly really into bitcoin?," he had an annoyed expression, "most confusing and annoying shit ever."

"that is…," i start to laugh, "terribly hilarious."

eren laughs with me, "yeah, yeah, it is."

we share a fit of laughter as we make fun of his teammates. he describes them in the most frat boy way. eren does really seem to appreciate his teammates, though. everytime he says something bad about one of them he throws in something positive. even for jean.

"you're really sweet," i tell him through chuckles.

"yeah, i try" he replies.

i finish giggling to find eren staring at me. it's not a bad stare, he's just looking at me. directly at me, like, directly into my eyes.

"what?" i ask, nervously giggling.

"you have a pretty laugh" he says casually, and finishes off his beer.

"are you drunk?" i joke.

"i'm not drunk, i'm buzzed," he mumbles.

"mhm" i hum, looking at my phone, "it's late i should take "the kids" home." i point to sasha, who's throwing up in a garbage can.

i stand up, and eren does too. he gently grabs my arm, "please stay."

god damn it. what was i supposed to do? leave? i stood there, staring at his eyes, again. i examined his whole face. his light freckles against his tanned skin, his perfectly shaped nose and jaw, and the little strands of hair laying in front of his face. his brows knitted together as he pleaded with me to stay. and so, i did.

eren insisted on showing me his "epic beer pong skills", to which i said, "jean is really good at beer pong." i knew that would cause a competition, but i was bored, and it was funny.

eren ran up the stairs to find jean. he tapped on one of his friend's shoulders, telling him to stop the music. "everyone outside, kirstein and i are gonna play beer pong!" he yelled over the sea of people.

jean looks over at eren,"we need twenty solo cups, some beer, and two ping pong balls."

eren competitively smiles as everyone shoves through the sliding doors into the backyard. the hockey team got front row to watch "the show", along with me, my roommates, armin, and mikasa. i set up the cups in a triangle formation, and fill them with beer.

"rock, paper, scissors for who shoots first. best two out of three" i tell the boys. immediately, they're starting. eren picks rock, jean picks paper. eren pick scissors, jean picks paper. eren picks rock, jean picks scissors.

"yes!" eren does a victory fist,"ball, please."

armin puts the ball in eren's open palm. he prepares for his first shot, closing one eye, he's completely focused. he throws it, and it lands right in the middle cup. eren bites his bottom lip, high five-ing and fist bumping his teammates.

"drink up, kirstein" he taunts with the most shit eating grin on his face.

"fuck you," jean grumbled, downing the cup in seconds, "ball."

"a little nicer, please" i nagged.

"can i please have the ball, y/n?" he asked in a fake sweet tone.

i hand him the ping pong ball, "of course."

he shoots his ball, it bounces on the table, and eren swats it away.

"what the fuck?! you can't do that!" jean screams, pushing the table. the cups shake with the sudden movement.

armin interferes, "actually…"

"he can" mikasa finishes.

jean looks at me. "it's in the rules. if the ball bounces off a cup or table it can be hit" i explain to him.

"this is bullshit," he huffed.

"aw, don't be a sore loser" eren messes with him.

"i haven't lost," jean retorts.

"yet" connie says under his breath. jean shoots him a look.

mikasa gets everyone's attention, "before we move on, i'd like both of you to know there will be no redemption round. it's already really late."

with that information, the game begins. we spend the next forty-five minutes watching the two throw balls at beer filled cups. missing and making. making and missing. missing and missing. making and making. lots of yelling as well. eren looks mad, but he looks like that all the time. jean makes the ball into one of eren's cups, leaving one cup left on either side.

armin puts his hand on eren's shoulder, "make this last shot, and you win. you got this"

"i didn't realize how serious jocks are about beer pong," sasha mumbles, her head on my shoulder.

"me either, it's kinda pathetic" i whisper.

eren's shot misses, he exhales in frustration. jean face lights up as he shoots his shot, and then misses. these two men are very drunk from the nine cups of beer they've both had, and the drinks prior to the game. i'm not surprised that it's harder for them to aim now.

eren takes a deep breath, and switches his angle. he holds the ball at eye level, squinting. finally, he makes his shot.

"in your fucking face, kirstein!" eren hollers as the ball lands in jean's cup. he jumps up and down, dabbing up his teammates.

"motherfucker!" jean knocks the cup off of the table, "let's go home. this is stupid." he walks away, assumingly towards the car.

i put my arm around sasha to follow connie out. i definitely have to drive us back, all three of them are hammered.

"text me when you get home, will you?" mikasa stops me, "so i know that you and her are safe."

"of course" i smile i her, and drag sasha to the door.

"hey! tell kirstein he's gotta finish that beer" eren drunkenly shouts at us.

"goodnight, eren" i yell, shutting the door.

previous next

masterlist!

a/n: i had to google beer pong rules for this chapter KZAKZKSK. ik parties are such an overdone trope in fanfics but i just love me a good frat party. things should get more interesting from here i swear. thanks for reading! <3

character info! eren doesn't drink much bc he's an athlete and he just doesn't wanna risk it. he actively avoids smoking too, he'll cross the street if the person next to him is smoking. man is asthmatic and cares about his lungs<3 what a king.

#college au eren #eren jeager x reader #eren jeager x gn!reader #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager x gn!reader #gn!reader #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #aot #snk #aot smau

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dayseternal-blog · 3 years

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HIIII DO YOU HAVE ANY ICE SKATER HINATA X HOCKEY PLAYER NARUTO?? I'M DYING GO READ THIS TROPE BUT I CANT FIND IT ANYWHERE 😭 THANK YOU SO MUCH

ahhh i skipped over the other requests to answer this 😬 so that you don't dieeeeeeee

The only ice skater!Hinata x hockey player!Naruto fic I know of is

✨“Second Chances” by enzhe - Rated T, High School AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. Namikaze Naruto was abducted, then declared dead. Twelve years after he disappeared, his parents find him: now a scrappy, reckless teenager, with good friends, a lot of trauma, and ties to the murderous, anarchist Nine-Tails gang. As the family tries to put itself together, trust breaks, hurts heal, and the power struggles that led to Naruto’s abduction resurface.✨

But I have to tell you that it...doesn't actually really have much figure skating...at all...it's mentioned that Hinata ice skated. The fic is EXCELLENT. It will SUCK YOU IN to a WHOLE NIGHT OF NONSTOP READING. This fic will bowl you over because it is absolutely plot-crazy. I have read very few fics that are as gripping as this one!

Other Ice Skater Hinata or Hockey Player Naruto AUs

"Gliding" by MelancholyMemories - Rated G, Olympics AU, Long One-shot. No one would have thought a pretty Japanese Ice Dancer and an eccentric American snowboarder would make a good match. But it turns out they're exactly the motivation the other needs.

Chapter 44 from "Postscripts" by @waterrolls - Rated T, Modern AU, One-shot. Prompt: Here is the thing Naruto is an ice hockey player and Hinata is his gf(or soon to be gf if you know what i mean).

“Opposites Attract” by KyuubiLover100 - Rated E, Yakuza AU, Multi-chapter, Incomplete. Citizens of Konoha all know that “The Light cannot exist without casting its Shadow.” It’s the unspoken system that the city runs on. Everyone knows their place and their roles. Those in the Shadows do what those in the Light cannot. Uzumaki Naruto knows this and has known this since he was young. Hyuuga Hinata knows this as well and understands her Father’s wished, but still…

“Mission to Penetrate” by @truebkgirl - Rated E, High School AU, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. Senior year of high school and a group of buddies are on a mission to lose their virginity before graduation.

I wonder if there are others? If anyone who sees this can think of something that matches anon's request, please add it!!!

#anon #naruhina fanfic recs #ice skater hinata au #figure skater hinata au #hockey player naruto au #naruhina modern au

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tenderlyrenjun · 4 years

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teacher’s assistant

summary: it starts outside the classroom, ironically, then a boy starts talking to you during office hours, and somehow it feels like you started taking the class for him

↛ ↛ ↛ music theory teacher’s assistant!renjun x psychology student!reader

↛ ↛ strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, college au, best friend jeno (to renjun), best friend ten (to reader), mutual pining, food mentions, a couple swear words, hockey references, slightly features sungchan mark haechan yangyang dahyun noze (kai’s back up dancer for mmmh) and moa (a backup dancer for ariana grande), gender ambiguous reader (can be read as boy, girl, nb, GNC, etc.), references to not-straight renjun, there was supposed to be a date scene at the end but i didn’t feel like writing it lol this is long as is

↛ word count: >13,3k words (i'm sorry)

preview (2)

Last ten minutes of the game. The overhead screen is zoomed onto Jeno’s (number 23) face, accentuating the forming bruise on the corner of his mouth.

You lean on the very tips of your toes, squatting off your seat like a ballerina; you bite your lip and clench your fists at your side. Dahyun, sitting on the bleach below you, shovels popcorn in her mouth at the same rate as Sungchan, number 27, charges across the ice, trying to snatch the puck off the away team’s offence.

Yangyang, number 24, speeds behind Haechan in front of the goal, faking left with his skates, pretending to make a sharp turn but actually rotating his hips and turning his foot forward. The stick in his hand draws nobody’s attention until it whacks the puck from the enemy team, passed onto Sungchan barrel toward center. 27 makes a one-bladed spin, never taking his eyes off the prize. He gains enough momentum to push it onto Jeno, barely grazing offside. 24 and 27, left and right wing respectively, tail their center and co-captain, following him to the two players on defence standing between them and the goalie.

Contrast to the ice skaters, you keep falling forward inelegantly, having to brace yourself on Dahyun’s shoulders, trying to suck in as many moves as your eyes can recognize. You want to look at the entire rink but it is almost as if you imprinted on the puck, like a baby alligator. When you press a little too hard on your best friend’s pressure point, she yelps and your feet trip onto the lower step. All the energy in your body stops, suddenly, at the peaks of your fingernails and toes, giving you unnecessary momentum to watch. Your entire being feels cemented in place.

Left defence whips at 23, building up speed with his long legs, inclining his torso for the attack.

Your breath hitches in your chest, hand coming above your heart, as if trying to relieve it, but you are incapable of warning a teammate who you do not have.

The opponent misses, hitting the window at the opposite sideboard. Jeno bangs his stick into the ground, nearly drawing chips. He narrows his eyes at the puck, glaring at it like an enemy, frown tightening his jaw so obviously, even under the helmet.

You inhale again, never letting a single puff of air part your lips; it can only get sucked into your lungs at this point. Your eyes stagger at the Gators’ co-captain, watch him surpass into the offensive zone, crossing the blue line and meeting the right defence. Dahyun stands up with you now, as does everyone else, and you hop up on the bleacher, trying to see over Mark (number 02)’s impossibly taller older brother – his chest is, like, the same size as your entire height, and overtakes your view of the scoreboard and screen. You step to the side, using Dahyun’s shoulder, again, as support, to not fall, gathering her puffy, bright jacket in your fists.

Jeno tears through the ice in front of you, having crossed diagonally to avoid the defenceman. He fakes left, pointing with his stick, and the goalie falls for it, skating out in that direction. 23 runs behind the goalie post, leaving himself open for a steal, and 02 comes in clutch! Mark snatches the puck as 27 body slams a shorter player out of the way. 24 retrieves the puck on the other side of the rink, circling the empty offensive zone. He makes a shot. The other team goes to defend, and their goalie kneels into another block. But no! Yangyang passed it off to Jeno. With everyone distracted in the wrong place, 23 takes the shot.

You start tapping on Dahyun’s jacket, bringing your hand above your mouth, trying to will more air into your lungs. She turns her head sharply at the enemy team, seeing one of them twitch, but it is not enough to tea your attention from the star player. You feel her fingers grab yours, for moral support, and they are a little buttery, freezing your hands in the air-con room. Your chest starts moving on its own; you suck in your bottom lip, chewing the dry skin off.

The puck skids toward the steel pole. Haechan (number 66) in the defensive zone removes his helmet, the padded lining too thick to hear how the scratches urge the puck near the net. Jeno’s shot almost looks too tight, leaning far too closely to the pole.

Dahyun gasps, and you mimic her reaction.

The puck hits the pole!

You feel your nails pinch skin.

It spins …

The entire crowd quiets down. You can hear a pin dropping into the air, everyone anticipating its drop.

The puck spirals into the net! The enemy goalie throws his equipment on the ground in defeat. 23 stands in place, frozen, but he scored the winning shot!

You let out a cheer, mixed with laughter, clapping alongside Dahyun and half your stadium. She even joins you on the bleachers, standing above the crowd to see the players congratulate each other before the making nice with the away team. After the losing streak last year, you never would have thought that the Gators could pull around this fast, especially after their playmaker graduated two years ago and moved onto the North American NHL, but the pin hit the ground, erupting the entire crowd into standing ovations.

The final score is 5 to 4, and the Gators are going to semi-finals this season!

Renjun drops his hand off his chest. God, finally. He slumps his body forward, shoulders losing their stiff posture as he comes down the nosebleed section. His eyes match the waning moon phase, crinkling upward back to the scoreboard showing off his best friends’ accomplishment. He almost asks it to repeat the last ten minutes, as if it cannot be entirely real. That’s insane, he thinks, breaking out into a small smile. Renjun laughs with the rest of the stadium (well, this half at least), putting his hand on the crown of his head and letting out a huge breath. Those practices that his friends ditch him for, he supposes, really paid off this season. Although, he cannot complain too much; seeing as, ever since one of the graduate student professors hires him on as a learning assistant (Renjun prefers the title ‘teacher’s assistant’, to be honest), he floats in and out of their get-togethers. Still, Yangyang managed to drag him to every game this season, even the extraneous games in the middle of the week; he did that under two guises: (1) it is his first time on the ice and this game he actually has a stable position, and (2) a certain student attends every game. So, Renjun maneuvers to the small door at the bottom of the bleachers – the one that seals during matches because it ends at the tunnel leading into the home team’s locker room.

He stops three steps before and forcefully pulls himself on a bleach. It is a little taller than the stairs, allowing him to glance around the dispersing crowd while his friends wrap up on the ice, making peace with the other team. He ignores the way Mark threatens the other team captain and the way the referee jumps back on the ice, blowing a whistle, trying to break them up. This happens enough for him to be de-sensitized toward, but it also helps him find who he looks for.

“Get his ass, Mark!” you shout from halfway across the arena.

Renjun’s entire position faces the exit. He cranes his neck to see you a bit clearer. Your friend grabs you by the shoulders, but you still keep your head locked on the ice, trying to grasp every last second in case another fight breaks out (it doesn’t), and Renjun drops his head backward, laughing breathlessly. Your persona here, at the rink, is so much different from how quiet you tend to be in class. Sure, sometimes you speak up, like during Socratics, or sometimes your voice gets increasingly passionate when you present a topic, but you mostly sit in the center row, close enough to see the board yet far enough from graduate student Qian Kun to scroll on your phone when the lecture gets boring. Actually, one time, when Renjun passed papers to your row, your fingers brushed his hand and he caught sight of a book mixed in with all your neatly arranged writing utensils. He, despite the nerdy, flustered disposition he might look like on occasion, confidently asked what class you are taking, that forces you to read his leisure book. You barely spared him a glance, and fair enough, it was the middle of class, but he felt a little bit like Cinderella when Prince Charming did not recognize him – funny though, because he was really popular in high school, and he entertains the idea that he still retains that reputation during mid-collegiate career. Anyways, you responded with an offhanded comment, that you are a psych[ology] major so you do not, actually, have to read the book; you just read it for fun. And in that moment, Renjun, similar to a three-year-old writing to Santa Claus, was so willing to believe in soul mates (not enough to tell his friends though; they would tease him mercilessly for months).

Now, somewhat stalkerish-ly, Renjun tries to see you outside of class. Normally, well, in high school, he would only support Jeno and co. during the championship, not everyday matches, especially the three or four games a week, but once he heard an upperclassmen (Ten, who he vaguely knows from Kun) on the phone mention your name – that, combined with Yangyang’s insistence, turned him into a model fan with a perfect attendance record, so far, throughout this season, as well as a few figure skating performances (with a begrudging Jeno and overly enthusiastic Sungchan) that Yangyang tricked him into attending, under the guise that you would be there too. Renjun found out, three performances in, that you cannot, in fact, skate; you just like watching hockey. He stopped listening to anything Yangyang had to say, following that incident.

Renjun picks his head back up, teetering high above the bench again, but he misses you, not even able to catch your friend hauling you out the building (probably before you can scrap against the away team yourself). As he jumps down, face equally communicating how down he feels, Jeno skates off the ice, banging on the plexiglass with his gargantuan glove, carrying a mischievous smile additionally to his stick. Renjun staggers in reverse, shaking along the windows. He glares at the hockey player for startling him, and it maintains until he gets to the small door again.

“What?” Renjun asks, annoyed, stomping his feet like a toddler, stopping only at the last step where he can still keep some inches over his friend.

“Dude.” Jeno rolls his eyes, letting them come back into crescents outlined by his whiskery laugh lines. “You’re so smitten.”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

Jeno peeks at the entrance, briefly searching for the elusive mystery student too. He even squints his eyes, like looking with bad eyesight, sans glasses, but similar to Renjun, he loses you to the crowd. Renjun actually realizes, at this point, staring into his best friend’s face, that, unlike the others, Jeno has never even seen you before. The lecture that he works in has too many students to definitely point you out, and the music theory department switches shifts with the atrocious business department after before hockey practice ends. It probably would have been nice to finally match a face, Renjun presumes. Jeno starts jiggling the lock again.

“You know,” he starts. He completely opens the door, but Renjun waits, pauses too, in case he needs the extra height to shout again. “You could chase after – “

“I am not embarrassing myself like that.”

“Oh come on,” Jeno whines, slouching forward (mostly to brace himself on the railing under the plexiglass – he has been on skates for the last two and a half hours, and he really wants out, so if Renjun could just … hurry up, that would be great). “You’ve had a crush all semester, and – “

“It’s only been six weeks!” Renjun argues, regaining the stiff posture that he had earlier, during the game, although now, he has a matching scowl in his brow, eyes still directed at Jeno. He does not want to admit how (or how long for this matter) enamored he has been with you, the idea of you. Nothing is wrong, necessarily, with him having a crush on another student … even one he lords some academic power over. Renjun shakes his head.

“Six weeks of having a crush?” Jeno asks for clarification, raising an eyebrow.

Renjun shoves Jeno’s shoulder and hops onto ground floor so that they are back to the normal height difference. “Shut up. I’ll do it if I want.”

“Ah huh, sure.”

Renjun punches Jeno again, pushing him toward the locker rooms with a hand on his back. Jeno purposefully staggers, to tease again, but Renjun lets go just a tad bit and they almost fall onto the ground, what with Jeno’s lack of balance already pre-determined by his thin blades. They laugh en route to the other players. Despite never going on the ice himself, Renjun actually spends a lot of time hanging around the locker rooms, not as of late though because he has the whole learning assistant job right now, but he stores his stuff in one of the empty offices, every once in a while, especially when he has to lug around that huge portfolio folder.

Jeno opens his locker first and tosses over a spare jersey, one without an assigned number (it gets him free drinks). Renjun thinks that it is immortalized after some Canadian player because a random guy hitting on him at the Gators’ celebratory bar casually mentioned it as an international award that he has never heard of. He leans against the red metal, fiddling with the strings on his hoodie underneath the jersey, suddenly a little self-conscious. Renjun could easily talk to one of the other guys, or hell, Jaemin, if the biochem student was not too busy to join this season. Still though, he sticks to Jeno like glue, not really wanting to have this conversation paralleled with any of the players’ stupid meet cute. Like, come on! There is only so many times he can hear about Sungchan and his classmate who learned more about hockey in 4 weeks than Renjun has seen in a lifetime, or about Yangyang and that one figure skater who scathed into second during a championship. It makes Renjun’s head spin. Romance cannot be that easy to come by. He feels like he has to work for it, and he does not even know if he wants to do it in the first place!

“Hey,” Renjun sighs as Jeno tugs off his skates. Jeno throws him a quick ‘eung’ (what), the open door making his deep voice echo into the locker more comprehensible than the entire space, not that Renjun would be able to hear him properly anyway, considering that everyone changes clothes simultaneously. God, it reminds him about high school, and he has to shake the thought away. “What did you mean by ‘sure’?”

Jeno pokes his head around the door, looking his friend up and down before shrugging. “Nothing bad.” He pulls out a pair of pants. “Just that you’ll probably be the one who gets asked out.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that!”

Renjun has been asked out plenty of times in his life, and occasionally he says yes. Like that time over the summer, after he got his first apartment, when the cute barista at the café, a 5-minute walking distance away, slipped their number under the sleeve with a cute poem asking him on a noncaffeinated date. It just … It is not his fault that a relationship usually comes out of a first date when he does the initial asking.

“But you’re just sitting around,” Jeno counters, behind his locker, shirtless. Renjun glares at him, burning extra holes into one of the scratch marks on his shoulder. Jeno pops back out, slinging on a graphic T-shirt version of his jersey. The patch equally scowls at Renjun, knowing that Jeno probably will not do more than roll his eyes. “You are literally just waiting. Doesn’t it get boring?” Jeno pulls out a pair of Nike high tops, squatting on the bench to tie them up without falling flat on his ass.

“He’s right, you know,” Yangyang throws in his two cents from the side, hip-kicking his locker closed, fully dressed, with his backpack slung over his shoulder.

“Oh, fuck you!” Renjun spins around, pointing an accusatory finger. “You got a bouquet of flowers. I don’t know how much more explicit someone can get, other than screaming ‘hey, idiot! I like you too!’.” Renjun pauses for a second, the others peaking their heads into the conversation. “And you forced me to come here.”

Haechan rolls his eyes, rounding the corner to chuck an arm around Renjun’s shoulders. “You can’t say that when you’ve been willingly coming to games since week one.”

“Even the meaningless matches in the middle of the week,” Mark chimes in, across the room, “you come to those, too.”

“I swear,” Sungchan gathers their attention behind Jeno, looking like everyone’s boy next door, hair slicked away from his forehead, wearing the team jacket over a simple band t-shirt. “I saw him at a figure skating practice.”

Renjun throws his hands in the air, rolling his head around. Sungchan joins them after throwing quick see-you-later waves at Ten and Winwin, and Renjun starts to think that he has too many friends – too many friends who know too much information about him and his daily routines. Thankfully, Yangyang takes off some of the pressure, revealing that he was the one dragging Renjun to the ice five days out of the week.

Jeno closes his locker. “Okay, enough about Renjun’s love life –”

“You’re one to talk,” Haechan coughs not-so-subtly through his fist. Jeno glares at him, and Mark laughs loudly, pulling him into a hug.

“Anyways,” Jeno retarts. “It was a great effort today team, but we can’t keep up the faking left/faking right plays. Going into the semis, I think that –”

Renjun rolls his eyes. “Just let them off the hook. You all played a good game today and can revisit this half-deprecating speech during practice tomorrow.” The entire team groans behind him, even Mark, who is actually co-captain, unlike Renjun. He faces them, hands thrown out, a sarcastic twinge skirting his next sentence: “What? Did you all really think that Captain Lee –” Without needing to turn around, he knows that he made Jeno smile, on account of the title, but then Mark intentionally clears his throat and Renjun rolls his eyes, not losing the smile though (no matter what, he never loses the smile around his friends). “- would let up on your practices? Good fucking luck for the next three weeks, losers.”

“Yeah, whatever,” everyone mutters, then disperses into various cars. Someone vaguely calls for shotgun, only for Sungchan to take it anyways.

Renjun follows them up the ramp, past the snack counter just outside the ice rink. Everyone exits the building, leaving him to linger around for a moment, fiddling with an app on his Apple Watch. More than a few minutes pass and he starts tapping his foot into the carpet, glancing back at the locker rooms expectantly. Where is Jeno? He is supposed to help figure out this whole crush thing. That is their dynamic – Jeno notices it and teases him for a bit; Renjun pretends to hate it but is actually suffering; and Jeno gives him half-solid advice. It has worked before. Well, just once. It fails otherwise, which is why he employs Jaemin, but the latter is too busy this term, since he failed some biochem lab quiz or something (Renjun cannot recall; Jaemin whined about it at 3AM during midterms). So where is Jeno? Renjun almost tries willing his friend to come through – that works, kind of. Jeno stumbles out, looking more at his phone than where he goes, ultimately having to skid into a stop after seeing Renjun.

“You waited for me?”

“Uh, yeah,” Renjun answers like it is obvious. Maybe Jeno has some memory foam still lodged in his ears. “First of all, my stuff is in your car.” Yangyang might have persuaded him here, but he took a ride with Jeno because their schedules were the only ones that aligned well enough to get them both at the rink on time. “Second, you owe me after Thursday’s rounds of pimaek.” Renjun starts gesturing at the crash bar. “So, let’s …”

“Oh, right,” Jeno remembers. They got slightly trashed after his physics exam a couple days ago, and since he left his wallet in a location that he didn’t say (but everyone knew he was at the SoHo apartments, after seeing him in the background of Jaemin’s snapchat), Renjun ended up paying for dinner. This is Jeno’s opportunity to literally pay him back. “I’m, uh, not going. Something came up, but, um –” He tosses his keys at Renjun, who barely cups his hands in time to catch them. “- you take my car and I’ll treat you to rabokki and beer tomorrow.”

“What are y-”

“Cool, yeah, thanks.” Jeno pats him on the shoulder and pushes the exit open, disappearing around the corner before Renjun can get out a full explanation (he still has his jaw dropped, seconds after Jeno left).

Renjun closes his mouth and shakes his hair. First, he loses you in a crowed, then his drinking buddy to the outside. Yanno, someone might think that you two are the same person, like Batman and Bruce Wayne, although he does not think Jeno is cool enough to be either. Also, he knows what you look like and he has known Jeno since he before high school. Whatever, looks like he will have to wait until tomorrow then. Ugh, fuck. He has to see you in class tomorrow, too, when he gives the lecture. Today was the day break between the three-times a week course. Man, he really needs a drink.

For MUS 210 Music Theory I, contrast to the AP high school version, you get to class at least 15 minutes early – earlier than other students, than the learning assistant (Injun, you think is his name; you heard some premed student, wearing a stethoscope, call him that a few weeks ago, and to be completely honest, you were not really paying attention to many people on syllabus day when he introduced himself), and the teacher, who is the primary reason that you take this unnecessarily difficult course. Luckily, too, you are somewhat of a morning person – if that means pulling all-nighters, preferring un-timed naps to sleeping a straight 6-8 hours, never past 4PM though (that is when the music theory office hours are). It just means that you turn in all your assignments at 11:59 P.M. and that you can get java at that café halfway across campus inside the new physics building, without being late to class.

Injun gets here minutes after you do. He is usually the person to open the doors this early in the morning. One time he asked how you got into the building because it automatically locks and unlocks at 11 P.M. and 8 A.M. respectively. You had to put your phone down that time, tearing your attention away from the dark academia tik tok series, smile still on your face when you met him; you told him about the basement you found during week one, where a bunch of instruments are stored. It is highly likely that no one is allowed down there, but no one has stopped you so far and there does not look to be an automatic lock on that door, since the building overall is old. You eventually saw him again, taking that route. Strangely though, he still arrived to class late. You scrunched your nose at that, almost wanting to find out why, but then your teacher walked in and everything was about him once more. His hair was curly and blond that time, and he wore a pair of glasses.

Nevertheless, now, you stop using your phone to distract yourself from the cold of outside, and your iced coffee. You actually told Noze just yesterday, after Dahyun physically removed you from the ice rink and you bought a French vanilla cone at the snack bar, to trust you on this: all iced treats taste best in fall/winter – mint chocolate ice cream, iced americanos, naengmyeon, etc. She did not believe you, of course, but Injun might, given the small smile tosses your way, possibly at the coffee, before you follow him into the lecture hall, assuming your regular spot in the off-center. You slip your tote bag between your leg and the desk leg, winding down to also grab your iPad, A5 notebook, and writing utensils.

Typically, the days that you have music theory overlap with the days that you have to go into the psych lab to work on scoring data or draft emails and make calls; therefore you can get away with not carrying too much to class, like your monstrosity of a laptop. You try to space out your time as much as possible, too, so that your to-do list does not accumulate too many tasks. It works in the same way that you organize all the materials across your desk: pens neatly arranged at equidistant lengths and heights (eraser > pencil > pen, by ballpoint size > highlighter), moleskin underneath, iPad to the right with your Pen twirling circles through your fingers. You like to look well-prepared in front of Teacher Qian, as if trying to seduce him with stationery or something; you do not actually know much about what he likes other than music, magic, and oddly enough, airplanes (he offhandedly mentioned once, when the season started to drop below 6 degrees, that he does not like winter too much; such a shame, you thought, because it puts a damper on your idealistic daydreams about the snowfall, in which he is the protagonist). Still, seconds before the lecture displays down from the overhead projector, you transform from a social media addict into an exemplary, attentive student.

You scan around the front room, glancing from the emergency exit on the left to the door on the right that leads into another classroom. Occasionally, Qian comes through the right entrance, immediately gravitating toward Injun to talk about you can never hear, not that you are trying to; you can barely understand the material as is, but he always looks so handsome at that podium, far enough to admire and romanticize without compromising your grades (because honestly, relationships are melting pots for trouble). Despite that, you sit up stiffer, spinning your Pen into fourth position, like a violinist prepared to perform, to, again, go overboard and make immaculate notes for a class you struggle in. The back lights dim, too, music following behind from the PowerPoint.

“Last time, we went over triads,” Injun introduces. He presses a button, shutting off the audio. The new diagram, which is not found in your textbook (maybe you should have studied the pre-lecture material after all, instead of going to the hockey game), depicts figured bass inversion symbols for triads – the root, 3rd, and 5th. The laser pointer drifts to the small numbers written at the top of the boxes. “Here are the figured bass numbers.” He presses another button, and some definition, you guess, pops up at the bottom of the slide.

When Injun continues spouting off about the root position and how to do chord inversions, you realize that (1) it is, in fact, possible for music theory to get more difficult, like a goddamn trigonometry class, constantly building upon the previous material and (2) Qian is not coming today. The learning assistant moves on to seventh chords way too quickly for your liking, rushing through how to invert them. He captivates your attention, forcing your pen to paper (metaphorically speaking, because you use Evernote to draw pretty things and the actual physical notebook as a brain dump so that you do not get too distracted during class). So, you double down on your notes, scribbling monochromatic notes that you will probably end up highlighting later, and decide to go to office hours today. Qian has them near-daily, only for short periods of time though, which is why they are frequent.

With psych classes, you abuse the hell out of office hours, to, hopefully, kiss enough ass until the end of your undergraduate degree when you will probably need a few letters of recommendation, on the off chance that you do want to go to graduate school (your parents seem to like the idea of medical school, if their ‘encouragement’ can be interpreted as such). But for general education courses? Nah, those are scarcely worth your time. And ordinarily, they are meant to be easy enough to pass with the bare minimum, not to say that you neglect the class or its effort. You skim the required readings and the syllabus enough to check off every requirement and get an A, but you never retain the information, like you do for your major course – no one does. Unless they really want to challenge themselves, which is not what you want to do. You just want to stare at the hot teacher. God, why did he have to be smart and teach music theory, of all subjects? You barely passed it in high school, failed the AP exam too. And you had more free time then. Since a break is not afforded to you now, nor over the last few semesters, you figured that you could take on with this course and shamelessly flirt with a graduate student – no real intentions of dating, or even sleeping with him though. Unfortunately, he gives a lot of responsibilities to the LA.

When you get to Qian’s office hours, after your last class of the day ends, you look around the third floor for a placard representing his name; surprisingly, he has his own office space. Most graduate students share a room, as you can attest from Ten constantly stealing doughnuts for you in the psych one. You find Qian’s office, his name prettily engraved in Korean and Hanja underneath, and quickly daydream about the things that happen behind closed doors.

“Can I help you?”

You lean to the side, glancing the owner.

“Uhh, I just needed help with today’s lecture.”

“Oh?” Injun raises an eyebrow then gestures for you to come in. You obey, stuttering inside, gripping the tote strap tightly. The office is wide but still relatively small. A two-seater couch rests against the wall that has the open door, next to a bookshelf with more trinkets than books, opposite the two desks shaped like a chess move (the knight’s). In front of the horizontal desk is a small, collapsible chair, contrast to the padded, comfy-looking, swivel chair that he sits on, facing the Apple monitor. His hands move off the keyboard, sliding away from the candy jar that you would definitely have inhaled had you worked here. He folds them professionally (not at all nervous) as he spins at you. “Did I not explain something enough? I can clarify it if you like.”

You quickly scan his face, looking for any hesitance that might tell you he does not want to do this, he is running out of office hour time because Qian is coming. A quick glance out the open door shows emptiness, only random students hastily paying for print jobs, no one appearing from the hall. Looks like Qian is not coming today. So, you sigh and retreat back to Injun. You take the seat in front of him. He shifts away enough to remain close yet give you plenty of space to bring out your moleskin notebook with all your ramblings and questions. You hope he ignores the poorly drawn doodles separating your bullet points. He seems to, given the way he straightens up a little bit taller than you, almost surprised to see you so prepared for class.

“Yeah,” you say shakily. “It’s just the whole triads thing. I didn’t, um, really understand the comparison between the C melodic and harmonic scales last week, and now we’re on inversions.” You point your notes at him, accidentally sliding and bumping your elbow at him. He pulls away a little bit at that, giving you more of a bigger picture to see. His cheeks flush, making you wonder if you embarrassed him with how dumb you feel in this class, or if you made him feel bad for you not understanding the material that he taught – the latter would make you feel equally bad. “It just didn’t click for me in class.”

Renjun explains the difference, and corrects his name from your tongue, eventually helping you pronounce it with a Chinese inflection – you got the language right (kind of; you only really know the hanja that schools teach in primary school) but first syllable was wrong. He told you that it did not matter, just as long as you keep his name proper going forward, but the smile on his face, when you successfully got it accurate, told you to say it over and over again like singing your favorite song. You made sure to slip it casually into conversation after a couple sentences, becoming more and more familiar with it as you practice in front of him. His laugh even sounds prettier than the four-part harmonic progression you have to analyze by next week for homework.

“Okay, this one is kind of a trick question.” He clears his throat, bringing your attention back down to his chicken scratch. It is funny; you would have assumed that he has handwriting as pretty as he is (you’re not blind, you can definitely notice how handsome Renjun is, especially with the distance he seems to lack), but everyone has their flaws, and his is writing – both in terms of, like, calligraphy and spelling, which is even more ironic, considering that he mentioned his major is studio art. You watch him draw a beautifully curved six then cross it out, replacing with a five. “Listen to the alto and tenor voices here only. Ignore the soprano and bass.” He squints at the paper, leaning his entire body down as if to reread the question. You cannot understand why because listening should take priority (right? You only get four listens during the exam). “Duration doesn’t matter either.”

“So just write the Roman and Arabic numerals after I fill in the pitches?”

“Right.” Renjun nods his head, though he still does not look at you. He tilts his head to the side, and you try to match him too, slanting off your seat to see what he sees. You assumed that he would have the answer key ahead of time, but maybe Qian is not as prepared as you think he is – it would explain why Renjun was so surprised at all your materials.

You point at the bottom staves, sneaking an arm under both his, which are holding your music notebook up. He does not budge, still reading the six out of nine chords that you two got down. You give him another once over, making sure that the closeness would not bother him too much, testing how big his personal space is. “What if we do an octave transpositions of soprano pitches?” Renjun tightens his lips, and you remember his forewarning about ignoring the soprano pitches. “Right. Ignore that.” You shake your head and recuperate quickly. “What if we do an enharmonic equivalent?”

“Yeah,” he considers, drawing out the word as long as his thought process. “But none of the pitches sound the same,” he decides.

Renjun plays the melody again and you incline closer, hovering above his shoulder. You try hearing what he does, and begin wondering if you are tone-deaf. Though, that seems impossible, given the way you listened so diligently to the pronunciation of his name. You hope it means something as pretty as him, or his voice.

“How – Oh.” Renjun jolts, making you throw your eyes up at him, like throwing a baseball at a high arc to get it from outfield to first base. The way his own gaze eases, losing the surprise, makes you come back on your seat again, and you copy how he mattes his sideburns down, your brain not disconnecting from his energy yet. Then, Renjun starts stuttering and you need to scoot back, barely understanding his second repetition: “How about we take a break for a minute?”

“Yeah,” you agree, tugging your jacket collar off your neck, suddenly warmer. You try poking along your jaw to displace the heat, get rid of that burning touch on the outside of your throat.

“Can – Can I ask –” Renjun broaches slowly. You never stopped looking at him, but now, your eyes stop feeling so glazed over, your smile feels more genuine, and even with the distance, as you increase the space between your chests, your body becomes more attentive than when you were trying to learn a new concept. He spins the chair to face you again, backing into the opening of his desk-made cubicle. You start to believe that he might be embarrassed, making you think badly again, sorry for popping his personal bubble.

So, you take a bit more initiative, leaning on this break to apologize again. “I’m sorry; I hear something, I swear,” you confess, slowly pulling your lip through your teeth, “but it’s not this.” Your words come out nonsensically, before you can fully sort them out, fully understand what you can actually decipher. You slink into the chair, tracing down his face until you reach the shoulders that you were just hovering over too closely. “I kind of wish it was as easy as grasping – God, I don’t even know.”

“Hockey?” he guesses, closely tailing your thought process. You rise up again, meeting his eye. And when you do, he looks more surprised than you, or than embarrassed – his eyes wide, mouth already stuttering open again. “I – I – I just mean that I saw you – I think! – at last night’s hockey game. I could have been mistaken though,” he backtracks just as quickly as he said everything. “A lot of people go to those games, and I was obviously more focused on my best friend,” he lies, smoothening it over with the truth: “He’s the co-captain, Jeno. Well, him and one of the biochem students. I don’t know if you know him. Hell, I don’t even know if it was you at the game yesterday!” He laughs nervously, breathlessly, letting it fade into coarseness.

You tilt your head to the side. “Huh?” you say lightly, thinking. You purse your lips, nodding along the forming smile on his face; you fail to notice your own, while the ambience settles more cordially, outside the hands he puts on his face, the ones that lower when you keep speaking, not perceiving him as a stalker. “I barely even recognize the members’ names, to be completely honest. I know the other co-captain Mark, and I know Ten because he works in my research lab. It’s funny; I usually force my friend Dahyun, or Moa, to go with me, since I don’t, actually, know anyone at the rink that closely.”

Renjun makes a mental note that you are friends with the dance team, his pupils twitching to scan your face for permission to keep prodding you, with questions. He gets an in once you drop your hand on the table again, tapping your fingers around his arm. “Well, if you want, I go to games all the time, and you can meet m-”

Knock. Knock.

“Hey, you up for rabokki and sake?”

The voice alone tells Renjun that Jeno has arrived, so he drops his head for a second while you check out the co-captain you both were just talking about. Jeno is supposed to help him figure out how to ask you on a date, not cockblock the first time that he gets to speak with you freely. Renjun waves a hand that you behind your head, vaguely gesturing until Jeno gets the hint, exclaiming a newly omniscient oh. Thankfully, it goes over your head. Unfortunately, your head is the sun and Jeno’s revelation is Pluto, not even a planet in your solar system; maybe at one point, he hopes, maybe even in the future again, but not right now.

“I guess I’ll let you go then,” you announce, after a few silent moments. It is Renjun’s turn to feel a little bad; you must think that he is keeping a secret from you, which he is but not something too important, just a crush. You start quietly packing your things into your bag, during their silent conversation, and stand up, patting your thighs like a soundless goodbye.

“No, wait,” Renjun tries to stop you, getting up so abruptly that the chair echoes on the wall behind him. “We can –“ His sentence piggybacks on your leaving footsteps, and he collapses in the seat again, rolling it forward on the desk, blankly staring at the door you just walked through. The last two minutes went by way too fast; a parallel, kind of, to today’s lecture that made you visit him in the first place.

Jeno points down the hall, an oblivious smile on his face when he turns back to the room. “Was that -?”

Renjun drops his head on the desk, forehead making a loud slam.

“Ah, okay. It was.” Jeno takes your seat, sticking his hand in the candy jar, stealing a bright orange lollipop. “Nice to put a name to the face.”

Your workflow gets interrupted by a cup of coffee that Ten places between you and the Apple monitor, drawing an exhausted yet grateful thank you from your lips. You generously sip the contraband, fluttering to meet his gaze from under your eyelashes. On the off chance that your scheduled align, he always steals you a cup of coffee from the psychology graduate student kitchenette on the second floor, where undergrads are banned (after the whole Mark incident; it was an accident!). He also brings you a doughnut, unravelling it on a napkin next to the obnoxiously boxy keyboard. You quickly glance down at the mahogany then back up at him. The sound he made reminds you of a movie timestamp, like one telling the audience that about a month and a half has passed since your official meet and greet with Renjun. The time lapse in the Twilight Saga’s New Moon with Bella just staring out her window, watching the seasons pass by, is honestly a more effective sequence because it shows the course of months and her depression. That is honestly half-why you cannot take an creative writing class; you would have to start with an intro class, and it would be super boring to read stories by people who just want to pass, although you have been there yourself too. You sip your coffee, trying to relax as much as if just having absorbed tea.

“So,” Ten drawls, leaning against the edge of the desk. He shoves a hand in his pocket, simultaneously drinking from his own ceramic mug under his skeptically raised eyebrow. You tighten your smile when he starts sliding the doughnut closer to you, like prepping you for an intrusive question. Hell, even the door is closed, affording more privacy. “How’s Kun’s class?”

“Kun?” you question, taking a generous gulp of coffee. The wakey-wakey bean juice sparks you up. It appears that you spent so much time in Renjun’s office hours the last few weeks, that you forgot who really teaches the course. Late into the nights, you actually have to make up for the lack of time you need to study or do homework for other classes. “Oh, right! Teacher Qian. Yeah,” you agree, “it’s going really well. I like that he doesn’t assign too much work; it gives more time to fall in love with the subject. I’d probably drop if he assigned as much as Choi does in Calc V. That guy in my class, the biochem major, Jaemin, I think, is suffering so badly.”

“A huh,” Ten hums. He puts away the mug and takes a bite from the doughnut. You make a noise of complaint that he lazily waves off (he brought it for you, in case he cannot remember!). “And you’re not, like, totally distracted by Renjun?”

You hide a smile behind your cup, holding it up with two hands to look less suspicious. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“A huh,” Ten reiterates, though the tone sounds less in disbelief that in suspicion. You face him as he relaxes by the desk. Sometimes you forget how popular he is on campus, what with being on the dance team, on the hockey team, and floating in and out of different departments. “Kun told me how Renjun is running more and more office hours lately.” That sounds like new information; although, it makes sense why you see him frequently, instead of the teacher. You just figured he was busy with his thesis, like Ten. “He doesn’t even have an exam scheduled for another week, and you just said that he doesn’t assign too much homework.” You nod along, smiling in front of your coffee, until you get a sight of his smirk. This is a trap. “So what do you do?”

“Nothing!” you shout. By the look he gives, you can tell that it was a little too loud, too high pitched, your arms crossed a little too tightly – defensive. “We just … hang out.”

“We?” Ten catches on. You frown, wanting him to be dumber because you are an obvious person, wearing every single thought on your sleeve, across your face. “I only asked about you.” He shakes it off, letting believe, for a second, that he let it go, but you both are unfortunately smart, already knowing where he goes with this. “Do you two hang, or hang out hang out?”

“Hang out,” you reinforce, pushing him off your desk. There are three others for him to dangle over. You suck in your cheeks when he does not move. “Renjun and I –“ You shake your head. Putting your names together like that would make him right. “We’re becoming friends. I like being with him. He’s funny and smart, and really ambitious.” You lean on the tip of your toes, nearly coming off your chair, suddenly excited to expel some knowledge that you learned, like a child who recently discovered the word ‘why’. “Did you know that he’s a good singer? Like, obviously his voice is already really nice to listen to, but he can – what are you looking at me like that for?” You sit back up, eyeing him hesitantly; you thought that your initial explanation would have smoothened over his intuition.

“How am I looking at you?” he asks. It is another trap, you can tell because you both are astute, hence why you work in a psych lab, but if one of you says it, that makes this kind of real, less theoretical, more experimental like research.

“Never mind,” you pout.

You do not want to admit this, especially now or to Ten, but it is hard: staying away from the subject. There is this great sense of accomplishment at the end of every week, particularly from music theory, which has nothing to do with Kun, or Renjun as Ten keeps implying because the department does not even have office hours scheduled on Fridays. The business department capitalized the end of the week (pun intended). You shake your head. No, you just fell in love with music theory, as you were trying to get that across. You tried to fight the energy, but every time you thought you were free, your mind gradually wanders back to the GED course. It makes you feel a bit weak, not enough to seriously change your major (nothing can compare to psychology) but you are so head over heels infatuated with music theory that you look forward to the course every week – a stark contrast to the beginning of the semester, when it was a constant give and take. The teacher is hot enough to attend class, but the material was a bit too bland for your liking.

You do not even know why you keep going back to music theory like that. By now, your newfound love has usurped your fading crush on Kun, and you can honestly just as well get sufficient facts from the Internet to satisfy the cat. Well, facts do not equal understanding. You still struggle with the class, so perhaps you actually do need it, and Renjun too – needing help kind of makes it harder to kick the addiction, kick the love.

“He’s not going to fuck you, you know.”

You turn your shoulders off the couch to face Renjun. He starts laughing nervously, not moving his shoulders very much like he usually does when he genuinely laughs.

It is the fourth day in a row this week you have monopolized his couch, not that other students ever come in, and it is the fourth day in a row this week that Renjun has taken over office hours for Kun. You told him the other day, when you walked in five minutes after he did, that your “office hours” in the psych lab are right before this. They operate differently than his, more like a 9 to 5 job rather than a tutoring center. He thought the joke (comparing your volunteering to a job and his job to volunteering) is what keeps you coming back to his couch. You pulled him onto it one day when you were exhausted and now the both of you sit there, reviewing the same lecture material with two different minds.

“I know,” you sigh, waving a pen at him before restarting your notes on triads in second inversion. You drop a defeated fist on your notebook seconds later, looking around the other half of the room before settling back on him. He wonders what you look for. “It’s just one of those crushes, you know.” Renjun shakes his head no, and you sit up, folding a leg triangularly between you two, facing him even more frontally. “Really?” He nods his head slowly, waiting for you to teach him something. You shift closer; the only things separating your knees now is one of your loose empty worksheets for this class, that ripped out of the notebook. Not even the binder you write on or your backpack near his foot created distance. Renjun interlocks his fingers, leaning his body against the cushions to match your position. “The fleeting crush on a stranger,” you articulate slowly, gesturing your head alongside every word, “because you think they’re cute but you never actually do anything about it?”

Renjun gets the general gist. He probably did that before.

“Didn’t you take this class because you thought Kun is cute?” he suddenly remembers.

“Pfft,” you stutter, trying not to laugh. You wave a hand at him again, deflecting. “Everyone does that in college: take a class with the hot professor, just to stare, get some eye candy.” You shrug your shoulders, biting back a smile from your notes. “It’s just an innocent crush.”

Renjun tilts his head to the side, briefly cocking his eyebrow too. You never seemed like the type to crush so superficially, if he is being honest (not that you can read his mind), but as he got to know you, or he likes to think that he has, you become more romantic, the more honest you are with him. Plus, his 8AM art history professor on MWF last spring gets recalled into this conversation, so, “Yeah, fair,” he concedes. Renjun leans over his shoulder, visually brushing your hair behind your ear, like trying to will you to reveal another thing. He almost starts orchestrating the drum roll leading up to a kiss, not going too far though because he is a little scared. And … And it is just as good, right? “But you hate music theory. It doesn’t even do anything for your major.” He lets the why linger in the air, letting you take the lead on answering it, kind of like a quid pro quo that keeps the conversation going. Dinner dates often go this way.

You push his shoulder, making his gaze linger longer as you drag your fingers down his arm. He is not completely sure if you are aware of it, only 95% like that statistics class he barely remembers now, but it does linger and in his mind, too. Renjun has to physically lift his eyes, pulling his head back into the air. He stops on your lips, then shakes his head. You are not looking at him again, focused on staring blankly at the notes he is supposed to be assisting you with.

“It helps my GED,” you tell him, honestly. He believes you, believes that is the primary reason for you taking this course (although a hot professor, he supposes, would make you more inclined to take it). “Can you help me examine the cadential six-four chord?”

Renjun leans over your shoulder, bumping your knees together, never losing the smile on his face. He cannot look at you, otherwise he might break, accidentally exposing himself pre-maturely, but he feels your eyes glance at him from your corners, watching the cogs turn in his head. He would not tell you this, but he looked at the answer sheet on the way to his office so that he could actually know the answer without having to think too hard. Being around you makes his mind wander far away from music theory.

“Yeah, so, look at the V chord, with two nonharmonic tones …”

Renjun counts the notes with his fingers, starting at his thumb. He finishes leading you to the answer, but when he looks at you for confirmation, for the right answer, you are biting your bottom lip in concentration (not biting back a smile, like he hopes). You blankly stare at his hands more than your notes or anything. It takes a wave of his open palm between your eyes for you to snap back into reality.

“Huh?” You recline away from him, stretching your shoulder blades to draw you further. “Sorry, I’m listening, I swear.”

“What happened to actually liking music theory?” Renjun teases, tempted to push your shoulder too. He is not entire sure though, that he would be able to pull back completely if he initiates a touch.

You roll your eyes. “I do. I just got distracted.”

So did he.

“About what?” he asks fluidly with the conversation, but a second later, he realizes how intrusive that sounds, and straightens up, too, on the opposite end of the two-seater couch. He likes to think that you two became good friends, though, enough, at least, to randomly talk about whatever. “If – If you want to tell me.”

“No, it’s okay, Renjunnie,” you say, making him beam back at you. Your tone gets gentler after the endearing name and he feels better about your relationship, your friendship. “I was just wondering … Do you play piano?”

Renjun raises an eyebrow. “Yeah,” he answers skeptically. “I’m mostly self-taught. Was … was that what you were thinking of?”

“Yeah, I was curious what your choice of instrument is.”

“How’d you know I play an instrument?”

“Uh,” you start as though it were obvious. Not to him though, he thinks. “You are skilled enough to work for the music theory department. I kind of expected you to play something.”

“Oh,” he responds shyly, combing the hairs around his ears. “Yeah, okay, thanks.”

“Plus your fingers look nimble and pretty.”

Renjun slowly traces his hands down his neck, letting them fall into his visual perspective. Pretty. It echoes in his head, and suddenly he feels as distracted as you were, about the same topic. He wonders how his hands came into your mind, where your thoughts specifically regarding his hands went, if you would hold his hands. All the times your fingers brushed him comes to mind, brain short circuiting around your statement, cutting off any other ideas. It kind of feels similar to how absentminded he is right now. Funny, he actually wanted the learning (teacher’s) assistant position with the group piano class, but Kun hired him on the spot first, and additionally, he has known Kun longer than Taeil. Besides, a basic foundation of music theory is needed for that piano class, and Chenle, who has already surpassed into the upper division sequence, is gunning for the job next year, assuming the current TA will quit by next September. Renjun turns his fingers over. He never considered them pretty because they are functional, to him, but since you mentioned it …

“Oh shoot.”

“Huh?”

Renjun stiffens up, dropping his palms above his thighs. You push the binder into his lap, along with your phone, to bring your bag on the couch too.

“I have to go,” you tell him, glancing at your phone. “Moa deleted all of this month’s data, and I’m the only one available to recover it.”

He just lets you do as you please, moving around his office like it is your own, like you are a sales associate closing the store for the night. You pull your notes off his lap, and your fingertips tap on the seams of his jeans. If he were not so distracted (he reminisces on this later), now could be the perfect time to ask you out. He would gently grab your wrist, making you still a little bit, stop rushing away from him so many times before he can get out a goodbye, then after a moment’s silence, once your lips part to undoubtedly ask him why, he would say the words slowly: do you want to go on a date with me?. He could take the leap right now if his break could please stop short circuiting. You leaving is literally the last thing he wants.

“Okay,” you say brightly, as if completing a mental task list. You start picking up all your things, and Renjun finds himself waving you out. Yeah, he really needs to ask you out.

Noze finds a seat for the two of you inside a café, north of campus. She woke you up this morning, banging on your dorm suite, for off-campus coffee, and you caved, possibly as addicted to coffee as your music theory class. Espresso can totally substitute 8-hours of sleep, not that you get 8-hours of sleep in the first place, but still. The cold air combined with a few shots drained on top of one another forces your body to stretch, tortured further by the wooden indoor picnic bench that Noze prefers over the small table. And you pout because the metal chairs have cushions on them, but you have to relent, since Noze bought brunch. So you bite into the i-es (ice cream with espresso drizzled on top), sliding the actual hot drink beside the bowl as you take a seat across from Noze. You sigh until your shoulders come up to your ears, slouching oppositely to your proper friend.

“I don’t know, Nono,” you tell her between bites. She glares at you, returning an intense look on top of her dance practice outfit; she is on a diet, banning all things sweet and alcohol, so she does not appreciate you sugar-loading at the moment. You told her, in line earlier, that what she eats is not important as long as it is in moderation, but she told you that eating sweets makes her body feel bad, which is the last thing she wants as she learns this new choreography to some European indie song you have never heard of. You take another bite, throwing a bamboo fork at her so that she stops glaring at you and eats her fruity parfait. She listens, albeit grumbling something incoherently. “I think … I just … I don’t want to like him because he liked me first, you know.”

“You,” se says after swallowing a melon, voice moisturized by the juice. “are mighty confident that he likes you already. What if he doesn’t?”

“Okay, pessimist.” You roll your eyes, confidence not shaken, even though you stab the ice cream (you are mixing it!). Nevertheless, she does have a point, and Ten has been uncharacteristically hyping you up lately, but your feelings still hold. “It’s still the same dilemma. I don’t want to like him just because I think he already likes me back.” You lean your elbow on the table, supporting your cheek with your fist.

“Flat out asking him is an option.”

You gasp at her, which brings her turn to roll her eyes. “I can’t do that!”

“And why not?” she asks almost sarcastically, you think. Noze inhales half of her water, sliding a strawberry in her mouth too at the end, while you think of an articulate response.

“B-because,” you stutter. You sigh, words failing you. She is right, you know, and you backtrack, suddenly insecure now that she brings up you having to make the first move. Feelings, theoretically, are fun to think about, but actually doing something first, yourself? That is terrifying; experiments are terrifying.

“Don’t you want that though?” Noze asks. “The whole dating thing?”

Yeah, of course. Only a handful of people come to mind who get repelled by romance, but you are not one of them – far from it. You love it, hence why it takes you a little too long to say, “No,” making her look at you suspiciously now that you have an answer. The both of you know that you are lying, and you sigh, relenting to her stare. You want to date, but actually dating breaks your heart. There are too many emotions, so much vulnerability, that goes into dating. You feel like post-college fuckboy who got his heart broken once early on in high school and never recovered (because he is a secret misogynist); you honestly could not be farther from that description, at least, you think so. “We haven’t even determined if I’m crushing on him yet.”

“No,” she points out, deliberately enunciating the single syllable. “You haven’t acknowledged it yet.”

“What if I just like him as a friend?” you ask, forgoing the ice cream completely. It tastes too bitter, too cold. You need your warm americano between your fingers. Renjun has pretty ones, and those can play the piano really well. When you play, it sounds mechanical, robotic even, lacking feeling as though you cannot entirely grasp the nuance that he does. “And what if I just admire him as a person?” You shake your head. Friends are allowed to admire each other; it is motivating, hence why all yours, include Noze, are ambitious. You had to sacrifice a day’s sleep just to hang out with her because her schedule is almost as busy as yours. Renjun is probably equally busy with his major, job, and all his commitments. He might not even have time to date, much less want to. “We’re good as friends,” you say, voice a bit distant, trying to convince yourself more than her.

It works until she rebuttals:

“You can’t kiss friends.”

“Why not?” You pull a 180-degrees, teasing her instead of drowning in self-pity. “You want a kiss?”

Noze pushes you away, laughing for the first time now that her hangry phase passed. “Go kiss Renjun.”

You try laughing with her, wanting so badly to mirror her reaction, but your inner monologue lingers. Forget what you think. What if he doesn’t want it, doesn’t want you?

Ironically, Jeno and Renjun also have afternoon coffee and box lunches in the latter’s apartment. Jeno sits on the couch, crisscross applesauce, while Renjun sits on the floor, legs tucked under his wooden worktop. They sit in conversational silence, only the TV statically playing Kingdom in the background (Jeno wanted to watch Hospital Playlist again, but Renjun argued that it is daytime, the light providing the perfect time to watch scary movies, not admitting that he is simply a weenie). Renjun grabs his phone off the table when your Instagram username pops up in his notification center and the scene slows down without the zombies. He smiles at your caption: Nono said yes-yes to buying me coffee ♡.

“Nono?” Jeno pipes up. “Where the fuck did you pick that up?”

“Wasn’t talking about you,” Renjun deflects, not even bother to look away from his Insta-feed as he double-taps a red heart to match your emoji. He accidentally swipes right, too, like Tinder, opening up his message inbox. None of them are interesting enough (nor from the one person he wants to talk to) for him to completely ignore Jeno, so he puts it away. Adding a comment on your picture would make it look like he is sitting around waiting for you, so preoccupied with the thought of you that even your friend’s name, which sounds too close to his own friend’s, washed out any coherency in his mouth. “I was just … looking on Instagram.”

“Oh? Is it your crush again?” Jeno teases, singing the word ‘crush’ for better emphasis as he crawls across the couch to poke Renjun’s cheek. “Is there another person? Someone named Nono competing for your lover’s affection?”

Renjun slaps his hand, scowling further when Jeno simply laughs at him. “No,” he answers defensively. “She’s that hip-hop specialist on the dance team. Noze, I think.”

You are friends with a lot of dancers, Renjun notices; you befriend dancers but admire hockey players. He is the same yet opposite way – friends with a lot of hockey players but admires dancers. Perhaps that is why you both know Ten, the only person who overlaps with your groups, truly versatile like an ace. Renjun wonders how creepy it would be if he brings it up to you one day. Would you think him a stalker, like he thought you would if he said hello at that last hockey game before semi-finals, all those weeks ago? He swears that he is not … following you so closely like that; he just (sigh) cannot get you out of his mind, no matter how hard he tries. You show up at his job; your interest is in where he spends his free time; you cross his mind in art class (assuming that he even stops thinking about you), where he subconsciously compares you to everything on his canvas, nothing measuring up to you.

“Stalking someone’s IG is, like, a stage three crush, you know.”

“That makes less sense than your baseball analogy,” Renjun glares at him. Bases are stupid and none of their friends play baseball! It would have been smarter to use a hockey analogy, but now that he thinks about it, he is not sure whether one exists. “Besides, haven’t we already established that I have a crush?”

Jeno flops down on the bean bag outside the table, laying across it like a body pillow. “What are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know yet,” Renjun confesses. “I’m still thinking about it.”

“Here’s a thought,” Jeno suggests, looking at him pointedly, “Say, ’Let’s go on a date’.”

Renjun rolls his eyes in a half-circle over the ceiling, tightening his lips inward, in a thin smile. “Hmm, easier said than done.”

Funny enough, he still does it.

Two weeks later while running off the high of a Tuesday afternoon during dead week.

Renjun catches you, literally, outside the oceanic sciences building. An odd place to hold a psych class, he thought, and it was hard to find. He got turned around three times, always finding his way back to the biochem department instead, needing Jaemin to point him right. His class is on the other side of campus, but the professor let him out early, on the trust that he would use the extra study time to work on their final studio projects (and he will!, just after the thing he has to do). Renjun stands in the cold, breath ghosting little clouds in the rain scented atmosphere. Thank Heave it is not still raining; he might have chickened out completely, taking it as Fate’s design. No, but the clouds dispersed now, only the -23° to unsuccessfully deter him; it makes his blood rush faster, adrenaline motivating him to do the thing.

He is nine minutes before the hour, when people started filing out in waves, almost running through the building, across the sidewalk to another class, and he has to tip toe over the crowd just to scan the faces. You find him first, that way, the only person not exiting, and you laugh first, before pulling him into the quickly emptying lobby. Pictures of former students, current academics, award winners, etc. inspect him; it feels harsher than his critiques (of which he has three next week; two in the same class). Even the student theses and presentations hung down the hall scrutinize him. He barely hears you ask a third time:

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he answers, a breeze pushing away the static sound that plugged his ears. He shakes his head too, wanting to be in the moment. You look nice and toasty, wrapped in a North Face jacket and color-coded scarf. Your hat and, he presumes, gloves sit in your pocket, given the way you have to pull your hands out, just to grab his arm. He probably looks like Snow Miser next to you, needing to be defrosted. “I’m fine,” he swears, in an attempt to seem more casual. Though he cannot really, considering that he stands in front of you, blocking off the exit, and he shivers, nearly coming to a sneeze. He licks his lips, both a comfort for the dryness and a nervous habit standing so close to you, not that he stayed far, in the past. The two-seater couches in the music theory department’s offices are small enough for you two to constantly bump knees. Renjun lets his lip go. “How are you?”

You giggle breathlessly at him. If you were outside, like he anticipated, he could see clouds and your lips would be chapped too, barely warmed when he kisses you.

“I wasn’t the one standing in negative 23-degrees weather!” You pinch his nose between your fingers, reminding him of The Christmas Song: ‘Jack Frost nipping at your nose’. He likes you better; you give him warmth. Maybe he owes you for that; he can make it up with a date. “I’m fine,” you answer.” He does not give you much room to leave though, or for you to stand so close, and the smile on your face, as you sink into your jacket, never leaves, not even as people enter the building. You awkwardly say hello to fellow students, darting your eyes away from his intense stare, giving them small waves. “Can I help – Do you need something?” you stutter.

“I –“ he stutters too, the syllable barely coming out. He sounds like he needs water, needs to defrost his larynx in addition to his blushed cheeks. Hopefully, the cold is more easily read across his face than his crush on you. He wants to tell you before his face can.

“You can tell me,” you say, as if reading his thoughts. “We’re friends right?”

Friends.

“No!” Renjun says impulsively, thoughts controlling his mouth rather more than his brain controlling his reflexes. He flinches at the abruptness too, trapping you against the wall.

“Oh, okay,” you respond barely above a whisper, eyes darting across his face. He holds it for a second, suddenly realizing how exhausted you must be. You told him about your sleep schedule, and you should be cramming in some, now. He should let you go. You even look over his shoulder, making him feel worse. It feels like he just rejected you, and you slump against the wall, to avoid touching him, since he denied your friendship. “I thought – “ You shake your head. He wants to grab your chin and turn your face at him, make you look him in the eye because although your friendship is not what he wants, he still wants you in his life. “I guess I was wrong. That – That’s okay. We’re colleagues, right? You know, like people who talk together within the constraints of work. Well –“ You tilt your head to the side. “- your work; I go there during my free time, t-to get help from you, but, I guess, since we’re not friends, I should, um, probably cut back.” You meet his eyes, a little bit glossy, pupils quivering the longer he remains unwavering.

“No, no.” Renjun shakes his head again. He is at a loss for words while you ramble on. That is a good sign, right? Like, opposites attract. But why can he only remember all the similarities you share with him? “I wan-want us to be more than friends,” he sighs in one breath. You look at him curiously, straightening your head to hear him properly. During his office hours, you usually tilt your head down, almost leaning on his shoulder but never doing so. He wishes you would do it now, so he could whisper the confession in your ear, more comfortable to fall than stand so stiffly. “I like you.”

“I like you too,” you say confidently, nodding your head for added confirmation.

“No, I really like you,” Renjun reinforces, hoping that you catch his drift. He is falling in love with you. “Like, in a ‘can’t stop, don’t want to stop, thinking about you’ way, ‘want to tell you about my day and hear anything you ever have to say’ kind of way.” Renjun takes a slow breath, inhaling deeply to give you a few seconds to process all this. He did the hard part; he told you how he feels, and he wants to keep going. “I like you.” He even adds your name, as equally winded, to call you back down.

“Renjun,” you copy, stopping him from throwing out poem after poem. You put a hand on his arm catching him again, similar to how you did earlier when you pulled him inside. He cannot see anything other than you, everything about you warming him up. “I like you too.”

“Seriously?” He knows his voice sounds smaller, in disbelief, needing you to reassure him just one more time and he swears that he will believe you.

“I wouldn’t joke about it.”

Renjun bites his bottom lip, slowly pulling it through his teeth. “Oh, thank God.” His entire body vibrates, energy buzzing through, unsure where to go. He feels limitless, too many possibilities planned in the crevices of his smile.

“So …” you drawl, matching him. He looks at you, hope in his eyes that you think the same. “What now?” you ask, rocking forward on the balls of your feet, hand still on his upper arm. You hold onto him like a ballerina bar, leaning a bit taller to get some additional height, and bite your lip, drawing his attention there.

“Well,” he starts, swallowing his entire momentum before the kinetic energy kicks you down a hill like a snowball, “do you want to go out with me?” His tone is lighter than he feels, trying to come off suave all over again, though he does not feel so; he wants to just sappy and romantic but he waits for you to respond. And as your toes come back to the ground, his heart teeters on the edge, breath stopping below his Adam’s apple. So he calls your name again, saying slowly like trying to get every syllable correct despite being able to speak the same language as you. It reminds him of that time all those months ago when you tried really hard to pronounce his name properly. He prods you for a verbal answer, gently squeezing your arm, “Next Thursday, after our finals are done, we can go on a real date,” he suggests. You hum responsively at that, seeming to want to hear more at that. “Until then, if-if you want, we can have a study date in the library. I’ll buy you ramyeon and coffee at 3 A.M.,” he half-jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

Just because you like him and Renjun likes you, does not mean that you are obligated to go out with him. He just hopes that you want to, as much as he does; he wants to spend so much time with you, especially while the weather settles into the romantic winter he loves dearly.

“Yeah,” you agree, slightly wheezing. “Yeah, of course I’ll go out with you, dummy.”

You laugh, still breathless, still anticipatory. And Renjun scans your face to find something, anything that you want. He will give it to you, because you have just given him the best answer possible, better than anything the upcoming Christmas could wrap for him. Renjun gets drawn to your lips and kisses you, pushing you against the wall, not caring that other students could see you two, could cringe or think you two annoying. You break away briefly, his mouth chasing after you, and tug him down the stairwell – the one that most students do not use because no one has class in the basement. He attaches himself to you even quicker, before you have the chance to meet him on the ground, standing a step taller than him. His nimble fingers catch your waist as you push him against the railing, crushing his backpack. Renjun brushes the hair outside your face, combing it around your warm cheeks, stealing the warmth for himself as you both generate more.

But then he stops.

Renjun uses the hand on your cheek, pressing his thumb under your cheekbone, to hold you still. He scans your face, quickly dipping back to your lips then up to your eyes.

“I – I’m giving you an out,” he whispers quietly. No one else is here, he knows, but this is only for you. Everyone else can hear his confession; he will shout it to the world if you wish, but the out, the out, is for your consideration only. Your hands are still fisted in the collar of his shirt underneath his thick coat. And unlike him, you have parted lips, waiting for an explanation. You hesitate forward, breath ghosting inside his mouth, asking what he means. “I don’t want to take advantage of you. This is an ‘out’, and you can take it.”

“I don’t need an out,” you tell him, equally whispered.

Renjun slowly guides yours hips against the wall, his pretty fingers dancing inside your jacket to keep you unmoved from his body. He opens his mouth again on yours, mumbling repetitive confessions on loop, like a little drummer boy signaling pa rum pa pump um. And yeah, the drum roll leading up to the kiss is not nearly as good as the kiss itself.

#renjun #huang renjun #renjun x reader #renjun imagines #nct imagines #nct angst #nct fluff #renjun angst #renjun fluff #nct x reader #nct u #nct dream #nct dream imagines #nct fanfic #nct dream fanfic #nct college au #nct dream college au #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst

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deadbydad-writes · 10 months

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Some Miguel O'Hara Smut I Will Write!

This is how it's going to work! There are like AU versions of Miguel that I will write! But...There are going to be some kink options and some scenario options that you can chose and request for me to add to your request! But you have to come up with the small smutty plot!

AU's I Will Write For!

Housewife! Reader x Miguel O'Hara

Pregnant Wife! Reader x Miguel O'Hara

Dad's Best Friend! Miguel O'Hara (You choose the readers age! I'll do 19 to 26)

Roommate Miguel O'Hara

Professor Miguel O'Hara

Mafia Husband! Miguel O'Hara

Rich Boyfriend O'Hara

Vampire! Miguel O'Hara

Angel! Reader x Demon! Miguel O'Hara

Sugar Daddy! Miguel O'Hara

It's Miguel's Birthday! (You get to choose what his present will be!)

Aftercare with Miguel O'Hara

Arranged Marriage

Ice Skater! Reader x Hockey Player! Miguel O'Hara

God! Miguel O'Hara x Mortal! Reader (You get to choose what Miguel is the god of)

Biker Boyfriend! Miguel O'Hara

Boss! Miguel O'Hara

Wolf Hybrid! Miguel O'Hara x Bunny Hybrid! Reader

Master! Miguel O'Hara x Maid! Reader

Princess! Reader x Knight Miguel O'Hara

Boxer! Miguel O'Hara

Ex-Boyfriends Dad! Miguel O'Hara

Mechanic! Miguel O'Hara

Beauty and the Beast AU

Actor! Miguel O'Hara x Actress! Reader

Lifeguard! Miguel O'Hara

Babysitter! Reader x Single Dad! Miguel O'Hara

Criminal! Miguel O'Hara

Football Player! Miguel O'Hara x Cheerleader! Reader

Model! Miguel O'Hara x Photographer! Reader

Exotic Dancer! Reader x Rich! Miguel O'Hara or Mafia Boss! Miguel O'Hara

Merman! Miguel O'Hara

Divorced AU

Kinks

Breeding Kink

Degradation Kink

Praise Kink

Pregnancy Kink

Hair Pulling Kink

Choking Kink

Daddy Kink

Mommy Kink

Lactation Kink

Biting Kink

Other (You get to add ones you like that aren't on here!)

Now you guys get to choose the plot! I can do headcanons and I request that move of these be headcanons but if you want me to write a one-shot, I will! Just put some in my inbox!

#miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #across the spiderverse #atsv miguel #miguel x fem!reader

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key201303 · 4 years

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Word count: 6.1k wornds (okay this turned out way much longer than I expected 🙂)

Warnings: None!

Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Jeno x IceSkaterFem!Reader

Genre: Fluff, enemies to lovers (?), high school AU

Plot: He was an annoying hockey player and you were a shy Ice Skater dancer. You have always avoided each other until you both had to start sharing the same ice rink. Will you be able to stand his annoying ass? Will he be able to not fall in love with you? Well, none of you expected the answer to those questions were about to get released as soon as you both started to know each other.

(Based on NCT U’s song 90′s love)

A/N: Here it is finally!! I’ve been working on this for quite long and I’m quite happy with how it turned out ❤❤ I really hope you guys enjoy this story ❤❤❤❤

Taglist -> @eunsangelical (let me know if you want to be added!)

It was another long day in high school. Kids running around, teachers giving boring classes and you only thinking about getting off class so you could wear your ice skates and dance for a little in the ice rink. You have always loved being an ice skater dancer and the moment you found out the high school you were going to had an ice skating club, you didn’t think about it twice. Now, most of your free time is spent in the ice rink, loud music playing in the background as you practice some of your moves. Your trainer says you have improved so much and that you should go to competitions but you were too shy for that. You really changed a lot when you danced alone and when someone was watching you. You even had to ask your trainer to not tell you when she was there to watch you so you could do well.

On the other hand there was Lee Jeno, one of the boys in the hockey team of the school. Handsome, charming, talented and a pain in the ass for you. You couldn’t understand why every single girl in your class wanted to date him when he was a dick head, or at least you thought he was. First impressions are really important and because of the first impression you had of him, you haven’t even cared about approaching him to get to know him so you could judge him properly. Yangyang, who has been your best friend since you were in kindergarten and who is also in the hockey team, has asked you plenty of times to give him a chance but it was impossible for you. You just couldn’t stand his arrogant personality. Little did you know he was a true sweetheart really deep inside his heart.

“Hey! Wanna join later for a coffee?” Yangyang jumped on your back, scaring the hell out of you. “Hey hey chill! I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were a scaredy cat.” He said running away from you after you punched him on his chest. “So, are you joining?” He asked again. “Depends.” You answered packing your stuff to go to your next class. “When will you just accept coming to grab a coffee without caring who comes?” Yangyang complained. You have never been that kind of girl to enjoy other’s presence. “Let me think… Never.” You said once you’ve finished packing your stuff and walking away. “Okay fine, see you tomorrow the Ms. Boring.” He said mocking you. “Wait aren’t you coming to Biology?” You asked confused when he said he would see you tomorrow. “Have practice with the boys. Your best friend will be there, come see me later if you want.” He said winking at you referring to Jeno with the adjective ‘best friend’. You just rolled your eyes and gaved a goodbye to your friend before entering class.

The day went by and boring classes as well. Finally the bell rang for the last time today and you tiredly packed your things to head to the ice rink wishing that the hockey team wouldn’t be there so you didn’t have to see Jeno. Once you’ve finished packing, you headed to the dressing room so you could change your clothes into something more warm and comfortable and to wear your ice skates. When you entered the dressing room, you expected it to be empty but to your surprise there were a few girls from your class talking about God knows what. You didn’t really care about their presence or conversation until Jeno’s name and yours appeared on their conversation. “He’s so handsome and great.” One of the girls started saying. You couldn’t help rolling your eyes in annoyance. “Do you really believe he has a girlfriend?” Other of the girls asked. Jeno with a girlfriend? That was clearly impossible. It wasn’t a secret that he enjoyed sleeping with different girls every weekend so it was impossible that he had a girlfriend. “I don’t know if they're dating but what I’m sure about is that he likes her.” The remaining girl answered. And then she dropped the bomb that made your alarms go off. “He likes that girl from the Ice Skating club, I think her name is (Y/N).” The girl added making your eyes grow wider. Did she just say that Lee Jeno liked you?? That was impossible. None of you have ever talked to each other and the few times you’ve talked it was an awkward conversation full of diss. Wait, what if Yangyang has been trying to put the two of you together and that’s why he kept asking you to give him a chance? You started to think. Was it really true that Jeno liked you? You were too confused to think clearly so you decided to just ignore that new information for now and focus on your practice. You grabbed your bag and when you came out of your dressing room you saw the girls that have been talking about you. They remained silent, following your moves with their eyes like a lion waiting for its prey.

Once you get to the ice rink there they were, the whole hockey team. Thank you for nothing God. You thought to yourself seeing your prayers for them to not be there weren’t listened. You decided to just walk in ignoring their presence knowing they wouldn’t get much longer to leave the ice rink. “I see you ended up coming to see us.” Yangyang said as soon as he spotted you sitting on the steps as you put on your ice skates. Can’t he shut his mouth for a minute? You asked yourself cursing the moment he decided to ask you that, grabbing everyone’s attention to your sitting figure. “I’ve come to practice, not to see you.” You answered with a cold tone. “Wait, practice? It is our time for practice.” The boy named Mark said. You knew them because you were used to seeing them around with Yangyang even if they were in their senior years. “What?” You asked, confused. It couldn’t be their practice time, you always came at this time because you knew it was the only time you could enjoy the ice rink for yourself. “I see you’re meeting.” You heard your trainer's voice from behind. You turned around confused, waiting for her to give you a good excuse on why they are using the ice rink during your practice time. “You’ll have to share the ice rink for the past few months while we fix their ice rink (Y/N).” Your trainer explained. Your jaw dropped the moment you heard you’ll have to share the ice rink with those boys. Apparently, their ice rink has had a condensation problem and the ice was melting so they’ll have to practice in yours. “But I have to practice for the competition.” You complained. “I know, and they’ll help you to get confidence while dancing in front of people.” Your trainer reassured you. “But-.” You tried to complain once again. “There are no buts (Y/N). Now, you should start practicing,you don’t have all day.” Your trainer cut you off. You were speechless and pissed off. You’ve succeeded in avoiding them for 4 years to end up sharing the ice rink. Your trainer has walked out the rink and you have been left with 7 dick heads.

Your anger was showing and your cheeks and ears were painted in light red because of the frustration. “Okay, this is my rink so I’ll put the rules. Follow the rules and I’ll let your annoying asses practice peacefully.” You said turning around to face them wearing the fakest smile you have ever worn. By the way they were looking at you they were kind of scared of seeing you in that state, not even Yangyang has ever seen you as pissed off as you were now. “You’ll only use half of the rink.” You started, ready to enumerate every single rule they had to follow. “Wait, what?? We need the whole rink.” The youngest boy named Sungchan complained. “Oh really? I don’t care.” You said with an annoyed look. “We will separate the rink with this line.” You said grabbing Yangyang’s stick to draw a line on the ice. “If I were you I wouldn’t cross the line.” You said with a challenging tone and sending a death glare to the boys. “If you ever have to stay here when I leave, you’ll have to come find me wherever I am to give me the keys.” You stated. “(Y/N) come on, stop it.” Yangyang said, trying to calm you down. “I’ve been responsible for that key since I entered this rink for the first time, I’m not going to let your dumb brains screw up my reputation.” You said looking deeply into Yangyang’s eyes with a fierce look. “Any questions?” You added. “Are you going to be this annoying and boring always?” Finally the blue haired boy spoke. His voice annoyed you even more than his presence and all you could do was roll your eyes not even wanting to waste your time on answering his stupid questions. “(Y/N) can we talk for a moment?” Yangyang asked, grabbing your arm and dragging you out of the rink even before you could answer him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Yangyang said annoyed by your stupid attitude. “Watch your language with me kid.” You replied annoying him even more if that was possible. “Can you stop acting like a 4 years old kid?! For God’s sake (Y/N) it is just an ice rink! Why can't you just let us practice in peace?” Yangyang complained, completely pissed off. “You’re not the center of the universe and we’re the first ones being pissed off for not being able to practice in OUR rink.” He added. At this point, he was yelling at you and you were becoming more and more small as he scolded you. “Can you please just ignore the fact of you hating my friends and at least try to tolerate their presence?” He asked. You were speechless. You have never seen Yangyang that annoyed and just like you scared him back in the rink, he was now scaring you. “Okay, sorry.” You said with a small thread of voice. Your eyes started to get a bit teary, finally releasing the pressure you’ve been feeling in your chest since you received the news of having to share the rink.

After some minutes of you trying to calm down and put yourself together and with Yangyang’s help, you were finally able to get back in the rink. “I’m sorry.” You said apologizing to the rest of the boys. “But the rules are serious. Do not cross the line and bring back the keys to me if you ever have to stay here. Those are the only things I ask you to do so we can practice in peace. I won’t bother you and you won’t bother me, everyone’s happy.” You stated, turning around to head to the music equipment to turn on your music and start your late practice. They stood there frozen at your words and attitude. Everyone was supposed to be happy with your rules except Jeno who was willing to finally be able to be around you and get to know you. “What’s wrong with her?” Jeno whispered in Yangyang’s ear so you wouldn’t hear them. “She’s just nervous about having an audience, don’t worry, she’ll be better when she gets used to.” Yangyang reassured him. He was kind of right. You always got really nervous about having an audience and if that audience were the boys you couldn’t bear with it made you nervous and annoyed, a perfect mix for you to behave like you did a few minutes ago.

Hours went by and from time to time you felt their gaze on you as you practiced one of your dances. Actually you had to admit that it wasn’t as terrible as you imagined it to be. Once you were finished you went out of the rink and packed your things to go out and say goodbye to the 7 boys. Another tiring day coming to an end finally.

It’s been 2 weeks since you started sharing the rink with those 7 boys and to your surprise you have started to get along pretty well with them. You would even join them for lunch some days and walk with them to the ice rink. Even your impression of Jeno started to change once you got to know him and the things Yangyang always told you about him that you never believed because of your blind beliefs on him being a dick head started to appear in your mental scheme of the type of person Lee Jeno was.

“Hey, wanna join for lunch?” Haechan asked, knocking you out of your thoughts. “I wish I could but I have to go to the library to change this book.” You said pulling out ‘Dead poets society’ book. “What antiquity is that?” Jeno said taking the book from your hands and analyzing it. “It’s a literature masterpiece, you would never understand.” You said mocking him and grabbing the book back. “Where do you live? In the 90’s?” Jeno asked mocking you as well.

Even though you said you wouldn’t be able to go with them to grab some lunch, you somehow made it in time. “How was the time travel Ms. Boring?” Sicheng asked, mocking you. “Pretty good, how about your last brain cells? Are they still in there?” You answered mocking him as well. “Hey (Y/N) we’ve been thinking of adding you to our group chat in case we have to borrow the keys so it’s easier to contact you.” Ten said. You were surprised that they wanted to add you to their group chat and that they were taking your rules seriously. “Sure! I really appreciate you guys are taking my rules so seriously.” You said taking your phone out of your pocket. “I thought in the 90’s people didn’t have Iphones.” Sungchan teased. You handed your phone to Mark as you rolled your eyes at the youngest comment.

Days went by and what at first were supposed to be a month, it turned into 2 and 3, the boys still waiting to go back to their ice rink but hoping to be able to stay in your rink so they could keep seeing you do your thing. Even though you would never want to admit the fact of you finally liking them and wanting to have them around more regularly, it was more than clear that a beautiful friendship started to finally bloom between you and those 7 boys.

“Will you come to the ice rink later?” You heard Sungchan ask you from behind as you walked through the crowded halls of the school. “Sure, the competition is next month and I have to make sure I’ll nail it.” You answered with a wide smile on your face. “Great! See you later then.” Sungchan waved at you mirroring your wide smile. The kids you have always avoided were now your best friends, how ironic, isn’t it.

The day went by pretty smooth and boring, just like any other day. But there was something a bit strange. You’ve caught Jeno staring at you a few times throughout the entire day which made you remember the conversation you overheard from those girls in the dressing room. “He likes that girl from the Ice Skating club, I think her name is (Y/N).” That sentence kept repeating on your mind like a broken record. How could it be possible that the boy you’ve hated the most throughout your years in high school liked you? You never treated him and you really couldn’t understand the reason why he would like someone lonely and boring like you. Little did you know you were the light on his heart, the funniest girl on earth for him, the most beautiful flower in a garden, the brightest star in the night sky.

You were about to finish your practice another day when you felt someone tapping your shoulder from behind. You turned around to face a smiley Jeno. Suddenly your heart started to beat faster. Since when has his smile had that effect on you? You just tried to ignore your sudden nervousness and asked him if he needed something. “I would like to stay a bit longer, can I borrow the keys? Don’t worry I’ll text you when I’m done and I’ll go to wherever you are to give them back.” He said, still wearing that charming smile. For some reason you couldn’t see at that moment, you couldn’t help thinking of how cute his eye smile was, how sweet he suddenly felt for you and how charming he suddenly seemed to be. Maybe that was why everyone wanted to be around him. Maybe he wasn’t a dick head after all. “Oh sure, here you have them. You don’t have to come look for me, you can give them back tomorrow.” You said handing him the keys. “I don’t want you to scold me tomorrow for losing them.” He said giggling and grabbing the keys from your cold hand. Your hands touched for a second but it felt like time stopped for a moment. Like earth stopped spinning. You suddenly got lost in his dark eyes, not even knowing what was wrong with you. Did you like him too? No, that was impossible. You’ve always seen him like a dick head, why would that thought change? Well, maybe it was because of the fact of seeing him everyday around your comfort zone or maybe it was because of the fact of spending your free time with him but that thought of him being a dick head really started to change little by little. After all, first impressions are not always the main point of a friendship.

You finally finished your practice and after packing your stuff and waving at Jeno who was practicing some shots on the goal, you finally got out of the ice rink and headed home. As you walked home, you had your earphones plugged on your ears and your favorite spotify playlist on. It was a chill way back home and a moment you really enjoyed after a tiring day. But there was this thought still ghosting your mind. “He likes that girl from the Ice Skating club, I think her name is (Y/N).” You kept wondering why until you arrived home, opened your front door and landed on the comfort of your couch. It wasn’t a secret the fact of how tired you were after practice and today, being Tuesday evening, your eyelids started to feel more and more heavy as soon as your head and body landed on your couch. After some minutes, you were dozed off to Dreamland.

After what felt like hours of sleeping, the continuous sound of your phone buzzing woke you up. You unlocked your phone to see you had 3 missed calls from Jeno and 10 messages.

You couldn’t really believe Lee Jeno was coming to your apartment just to give you a pair of keys. You didn’t even know why you were fangirling so much about the fact of him going to your apartment. Calm down, he’s just coming to bring you the keys. It’s not like you liked him, right? You told yourself, trying your best to convince yourself of not liking him. But who did you want to fool? Whenever his name came up in a conversation in the last 3 months your face lighten up, whenever he was around you had a stupid smile plastered on your face and whenever he talked to you or looked at you your heart would speed up and pump your blood at a blinding space.

You were immersed in your own world, too busy trying to find a logical explanation to your feelings without involving the words ‘love’ and ‘Jeno’ in the same sentence when he knocked on your front door. You were nervous and reluctant to open the door. If you hadn’t told him you would be at home, you would have acted like you weren’t there so you didn’t have to have a conversation alone with him in your apartment. Just the idea sent chills down your spine.

After hearing the doorbell ring a few more times and hearing an impatient Jeno outside, you decide it is time to put yourself together and open the door. Come on (Y/N), you got this, it is not like he’s going to confess his love now, right? You told yourself trying to calm down. You slowly opened the door to find him standing there with a black sweater and a pair of jeans. Suddenly he looked incredibly handsome. “Finally, I was freezing.” He said teasing you. “I’m sorry.” You shyly said. “Hey, what’s wrong? I’m not going to bite you.” He said mocking, clearly noticing the shyness in your quiet voice. “Oh wait, I know what’s wrong.” He said, a wide smirk appearing on his face. Your eyes grew wider in panic, your hands were sweating and your cheeks and ears were burning in light red. “You know?” That was the only thing you were able to say. You felt like your heart was about to jump out of your ribcage. “You finally fell for my charms. Cool, it only took me 5 years.” He said laughing, perfectly reading you like if you were a book. You couldn’t really understand if he was teasing you or if he was talking seriously. Jeno was that kind of person who would always talk with a joking tone and you would never know if he was joking or meaning it seriously. “Anyways, here are your keys, don’t worry I closed correctly and made sure everything was placed back on its place.” He said changing the topic and handing you the keys. The moment your eyes landed on the keys you spotted a new keyring. “What is this?” You asked, confused. It was a beautiful keyring with blue ice skates and a hockey stick. “Oh, Winwin gave it to me and I thought it could be cool if those keys wore it, afterall it contains our passions.” He explained referring to it containing the ice skates that represented you and the hockey stick that represented them. You didn’t even notice the wide smile plastered on your face until he teased you about it. You had to admit it was a very beautiful and meaningful detail. “Thank you, I’ll take good care of it.” You said smiling at him.

There was a few seconds of silence but to your surprise it wasn’t an awkward silence. You both were just staring into each other’s eyes, admiring each other and getting lost in each other’s soul. “I should get going, it’s starting to get late.” Jeno said breaking the silence with a soft voice. “Oh yeah, you should go. Good night Jeno.” You said smiling shyly at him. “Good night (Y/N), rest well.” Jeno said, a wide smile appearing on his lips.

Days went by and your unexpected love for Jeno grew bigger and bigger as time passed by. Now that you were just a week away from the competition, your mood slowly went back to how it used to be in the very beginning towards the boys. Any comment or even touch from them would upset you and you didn’t even know why.

There were just a few moments in the day when they could approach you without you sending them death glares for doing so. And right now was one of those moments. You found yourself in a little cafe with the 7 boys enjoying a warm and well deserved hot chocolate. “So, can we be at the competition?” Mark asked. They have been asking you if they could go as part of the audience to show you their support. You really appreciated it but you knew that if you let them go you would get all nervous and screw up so you just made an excuse over and over again. “I’m still waiting for them to answer me.” You said sipping your hot chocolate. “Come on, you’ve been waiting for a month.” Yangyang complained. Shit. You thought to yourself, knowing they have caught you. “If you don’t want us to go just say it.” Jeno said with a cold tone. It hurt him to know that after all you still didn’t want them around. “It’s not that I don’t want… It’s just that I’ll get nervous and screw up.” You said, your eyes locked with the cup placed in front of you being unable to meet their intense glare. “That’s ridiculous, you’ve been practicing in front of us for 4 months now.” Haechan said a bit annoyed. He was actually right. There shouldn’t be much difference between practicing in front of them and performing in front of them, right?

After some more minutes of them trying their best to convince you to let them go see you perform, you finally gave in after making them promise they wouldn’t overreact during your performance. They promised they would remain silent and you promised you would let them in, everyone happy.

Weekend finally arrived and as soon as you woke up your phone screen lit up with a message from Winwin.

You couldn’t believe he really pretended you to go to a shopping center 4 days before the competition and have a good attitude. But still, you got out of bed and got dressed after having a well deserved breakfast. Please God give me patience for today. You thought to yourself as you walked out of your apartment to head to the shopping center where you were supposed to meet them.

“Finally, I thought you wouldn’t come.” Yangyang said, patting your head. “I wasn’t coming but I didn’t want you to annoy me on Monday.” You said running away from Yangyang so he would stop messing with you. “I’m happy that you came tho.” Jeno said in an almost inaudible thread of voice. Unfortunately for him, you did hear him and your cheeks started to heat in light red. “So...let’s get going.” Winwin said breaking the awkward silence that was formed after you all heard Jeno’s confession.

The day actually went pretty good and fun. It has been a really long time since the last time you enjoyed your free time with a group of friends in a shopping center. “I told you being a social butterfly wasn’t that bad.” Yangyang whispered in your ear when he saw the happiness through your eyes. He was right. Maybe you should start opening a bit more to people so you wouldn’t miss these kinds of moments.

“Guys wait.” You said stopping in front of a showcase to admire a beautiful pair of ice skates. “You already have yours.” Yangyang complained. “Yes but they’re old.” You answered rolling your eyes. You completely fell in love with those ice skates. “Can we go in just to ask about its price? Pretty please?” You begged them to go in with you. “This is why we shouldn’t have brought her.” Ten said annoyed. They were boys and obviously hated to be walking around shops to buy stuff they didn’t need. “Pleaseeeeee.” You insisted. Finally they gave in. Unfortunately the price of those ice skates were way too expensive for what you could afford and you had to forget about them and wish to see them in your dreams.

You wouldn’t stop talking about them the rest of the day making the boys annoyed. All of them were annoyed except Jeno who were in silence making a suspicious plan.

The day has finally arrived. You didn’t even care to go to classes and locked yourself in the ice rink. You were so immersed in your practice that you didn’t even notice your phone was ringing.

Yangyang: (Y/N) where the hell have you been??

(Y/N): I’m at the ice rink, why?

Yangyang: Why the hell didn’t you say anything??? We thought you got sick or something.

(Y/N): Sorry dad, I didn’t know I had to tell you every single thing I did. Look, I have to go, there are only 3 hours left and I need to practice.

Yangyang: (Y/N) you’ve been practicing for that competition for 4 months, you’ll nail it.

(Y/N): Just leave me alone Liu Yangyang.

Right now you wanted to be alone and needed nobody to cheer you on. Some people will call you stupid and unfriendly for acting like that in situations like this but you were too nervous to listen to what other’s had to say.

There was an hour left for the competition when the doors of the ice rink opened and people started to enter. You were locked in the dressing room trying your best to calm yourself down. “Can we talk?” You heard Jeno say from behind. You turned around to meet a smiley Jeno holding a box in his hands. As soon as your eyes met his, your heart skipped a beat and your cheeks started to blush. “You look incredible.” Jeno added admiring your delicate figure. You were the most beautiful and perfect masterpiece he has ever seen. “Thank you.” You shyly said, avoiding his eye contact. “I got you a little gift.” He said breaking the little silence that was created for a few seconds, none of you really knowing what to say, love tension growing more and more. “You didn’t have to.” You said blushing. He handed you the box, patiently waiting for you to open it and admire your reaction when you saw what the box contained. “Jeno is this…?” Your jaw dropped the moment you saw the ice skates you said you wanted on the weekend shopping session. “I thought you deserved to have them after all your hard work.” He said nervously scratching the back of his neck. Now his cheeks were blushing as well and your eyes were covered with happy tears. “Hey, why are you crying?” He said worriedly. You just threw yourself into his arms, hugging him tightly. “This is the best thing someone has ever gifted me. Thank you so much.” You said hugging him tightly. At that moment you didn’t even notice you were hugging him, leaving him completely shocked and blushy at your sudden actions. Then, when you saw he wasn’t reacting, you noticed what you were doing and pulled him away nervously. “I’m sorry, I’m just so nervous and I don’t know what I was thinking.” You immediately excused yourself. “I-it’s okay…” He said. His cheeks were going through an entire palette of red tones and so yours did. You both stayed there for a few seconds in silence, just admiring each other, your faces dangerously close. You wanted to stop time right then and right there, you didn’t want to let go off of him. “(Y/N) there’s something I want to tell you…” Jeno suddenly said. Your heart was beating like crazy inside your ribcage and you felt like it was gonna jump out of your body at any moment. But then, right when Jeno was going to finally confess his love to you, right when you were about to melt on his lips, you heard your trainer calling you meaning it was your moment. “I have to go… I’ll see you later… Thank you so much for this.” You said thanking him for the nth time.

Music flowing through your veins, your mind far away from the ice rink like you were dancing all alone, the cold ice crushing against your brand new ice skates and the sound of people cheering in the background. You could tell that moment was one of the best moments of your life. Feeling other’s love, knowing they were enjoying your performance, it didn’t matter at all if you won or not. Knowing that others enjoyed your performance finally was more than enough. There was a moment when you met the boys’ mesmerized gaze. You would have never thought seeing them admire your figure like that would give you such strength to nail the last part of your performance making you win the contest. For the first time in your life, judges were congratulating you for your passion and were finally admiring your hard work. You couldn’t feel any better. Well, at least you thought that.

“You’ve been great!” Yangyang said running towards you and wrapping his arms around you embracing you in a tight hug. “I never knew you were that good.” Haechan teased you joining the hug. “And I never knew I could do it that well.” You admitted giggling and enjoying their warm hug. “I see you liked our gift.” Winwin said pointing at your new ice skates and winking at you. “Definitely the best gift I could ever get.” You said, a wide smile plastered on your face. “Then hurry up and let’s go celebrate this properly.” Sungchan said. “The last to get out pays the drinks!” Mark announced as he ran out of the building followed by the rest of the boys.

“Jeno.” You grabbed his hand stopping him so he wouldn’t go out. “Yes?” He asked, confused. “Before I had to perform you were about to tell me something.” You said, waiting for him to finally ask you what you’ve been waiting for the past 2 months. “Oh, yeah that…” He said getting nervous once again. He actually wished you would have forgotten about it, now getting scared of confessing his feelings for you but the moment he met your gaze he just felt he had to tell you everything if he didn’t want to lose you. “I like you… A lot actually… And since a lot too…” He said, unable to break the eye contact, completely lost in your shining orbs. Your heart dropped and a small smile appeared in your lips. “I like you too… I never knew I would like you… But I guess sometimes first impressions are not always the most important.” You shyly said. Now it was his heart who skipped a beat as he didn’t expect you to like him back. “Then… would you like to hang around with me some time…?” He shyly asked. “I would love to.” You answered with a shy and wide smile as he mirrored your face expression.

4 months ago, the moment your trainer told you that you had to share the ice rink with them you would have never expected you would end up enjoying your time with these 7 boys and you would have never imagined you would end up dating the boy you have avoided for ages just because of a stupid first impression. You will always regret not getting to know them sooner and you will never regret those moments you shared with them during these 4 months.

A year later.

“Babe have you seen my hockey stick?” You heard Jeno from across the ice rink. “If you had placed it in its place you wouldn’t lose it every day.” You said rolling your eyes. “Seems like some things never change.” Sungchan said, referring to how you will always scold them for not keeping your ice rink tidy. “My ice rink, my rules.” You proudly said. “OUR ice rink.” Jeno corrected you as he kept looking for his stick. “Who has the keys?” You asked, moving the keys on his face. “And who gave you that keyring?” Jeno replied. “That has nothing to do with who is the owner of this ice rink idiot.” You said laughing. “And the fact of you having the keys ain’t be a reason for you to call it yours.” Yangyang said, pushing you aside as he entered the ice rink. “Here it is!” Jeno said, lifting his stick. “You’re welcome.” You proudly said. “What the hell? You did nothing!” Jeno complained as you laughed.

Your life was finally completed now and your ice rink that always felt cold and empty was finally completed with them and your heart was finally filled up with Jeno’s heart, both of them becoming inseparable from now on.

Two hearts that always lived apart finally met to create an unbreakable bond that will last forever.

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