daisy.

welcome — ᨳଓ . all stories are linked below. ──────────── series

↳ CROSSING LINES ┃Ilya Rozanov x Female Reader (Y/N) Status: Ongoing

chapter one chapter two chapter three chapter four

────────────

one shots

↳ coming soon..

────────────

requests: open / closed

────────────

Chapter Five - Too Close

This is a fictional Ilya Rozanov × Female Reader (Y/N) fanfiction written for entertainment purposes only. The story, events, and character portrayals are entirely fictional and are not intended to represent the real person in any way. Enjoy reading ♡

previous chapter

Game day always felt different. The hotel lobby, usually quiet in the mornings, buzzed with players in tailored suits, coaches checking schedules, and staff rushing from one place to another. You adjusted the strap of your camera bag while scrolling through today's shot list. Pregame arrivals. Warmups. A few behind-the-scenes clips. Easy enough.

"Coffee Girl."

You didn't even bother looking up.

"Good morning, Ilya."

"So you admit you know my voice."

"I admit you interrupt my mornings."

"I improve them."

You finally looked at him. He was wearing a navy suit that fit him a little too well, his tie loosened slightly as though he'd already decided formalwear wasn't worth the effort. For one embarrassing second, your brain completely stopped working. He noticed.

"You are staring."

"I was not."

"You forgot sentence halfway through."

"I was thinking."

"About?"

"Work."

He looked unconvinced.

"Hm."

"Oh, don't 'hm' me."

A grin spread across his face.

"You think I look good."

"I think you're very confident."

"So yes."

You shook your head, laughing despite yourself.

"You are impossible."

"And yet you smile."

----

The arena was already filling with fans by the time warmups began. You moved carefully around the glass, filming players as they skated onto the ice. The crowd erupted when Ilya stepped through the tunnel. As always, he soaked up the noise like he'd been born for it. A minute later, he caught sight of you behind the camera. Without breaking stride, he skated past the glass and tapped it lightly with his glove. Just once. Looking directly at you. You instinctively smiled. Behind you, one of the photographers laughed.

"I've never seen him do that before."

Your smile faded.

"What?"

"He usually ignores cameras before games."

"...Maybe he was just checking the angle."

The photographer raised an eyebrow.

"If that's what you want to tell yourself."

----

Ottawa won in overtime. The locker room exploded with cheers. Music blasted through the speakers while players celebrated, laughing and throwing towels at one another. You stayed near the entrance, filming the chaos without getting in anyone's way. Someone popped open a sports drink, sending blue liquid spraying across the room. You dodged just in time.

"Careful!"

Too late. A hand wrapped gently around your wrist, pulling you backward. You stumbled. Instead of hitting the floor, you collided with someone's chest. Solid. Warm.

"Oh."

You looked up. Ilya. His hand was still around your wrist. The music suddenly seemed much farther away.

"You okay?" he asked quietly.

"I..."

Your voice caught.

"I'm fine."

"You almost got soaked."

"I noticed."

Neither of you moved. His thumb brushed lightly against your wrist before he seemed to realize he was still holding it. He let go immediately.

"Sorry."

"No, it's okay."

Another beat of silence.

"You saved my camera."

"I saved your job."

You smiled.

"My camera first."

He smiled back.

"I know."

----

Later that evening, the team gathered in one of the hotel's private lounges. Some players were watching another NHL game. Others played cards. You were sitting on the couch editing footage when someone sat beside you.

"I thought you would be sleeping."

"I have deadlines."

"You always have deadlines."

"And you always seem to find me."

"I do."

There wasn't even a hint of teasing in his voice this time. Just honesty. You looked up from your laptop.

"Why?"

His expression softened.

"I don't know."

For once, there wasn't a clever joke waiting. No sarcastic comment. Just quiet. You closed your laptop.

"That's new."

"What?"

"You not having an answer."

"I have many answers."

"So give me one."

He leaned back against the couch, looking toward the television without really watching it.

"I think..." he began slowly, "...I like talking to you."

Your heart skipped.

"You barely know me."

"I know enough."

"You know I spill coffee."

"You only did once."

"You still bring it up."

"It was memorable."

You laughed.

"So that's my legacy?"

"It could be worse."

"Oh?"

"You could be boring."

"I don't think anyone has ever called me exciting."

"I just did."

Your eyes met. Neither of you looked away. The noise around the room faded until it was just the two of you sitting shoulder to shoulder. Close enough that your knees almost brushed. Close enough to notice the tiny flecks of green hidden in his blue eyes.

"You know..." he said quietly.

"Hm?"

"I almost don't hate media people anymore."

You laughed.

"Almost?"

"I still have standards."

You nudged his shoulder with yours.

"Oh, do you?"

"I do."

He nudged you back. Your shoulders stayed touching for a second longer than either of you intended. Neither of you moved away.

Across the room, Austin glanced over his cards. Without looking up, he murmured to the teammate beside him,

"They're not fooling anyone."

His teammate smirked.

"They haven't realized they're flirting for about a week."

Austin laughed quietly.

"I know."

Meanwhile, completely oblivious, you looked at Ilya.

"So..."

"So?"

"Friends?"

He tilted his head, pretending to think about it.

"I don't know."

You sighed dramatically.

"Seriously?"

"I think..."

A slow smile spread across his face.

"We're getting there."

And somehow, hearing that made your heart race far more than it should have.

Chapter Four – Away Game

This is a fictional Ilya Rozanov × Female Reader (Y/N) fanfiction written for entertainment purposes only. The story, events, and character portrayals are entirely fictional and are not intended to represent the real person in any way. Enjoy reading ♡

previous chapter

Monday mornings were supposed to be quiet. They weren't. The media office buzzed with people rushing to finish graphics, print schedules, and pack camera equipment before the team left for a three-game road trip. Eddie looked up as you walked in.

"Good timing."

"I've only been here thirty seconds."

"I know. Grab a seat."

You did.

"We're short one person this week."

"...Okay?"

He smiled.

"So you're coming with us."

You blinked.

"...I'm what?"

"The road trip."

"I've been here for a week."

"And?"

"I've never even traveled with a professional team."

"You'll learn."

The words sounded suspiciously familiar.

"I feel like I've heard that before."

"You probably have."

----

The team bus was already waiting outside the arena by the time everyone finished loading equipment. You clutched your backpack and camera case, trying not to look completely overwhelmed. The players, meanwhile, looked like they'd done this a thousand times. Which, of course, they had.

"Coffee Girl."

You looked up.

Ilya was standing a few feet away, headphones hanging around his neck.

"My name is.."

"I know."

He took your suitcase before you could protest.

"Hey!"

"You carry too many things."

"I can manage."

"I know."

He lifted your bag effortlessly.

"I am still carrying it."

"You don't have to."

"I know."

"...You're impossible."

"I know."

"Does he always do that?"

You turned to find Austin watching Ilya load your suitcase into the storage compartment beneath the bus.

"Do what?"

"Act helpful."

"I thought you said he ignored new people."

Austin frowned.

"I did."

"He definitely doesn't ignore me."

"No."

Austin let out a small laugh.

"He definitely doesn't."

Before you could ask another question, he patted your shoulder and climbed onto the bus. Cryptic. Very cryptic.

----

The bus was nicer than you expected. Leather seats. Wi-Fi. Tables. Half the players had already fallen asleep. Others played cards or watched movies. You found an empty seat near the middle. Perfect. Or so you thought.

"Seat taken?"

You looked up.

"...Seriously?"

Ilya smiled.

"There are many empty seats."

"So why this one?"

"You look lonely."

"I've been sitting down for twelve seconds."

"So... lonely."

You sighed dramatically.

"Fine."

He sat beside you. For the first ten minutes, neither of you spoke. Surprisingly peaceful. Then..

"What are you reading?"

You glanced down at your tablet.

"A novel."

"What kind?"

"Romance."

"Hm."

"What?"

"They always kiss in rain."

"...Not all of them."

"Most."

"You've read romance novels?"

"I get bored on planes."

That caught you off guard.

"You actually read?"

He gasped theatrically.

"You thought hockey players cannot read?"

"I didn't say that."

"You thought it."

"I absolutely didn't."

"You did little judging face."

"I have a judging face?"

"You have many faces."

"Oh?"

"There is confused face."

He pointed at you.

"That one."

You rolled your eyes.

"And annoyed face."

"You cause that one."

"And smiling face."

"I don't smile that much."

"You smile around me."

You looked away, pretending to be very interested in the scenery outside the window.

"I think you've imagined that."

"I have very good memory."

"I'm beginning to regret talking to you."

"No, you are not."

"...Maybe a little."

-----

The bus stopped halfway through the drive at a service station. Most of the team piled out in search of coffee and snacks. You stretched your legs, grateful for the fresh air.

"You survived."

Ilya appeared beside you with two coffees.

"I did."

"I brought peace offering."

"You brought me coffee?"

"I checked lid."

You laughed.

"So you are traumatized."

"A little."

He handed you the cup.

"I do not want another hoodie casualty."

You looked at the coffee, then back at him.

"You remembered my order?"

He frowned as if it were obvious.

"You drink iced vanilla latte."

"...I've ordered it twice."

"Yes."

"And you remembered?"

"You remember camera settings."

"That's different."

"It is same."

"No, it isn't."

He shrugged.

"I notice things."

There was that phrase again.

I notice things. Before you could respond, someone whistled from across the parking lot.

"Ooooh!"

Several players turned toward the two of you. One of them pointed at the coffees.

"Rozanov!"

"What?"

"Didn't know you delivered."

Another added, "Should we start calling you a gentleman?"

The entire group burst into laughter. Ilya didn't even look embarrassed. He simply took a sip of his own coffee.

"I am gentleman."

"Since when?"

"Since..." He glanced at you for a split second.

"...today."

The teasing only got louder. You felt your face warming.

"I should probably.."

"No."

He started walking back toward the bus.

"Let them be idiots."

"They're teasing you."

"They tease everyone."

"They're definitely teasing you more."

"They are jealous."

You laughed.

"Of what?"

"I have better coffee."

----

That evening, after checking into the hotel, you finally had a moment to breathe. Your room overlooked the city, the lights glittering against the darkening sky. You'd just set your camera batteries on charge when your phone buzzed.

A message from Eddie.

Need one more behind-the-scenes clip before tomorrow's game. Players are having dinner downstairs if you can grab something casual.

Easy enough. Or at least, it should have been..

The hotel restaurant was filled with players laughing over dinner, trainers chatting at nearby tables, and staff grabbing quick meals. You quietly filmed a few clips, the team joking over cards, the coaches talking strategy, players arguing over dessert.

Then..

"There she is."

You looked up. Ilya was sitting with several teammates, waving you over with far too much confidence.

"Oh, no."

Austin grinned.

"Too late. He saw you."

"I noticed."

"You coming or what?" another player called.

You hesitated.

"I don't want to interrupt."

"You won't," Austin assured you.

"He interrupts us all the time."

"I do not interrupt," Ilya said.

"You absolutely do."

Ignoring the protests, Austin pulled out an empty chair.

"Sit for five minutes."

You looked between them.

"You guys are sure?"

A chorus of "Yes," echoed around the table.

You finally sat down. Almost immediately, Ilya slid a dessert menu in front of you.

"You skipped dessert."

"...How do you know that?"

"You always leave cafeteria before dessert."

"You've... noticed that?"

He looked genuinely confused.

"I told you."

"I notice things."

For a second, the noise of the restaurant faded. It wasn't just the teasing anymore. It wasn't just coincidence. He really had been paying attention. More than you realized. Across the table, Austin caught the brief look that passed between you. He leaned toward another teammate and muttered quietly enough that only they could hear..

"I give it another month."

The teammate smirked.

"I say two weeks."

Neither of you noticed. You were both too busy pretending that the smile on your faces meant absolutely nothing.

Chapter Three - Superstitions

This is a fictional Ilya Rozanov × Female Reader (Y/N) fanfiction written for entertainment purposes only. The story, events, and character portrayals are entirely fictional and are not intended to represent the real person in any way. Enjoy reading ♡

previous chapter

By Friday morning, you'd developed a routine. Coffee. Check the filming schedule. Pretend you weren't secretly hoping you'd run into Ilya Rozanov before practice. You refused to examine that last part too closely. It had only been three days. Three days of sarcastic comments. Three days of him somehow appearing wherever you happened to be. Three days of wondering if he was naturally this irritating or if he reserved it just for you.

"You know that's unhealthy."

You didn't even flinch this time.

"You know," you said, taking another sip of your coffee without looking up, "one day you're going to surprise me and I'm not going to react."

"I already surprise you."

"You mostly annoy me."

"Hm."

"There it is again."

He stepped beside you, glancing down at the camera hanging from your shoulder.

"What are you filming today?"

"Practice."

"Boring."

"You play hockey."

"I know."

"So... you're saying your own job is boring?"

"My job is exciting."

He pointed at the camera.

"Your job is watching my job."

You laughed.

"When you put it like that..."

"I always put things correctly."

"I'm starting to think you're incapable of admitting you're wrong."

"I am never wrong."

"You told me you had four hoodies."

"I have five now."

"You bought another one?"

"No."

He looked completely serious.

"A friend sent me one."

You blinked.

"...That's actually kind of sweet."

He shrugged, almost embarrassed.

"She worries."

"I can see why."

"I am very responsible."

"You almost skated into the boards yesterday because you were looking at the giant LED screen."

"I was checking replay."

"You were watching yourself."

"There is difference."

----

Practice ended with the players gathering around center ice while the coaches talked. You were reviewing footage when someone gently bumped your shoulder. One of the veteran players..Austin.

"You've survived your first week."

"Barely."

He chuckled.

"Rozanov giving you trouble?"

"Constantly."

Nick grinned.

"Good."

"...Good?"

"He usually ignores new staff."

"He definitely isn't ignoring me."

"No."

Nick's smile widened.

"We noticed."

Before you could ask what that meant, someone called Austin's name. He walked away, leaving you thoroughly confused.

"You are talking about me."

The familiar voice came from behind you.

You sighed dramatically.

"Do you always spy?"

"I was walking."

"You have incredible timing."

"I know."

"You weren't supposed to hear that."

"I hear many things."

He leaned against the boards beside you.

"So..."

"So?"

"What did Austin say?"

"Nothing."

"You are bad liar."

"I am not."

"You blink twice."

"I do not."

"You just did."

You folded your arms.

"I'm not telling you."

He considered that. Then he smiled.

"Fine."

"Fine?"

"I ask Austin."

"...Don't."

"So there is something."

"There isn't."

"Hm."

"Ilya."

He looked far too pleased with himself.

"Yes?"

"You are impossible."

"You keep saying that."

"Because you keep proving it."

----

Later that afternoon, Eddie handed you a clipboard.

"Quick favor?"

"Sure."

"Can you bring these interview schedules to the players' lounge?"

"Of course."

Easy. Simple. Harmless. Or so you thought. The lounge was mostly empty when you knocked.

"Come in."

You pushed the door open. Only to find Ilya sprawled across the couch, one arm thrown over his eyes.

"...Oh."

He moved his arm just enough to look at you.

"Oh."

Silence.

"I thought this room would be empty."

"It was."

"You know what I mean."

"I do."

You held up the clipboard.

"I just need everyone to sign for their interview times."

He sat up slowly, stretching like a lazy cat.

"You work too much."

"I've known you for less than a week and somehow you've already formed opinions about my work ethic."

"I am observant."

"I've noticed."

He took the clipboard but didn't sign immediately. Instead, he looked up at you.

"You are always busy."

"It's my job."

"When do you take breaks?"

You frowned.

"...Sometimes."

"Hm."

"What?"

"You lie again."

"I do take breaks."

"When?"

You opened your mouth. Nothing came out. He looked unbearably smug.

"I win."

"You asked an unfair question."

"There are unfair questions?"

"Yes."

"There are also unfair hockey games."

"You literally play in all of them."

"I usually win."

"You are so humble."

"I know."

Finally, he signed the paper and handed it back. Your fingers brushed for the briefest moment. It shouldn't have mattered. It was barely a second. Yet somehow, neither of you pulled away immediately. His blue eyes met yours. The teasing smile faded just a little.

"You have very cold hands," he said quietly.

You blinked.

"The arena is freezing."

"You need gloves."

"I own gloves."

"You never wear them."

"You've noticed?"

"I notice many things."

There was that strange look again. The one that made him seem less like the cocky hockey star everyone knew and more like... just Ilya. Before you could say anything, loud footsteps echoed down the hallway. The spell broke instantly. A group of teammates walked into the lounge, laughing about something that had happened at practice. One of them looked between the two of you.

"Rozanov."

"Hm?"

"You bothering the new media girl again?"

"I am having conversation."

The player laughed.

"Pretty sure that's your version of flirting."

You nearly choked. Ilya didn't. Instead, he looked at his teammate with perfect composure.

"You think I flirt like this?"

"...Should I be worried?"

"You should always be worried."

The room erupted in laughter. Taking advantage of the distraction, you backed toward the door.

"I should get going."

"You always leave," Ilya said.

"You always give me a reason to."

His smile returned, softer this time.

"I'll try harder next time."

You shook your head, unable to stop smiling as you slipped out into the hallway. Only once the door closed behind you did you let out the breath you'd been holding.

----

Inside the lounge, one of the players nudged Ilya with an elbow.

"So..."

"So what?"

"You've spoken more to her in one week than you've spoken to our new equipment manager in two years."

Ilya reached for his water bottle, trying to hide the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"She spilled coffee on me."

"That's your explanation?"

"It is."

The room fell quiet for a beat. Then another teammate laughed.

"You're doomed."

Ilya rolled his eyes.

"I'm fine."

But for the first time in a long while, he found himself checking the hallway after she left. Just in case she walked past one more time.

continue here

Chapter Two - Rules

This is a fictional Ilya Rozanov × Female Reader (Y/N) fanfiction written for entertainment purposes only. The story, events, and character portrayals are entirely fictional and are not intended to represent the real person in any way. Enjoy reading ♡

previous chapter

By the next morning, you had convinced yourself the whole coffee incident was over. Embarrassing? Absolutely. Career-ending? Hopefully not. You walked into the arena balancing your laptop, camera bag, and iced coffee this time..with a lid securely fastened.

''Progress,'' you muttered.

''You talking to yourself already?''

You nearly jumped out of your skin. Turning around, you found Ilya leaning against the wall, dressed in gray sweatpants, an oversized team hoodie, and a baseball cap pulled low over his curls. He looked entirely too awake for eight-thirty in the morning.

''You really need to stop sneaking up on people.''

''I wasn't sneaking.''

''You absolutely were.''

''I was standing here.''

''You waited until I walked by.''

''I was being polite.''

You stared at him.

''I don't think you know what polite means.''

He smiled. A slow, infuriating smile.

"I know many words."

"I'm sure."

He nodded toward the coffee in your hand.

"This one safer?"

You instinctively looked down.

"It's staying in the cup."

"We will see."

You narrowed your eyes.

"I have excellent balance."

The corner of his mouth twitched.

"You said same yesterday."

"I never.."

"You are very confident for someone who attacked me with caffeine."

"I did not attack you."

He tilted his head.

"It felt personal."

You laughed before you could stop yourself.

"I promise it wasn't."

"So next time?"

"There won't be a next time."

"Hm."

"Hm what?"

"I do not believe you."

-----

The media team meeting was already in progress when you slipped into the conference room. Eddie looked up.

"Perfect timing."

You sat down quickly.

"We've got media day next week, but today we need some social content from practice."

He clicked through a presentation.

"I'd like someone to follow Rozanov around."

The room went suspiciously quiet.

Then every pair of eyes slowly drifted toward you.

"...Why is everyone looking at me?"

Eddie smiled far too innocently.

"You've already met him."

"Once."

"You'll survive."

"I don't know if that's reassuring."

"It wasn't meant to be."

-----

Practice was chaos. Skates carving through the ice. Pucks ricocheting off the boards. Coaches shouting instructions. You stayed behind the glass, filming drills as players flew past the camera. After forty-five minutes, practice ended. Eddie waved you over.

"Go get a few off-ice clips of Rozanov."

"Me?"

"Yes."

"...Now?"

"Unless you've invented time travel."

Fantastic.

-----

The locker-room hallway was quieter than yesterday. You found Ilya sitting outside the training room, unlacing one skate while talking to a teammate. He looked up immediately.

"There is coffee."

You held up your drink.

"It's still in the cup."

"For now."

"I'm starting to think you're traumatized."

"I nearly lost favorite hoodie."

"You said you had three."

"I lied."

"You.."

"I had four."

You shook your head, laughing.

"I need a few clips for social media."

"Hm."

"Hm means yes?"

"Hm means maybe."

"Ilya."

He looked almost delighted that you'd used his first name.

"Yes?"

"Please."

"You said magic word."

"I also have a deadline."

"Worse than magic."

He stood, towering over you by several inches.

"What do you need?"

"Just... walking shots. Maybe tying your skates again."

"I already untied them."

"I noticed."

"You ask me to do things twice."

"That's literally my job."

"You have strange job."

"You play hockey for a living."

"My job makes sense."

"Does it?"

"I hit people."

"...Fair."

You lifted your camera.

"Ready?"

"I was born ready."

"You definitely weren't."

"I was adorable baby."

You snorted.

"I somehow doubt that."

His expression turned mock-offended.

"You insult me every day."

"We've known each other for less than twenty-four hours."

"Still every day."

Filming him should have been easy. Instead, Ilya had decided being difficult was a sport.

"Walk naturally."

"I am."

"You keep looking at the camera."

"I know camera likes me."

"It doesn't have opinions."

"You do."

"I do."

"So same thing."

You sighed.

"Just... ignore me."

"I cannot."

"Why?"

"You keep talking."

"You asked me to."

"No."

"You literally.."

"I just like hearing you."

The words came out so casually that your brain stopped working for a second.

"...What?"

He blinked, as if he'd only just realized he'd said it out loud. Then, incredibly, he shrugged.

"You have nice voice."

Your cheeks grew warm.

"Oh."

"You blush."

"I do not."

"You are."

"I'm really not."

"You are becoming same color as jersey."

You pointed the camera directly at his face.

"Smile."

"I always smile."

"You usually smirk."

"There is difference?"

"A big one."

For a brief moment, the teasing disappeared. Instead, he looked directly into the lens. Then at you. And smiled. Not the cocky grin the fans knew. Not the one reporters complained about. This one was softer. Real. It transformed his whole face. Without thinking, you lowered the camera.

"You should smile like that more often."

He held your gaze.

"I don't usually have a reason."

Neither of you spoke. The hallway suddenly felt much quieter. Much smaller.

"Ilya!"

A voice echoed from down the corridor. One of the assistant coaches. He looked away first.

"They always interrupt."

"They seem to have excellent timing."

"They have terrible timing."

He started walking backward toward the locker room.

"I will see you tomorrow, Coffee Girl."

You laughed.

"My name is Y/N."

"I know."

"Then why call me Coffee Girl?"

His grin returned.

"So you have reason to come remind me tomorrow."

And before you could think of an answer, he disappeared around the corner, leaving you standing there with your camera in one hand and a smile you couldn't quite explain in the other.

continue here

Chapter One - Wrong Place, Wrong Time

This is a fictional Ilya Rozanov × Female Reader (Y/N) fanfiction written for entertainment purposes only. The story, events, and character portrayals are entirely fictional and are not intended to represent the real person in any way. Enjoy reading ♡

The first thing you noticed about Ottawa wasn't the snow. It was how loud hockey players were.

You'd been working for the teams media department for exactly twenty-three minutes, and someone had already yelled across the hallway about protein bars, another player was arguing over whose turn it was to buy coffee, and somewhere in the locker room someone was singing terribly off-key.

Your supervisor Eddie smiled sympathetically.

''You'll get used to it.''

''I hope so.''

''You won't.''

You laughed despite yourself.

The job was a dream. Fresh out of college, hired by one of the biggest hockey organizations in the league, creating behind-the-scenes content, interviewing players, filming social media videos. You just hadn't expected the players to feel..larger than life.

''One piece of advice,'' Eddie said before walking away. ''Don't let Rozanov scare you.''

You frowned.

''Rozanov?''

Before he could answer - Crash.

Someone rounded the corner far too quickly. You barley had time to react before you collided with what felt like a brick wall. Your coffee flew.

''So did your dignity.''

''Oh my..''

Strong hands caught your shoulders before you completely lost your balance.

''Careful.''

The voice was low, accented, amused.

You looked up. Blue eyes. Dark blonde curls peeking out beneath a black beanie. Far too handsome for someone wearing a hoodie that looked like he'd slept in it.

''Oh,'' he said after a second. ''You're new.''

You blinked.

''..I just spilled coffee all over you.''

He glanced down at the stain across his hoodie.

''Hm.''

''I am so sorry.''

''Hm.''

''I can pay for cleaning.''

''Hm.''

Was he only capable of making one sound? Then the corner of his mouth lifted.

''You panic a lot.''

''What?''

''You've apologized four times.''

''I've apologized twice.''

He held up a finger.

''Five.''

''I definitely..''

''Six.''

You stared at him. He stared back.

Then unexpactedly, he laughed. It wasn't loud. It wasn't mocking. It was..warm.

''You are funny.''

''I wasn't trying to be.''

''I know.''

He extended a hand.

''Ilya.''

As if you didn't know exactly who he was.

''I know who you are.''

''I would be worried if you didn't.''

You hesitated before shaking his hand.

''I'm Y/N.''

He repeated your name carefully, rolling it around with his accent until it somehow sounded prettier than you'd ever heard before.

'Hm.''

''There it is again.''

''What?''

''The 'hm.'''

''I use it when thinking.''

''And what are you thinking?''

He tilted his head.

''That first impressions could be better.''

You looked down at the coffee soaking into his hoodie.

''I completely agree.''

''I have three more exactly like this.''

''..that doesn't help.''

''It helps me.''

You couldn't help laughing. He smiled. Actually smiled. The kind that softened his whole face. For one strange second, the busy hallway seemed quieter.

Then -

''Ilya!''

Someone yelled from the locker room. He sighed dramatically.

''My freedom calls.''

''Your freedom?''

''The coach.''

You grinned.

''I don't think that's how freedom works.''

''No?''

''No.''

He took a few backward steps.

''You''ll learn.''

''What?''

''Everyone here is a little afraid of me.''

''I doubt that.''

''You should.''

''I think you're exaggerating.''

''I never exaggerate.''

You raised an eyebrow.

''You counted six apologies.''

''I stand by it.''

With one last grin, he disappeared into the locker room. You watched him go. Only realizing a moment later that you'd been smiling the entire time.

-----

''What happend to your hoodie?''

Ilya looked down.

''Coffee.''

A teammate smirked.

''Who'd you annoy now?''

''The new girl.''

''You scared her already?''

''I did not.''

''You absolutely did.''

Ilya shrugged.

''She ran into me.''

"So she literally fell for you?"

Groans echoed around the room. Even Ilya rolled his eyes.

''That joke was terrible.''

''I know.''

''But you smiled.''

''..Shut up.''

As he changed into practice gear, his thoughts wandered to the girl in the hallway. She hadn't been intimidated.

Embarrassed? Yes. Awkward? Yes. Definitly.

But she'd looked him in the eyes. Most people either stared because he was famous or avoided looking at him altogether. She'd done neither. Interesting. Very interesting.

And for the first time in a while, Ilya found himself looking forward to coming into the arena tomorrow..for reasons that had nothing to do with hockey.

continue here