#izzy.moots

[spicerackofblorbos]

Ice Prince - figure skater!Armin Arlert x gen!Reader

☾ summary ➼ when taking your little brother to an ice skating camp for beginners, you're thrown for a loop. Your brother's coach wasn't just talented, he was cute and adorable as hell. ☾ content/warnings ➼ modernAU, fluff, meetcute, no use of y/n or physical descriptors, reader has a little brother, soft bby armin ☾ wc ➼ ~4.05k ☾ a/n ➼ this is for @crazychaoticizzy and @cinnamon-girl-writes 's full throttle event!! thank you guys so much for inviting me as well as being patient with me. this was so fun to write and i hope you enjoy it!! also i'm posting this from my writing blog lol

A single tug on your hand grabs your attention. Looking down, you see your nerve-wracked little brother, wide-eyed with taut lips. You stop in the middle of the parking lot belonging to your local ice rink, the winter sun beaming down on you two from above.

“Are you still nervous?” You whisper down to him, turning to face him as you bend down to his eye level. You give him a soft smile and a reassuring squeeze on the hand that still grips yours.

“I’m going to be laughed at.” Your brother says in a small voice. His eyes avert from yours.

“Little sparrow, they will not laugh at you. You’re a beginner, just like them! Falling is inevitable and normal.” You reach over to fix the thick winter coat that warms his little body. “Besides, if anyone laughs at you, then they have your big sister to answer to first.” You smirk.

He searches your face, as if he might find any doubt that would contradict your words. The little boy finds none. He takes a shuddering breath before inhaling deeply one last time. With a determined nod, he squeezes your hand and leads you to the large entrance to the arena.

Upon entering through glass double doors, the sounds of children laughing and metal against ice fill your ears. There’s a booth ahead with a kind looking lady, who is currently reading through a clipboard as you both step up. The woman is unaware as she mutters to herself, so you clear your throat gently.

“Oh!” She pops up, fixing her glasses that had shifted down her nose. “Welcome! I assume you are here for camp?” Her voice is soft, almost fragile.

“Yes. Well, not me. For this little man right here.” You tilt your chin down in his direction, shifting the woman’s attention to the wide-eyed boy.

“Ah, perfect. Name?” She goes back to the clipboard, ready to mark off the newcomer.

“Zachary Simmons.”

“There he is! Looks like he’s in Mr. Arlert’s group.” she says excitedly.

“Which is a good thing, right?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Very. He made it here for once. He’s usually gone for this season for tournaments or other miscellaneous events. He’s a great teacher and even sweeter man. This little one will love him.” She puts down her clipboard and beams towards the both of you.

“Uhh, right. Yes. Thank you. Where is that group?” Your eyes look around the semi-busy arena.

“All the way to the left and back. There should be about five other children in the group, and you’re looking for the blonde-haired man.”

Zach doesn’t hesitate to drag you in the direction without another word, and a bubble of laughter escaping you because of his newfound enthusiasm. On your way through, you see many other children giggling and talking with excitement, ready for the next three days.

“Would you like some help, Dela?” You hear a soft-spoken voice as you turn into a quieter section of the arena. Your eyes snap to the source of it, seeing a blonde-haired man squatting with his back to you, facing a little girl who sits on a bench with her feet propped up on what looks like the man’s knee. It seems he’s helping her lace up her skates. After a moment, he leans back as the little girl swings her feet, testing the tightness.

“Thank you, Armin!” She says gratefully before attempting to stand up with help from the man, his hands holding her by her shoulders for stability.

“Let’s take it slow, okay? Try and walk along the wall to the others.” He instructs. You can hear a small smile in his voice. He stands tall, much taller than you, then turns.

You’re caught off guard.

Mr. Arlert is adorably cute. He has boyish features, bright blue eyes, soft pink tinged cheeks, and a sweet smile. He also seems to be about your age, if not older. He’s wearing a sweatshirt that hangs loose on his lean body, followed by equally baggy windbreaker pants and a pair of worn-out sneakers.

He steps over to where you and your brother stand, offering an outstretched hand. You take it hesitantly, surprised by how warm and soft his hand is. But, despite the delicate and soft features, his grip is strong.

“Hi, you must be the Simmons?” He inquires. Even his voice is soft, soothing even.

“That would be us. This is Zach.” You release your brother’s hand and place it on his upper back, nudging him forward. Once bouncing with excitement, he is now suddenly very shy.

“Hi, Zach.” Mr. Arlert bends down to Zach’s level, resting his hands on his knees as he smiles. “I’m Armin Arlert, welcome!”

“H-hello, Mr. Arlert.”

“Please, call me Armin. I’m so happy to have you in my group.” Armin’s eyes trail to the pair of skates with the laces knotted together, hanging off Zach’s shoulder. “Are you ready to have fun?”

Zach tilts his head up to look at you, as if waiting for permission. You offer a thumbs up with a smile, which makes him crack his own goofy grin.

“I’ll be here the whole time. You’ll be okay.” You mutter down to him, ruffling his hair. You’re met with a grumpy swat at your hand, but even still. Zach smiles and nods to Armin, subtly relaxing.

“Why don’t go lace up over there,” he points to the bench that the little girl was just sitting on moments ago. “While I talk to your mom.” His eyes meet yours, ocean deep blue. You’re so mesmerized by him that you barely catch on to what he said.

“Oh! No, um. Not his mom, I’m his sister.” You wave your hands in front of your chest in a dismissive manner. Zach couldn’t care less as he bounds over, quickly slipping off his winter boots.

Armin stands up, a bright blush creeping up his neck and face. He’s a few inches taller than you, not enough to tower but still enough that you have to tilt your chin to meet his gaze.

“I’m so sorry! That was incredibly rude of me to assume. You don’t even look that old, it’s just habit since most of the kids come with their moms so.” He nervously cards his fingers through his blonde hair, pushing the strands back and away from his face, which inevitably falls back into place.

“No, you’re okay! It’s a common misconception.” You shake your head, eyes wide. “My mother married his dad, then they had him when I was in high school. It was definitely not something I wasn’t prepared for, but I really like Nick, he’s good to my mom. My biological dad left the picture early on…” you ramble, your fingers fidgeting with the rings that adorn your fingers. “Which… you definitely did not need to know that. I’m sorry.” You laugh nervously as you avert your gaze, your cheeks now heating up in embarrassment.

“It’s really okay, I’m not judging one bit! In fact, I think it’s really sweet how much you care for him. I’ve heard stories of stepsiblings and stepparents not getting along well, so it’s great that you both are so close.”

There’s a moment of silence as you both ingest the conversation that just transpired between the two of you.

“Um,” Armin clears his throat. “I’m going to start with the kids. Feel free to sit over on those benches if you’d like to stay.” He turns on his heel and walks away briskly.

Your eyes travel in the direction Armin has suggested, seeing a myriad of parents either working on hobbies they brought with them or video recording their kids fall on the ice. With a heavy sigh, you make your way over and sit next to a woman who was currently knitting what looked like a winter hat.

You assumed the few hours would pass by playing on your phone, anything to distract from the boredom that would inevitably creep into your bones. But that’s not how it went. Much to your surprise, you’re enamored with how Armin slides across the ice with grace. It’s as if he’d been doing this his whole life.

You finally understand by what the woman at check-in had meant by Mr. Arlert being away every year. He is a talented skater as she said, enough to be medal worthy.

You watch as he instructs the children on correct posture, being patient while taking the extra time to help each individual kid that needed assistance. Not once did a flicker of annoyance or frustration cross his features. If anything, he was having the time of his life by the way he smiled and spoke words full of compassion.

By the end of the day, your brother glows with confidence. His semi-toothless grin beams at you while changing back into his sneakers, the weight of his used skates hanging on your shoulders. He doesn’t stop chatting to another boy sitting next to him on the bench who was also lacing his sneakers. You smile fondly.

“Your brother is a natural, are you sure he wants to stay in the beginner’s class?” That familiar soft-spoken voice pipes up behind you.

You turn to face Armin who was currently using a fluffy towel to wipe the sweat his face. There’s no hint of jest in his features, only sweet sincerity. And true curiosity.

“Oh, he has very little experience. He tried it once when he was much younger, out on the lake in the dead of winter. He hurt himself, and that was it. They tried everything for years to get him to try again, but…” You mentally pinch yourself for rambling on again, a ridiculous nervous habit.

“So, what made him want to try again?”

Now it’s your turn to look at Armin with curiosity. To have someone genuinely interested in what you had to say was not something you come to expect from people you just met. It only makes the small smile tugging at your lips that much sweeter.

“He found an old video of our mom and dad figure skating together a few years before he was born, and he’s been watching every day since then. Our parents met on the ice, actually. It’s where they fell in love. He’s under the impression he’ll find his first love on the ice too. Silly kid.” You chuckle softly as you turn to face Zach again who is talking animatedly about something with his new friend.

“Hm.” Armin thinks for a moment. “So, that must mean you’re pretty talented in skates as well?” You meet his gaze again with tight lips.

“Definitely not. I’ve never even been on the ice before.”

“No? Not interested or…?”

“Never really gave it much thought. I was so focused on my studies, I refused to have anything outside of that since it was a distraction.” You shake your head dismissively before cracking a smile. “But it’s okay. I get to live vicariously through Zach. And, well now you, I guess. You’re a very talented skater, the way you move is very beautiful.” Your words slip out faster than you can stop them, heat rushing up into your cheeks again.

“Anyway!” You chuckle nervously as you back away with your car keys in hand. “I really need to take us home for dinner. Uh, see you tomorrow, I think.” You say quickly before turning and walking straight to where Zach still stands. You mentally berate yourself the whole way back to the car and on the ride home.

The second day of camp came and went faster than you would have liked. Much like the day before, you were enchanted by the way Armin carved into the ice. It was almost as if it required little no effort for him.

Somewhere around noon, Zach collided with another camper which flared up your sibling instincts. Before you could throw off the soft blanket you had brought with you, Armin was there in an instant. He had dropped to his knees to help your brother up, gently gripping his biceps as he steadied Zach's trembling posture.

There was something about the compassionate moment that made your heart melt. It’s not unusual to see someone comforting an upset child, but the way Armin went about it was just as stunning as he was in his skates. At that point, you had left your stuff on the bleachers while you made your way down to the entrance separating the ice and the carpeted floor.

As if nothing happened, Zach clumsily skates off to meet up with his friend. You only see the back of his head so you aren't able to get a good look at his face, but you can imagine the smile that lights up on it like it usually does once he's feeling better.

The sound of scraping startles you, paired with Armin's lean body gracefully holding on to the half wall to stop his slide. He looks at you with a soft gaze and kind smile. From his position, you can make out the subtle light freckles that scatter on the bridge of his nose and fade out towards his cheekbones.

“Your brother reminds me a lot of myself when I was his age.” He states.

“Clumsy?” You laugh under your breath as your eyes trail back to your brother. He's currently working on starting and stopping with a wild grin.

“Yes,” He chuckles as well. “and determined. He's a fighter.” The sincerity in his compliment draws your eyes back to his.

“What made you want to start skating?” You rest your forearms on top of the half-wall, leaning forward onto the balls of your feet.

“Well, let's just say something traumatic happened when I was a kid, and I found that figure skating distracted my mind. It became therapeutic, and then it just stuck.” He shrugs as if that was that. In all honesty, you wanted to ask more. You wanted to know more about this soft spoken man before you.

“I'm really sorry to hear that.”

“Oh, it's fine really! I found something I love because of it.” The way his eyes scrunch when he genuinely smiles almost kills you. “What do you like to do in your spare time?”

At the time, you assumed this was polite small talk. Something to pass the time while the kids practiced starts and stops. To Armin, though, this was him trying to learn as much about you as he could.

“Well, it's nothing exciting as skating, that's for sure.” You prop your chin up on a palm as you continue to lean on the wall. “I like to write.”

“That can be very exciting depending on what you write! Can I know?” There's that genuine and sincere curiosity again.

“Well, it depends, I guess. I'm working on a murder mystery right now.” You purse your lips in thought, thinking back to the last paragraph you had outlined.

“That sounds extremely exciting!” His eyes widen, soft blue eyes filled with wonder. “Have you published any?”

“No, I don't think I will. It's more of a hobby if anything.” You shift your weight onto the other foot.

“Still, it’s great that you write. I love to read, so if you ever publish it I'd love to read it. Having a best selling author live in my town? That's a pretty cool fun fact.” Despite Armin's confident words, his face turns a pale carmine red. It's adorable on him. Your face heats up as well, his words resonating through you.

“O-oh, well. If I ever do, I'll make sure to give you a signed copy.” Another nervous laugh leaves you.

A resounding thud sounds behind Armin, followed by a child’s cry. “Ah, shit.” He whispers under his breath. His blue eyes meet yours and gives you an apologetic smile before pushing off the wall and skating over to the fallen beginner.

A heavy sigh escapes your lips, finally able to breathe normally. There was something about being in his presence that left you dizzy. He was calm. Peaceful. Refreshing.

The third and final day was more than you bargained for.

Considering it was a three day camp, perfect results were not expected. If anything, this camp served as a way to teach kids the basics of skating and if they liked it and wanted more, there were sign up sheets for lessons that started in about a month.

The way that Zach talked about the camp at the dinner table, it was clear he wanted to continue to practice. Your parents were elated, of course. As were you, but for an entirely different reason. The last two nights consisted of you thinking about Armin against your will. There was just something about him.

So, when your little brother comes bounding up to you with the seasonal sign up forms with his request to be in Armin's class, you could feel your heart leaping up into your throat – either from anxiety or excitement, you couldn't tell. You just know that you'd be the one transporting Zach, which meant you could see Armin every week. You roll your eyes at yourself the moment that thought crosses your mind.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” You ask Zach as you read through the sign up sheets and waivers, your eyes glancing up at him from the overwhelming amount of words that swim on the page. You'd let your parents take care of this, you decide.

“Yes! I really like him, he's a good teacher. He said he liked my skates too!” His ice skates were slung over his shoulder like they usually were. The red and orange flames on the side of them make your eyebrows quirk, because it's the first time you've seen them like this. “Plus, I think you like him too!” He giggles at the way your body language changes from being flustered.

“You don't know what you're talking about! Shush!” You give him a look, scrunching your nose.

“I see the way you look at him!”

“Stop!”

“Are you going to kiss him?”

“Zachary I swear to-!"

“Zach!” The friend that your brother had made calls him over, standing next to his mom. They're both smiling in your direction, waving politely. With permission from both moms (and a physical meet up of course), a little playdate and dinner were set up to celebrate.

Honestly, you could have just dropped him off in the care of the mother at the beginning of the day. But, then you wouldn't be able to see the way Armin smiled every time he hit the ice.

“Just go.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. Despite the annoyances, you still grab him and pull him into your chest for a final hug. “Don't forget to call if anything happens. And if you're ready to come home earlier than planned, please let us know. Do you have your jacket and everything?” You say down to him, finally releasing him from your grip.

It was his turn to scrunch his nose at you.

“Yes, yes, and yes. Can I go now?” He nods, clutching the little drawstring bag he brought with him in his little hands.

“Okay, okay. Go have fun.” With a smile, you watch him run off. He's never been great at having friends, so the sight of him laughing so freely with someone else is nice.

You turn to head out the large double doors, checking your pockets and hands to make sure you have everything. Wallet, phone, earbuds, sign up sheets, waivers… keys? You pat around all of your pockets, hoping maybe that you put them in a different pocket than usual.

Nothing.

With a deep groan, you turn around and head back to the back bleachers where you were sitting just moments before. At this point, the arena was next to empty. The only people left were mingling camp and venue staff, and they were all up front tidying everything up.

After five minutes of deep searching in every crevice of the nasty seats, you sit up with a frustrated sigh. The thought of someone stealing your keys and driving off fills your mind, dread slinking its way through your body like a snake.

“Ugh, what am I going to tell mom…” You whine into the air with your hands thrown up in defeat.

“Um. I assume these might be yours?” The soft-spoken voice behind you creates goosebumps down your arms.

You turn around slowly and see Armin looking at you with your car keys dangling from his lithe fingers. The relief that crashes over you is palpable, so much so that you aren’t aware of how quickly you threw yourself off the bleachers and almost on top of him.

“Oh my gosh, thank you Armin! You just saved me hours of being yelled at by my parents.” Armin drops them into your open palm with a shake of his head.

“It’s no problem. I’ve been looking around for you anyway, so this works out.” He smiles at you as if what he just said wasn’t that big of a deal. Again, despite his confident and unwavering expression, the red around his neck and face tells just how awkward he must be feeling.

“For me?” You tuck your keys and other belongings in the shoulder bag you brought. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh, yes! Everything is fine. Um,” he runs his fingers through his blonde locks as he looks down at you with a shy smile. “I was wondering if you’d like to learn how to skate while you were here.” His voice slowly gets quieter. The way he lifts his arm to rub the back of his neck nervously gives a good display of his lean muscles and milky skin under the bright fluorescent lights.

There’s a moment of silence, him waiting for your response and you slowly comprehending his question.

“Learn? Like, me…? Get out on the ice…?”

A soft huff escapes Armin’s lips, the nervous smile now an amused grin.

“Yes. I’m here, I promise I won’t let you fall.”

“I don’t think you want to see that. And, I don’t even have skates.”

“There are ones you can borrow from the rental booth.”

“Don’t you have to pay for those?”

“So, is that a yes?” His blue eyes sparkle with enthusiasm, excitement even at the proposition of spending actual time with you outside of professionality.

“I-I don’t know. I’m not very balanced.” You step away slightly, feeling your face heat up yet again.  

“What if I promise that you won’t fall and that I’ll buy dinner after? If you do fall, then we can promise to never see each other again.” There’s a small playful smirk that threatens to tug on the corners of his mouth.

You purse your lips at him, fingers intertwining with each other as you weigh your pros and cons. On the one hand, you could finally indulge yourself with what might happen between the two of you. On the other, you’d have to lace up some skates and pray your jeans don’t rip.

“Do I get to choose the restaurant?” You meet his gaze with a quirked eyebrow.

“Sure.” He chuckles. From his voice to his laugh to the delicate features on his face, you wonder how anyone could say no to him.

It takes you a while to find skates that fit you comfortably. They were very used and even smelled like it too, much to your disdain. Armin makes sure to hold you by the arm as he leads you back to the rink entrance, letting go so he can step on the ice first then holds his hand out to you to take.

“I never got your name, by the way.”

You take it in your own hand, pleasantly surprised yet again by how warm it was. Your fingers tighten around his palm as he gently pulls you into him. Already you can feel your legs trembling under you – but was it the nerves or the lack of skill, you didn’t know. Regardless, you give him a smile.

“That’s because I haven’t told you yet. Buy me dinner first, then I’ll talk.”