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moonstruckme · 7 months

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On Thin Ice

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

This was requested by anon, but I'm not including the request because I'm going to write at least one more part and I don't want to spoil anything. But thanks so much for requesting, anon my love! I'm really having fun with it :) Also, just a disclaimer that I know next to nothing about figure skating, so while I tried to look most things up, there may be some inaccuracies

summary: when your usual figure skating partner Regulus is injured, you're forced to prepare the most romantic routine you've ever done with Sirius Black. You've known Sirius since you were little and have always found him irritating, but as you spend more and more time together, your feelings towards him start to change

cw: mention of injury (no details), Sirius Black is a relentless flirt

Figure Skater!Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 3.3k words

You want to be kinder to your friend, but you’re a bit angry with him. You’re not great at hiding it, either.

“It’s not like I can fucking help it.” Regulus rolls his eyes, and you do your best to undo the petulant pout of your lips.

“I know,” you sigh. “I know that. I’m sorry, it’s just, seriously? Why can’t Coach give me someone else?”

“You know why.”

You blow out another huffy breath, because you do know, but that doesn’t make you like it any better. Sirius is our best bet, your coach had told you, firm and impassive to your protests. He’s great on the ice, he always scores well, and Reg can teach him the routine while they’re at home. If we used anyone else, we’d lose time while they learned it. You’d sulked, and he’d given you a stern look. So suck it up.

And you’re trying. Kind of. You wouldn’t ordinarily consider yourself an ill-tempered person, but Sirius Black brings out the worst in you. Always has. He’s Regulus’ irritating older brother, always around to pull your pigtails when you were little and make fun of everything you and Reg enjoyed as you got older. And in everything you love about your best friend, Sirius is the opposite. Where Regulus is restrained, Sirius is brash; where Regulus is content with a few close friends, Sirius needs an entire posse around him at all times; where Regulus has a quick, quiet wit, Sirius seems to feel a joke isn’t worth telling if everyone can’t hear it. He’s loud and facetious and insufferable, and now he’s your partner in the most intimate routine you’ve ever done.

“I know,” you groan again, falling back onto Regulus’ bed. “I just wish I could change it. Who do I have to bribe to get you a miracle recovery?”

Regulus scoffs, but he lies down beside you sympathetically. “The doctor said it should be better by next season, but a fractured ankle doesn’t fix itself in a couple weeks.” His voice turns bitter. “Trust me, I asked.”

You wince guiltily. You’re not the only one suffering from Regulus’ incapacity. You’d both been practicing this routine for weeks. It was one of the most challenging and showy either of you have ever done. You were both supposed to have the chance to really shine, showing off your skills with complicated jumps and throws, some of which you’d never attempted before. But now Reg wouldn’t get the change.

Ironically, it had been a fairly simple routine that had taken him down. One of your go-tos. You’d been performing it together for years, but maybe that sense of security was dangerous too. It’s too easy to land wrong, and one tiny slip had fractured Regulus’ ankle right in the middle of competition, forcing your coach to come help you get him off the ice.

You’d cried more than he had as the on-site medics had inspected it, completely unhelpful but unable to bear seeing your best friend’s features twisted in agony. It turned out that was nothing compared to the look on his face when they’d told him he wouldn’t be able to skate on it for months.

“How does it feel?” you ask, more gently now, and Regulus’ scowl softens in response. “Does it still hurt all of the time?”

“Not really, only when I walk on it. And they said I should be able to do that without much pain soon, just no jumping or anything.”

Your heart aches with sympathy, and you have to resist the urge to reach over and touch his hand, his hair. Regulus has never much liked being touched, which you understand, but it makes him a difficult person to comfort. You resort to your method with the highest success rate: distraction.

“Well, at least the cast is a fun accessory,” you say, forcing levity into your voice. “We could draw on it, it’ll be like having tattoos.”

“Pass,” Reg replies disinterestedly. “Tattoos are more my brother’s aesthetic than mine.”

“Ugh.” You roll your eyes, unable to stopper your irritation at the return of the conversation to Sirius. “Do you think Coach will let me have a new partner if I kneecap him?”

“If you’re going to kneecap someone,” comes a cool voice from the open doorway, “it’s probably best not to ponder your scheme so loudly in their house.”

You raise your head to find Sirius leaning against the door frame, arms crossed insouciantly in front of his chest. He looks at you with the eyes he shares with his brother, but where Regulus’ tend towards cool grayness, Sirius’ always seem to waver between gray and blue, like the sky during a storm. They’re flashing now, amusement mingled with cunning, as you meet them with a glare.

“Maybe I’m just giving you a red herring,” you say smoothly, “so you’ll never see my actual plan coming.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you, shortcake,” Sirius replies, grinning when your face goes hot at the nickname, “but I think I’ll start wearing protective gear just in case. Reg, think you could revoke this one’s key until after the competition?”

Regulus pretends to contemplate this, staring up at the ceiling. “No, she’ll only start coming in through my window again.” You grin at him, and the corner of his mouth twitches in response, remembering all the cuts and bruises you used to have when you were younger from climbing the old tree outside his window, late at night when you were both supposed to be asleep. The first few times you’d tried, rotting branches had broken and fallen from beneath you, but you’d kept at it until you’d plotted a safe course. You’re sure Reg would have snuck downstairs to let you in the front door if you’d ask him, but better you get in trouble than him. “Anyway, it’ll be entertaining to watch.”

“Whatever happened to brotherly loyalty?” Sirius feigns hurt, but gets past it quickly. “Well, I suppose you’ll just have to keep in mind that if I can’t perform, there won’t be a performance. I’ve already learnt half the routine, and I think you might struggle to find someone else skilled enough to catch up in time.” He winks at you, and you scoff, pointedly unaffected. “So I’ll see you at practice on Monday, sunshine,” he gloats, and disappears down the hallway.

You wait until you hear the click of his door to lay back down, passing a hand over your face exhaustedly. “I can’t believe I’m going to have to deal with that all of the time,” you moan.

Regulus chuckles wryly. “Welcome to my world.”

☆ ☆ ☆

“Y/N,” Coach calls frustratedly. “You have to let him throw you, not jump.”

You’ve almost just followed in Regulus’ footsteps for the upteenth time today, which isn’t exactly in line with your plan of getting Sirius injured, but you figure will do in a pinch. The truth is, your focus has been off all day. Switching to a new partner is always hard; you’re used to Regulus, you’ve spent years learning how to skate together, to anticipate the other’s movements, and finding that rhythm with another person takes work. But learning how to skate with Sirius is more challenging than even you had expected. He’s distracting, for one thing. He keeps smiling at you, making faces when you mess up, and whispering obnoxious little pointers when you’re in the middle of a complicated move. And his own movements are bigger and more elaborate than you’re used to, lacking Regulus’ control. You can see, objectively, how it works for him. It gives his performance that extra bit of artistry that Regulus has often been accused of needing, but it makes him more difficult to anticipate. He’s stronger than Reg, too, so he throws you higher, flings you farther, grips you tighter. It’s a lot to learn, but your coach doesn’t seem very sympathetic to your plight. As far as he’s concerned, you’ve wasted almost an entire day of practice and are undoing weeks of hard work learning the choreography with your repeated mistakes.

You nod at him again, moving to reset, but Sirius slides in front of you.

“Hey,” he says, “I can feel you tensing when I go to throw you. Is something wrong?”

You cross your arms in front of your chest, breath still puffing into the air between you from the exertion of your leap. “No,” you reply shortly. “I’ll fix it.”

And really, you should have been able to fix it a dozen tries ago. You’ve practiced throws with Regulus for years now. You’re supposed to push down on Sirius’ shoulders, use the momentum of your spin to give you a little boost, and let him do the rest. But you can’t seem to manage the last part. Sirius’ hands on your waist had discomposed you from the first try, and you keep finding yourself trying to jump off the ground before he has a chance to lift you. It doesn’t work, you know it’s never going to work, but it’s like some fight-or-flight instinct takes over every time Sirius’ hands get close to you. You suspect it’s because you’re so used to Regulus’ touch aversion; this routine is meant to seem romantic, but between the two of you, it had always felt chaste, more about the mechanics of the movements than the meanings behind them. Sirius loves to be touched, though, probably too much. He teases you about how cold your hand is in his, the tentative way you touch his shoulder when you’re supposed to grip it, how you jolt a little when he rests his hand on the small of your back. You’re on edge every second he’s around you, which by the very nature of the routine, is often.

And so you keep jumping, which causes Sirius’s throw to be stunted when he can’t get a good grip on you, which causes you to fumble your landing. Every. Time.

“You can trust me, you know,” Sirius persists, looking half earnest for once in his life. “I’m not going to launch you too high or anything. Just let me do the work.”

“I’ve got it,” you growl, and Sirius raises his hands in mocking surrender, moving out of your way. You glide back into position, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. You don’t need his advice, you’ve been doing just fine without it for years. You’ll get it on your own.

☆ ☆ ☆

“Why is it,” Regulus drawls, coming into your room, “that when you mess up at practice, it’s still my problem to solve?” He sits on the edge of your bed, careful not to disturb the open bottle of nail polish you’re using. “I’m not even your partner right now, but both Coach and Sirius are complaining to me that you can’t sync up with him.”

You keep your eyes on your fingertips, sweeping the brush across your nails in careful, measured strokes. “I’m working on it.”

“What’s the problem?” He sounds more puzzled than frustrated. “Sirius is annoying, but he’s not actually an asshole. He won’t sabotage you.”

“I’m not accusing him of anything,” you say. “I just…I can’t get it right. I don’t know. He’s so different to you, and I can’t figure out how to make it work.”

“Well, you’d better figure it out soon,” Regulus replies, not without sympathy. “There’s only a couple of weeks until comp, and it seems like the both of you will need all the practice you can get together.”

You know he’s right, and that’s exactly what you’re dreading.

☆ ☆ ☆

The next practice goes about the same, the only difference being your coach’s mounting exasperation. Actually, no, there is one other change: Sirius’ movements become smoother, more sure, as he grows increasingly familiar with the choreography.

So basically, he’s getting better while you’re getting worse.

Though you all know there’s no time to waste with the competition coming up, Coach ends practice early in his irritation, letting you go with strict instructions to get your shit together before you meet again tomorrow. You promise him you’ll try, though you’re both coming to know that won’t be enough.

You take your time unlacing your skates, shrugging on your jacket and stopping to buy a hot chocolate from the vendor up front before going out into the brisk autumn air. You’d started this new routine after your first practice with Sirius, stalling so that he’d have a head start and you wouldn’t have to walk home in the same direction, but you take two steps outside before you realize your plan has been foiled.

“Coach will kill you if he catches you with one of those,” you say, and the cherry of Sirius’ cigarette burns orange as he takes a drag, eyes lighting with playful defiance.

He blows the smoke away from you. “You won’t tattle on me though, will you, sunshine?”

“Reg won’t like it either.”

“He knows,” Sirius says, as though Regulus’ opinion is of little concern to him. “You took your time in there. Ready to go?”

You don’t try to keep the suspicion from your face. “You were waiting on me?”

“I figure we could use some extra practice.” He drops his cigarette, stamping it out half smoked. “If you’re not too tired, I mean.” You give him an indignant look, and Sirius grins. “C’mon, it’s too cold out here for those leggings.”

You follow him reluctantly, sipping at your hot chocolate because damn it, he’s right. The wind had been cool when you’d gone into practice, but nightfall has stolen the little bit of warmth the sun provided. You wouldn’t be surprised if you woke tomorrow to find the trees prematurely bare of their leaves.

The Blacks’ house isn’t far, and your eager pace gets you there in a hurry. You’re thinking you’ll go to Regulus’ room as soon as you get inside, ditching Sirius and whatever humiliation he has planned for you, but when you approach the house, every window is dark.

“They’re at my aunt’s for dinner,” Sirius answers your unasked question, unlocking the door. “I begged off because of practice.” He laughs as you follow him inside. “Try not to look so happy about it, shortcake.”

You roll your eyes, starting up the stairs that go to the bedrooms. “When will Reg be home?”

“Late.” Sirius’ voice is close behind you. “You’re welcome to wait for him, of course, but we may as well make use of the time.” On the top step, you whirl, relishing the opportunity to look down on him for once.

“Fine. What are we doing here?”

You don’t know if you’d hoped he’d be intimidated, but Sirius appears as unbothered as always. “Like I said. Practice.” He brushes past you, leading the way into his bedroom. After a moment, you follow grudgingly.

Like everything about Sirius, his room is loud. Almost every inch of wall space is covered in band posters, medals from competitions, pictures of his friends. There are clothes strewn across the bed and shoes scattered about the floor, but if Sirius is even conscious of the mess, he doesn’t mention it.

“What did you have in mind?” you ask.

Sirius turns, and when his eyes meet yours, they’re surprisingly determined. “We need to figure out whatever it is that’s been holding you up,” he says. “We’ve gotta get past it.”

You feel like stomping your foot, but very maturely refrain. You’re about done with the subject of your failures for the day. “I don’t know what it is.”

“I think you do,” Sirius says cooly. “Wanna know how I know?”

“How?”

He grins. “Because you just admitted it.”

“You—I just asked how,” you splutter angrily.

Sirius gives you a knowing look. “Right, so it has nothing to do with you being afraid of me touching you?”

Your face heats. How could he know that? You look at him for a moment, and he looks back at you with that cool, even gaze, like he thinks he’s got you all figured out. As much as you resent him for it, he’s right. You’ve got no shot at a decent score in this competition if you can’t get past your mental block around Sirius. “I’m not afraid.” You roll your eyes, downplaying the admission. “I’m just not used to it, okay? I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed, but you’re not exactly a carbon copy of my usual partner.”

Sirius grins again, and for the first time you get the sense that he’s laughing with you instead of at you. “I have been made aware of that a few times over our lives, yes. But okay, you’re not used to it. Let’s get you used to it.”

You cross your arms over your chest, not sure where he’s going with this but fairly sure you won’t like it. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m going to throw you until you can handle it without flinching. Sound good?”

You look at him like he’s stupid. “The rink is closed, and there’s nowhere for me to land here.”

“Sure there is.” Sirius pats his bed cheerfully. You stay right where you are. Something changes in his expression, and you think you might detect a bit of kindness behind his teasing tone. “C’mon, sweetheart. I don’t know what Reggie’s told you, but I don’t actually bite.”

You huff, but go to stand in front of him. He’s shed his coat, revealing the plain black shirt underneath, and the sleeves grip his biceps. Even in the poor lamplight, you can see his eyes changing colors like schools of fish as they swim. Now blue, now gray.

“Alright.” Sirius sets his hands on your waist, and you tense automatically. “See, that’s the habit we have to break. Relax for me, shortcake.”

His words certainly don’t help, but you do your best, unclenching the muscles in your stomach and legs.

“Perfect,” he says, then launches you into the air. You barely have time to gasp before you’re landing on his bed, springs squealing in protest. “Okay, next time, try to spin or something.”

“I wasn’t ready,” you protest.

Sirius laughs. “I know. Sorry, couldn’t resist. Let’s try to do it like practice this time, yeah? So you go over there,” he motions to the door, “and run towards me. When I throw you, try to spin if you can, but don’t try to stick the landing or anything. Just land on your butt.”

You roll your eyes, moving to the door. “Yeah, I’m in no hurry to break my ankle like Reg, thanks.”

He winks. “Just making sure.” He spreads his feet a bit, bracing himself. “Alright, let’s give it a try.”

It’s easy to remember Sirius is an older brother when he gets all bossy like this, but you comply, gaining as much speed as you can on the way to him before he’s gripping you around the waist, tossing you into the air. You manage a half-turn before your back end hits the bed.

“Better!” Sirius exclaims, beaming at you. “You still seemed a bit tense, but at least you didn’t try to jump by yourself. Again?”

You can’t help a little smile of your own as you nod, pushing up off the bed and repositioning yourself at the door.

☆ ☆ ☆

When Regulus gets home, he finds you sprawled on Sirius’ bed with his brother sitting beside you, both thoroughly worn out.

“Did you fix it?” he asks.

You grin at the ceiling, wondering if it’s your pride or Sirius’ you’re feeling in the air, or both. “I think so.”

“Coach might get the chance to be mad at me instead, tomorrow,” Sirius laments. “My arms are fucking dead. Too many throws and I might drop you on the ice.”

“Don’t break my partner,” Regulus says warningly.

“Yeah,” you second, hauling yourself into a sitting position and going to meet Regulus at the door, “please don’t.”

You can hear Sirius’ eyes rolling as he says, “I won’t. See you at practice tomorrow, shortcake?”

It’s harder than usual to muster up annoyance for the teasing nickname. “See you tomorrow.”

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easternlonging · 3 months

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"i want wolfstar figure skating au" yurio and otabek from yuri on ice already exist girl...

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swag696942069 · 5 months

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"OMG MY FAVORITE!!" I say and its 20 different Marauders AU's 💀💀💀

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mollymarymarie · 1 year

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Bird Set Free

Chapter One - Clipped Wings

Just as Remus started to rise to his toes to see if he could tell what was going on, Sirius Black stepped through the hoard, with his ever-present, gold-medal-podium smile. Stunned, Remus could do nothing but stare back at him, swallowing nervously as Sirius met his gaze. When Sirius’ silver eyes narrowed slightly in Remus’ direction, it almost seemed like he was searching for something, waiting for something.

Finally, with that curious expression still in place, in his softened voice that carried his definable Russian accent, he smiled, despite the heavy side-eye he was giving to the crowd that was becoming more unruly with Sirius’ continued disregard, and said, “Ignore them. Ready for that photo?”

Read Chapter One on Ao3

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jamesddarling · 6 months

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I'm Still Here | jegulus au | story page

I'm Still Here | chaptered wip | 01/?? chapters posted

we call everything on the ice "love". - katsuki yuuri, yuri on ice

Regulus is trying to find himself after years of being forced to hide and it turns out his new coach's son, James, has the map.

(a figure skating au about finding your heart and home)

warnings: transphobia, homophobia, past substance abuse, mentions of past child neglect/abuse, past character death, mentions of past sports-related injuries, descriptions of anxiety disorders and panic attacks, sexual content, and underage drinking

read on ao3

story playlist

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remuslupinsleftshoe · 2 years

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Ok, so @lesbiansiriusblack‘s is writing a Jegulus figure skating au, but in the meantime because I have literal brainrot and can’t get this au out of my head, here’s my own hcs about it:

Regulus’s skating is obviously very ballet heavy. His parents put him in classes from a young age; he’s got that classic ballet-trained skater vibe.

Sirius was also in ballet classes from a young age and skated for France with his parents as his coach and manager until he was 16. He won France a gold medal at the Olympics at 15, after which he “got poached” by England, but really he ran away from home and England was happy to take him into their federation.

It was the middle of the season though so it caused a huge scandal. But what else would you expect from Sirius?

After that, Sirius and James were rinkmates, both coached by one Minerva McGonagall, a famous skater in her own right with multiple golds under her belt and first woman to land a triple jump.

For the first few years after he leaves his parents, Sirius has very aggressive routines set to rock music and definitely not anything his parents would approve of, which, of course, was the whole point.

The judges, however, were not fans of these new routines, lamenting the way Sirius was “ruining” his skating.

It wasn’t until he was 24 that Sirius was able to get a score he deserved, winning him his second Olympic gold medal, and that was only because of the judging scandal four years prior where a recording had leaked of the judges talking about how they would underscore Sirius if he skated to that “hideous music” again.

Sadly, shortly after Sirius’s second Olympic gold, he botches a triple axel (a jump he was the first to land), the injury taking him off the ice for good.

(James and Reg can also land triple axels. After Sirius retires, they’re also both working on quads, and Reg is dead set on being the first to land a quad, fuck James Potter)

Regulus was everything Sirius wasn’t in a skater. He didn’t complain about ballet classes, he didn’t complain about the music choices, routines, or costumes. He did everything his parents asked, letting them shape his skating. He watched as Sirius pushed back, fighting for individuality, and he hated him. Couldn’t he see that even if their parents made all the choices, at the end of the day he was the one skating, and he could make the routine his own? Didn’t he see how much better his skating was when he didn’t slack off in ballet? Didn’t he want to be the best?

When Sirius left, Regulus was pissed. When he consistently got low scores, Regulus thought he deserved it, and told him as much. His skating wasn’t as good as it used to be; Regulus had heard enough to know it was true, even if he hadn’t watched Sirius skate since he left. It was his fault for thinking his individuality would result in anything else when he refused to listen to people who knew better.

But then, when Regulus was 18, that recording came out, and Regulus suddenly realized Sirius’ skating didn’t get worse at all; they just didn’t like that he was doing something new. So, Reg watched every single recording of Sirius’ skates since he left, and Sirius was good. He was doing things Reg had never seen, he landed a triple axel at the Olympics, and he hadn’t won any major competitions in years. Regulus was pissed. He didn’t really care that it was Sirius; he still hated him, but it was the principle of it. Those skates objectively deserved better scores than they got, and the fact that the people around him didn’t seem to see that, especially his parents, made Regulus start to question if they really knew better or if they were just biased.

But of course this was what was best for him, right? His mother knew the sport inside out and was always pushing for him to improve. And he did. The next season, he landed a triple axel, too, and won his first World Championship gold. Sure, he was mentally and physically exhausted and, if he was being honest with himself, was on the verge of a breakdown, but that was the price for gold...wasn’t it?

He looked at Sirius and his friend with the wild hair who always had a smile on his face, and wondered if he didn’t have to push himself to the brink. Skating used to be fun; he used to love it, but lately, especially this past year, he would dread going to the rink, knowing the way his mother would yell at him, making him go over his routines over and over, practice the triple axel until he was scared he’d end up hurting himself because the pain in his knee was so bad.

So, when he hears a pop in his knee halfway through the off-season, Regulus is convinced it’s finally happened. His career was over.

Yet, instead of telling him there’s no coming back from an injury like this, the doctor says something about a partial tear and six months of physical therapy in order to get well enough to skate again. Regulus feels a rush of relief.

But as soon as they get in the car, his mother tells him there’s no way in hell he’s taking that long off skating; he can have a month, tops, and then he better be back on the ice, and Regulus realizes she doesn’t care. She doesn’t care that they got lucky this time, that if they don’t treat this properly, next time it could be career ending. All she cares about is that he skates and that he wins, whatever the cost.

Regulus doesn’t want to pay her costs anymore, so he leaves.

He goes to Apolline Delacour, who just recently came back to coaching after taking a few years off after the birth of her child. He’s known of Apolline for as long as he can remember, given his mother’s hated her since she poached Andromeda when Regulus was still a kid, so really, he figured there was no one better.

Lucky for him, Apolline is willing to take on an injured skater (if it was any other skater, she wouldn’t have, but she’d heard stories from Andromeda, and Regulus was so talented, it would be a pity for him to lose his love of skating).

With Apolline, Regulus learns to love skating again. After his six month recovery, under Apolline’s suggestion, Regulus takes the rest of the season off from competition to work on strength and technique.

At 21, he has his first competition back and sweeps the floor, setting personal records for both the short program and free skate, winning gold by a landslide, and only feeling a slight ache in his knee.

At 22, Regulus is at his second Olympics earning bronze next to his brother and his brother’s best friend, and, watching them beam at each other on the podium above him, Regulus finally thinks for the first time that he understands why Sirius left.

A month later, at World’s, his brother botches a jump, and Regulus watches in horror as Sirius’s career ends. The silver he wins tastes bitter, and Regulus glares at the wild haired man with the gold around his neck when he attempts to give Regulus a comforting smile.

It’s during that off-season that Regulus reaches out to his brother for the first time in seven years. They talk, they cry, they apologize; it’s nice, and Sirius admits he’s been following Regulus’s career since his first Olympics. Regulus admits he’s been following Sirius’s career since the same Olympics. Sirius jokes about how pissed their parents would be if they found out, and that the only thing that would piss them off more is if Sirius started coaching Regulus. Silence.

The minute Sirius is cleared by the doctor, he’s on a plane to France.

#listen my brain is but a vessel for jegulus figure skating au even if this did end up being more black brothers #also mary is the first woman to land a triple axel because she's a queen #marley and barty are the first in pairs to do solo triple axels #barty told her there was no way she could do one so of course she proved him wrong #insert them making figure skating history #but that's just how it goes with those two #dorcas popularizes the beillmann spin but it's obvi called the meadows spin in this au #that's all i have folks #i'm sure that's a big fat lie #oh yeah i forgot #reg has chronic patellar tendonitis after his knee injury (patellar tear)#patellar tears are relatively rare in figure skating i believe and only really happen under extreme force or trauma so...#all the 'firsts' are based on firsts that were happening roughly around that time #like the first triple axel was landed in 1978 and sirius would have landed his in 1980 #reggie's quad though is like five years too early at least #actually i just did the math and if he lands it in what would probably be his last season it would be the same year #and he could land it at the olympics too #damn okay actually that's my hc now #he's achieved everything he's wanted to achieve except that damn quad so in his words he's going to #'stay on the ice until i fucking break or land a quad'#james is pushing 28 and also trying to land a quad. he literally just wants to beat reg otherwise he would have retired already #in his words he's 'gonna win padfoot i swear. reg says i'm too old and i have to prove him wrong'#james does not land a quad at that olympics :/#he does land it at world's though but reg says it doesn't matter because he already won #(later in their hotel room though he tells james he's proud of him)#(and that if james tells anyone he said that he'll slit his throat with his skate)#ah love #jegulus #sirius black #regulus black

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spikybanana · 2 years

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@wolfstarmicrofic - prompt: again - figure skaters? figure skaters. (in the same au as timid but can be read by itself!)

“One hundred and fifty four point nine eight— Sirius Black does it again!”

It rang through Remus’ head like an electric shock, and cheers erupted around the Potters’ living room as Sirius’ score and ranking— first!— came onto the TV screen.

Squeezed from both sides on the couch, Remus watched as though in slow motion how Sirius’s face split into an ecstatic grin, and he jumped into the air with a delighted whoop. Then he turned around to McGonagall, who’d sat next to him in the kiss and cry, and unhesitatingly put his arms around her neck. Her usually stern face was utterly transformed, pride teeming from every crinkle.

“With a new personal best and a season’s record, Sirius Black is our new Junior Worlds Champion!”

“This young man has had one hell of a season, hasn’t he? Clean sweep of the Junior events from the British Nationals to the Worlds Championship. I can’t wait for him to take the stage at the Grand Prix Final in a couple of months.”

The commentators are barely heard amid the rapid fire exclamations of their friends. Lily’s fingers were still digging into Remus’ palm, and Remus felt like his chest might burst from the million emotions running through him fighting for air.

“James,” his voice broke when it left his throat, “he did it. Sirius did it.”

On the TV, Sirius turned back to the camera, put his hands around his mouth— the sound was faint but they heard it: “This one’s for you Marauders”, he’d shouted between a splurge of loves and thank you’s.

“Yeah. Hell yeah he did.” James said, chocking back a sniffle of his own. “You go get ‘em, Sirius!” he yelled back at the TV, and in lieu of his best friend, he grabbed Remus and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug.

Everyone had been here, stuffed around each other and huddled by the television all afternoon, yelling at one another whenever Sirius’ figure flashed on screen, and held their breaths for the three and a half minutes of his nearly-perfect program. This was far from the first time Remus had seen this program, and they’d always watched Sirius’ competitions together too, so it almost all passed in a blink. But it still felt like the longest blink of his life, where Remus remembered why he had always, always been in awe of Sirius, ever since the first day. Sirius was beautiful. Remus had no other words for it. He flew across the ice like a swallow across a pond, swirling like steam from a tea cup, meandering like rain down a windowpane. It never failed to leave him breathless.

Mr and Mrs Potter were wiping away tears, the other skaters in the room eagerly discussed Sirius’ one move or the other, Peter and Marlene cracked clueless hockey jokes at each other, and the commentators chattered on.

“Not just the Junior Grand Prix, Brian. There’s word that the fifteen year old will be making his senior debut by the end of the year. I’m sure we can expect a bright, bright future from him.”

“Really! I can see that. His skating skills as well as artistry are incredibly mature, and I think it’s safe to say that the particular charm and personality in his skating is quite unmatched by any of the current British seniors.”

“Well. That shall be attested to come next season! But before that, he should have a good, satisfying summer vacation ahead of him. How proud must his parents be right now!”

At the mention of Sirius’ parents, James stiffened in his arms, and Remus offered a knowing squeeze to his shoulder. The ache in his chest was burning anew— if only those people knew! They saw Sirius’ talent and his grace, his effortless display of skills and his success, but they’d never seen what Remus and James have. They never saw the tears of frustration, the pain and the bruises, the long long hours training at the rink where they took turns to keep Sirius company, and the sleepless nights after those damned visits from Walburga that Sirius never talked about. And they dare say Walburga would be proud! As if that woman had ever been more than ruthless and cold!

Remus was not surprised to find that James was also blinking away tears when they drew apart. James understood. So did McGonagall, and Remus was endlessly grateful she was there to keep Walburga at bay as much as possible. But there was still only so much she could do. Walburga had always been there to push Sirius, blindly, relentlessly. And after this, she’d only be pushing him still more. Sirius loved the ice, there was no doubt about that, it was why he’d always managed to come through. But it terrified and chilled Remus to the core to think that one day, he’d be pushed too far. That one day, Sirius won’t be able to do it again.

#umm #yes #wolfstar microfic #wolfstar #microfic #wolfstar au #my writing #sirius black #remus lupin #figure skaters au #figure skater sirius #pov remus #figure skating au

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vmwaffles · 1 year

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Figure Skater Regulus AU

“Regulus closes his eyes and focuses on the music. He breathes, slowly, feels the beat and starts skating. Without a practiced routine or choreography.

Just him, the music and the ice. He moves the way his body tells him to. This. This right here, right now is where he feels the most free. The most himself. He wishes it could always be this way.

If only he could always feel this way.”

- All That Glitters Is Not Gold by reggiethedestroyer on Ao3

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artbyace · 1 year

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went ice skating for the first time in like a year- and i forgot how much i loved it. the euphoria from being able to go that fast and just glide is like no other

definitely going to be drawing remus and sirius or james and regulus hockey player/ice skater au at some point because it makes me very hapy :>>

#marauders #marauders era #marauders au #remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar #james potter #regulus black #ice skating #ice hockey #figure skating #txt #fanart #jegulus #all of my art is self indulgence shhh

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basiliscusswims · 1 year

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ice skater sirius hours

I have lots of art i didnt post on here (read as 3 pieces)

#sirius black #marauders era #marauders #sirius black fanart #sirius is an ice skater #in his barbie era #ice skater au #or is it figure skating au #who knows #anyways

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quynhorlose · 1 year

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#i am hissing like a fucking cat rn #oh my god #i miss skating :(((#like #i don’t miss maine AT ALL #but i miss skating So Much #also this is giving black brothers figure skater au #tell me sirius and regulus wouldn’t skate to mcr #you can’t

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moonstruckme · 7 months

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On Thin Ice

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

When your usual figure skating partner Regulus is injured, you're forced to prepare the most romantic routine you've ever done with Sirius Black. You've known Sirius since you were little and have always found him irritating, but as you spend more and more time together, your feelings towards him start to change

cw: injury (no details)

Figure Skater!Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 1.7k words

You can finally feel the music again.

Your legs push at the ice in tandem with Sirius’, taking his hand before drifting away from him again to the melody of the strings. That lightness is back, the intuitive rhythm you’d had with the routine before Regulus’ injury threw you off-balance. Every sweep of your foot underneath you, every stretch of your arms and back feels right in a way you thought you’d lost during the last two practices. Maybe more right than it ever has.

You return Sirius’ smile as you finish, hands linked with your arms extended between you, and Coach practically whoops from the edge of the rink.

“That’s what I like to see,” he declares. “We’ve got some stuff to clean up—you came out of that last spin too fast, Y/N, and Sirius, I wanna see you let her get lower on the death spiral—but that was great, great progress. If we keep at it, I think we’ll be ready for comp.”

You can’t stop smiling, giddy at the prospect of getting to perform such an impressive routine when, just yesterday, you thought you might never be ready. Sirius sets a hand on your shoulder, squeezing excitedly, and you don’t shake him off like you usually might. Whatever his flaws, something had changed last night between you and Sirius. You wouldn’t call it friendship just yet, but there’s a sort of camaraderie now, an understanding of your mutual investment in this partnership, this routine. You have to work together, and it may as well not be an entirely unpleasant experience for the both of you. Plus, it means you get to enjoy moments like this. You place your hand atop his, squeezing back.

“Ready to go again?” Coach says. “Let’s take it from the spiral sequence.”

☆ ☆ ☆

Over the few practices, you and Sirius become more and more in tune with each other, until you suspect no one would guess you haven’t been partners all along. You’re beginning to forget that too. The feeling of his hands on you has become a familiar pressure, you’ve learned to anticipate each other’s tiny movements in a split second, and you’ve grown fond of Sirius’ grander style of skating, enjoying the flow of mirroring his maneuvers. You’ve begun mirroring his expressions, too, returning his smiles automatically and engaging with the playful looks he sends you when one of you wobbles or misses a step.

Though you’ve always had fun with Regulus, he’s all business on the ice. Sirius rarely stops joking around, seeming to find everything amusing even though you know skating really is important to him. He’s at the rink early every day and on the days when he doesn’t walk you home, stays late to correct whatever mistakes he made during practice. It’s rare for your coach to give him a direction during one session that he hasn’t implemented seamlessly by the next.

Another difference: whereas Regulus has raw talent, Sirius works hard for it.

Drive isn’t something you honestly would’ve associated with him before, but you suppose that’s because he never draws attention to it. He’ll give up his practice to help you fine-tune a difficult turn in an instant and he’s more given to speculating about what your costumes will look like than discussing his efforts to improve his form, but left to his own devices, Sirius will drill and drill a move until not even your coach can find flaw in it.

Still, you would never guess that he’s even trying to concentrate as he winks at you, the both of you coming out of a synchronized turn and going into arabesque. Your fingertips brush for the barest of seconds, and you can’t say whether it’s the wink or that which takes your mind off your skates as you launch into one of your solo jumps, but your thoughts are spinning nearly as quickly as your vision as you twist through the air.

You feel the slip, the slight shift of your back foot to where it shouldn’t be, while you’re still airborne, but there’s no time to correct it before you’re hitting the ground, skate catching oddly on the ice. Your leg twists under you, and you throw yourself to the side before you can land on the blade. You feel something pop before your shoulder hits the wall that borders the rink with a dull thud.

Naturally, you’ve managed to turn a small error into a spectacle of injury. Your pride hurts worse than anything, but your knee is fighting hard for second place. Already the initial sharp pain has given way to a manageable throbbing, but it feels stiff, locked in place. There’s a swish of blades, and then Sirius is beside you, eyes darting over you with something close to panic.

“Are you okay?” His hands ghost over your shoulder, your face. “What hurts?”

You push yourself up with your hands, trying to straighten your leg before hissing in pain.

“Don’t.” Sirius sets a hand just above your knee as if to stop you from repeating the motion. “Don’t move. Is it your ankle?”

You swallow, feeling like you could burst into tears. If you have to sit out this season, after all your hard work, you’re going to be so disappointed in yourself. “My knee. I don’t think it’s bad,” you say, knowing that’s probably wishful thinking.

“Hopefully not,” he agrees, and your coach finally makes it to you, crouching by your leg.

“Does anything feel broken?” he asks, prodding at your shin. “Dislocated?”

“I, um,” you hesitate to admit to anything too drastic, as if that’ll change the actual severity of whatever’s wrong with you, “I felt something pop, but it doesn’t feel dislocated. And it doesn’t look like it, right?”

“Right.” Coach pokes at your knee, and you flinch a little, gasping. “I don’t love that, though.”

“You hit the wall with your shoulder too, didn’t you?” Sirius’ expression is as severe as you’ve ever seen it, and you find yourself shrinking under all the attention.

“Yeah, but that’s fine,” you reply hastily. “It’ll probably just bruise.”

Coach eyes you, a preparatory disappointment in his gaze that worsens your own apprehension. “Can you put weight on it?”

You hesitate, and Sirius steps in before you can answer. “Let’s not chance it, yeah?”

Coach nods. “Okay, yeah, let’s end practice for today. Go get it checked out and text me what you find out, alright?”

You nod, and neither he nor Sirius seem angry with you, but that does nothing to stop the acute upset that’s forming in your chest. “Okay.”

Sirius eases an arm carefully under your knees, slipping the other behind your back. He’s slow as he brings you to his chest, watching your face. “Does that hurt?”

You shake your head, and he stands with you in his arms, making his way to the exit.

“I’m really sorry,” you whisper, hiding your face in his shoulder as tears arrive unbidden, distorting your vision. “I don’t want to mess this up.”

“Hey.” Sirius’ breath is warm on your forehead as he speaks softly, head bent over yours. “Don’t be sorry. You aren’t messing anything up, it was an easy mistake.” He steps off the ice, setting you down on the bleachers and ducking his head until you’re looking at him. “It might still be nothing, yeah? Maybe you just tweaked something. So don’t cry just yet, shortcake, alright?”

You nod, wiping embarrassedly under your eyes. Sirius sits on the bench below you, unlacing your skates before you can even think to reach for them. “And even if you were out for the rest of the season,” he says lightly, “you’d just be coordinating your break with Regulus, and then the two of you could perform together next season.” He slips your first skate off, starting on the second. “Just like you wanted, yeah?”

You look at him, pieces of hair that have escaped the knot in the back of his head falling in his face as his fingers move deftly over your laces. You do want to skate with Regulus again, but you’re not so ready to forgo this season as you might’ve been when he was first taken out of the running. You like having Sirius as a partner. You enjoy practicing with him, talking with him, just being around him. And if this is your only season to do that, you’re not ready to give it up quite yet.

“Yeah,” you say weakly, and something indecipherable flickers across Sirius’ face before he pulls your other foot free of your skate. “Thanks.”

“Anytime, sunshine.” He grins at you, whatever you might’ve seen skillfully hidden away. “I’m known for being great at pep talks, you know.”

You do your best to match his playful tone. “I believe it.”

“Alright.” He pats your good knee, standing. “Do you think you could get a ride home? I’d carry you the whole way if I could, but I’m not sure you’d thank me for it if I messed up our throws tomorrow.”

You laugh. “Yeah, I’m sure I can get a ride. Thanks, though.”

You expect Sirius to leave, but he sits with you until your ride arrives, insisting on helping you to the car when you won’t let him carry you. After a long and somewhat teary phone call with Regulus that night, you make an appointment with a doctor for the next morning, where they tell you have something called a meniscus tear. You leave with a compression bandage around your knee and instructions to rest over the next couple of days. Coach echoes your relief over the phone, saying he’ll train with just Sirius until you can come back to practice and making you swear to do nothing but rest your knee until then.

You almost call Sirius, too, but eventually settle for telling Regulus, sure that he’ll convey the message. You’ve never been happier to have to sit around, especially since it means you’ll still be able to compete this year.

And you never thought you’d be this enthusiastic to finish out the season with Sirius Black, but you can’t wait until your next practice.

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