collision.
pairing: hockey player!sero x fem!reader
word count: 2,011
content warnings: it's really just fluff LMAO, blood and minor violence mentions, the reader is really just nervous, not proofread :P
authors note: happy new year yall! i whipped this up wine-drunk this morning. it's heavily heavily HEAVILY inspired by @mintmatcha and their hockey player!sero au drabbles. i think about it every day and i was in the mood to write so i had at my own take at it. i don't know shit about college hockey so if there are inaccuracies, i don't care LMAO. i wrote this for fun, i hope yall enjoy, and enjoy your new year's day!
“just grab onto my hands,” sero smiles with outstretched arms, stepping backward and carefully placing both of his skates on the ice
you stand awkwardly in front of him, your own arms wrapped around your body in an attempt to shield yourself from the cold air of the rink. despite sero reminding you to bundle up before picking you up, you’d opted for less clothing, not wanting to look like a marshmallow or something like the sort on your first actual date with the guy you had somewhat of a crush on.
instead, you opted for a pair of simple black leggings, probably not thick enough to shield you from the chilling temperature of the air, a fleece jacket with a little bulk to it, and nice thick socks, not only to help a little with the cold but also with the tightness of the skates.
when you arrived at the rink, he sat you down on a nearby bench to help lace your skates. you tried to keep your shivering to a minimum, hoping he wouldn't notice how your body shook, not only because of the cold but also in an attempt to physically curb your nervousness.
“cold?” sero asks kneeling low to the ground seemingly reading your mind, grabbing one of your legs to hike up your foot onto his knee, loosening the strings of the skate before tugging quickly, tightening the skate snug against your foot.
“a little,” you lie, taking your hands from the heated air of your mouth and placing them underneath your thighs.
“i told you to bundle up,” he smiles, repeating his action, lacing up your other skate. “i can lend you my jacke—“
“no!” you interrupted, jutting your hands up, “that's okay. ill uh,” you stutter, “i'll get used to it.”
it had come out of nowhere, the jock's sudden and random attraction to you. your roommate mina had been bored and whenever she was bored, she dragged you along with her to engage in whatever shenanigans she thought would stifle the boredom.
on this specific escapade, she’d dragged to your university’s athletic center for a hockey game. “it’s free with our student ID and they give out free t-shirts!” she’d tried to rationalize when you gave her a flat look, wanting to commit your free time to study or maybe a girls night in would have been nice.
the two of you sat in the audience of your university’s nearly empty hockey rink, in the row nearest the ice and besides what was known as the penalty box, witnessing possibly the most boring game of hockey ever (according to mina even though this was her idea.) while she stayed locked into her phone, you’d tried to grasp whatever knowledge of hockey you’d ever come across and apply it to the display in front of you.
there had been a bunch of repetitive passing back and forth between both of the teams, some vulgarities being thrown around, mostly by a crimson-eyed blonde on your college's team, and a shitty halftime performance by the band. the game was pretty meek but otherwise enjoyable.
as the game neared its end, the visiting team up one and mina fighting her sleep, a spat broke out and you gathered your attention quickly to see what was wrong.
before fully comprehending what was going on, a body was thrown right at you and your sleeping friend. you were thankful for the plexiglass that stopped it from likely killing mina and yourself. you let out a yelp and covered your mouth in shock, the loud impact knocking mina from her pattern of dozing off into full-blown alertness, a confused “what the fuck” falling from her lips. the body rose, jersey donning the name ‘sero’ and two double zeros. they threw off their helmet and gloves revealing a shaggy black mullet and red-faced man, face bloodied likely from the blow his body took.
he holds his hands up and cages them strategically in front of his body, ready to face whoever launched him halfway across the ice. his opponent mirrors sero, the two circling about the ice, sizing up each other before sero quickly steps forward and juts his fist out, clocking the other guy square in the mouth.
you keep your mouth covered as mina hits your arm repeatedly, mouth hung in shock, before whipping out her phone to capture the scene.
the two scuffled for a little while, what crowd was still there, now fully engaged, cheering and chanting at the violent exchange. blood painted the ice, it seeping in and changing its color from snowy white to a cherry red.
after what felt like a lifetime, the officiators finally broke up the players, careful to not get hit in the crossfire, and threw them into their respective penalty boxes, one of which was right next to your seat.
you watched as the boy dropped in the seat next to you, only being separated by a small wall of glass and painted brick, with his head hung low. your hands remained stuck to your face, unable to process how that had all happened right in front of you after there was no action for most of the game.
you weren’t sure who won due to you covering your eyes for most of it, or even if anybody could technically win in a fight like that, dirty from the start and also possibly very illegal.
his face was even bloodier now, some of it clotting up on his lip on a path from his nose, other bits of it mixing with the sweat on his ear and matting his hair near it up.
it's only then you realize you’re being rude and staring at a stranger that just got beat up in front of at least a hundred people, probably a little more with it being broadcast on the local nearby stations. you also realize that he’s been staring right back at you.
your eyes widen in surprise, averting your gaze and turning your body into your roommate's space, her already posting the video to her snapchat and saying, “well that certainly made the end of my night.” heat washes over you and you start to get a little itchy, but curiosity gets to you nonetheless and despite the little person in your head telling you not to, you turn your head back towards the box.
you meet his gaze once again and before you can shyly turn your head back around in instant and immediate regret, he gives you a small smile and throws up a hand.
the heat moves fast to your stomach, embarrassment turning into butterflies. you also throw up your hand, waving it gently in his direction.
the game ends soon after the altercation, the visiting team scoring once more, leaving your school's team scoreless and you could feel the morale of the team depleted.
the athletic center nearly empty, you’re on your way back to your shared dorm when mina suddenly excuses herself to the restroom, leaving you alone at the front entrance of the rink. a voice you vaguely recognize rings from around the corner.
“i know ma, i should have waited for him to throw the first punch, but he kept messin’ with kaminari the whole game and you know i can’t stand there and watch that happen,” the voice said, getting closer.
you stand and fidget with your fingers, looking at your feet in anticipation.
“yeah, i know. i know. i will ma. okay, ma. okay ma, i will, i promise.” the voice stops.
you look up and see the guy from earlier, bandaged up and noticeably cleaner, standing at the end of the hallway a few meters away from you. again, you mirror each other, gazes locked.
“alright ma, i gotta go. love you more.”
he hangs up the phone and shifts the bag hanging on his shoulder before dropping his phone into his pocket, making his way down the hall in your direction. you avert your eyes back down toward your feet and drop your head, hoping the universe would grant you with the gift of invisibility.
his sliding steps eventually come to a halt and you feel a warm presence beside you, not quite breaking the plane of personal space, but enough to make you hyper-aware to wonder if your outfit was okay. or if your hair looked wild. or if you smelled bad.
“was i that pretty for you to be staring at me like that?” he jokes, breaking the awkward silence and it makes your body get hot and itchy again.
“im sorry, i know i was being rude,” you apologize sincerely, picking at the threads of your newly acquired red and blue colored t-shirt, it donning the school's 'plus ultra' slogan on it. “it was my first hockey game and i didn’t know things like that could happen in sports or were even allowed to happen in sports.”
you look up at him, “i guess i was staring because i was wondering if you were alright is all.”
“hockey is different from other sports,” he says softly, eyes moving downcast, “but you’re right, it's definitely not allowed, at least not like that. sometimes i don’t know comes over me.” disappointment sounds in his voice and it makes your heart hurt a little for him.
he shakes his head before picking it up to look at you and throws his hands in his pockets, “but i’m glad i had someone watching over us. over me. even if it was your first game. i hope i didn't scare you.”
after a name and number exchange, a few facetimes, and walks to class, he’d finally asked you to hang out, albeit doing something outside of your comfort zone, but you couldn’t complain. a date was a date. if you could call it that.
and now you’re here, still shivering but no longer from the cold in front of the incredibly cute and sweet guy trying to teach you how to skate.
“i'm sorry," you apologize, eyes flickering up quickly to glance at him and back down to the ice, “i've never done this before. and i really don’t want to fall.”
“i won't let you fall,” he promises, very slowly sliding backward, the weight and inertia of his body shifting him around on the ice. “i'll hold your hands the whole time. it’s not as difficult as you think.”
you roll your eyes and whine, “easy for you to say mr.hockey man. you do this, like, professionally, and i'm just,” you sigh, letting your shoulders fall, “i'm just me. scared of falling.”
“just try, for me. and if you fall and bust your ass so bad that the embarrassment leaves you unable to ever recover, i'll never make you look at the ice again, let alone try to skate on it.”
you laugh and shake your head, trying to listen to his words.
“it's just me and you and all these empty seats,” he drags on the ‘L’ in ‘All’, “i won't let you fall. even if you did fall, i wouldn’t laugh at you or point or anything mean like that. i'd just help you up and we’d keep trying until you get it. come on,” he tries again, gesturing for you to grab his hands.
you finally release your body from your hold and take a few deep breaths, mentally hyping yourself up to trust him. you grab one of his hands and he grabs onto your forearm, helping you steady yourself. you place a foot onto the ice and wobble a little, letting out a yelp.
“you’re okay,” he reassures you, “just keep your knees bent. now push off a little with your other foot. yeah. now try to walk normally.” “please don’t let me fall hanta” you screech, gripping his arm with all the strength you can muster.
he laughs, “i won’t, i won’t .” the two of you glide carefully across the ice, close to the wall for a little extra caution in case you were to fall. “see, you’re doing so well. keep your knees bent,” you bend your knees a little more, “good, yeah, just like that.”
maybe you wouldn’t mind falling. it seems like you’ve already started.
