#figure skaters au

[evenfallwriter]

MOODBOARDS MASTERLIST || BSD

A list of all the moodboards that I've made till now.

📖 BUNGOU STRAY DOGS

WRITTEN IN THE STARS VERSE || SOULBOND AU

dazai osamu moodboard (old template) nakahara chuuya moodboard (old template) akutagawa gin moodboard (old template) akutagawa siblings picrew

PEACH BLOSSOMS & RED CAMELLIAS || FEMSLASH SKK AU

all my agony fades away - chapter one moodboard all my agony fades away - chapter two moodboard Fem SKK moodboard

TO LAND A QUADRUPLE AXEL || FIGURE SKATERS AU

prologue moodboard

TO SET THINGS RIGHT || SKK ROLE REVERSAL/TIMETRAVEL AU

to burn for your love - chapter one moodboard to burn for your love - chapter two moodboard to burn for your love - chapter three moodboard

SOMETHING WORTH REMEMBERING || ODASAKU & DAZAI ROLE REVERSAL AU

dazai osamu moodboard (old template) sawako ariyoshi moodboard (old template) natsume souseki moodboard (old template)

ON A FIELD OF RED POPPIES || BOARDING SCHOOL/REBIRTH AU

-

RUNAWAY BRIDE AU

part one - footprints on blood stained snow part two - painting white roses red

AFTER THE WAR

at least the war is over - chapter one moodboard at least the war is over - chapter two moodboard at least the war is over - chapter three moodboard at least the war is over - chapter four moodboard

[moonstruckme]

Thawing Out

summary: You and Sirius are in dire need of a new coach just weeks before the Olympics. Remus is a former figure skating prodigy forced to retire after a career-ending injury. Though it's not smooth skating right away, those stiff Olympic village beds are dying to be broken in.

collab with @ellecdc

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12

cw: modern au, chronic pain

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

Remus still wakes before dark every morning. It’s automatic, an urgency and excitement that thrums through him like an old instinct, born from years of his alarm clock rousing him at this time. The rink is always at its best right now, when they’ve just finished resurfacing the ice and no one else is around. It was Remus’ favorite time to practice. 

Now, he has a new reason to get up. His hip clicks as he does it, so he starts his day with a couple of proactive painkillers. If he really wanted to be proactive he would stretch like he’s supposed to, but there’s no time and Remus doesn’t feel like it. He’ll pay his toll for the negligence later. 

The webpage of his Airbnb boasted a five-minute walk to the rink, but with his hip it takes Remus seven. It’s like an odd sort of muscle memory, an old routine from another life that feels as bitter as it does comfortable. He heads out early to give himself some cushion. The streets are empty but for bakers and baristas, the first hints of dawn tinging the sky a deep blue. When he turns a corner and the rink comes into view, the absence of his bag hanging from his shoulder is a phantom ache. 

The front doors are locked but the side one staff uses isn’t, the Zamboni driver already inside. Remus lets himself in, makes a cup of tea from the hot water dispenser they leave out when concessions are closed, plants himself on a bench, and waits. 

And waits. 

And waits. 

Remus has nearly nodded off when two pairs of shoes come bounding up to him. Well, one pair bounds. The other drags. 

“Hi, sorry we’re late.” You’re breathless and hauling a sullen-looking boy along behind you by the hand, but you manage a smile when Remus looks up at you. “I had to run over and get him out of bed. It’s good to meet you!”

You hold out your untethered hand. Remus might normally stand to take it, but he no longer feels like doing you the courtesy. Your grip is firm and warm. 

“You were supposed to be here at six,” he says. 

You wince. “I know. Sorry, Sirius is really not a morning person.” 

Remus thinks that he might put more stock into your apologies if you looked a tad more contrite. As it is, your countenance is almost cheery, a fizzy eagerness about you as you look between him and the ice like you can’t wait to get out on it. 

In stark contrast, the ill-tempered boy behind you seems not to have a clue where he is. He looks rumpled and disoriented, squinting in the rink’s fluorescent light. 

“Then why didn’t you pick another time?” Remus asks. 

He hadn’t realized he was still looking at Sirius, or that the other boy could talk, so it’s a surprise when he answers. “Wasn’t my bloody idea.” 

By the way you grin, Remus wonders if you’ve even heard the obvious bitterness in your partner’s tone, or whether it’s gone straight over your head. 

“I like the rink better early,” you explain. “No one else ever comes before the hockey practice starts at nine, and they’ll have just finished resurfacing the ice.” 

Begrudgingly, Remus nods. “I always preferred it about now, too.” 

He realizes immediately that his agreement was a mistake, because your smile grows into something far too brilliant for the early hour. Christ, what has he gotten himself into? There’s you, starry-eyed and effervescing all over the place, and your partner, who looks more inclined to fall asleep on your shoulder than put on his skates. 

And this is the pair skating duo Remus is supposed to take to the Olympics. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Watch that back foot!” Remus shouts across the ice.

Sirius doesn’t look happy about it, but he corrects the placement of his skate, transitioning smoothly into the next synced turn. 

“Good,” Remus murmurs to himself. 

Once Sirius got out on the ice and woke up a bit, he was good. He skates with the technical proficiency of someone who’s been in the sport since before they started primary school, and the intuitive artistry of someone who loves it. You’re much the same, though your virtuosity and obvious competence are consistently undercut by hesitation, the grace of your movements interrupted when you second-guess yourself. But these—technical prowess paired with devotion—are the basics of what makes a good figure skater. You’ll have to be flawless if you want to do well at the Olympics. 

And Remus has found many flaws. 

“No, no—shit!” Remus stands as you fall out of your jump again, catching yourself on your forearms. “You’re still under-rotating! Come on!” 

Sirius snarls a quick “Hey!” over his shoulder before turning his back on Remus, going to help you up. He speaks to you quietly, checking you over as you stand. Remus seethes. 

He has no clue why he’s been called out here to coach a pair. Remus doesn’t know pairs, has never been a part of one. He was a solo skater. And frankly, it makes him wary that what’s supposed to be the best skating pair in Britain has asked him, a former solo skater who’s been isolated from the figure skating community in general for the past two years, to coach them. But Remus does know figure skating. And he knows when skaters are making stupid mistakes behind their skill level. 

“What aren’t you understanding?” asks Remus as you skate back to the edge of the rink. He really wants to know. “It’s simple. You can do this.” He knows he could have. As easy as breathing, and he would kill to have the chance again. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” 

Sirius’ glare is sharp as knives. He steps off the ice before you can, positioning himself between you and Remus. Your lips purse with a knowing sort of apprehension. 

“Sirius…” 

“No, you don’t talk to her like that,” Sirius spits. “It was a tiny mistake.” 

Remus raises his eyebrows, incredulous. “I’m trying to help her! It was a giant mistake, with a simple fix. You ought to be telling her the same, unless you’re okay with your partner snapping her ankle weeks out from competition.” 

“None of that means you get to fucking yell at her! Who do you think you are?” 

“Okay—” 

“I’m her coach,” says Remus, voice rising, “and—”

“Then coach her! Maybe if you’d give some actual fucking feedback instead of just nitpicking—” 

“Okay!” Your shout cuts through the space, echoing in the empty rink and silencing the other two. “That’s enough.” 

You haul Sirius back by his shoulder. Your grip doesn’t look severe enough to move him, but he goes, stepping back to your side. His eyes never leave Remus’. 

Your own gaze jumps between both boys, that same spark he’d seen in you earlier burning with a different light. 

“Let’s call it for today,” you say firmly. “Okay? We’ll try again tomorrow.” 

Neither boy speaks, though Remus nods. It seems to be taking all of Sirius’ willpower to bite his tongue. He gets the impression it isn’t something he succeeds at often, so Remus isn’t ashamed to say that it brings him a perverse sort of joy to see it now. His tiny bit of smugness fizzles out, though, when your eyes land on him. There’s something desolate in your expression that’s a salient deviation from how you’d looked at him before. Remus has the sinking feeling that he’s disappointed you. It’s more distressing than he can account for. 

“We’ll be here on time tomorrow,” you say in that same steady tone. “And my jump, I’ll work on it.” 

Remus nods again. You return it, and when you turn to leave, you drag Sirius after you by his shirtsleeve, picking up your bags along your way. Remus’ mouth feels dry. His lips are chapped, his fingertips hurt from the cold, and the sight of your skates sinking into the rubbery floor makes his hip ache terribly. 

It’s only once you’re nearly out of earshot that he manages to mumble, “Thank you.”

[blairamok]

heat stroke

joining the trend, as a treat. as soon as i saw that photo shoot i knew what i had to do.

[on thin ice]

[avatar-anna]

Hockey Player! Harry Styles x Figure Skater! Reader

Harry loved his girlfriend in the mornings.

Well, he loved her all the time, but there was just something about his girl when she'd only just woken up. Harry loved everything about Y/n, all the little parts that made up the whole, but there was something about her in the mornings.

"Baby?"

"Down here!" Harry called from the kitchen.

He'd woken up before Y/n, something he did regularly since they'd graduated college. Out of habit, they were both early risers, but now that she no longer skated competitively, Y/n indulged in sleeping in more. Harry, who was on a professional hockey workout regimen, was often up early to work out or train.

"You weren't in bed when I woke up," Y/n said when she finally appeared. She was pouting at him, a regular occurrence whenever he left their bed without her knowing.

Harry realized early into their relationship that his girl was an adorable grump, one that was increasingly adorable and grumpy in the mornings. Her hair was rumpled, there were pillow creases in her cheek, and her eyes were barely opened. If she wasn't on her feet Harry would've thought she was still standing.

"I know, I'm sorry," Harry said, stepping away from his half-prepared smoothie. "Go back to sleep, bub."

"I can't. I got cold," she said sheepishly. "I can tell you already did your morning workout, now come back to bed. Please?"

"There's like a million blankets in our bed, bub. How did you get cold?"

Y/n's frown deepened. "It's not the same. I said please, didn't I?"

Harry grinned and kissed her cheek. "You did, so I suppose I could be persuaded into going back to bed and keeping you warm."

"Persuaded? Baby, it's too early for this. Come back to bed so I can wake up properly."

Trying not to chuckle, Harry lifted his girlfriend into his arms. Y/n was quick to wrap her legs around his waist and bury her face in the crook of his neck. He felt more than heard her appreciative hum. "So clingy in the mornings," he murmured.

"I only get so much time with you now that you're a hotshot hockey player," Y/n grumbled. "And you're spending your mornings squeezing fruit into a mixer."

"Would it have made a difference if I was making you breakfast in bed?"

"Mm...no. Now shush. All this talking is waking me up, and I have at least an hour before I have to actually get up."

When they reached their room Harry gently placed Y/n on the bed. He slid in beside her as instructed, wrapping them up just the way they were when he slipped out earlier. Y/n curled into his chest, her breaths already slowing as her eyes fluttered shut.

Kissing the top of her head, Harry asked, "And what am I supposed to do while you get your extra hour of shut eye?"

"Shh..." Y/n mumbled, blindly pressing a finger to his mouth. She missed at first and his nose, then his cheek, then his lips, which Harry grinned against. "Less talking, more sleeping."

Harry's chest rumbled with soft laughter. Kissing Y/n on the top of her head, he closed his eyes too. "Bossy girl."

All he got was a half-uttered, "Love you," but Harry felt it all the same.

[sorascribbless]

@deduukkk made a Figure Skating AU where Ragatha and Jax were partners so my heart had to draw them im literally obsessed look at them omfg-

[hackedmotionsensors]

Now in fabulous technicolor

So i had the idea (that I definitely stole the idea from Dogsred) that Zoro does training with Sanji on skating maneuverability. Apparently this IS a thing with Hockey players!

And of course the majority of that time is spent bickering and so this isn't them being doubles partners Zoro is just bullying(flirting) Sanji (its working)

[eeniiart]

I have an idea with this au, I just don't know how to draw it, so until then here is some figure drawing practice with Suo and Tsubakino :D

[avianii]

2 seconds later he falls on his face

[lil0ak]

[hongjoongspoetry]

Cold Hands, Warm Heart Masterpost

⛸️ Summary: You and Mingi have been at each other's neck for the past year. The latter finds big enjoyment in spurring you on while you just want to make it to graduating without being charged with murder. Things take an interesting turn when your crush and fellow figure skater shows interest in you resulting in a fistfight, two love confessions and multiple heartbreaks.

⛸️ Pairing(s): Hockey Player!Mingi x Figure Skater!Reader, Figure Skater!Hyunjin x Figure Skater!Reader

⛸️ Genres/Tropes: College AU, non-idol AU, rivals to lovers but it's more like one-sided resentment, hockey AU, figure skating AU, angst, fluff, suggestive

⛸️ Warnings/Tags: female reader, no use of (Y/N), explicit language, alcohol consumption, chaotic friendship, a lot of side characters, party scenes, arguments, mature content, more tags are to come with each chapter so read those carefully!

⛸️ Current wordcount: 58.2K

⛸️ Author's note: Ignore the fact that this was supposed to be an oneshot and not a mini-series. Anyhow, I'm really proud of this work as it is something I've been writing for a really long time (since October 2023) but I'm also very nervous to share it with you guys, so if you like (or dislike) it, please, do tell me! The parts are all around 13-16K words, except for the finale, which I still haven't started writing 😭

I also want to say a big thank you to @/zchnlswrld for beta reading and giving me love and encouragement through the journey! You’re very much appreciated 🩷

AO3 Masterlist Moodboard Click on me!

01 — I'm Just Dreaming of Tearing You Apart

02 — The Autumn Within Me Is Grieving

03 — You Know You’re on My Mind

04 — Know It’s for the Better

05 — Be Still My Foolish Heart (TBD)

© HONGJOONGSPOETRY 2024 - All rights reserved. Copying, editing, reposting or translating my work is not allowed

[sixeyescurseuser]

Thinking about figure skater Gojo who tirelessly trains to qualify and compete at the next Olympic Games.

Gojo is such a legend in the skating world, very well known for his jaw-dropping, difficult performances, handsome looks, and charming personality! He was built for the spotlight.

Naturally, he has many global fans, fan accounts, and ordinary people who follow his career.

People who meet Gojo in-person after having only seen him on tv are shocked at how tall he is, yet manages to skate so well. All those triple and quad axels? And the amount of grace and power he skates with is insane considering his build. 

Once, an interviewer asks Gojo what other skaters he admires? Gojo talks about a few current big names, then sneaks in a mention of, “Oh, Suguru is also in my list , hehe.”

The interviewer chuckles alongside him, yet can’t help but ask, “Suguru…who?”

Later, Geto Suguru nearly spits out his water while watching the interview posted on Youtube. He doesn’t hesitate to text his boyfriend.

Geto: “Why do you keep bringing me up? I literally just skated in high school 😭”

Gojo sends back an old video of Geto’s skating routine from a regional competition: ❤️❤️

Geto: “WHY DO YOU STILL HAVE THIS?”

Gojo: “heyyy >:(“

Gojo: “It makes me happy 🥰 I loved watching you”

***

Growing up, Gojo and Geto skated at the same club.  But while Gojo continued skating as his professional career after, Geto dropped skating in order to focus on his academics in college.

Gojo often reminisces on the long practices they had where they would watch each other run through their routines and give each other feedback, when they would mess around and throw the craziest combinations just for shits and giggles.

He didn’t realize their time together on the rink would be so short in the long run, but they began dating when they were only sixteen, and have been going strong together since.

Gojo is still lucky to have Suguru to come home to after his long days at the rink.  

After college, Geto went on to become a marine biologist, where he does a lot of work in ocean wildlife conservation. He’s either on a boat collecting data for research or in the lab analyzing his sample results. 

Gojo is not only busy training in Japan, but he also frequently travels to train in different countries. Gojo receives lots of updates from Suguru in the form of selfies and blurry photos with ocean wildlife or results from the lab.

Suguru in the lab with his ppe (personal protection equipment). Suguru wearing his wet suit while investigating algae farms. Suguru smiling while holding a crab.  

Gojo makes the last one his lock screen. Suguru just looks so cute with his hair pulled back, and when Gojo holds his finger down on the live photo, he can hear Suguru’s voice talking in baby to the crab.

(Geto’s wallpaper is a selfie of them when they were teens.)

Geto gets super excited telling Gojo about his new findings, taking the time to explain different facts and technical terms. Gojo eagerly nods along on the phone and asks questions, commenting, “No way! The algae increased nearly double the amount with your XXX solution? That’s amazing!”

***

Gojo loves what he does, but it’s always a relief to come back home and find his comfort place in Suguru’s arms. 

Nothing beats taking a shower and raiding Suguru’s closet after, cooking dinner with his boyfriend, and then cuddles on the couch.

The first thing they see when they turn on the tv is a sports reporter announcing Gojo Satoru's third national championship title, and what it means for the road to the Olympics.

“Oh wow, this guy is on a roll. He should train for the Olympics or something,” Geto says.

Gojo simply buries face in Suguru’s neck and snickers: “Or something.”

***

Once, while getting ready to sleep one night, Gojo whispers in Geto’s: “Remember that one time you ripped your pants during the Junior Grand Prix?”

Geto doesn’t react at first.

Then, without warning, he tries to smother his boyfriend with his pillow.

***

One of the best memories is when Geto surprised Gojo by showing up in-person to one of the abroad competitions. 

In the middle of his post-win interview, still in his competition suit, makeup dewey and hair fluffy, Gojo suddenly spots a familiar face behind one of the paparazzi. 

Gojo is literally mid-answer when he locks in and SPRINTS to get his boyfriend in his arms.

“Suguru!!” Gojo shouts. He’s already leaping and oh, Suguru’s arms readily catch him. 

Geto laughs with his whole chest, squeezing tightly around Gojo’s middle.

“Hello, darling.”

Gojo has to finish the interview but he’s so bubbly now because teehee Suguru is right there and watching proudly. 

Gojo needs him in his bed immediately.

After the interview, Geto explains he got his lab assistants to cover their project for the next week so he could fly out and visit Gojo in Australia!

Gojo happily drags Geto back to his hotel room,  giggling and babbling about the plans they could have for the next week. The couple excitedly discuss outings to art and performance events, to the beach, even the zoo - which Geto is ecstatic for. 

Upon entering the hotel room, Geto quickly drops his luggage off in the corner. Gojo is still yapping when Geto suddenly walks him backwards to the bed. 

The back of Gojo’s knees hit the edge and he falls back with an “oof!”

Geto smoothly crawls on top to lay his whole body weight on his boyfriend’s. 

Gojo chuckles. He combs through Suguru’s hair and continues his talking, knowing Suguru is tired from traveling and this will help them both relax.

Gojo gradually runs out of things to say, and the soft breaths against his neck tell him yep, he unfortunately needs to poke his boyfriend awake so they can both shower and freshen up before bed.

Gojo pats Geto’s lower back. “Suguru, wakey wakey.”

No response.

Pat pat on the lower back again, then smoothing his hands up to pat the upper-back.

“Babyyy, wake up. We need to shower. And eat.”

Geto offers a protesting grunt, then nuzzles against Gojo’s neck.

This leaves Gojo no choice.

He sneaks a hand down to pinch Geto’s ass.

“Ouch- hey what the fuck?”

Gojo yelps when he feels Suguru pinch his nipple in retaliation, then rolls off Gojo’s body to head toward the bathroom.

Five minutes later, the couple shower together while casually recapping the results of the skating event.

“Any feedback for me today?” Gojo asks. Geto hums, more focused on massaging the shampoo into Gojo’s hair. He applies the perfect amount of pressure that makes Gojo moan in appreciation.

“The only feedback I have is that you look amazing out there, Satoru. All the hard work you put into training clearly pays off. I am so so proud of you,” Geto says, dropping a kiss to Gojo’s nape.

Gojo preens, and completely surrenders himself to his boyfriend's tender touches.

[moonstruckme]

Thawing Out

collab with @ellecdc

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12

cw: modern au, chronic pain, alcohol, smoking

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 3.2k words

Remus is quiet the next day at practice. Or maybe that’s only in your head. After all, it’s not like he can just shout across the ice at you like he used to at home, not with the rink packed with a dozen other figure skaters practicing before their events today and tomorrow. Maybe it’s only easier for you to imagine he feels as confused and conflicted as you do. 

Evidently you’d been wrong about the feelings between Remus and Sirius. Or if you were right, Remus hasn’t taken notice of it himself yet. But perhaps it’s not your place to assume that you know what he wants. As you learned last night, you don’t even know what you want. 

You didn’t realize how badly you’ve been wanting to kiss Remus until he did it for you. Your mind emptied out and your body reacted like it had been waiting for years, desperate to feel him, to learn all of him, with your mouth and your hands and the press of your nose against his cheek. Your skin became more sensitive than it’s ever been under his touch. You’ve never felt more aware of your body than you are on the ice, but Remus ignited something different in you. The softest press of his hand made you want to bend and mold yourself to his liking. 

Ordinarily, you’d be desperate to tell Sirius. He’s your best friend, your partner, he’s known about every crush you’ve had since you were teenagers. But when you woke up this morning, thought about seeing him and divulging every detail from the night before, something odd and unpleasant curdled in your gut. 

You’ve never had the urge to keep secrets from Sirius before. But this, you find, you don’t want him to know. It makes you feel sick even now, going in and out of turns with him while Remus watches you both from outside the boards. Watching your best friend look at you like everything is normal, with all the trust in the world, and knowing that you’re keeping this from him. 

You feel guilty, though you don’t know why. And you don’t know if it’s for kissing Remus or for letting Remus kiss you. All you know is that suddenly whenever Sirius looks at you, you feel like you’re holding his heart in your hands, and you aren’t certain you can be trusted with it. 

“The American is looking at you,” Sirius says as you finish your routine. 

You glance behind you, catching the eyes of another skater before he looks away. Your face heats. 

“He could’ve been looking at you,” you point out. 

“Babe, there are lots of people here looking at me, but just as many with their eyes on you.” Sirius grins, slipping an arm around your waist. “We can feed the rumors that we’re together if you want to keep them from bothering you,” he says in a low voice, eyes drooping in a show of flirtation, “but don’t pretend you’re not the most gorgeous thing here.” 

Remus’ voice echoes in your head. You’re beautiful. Your heartbeat pounds. Sirius is watching you with an easy familiarity, waiting for you to either give him the go ahead or tell him to back off. The feeling of his hand on your back makes something tighten in your core, even as that strange guilt spreads through the same area like a blight. 

You swallow. “Would you be okay to run the death spiral again?” 

Sirius blinks. “Now? It’s a bit crowded for that.” 

“I think we can manage.” You move away from his arm, taking him by the hand instead. Your eyes meet Remus’ as you skate to a clear part of the rink. Maybe it’s still only your imagination, but you think he looks as distraught as you feel. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Remus feels like a piece of shit. 

He’s known about Sirius’ feelings for you since forever, but you’d looked at Remus like he was still worthy of admiration and apparently that was all it took to bring him to his knees. It felt like the worst possible betrayal of Sirius, who was finally maybe becoming his friend, and then when Remus had tried to reverse course he’d hurt you, too. 

The way you’d looked at him—surprised, wounded, uncertain. Remus had been too panicked to give you the explanation you deserved. He’d left you like that. And though you acted normal at practice today, he can tell he’s left you confused. 

Weeks of building trust with the both of you—at first unconsciously, but lately with more intention and hope—and Remus has managed to ruin it in the course of a night. You and Sirius deserve better. 

Remus wanted to be your friend—if his actions last night were any indication, part of him has wanted to be more than that—but he’ll have to make it up to you by being your coach. If he can’t do anything else, he still can get you through this competition. He’ll leave it up to you to decide if you want anything to do with him after that. 

And part of being your coach, he reasons, is making sure you get enough sleep the night before competition. He doubts you’ll want to see him again, but still Remus knocks on your door to ensure you’re getting ready for bed at a reasonable hour. His heart squeezes when you answer with your toothbrush in your mouth, those sweet pajamas of yours creased and crinkled from the night before. You’re an angel for making it easy on him, your usual smiley self as you assure Remus you’re going straight to bed and wish him a good night before shutting the door. 

Sirius’ room is only next to yours. The lights are out, which Remus takes as a good sign, but when he knocks there’s no answer. He knocks again. 

“Sirius,” he says into the doorframe. “Just say something if you’re going to sleep.” 

He waits for a groan or a resentful grumble, but there’s no sound. He knocks for a while longer. When Remus finally gets out his phone to call his charge, he listens for buzzing in the room, but he doesn’t hear it. 

Sirius picks up on the third ring. 

It takes Remus a while to find him. Sirius’ instructions were vague and convoluted, partly because he was lost himself and partly because of the way his words were slurring. Eventually Remus locates the other boy on the rooftop of a bar, Sirius’ legs dangling out over the street and a cigarette dangling from his mouth. 

Remus has to negotiate with the bar manager for a handful of minutes before he’s shown the frightening metal ladder that goes up to the roof. When he sits down beside Sirius, the first thing he does is pluck the cigarette from between his lips. 

“Oi!” Sirius turns to him. Remus sets a hand on his chest, a perhaps overcautious measure to ensure he doesn’t lean himself right off the roof. “I thought you were cool about that.” 

“Not the night before comp.” Remus steals the cig for himself, looking at Sirius over the glow of the cherry. “Did they just let you up here?” 

It takes Sirius a second to catch onto what he’s asking about. “Yeah. Why?” 

Remus shakes his head, fighting a grin. “You always get whatever you want, don’t you?” 

Sirius' laugh is short and bitter. “Not quite.” 

He turns away from Remus, and Remus’ heart sinks. For a brief, harrowing moment, he thinks, He knows. 

Sirius says to the empty night air, “Why don’t we see how we place tomorrow, and you can tell me then if I always get what I want.” 

“Oh, I see.” Remus takes another drag, relieved. “So you’ve come up here to have a pity party about things that haven’t happened yet. Have I got that right?” 

Sirius pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. Remus snatches it before he can react. The other boy turns around, angry now. “Piss off, Remus.” 

“Wish that I could,” Remus says evenly, stowing the pack in his pocket, “but it’s my job to make sure you perform as well as you can tomorrow. That means working lungs and a clear head.”

Sirius sulks but doesn’t try to grab them back. He only looks out into the black night. 

“Sirius,” says Remus, “if you’re worried about whether you’re going to medal, or what medal you’re going to get, that’s pointless. You can’t control how anyone else performs or how you measure up relative to them. All you can do is give your best to your routine.” 

“Right. Is that how you thought about it as well?” 

“No,” he admits. “But you guys didn’t hire a competitive teenage prick, you hired a coach.” 

Sirius’ mouth kicks up at the corner. “I suppose that is better.” 

“I think so,” Remus agrees. He watches the other boy for a handful of moments, sensing an opening. “You know, when it comes down to it, doing your best might involve doing an actual death spiral.”

Sirius’ expression sours again, but Remus presses on. 

“I know you could do it if you wanted to. You don’t seem to want to, though. I don’t get why. At first I thought you might not trust y/n to keep herself level, but obviously you’d trust her with anything. And she trusts you to keep her there, too, so what’s the issue?” 

For a while, it seems as though Sirius might not reply. The silence is thick and heavy. He continues looking out at nothing, at the stars hidden behind thick clouds, but eventually his lips part on a sigh. 

“She trusts too easily. She shouldn’t be so sure of me.” 

Remus’ brows furrow. Something unexpected about getting to know Sirius has been learning how quickly all his brash confidence can crumble away. It’s almost never when someone else is upset with him; rather, when he’s upset with himself. Remus used to get irritated by the other boy’s bravado, but now he’s just beginning to realize how fragile it truly is. That he never needed to bring Sirius down a peg, because Sirius was almost always already doing it himself. He’s still not quite used to it.

“Let’s get back,” Remus says gently. “It’s cold up here.” 

Sirius doesn’t protest as Remus leads him downstairs, watching carefully as he climbs down the creaky ladder. On the street Sirius nearly walks into a brick wall, and Remus takes his elbow in hand to prevent it. 

“You know,” he says, “y/n was actually just telling me last night that she was worried she was going to let you down.” 

Sirius makes an appalled scoffing sound. “Her? What for?” 

“I don’t know,” Remus half fibs. “But it would probably sound equally ridiculous to her that you’re thinking the same thing about her. And from an outside perspective, it’s always seemed to me like you’re perfectly suited to each other.” 

Sirius makes a low, whiny sound. Remus startles when he pulls out of his grasp. 

“Neither of you get it.” He lists sideways. 

Remus grabs for him, getting an arm securely around Sirius’ waist. He can’t help but think that two weeks ago this sort of behavior from Sirius would have irked him, but now he only feels a bemused sort of tenderness. He doesn’t understand what Sirius is so upset about, but he can tell it’s not nothing. “Explain it,” he coaxes. 

Sirius seems almost relieved to have been pulled back. He lets himself lean into Remus’ side. “I don’t deserve her trust,” he says in a quiet, mumbly voice. “I don’t deserve any of her. I don’t know why good people like her and James and you always find me, but I’m no good at keeping you. I’ll get mean, or selfish, and you’ll see. But I can’t—” His voice thins, and Remus’ grip on him tightens unconsciously. “I can’t risk losing her. I’m going to get her hurt, and she’ll stop trusting me, and I’ll have let her down again. I can’t do it.” 

The pair walks for a while in silence. Remus can feel the shadows of deeper fears swimming underneath the ones Sirius has just divulged to him, but he’s not sure how to respond. Even during Remus’ most spectacular failures of his career, he was at least the only one who got hurt. He was never tied to anyone else, never risked anybody but himself. If he messed up, he suffered the consequences, and that was it. 

Remus holds Sirius against him as he uses his card to enter the Village. The halls are quiet, most athletes and staff having turned in for the night. 

“When I first started working with the two of you,” Remus says lowly, “I didn’t always see why y/n trusted you so much, either. You were a brilliant skater, of course, but you just seemed like such a tosser.” 

That works as intended, getting a puff of laughter out of Sirius. 

“But I knew I had to figure out a way to work with you, and she just seemed to have complete faith in you. So after a while, I just started trusting that she knew what she was doing. She knew you better than I did, of course, so I figured the two of you had an understanding I just couldn’t comprehend. And the longer I worked with you, the more I could see how she was right.

“What I’m trying to say is, it took me a while to trust you, but I came around because I trusted her. You trust her, don’t you?” 

Sirius has been quiet, but at this, he looks up as though in surprise. “Of course, yeah.” 

Remus suppresses a smile. They both fall silent as they pass by your room, eyes catching on the door you’re sleeping behind like there’s a siren’s call coming from within. Remus wonders if it’s for the same reasons. 

After Sirius lets them into his room, Remus continues softly, “So maybe you ought to give it a try. If you can’t trust yourself, trust the faith she has in you. When is she ever wrong?” 

He expects Sirius to smile at that, but he doesn’t seem to be in the mood for joking. His eyes are big and sad as he sits down on his bed, a quiet sort of asking in them. 

“I think she could be wrong about this,” he says in a near whisper. 

Remus’ throat aches with sympathy. He crouches by Sirius’ feet, ignoring the protests of his hip to start taking off the other boy’s shoes. 

“She’s not,” he says. “She’s just smarter than the both of us. You’re loyal, and brave, and kind. She’s always known that, but it took me a while to catch on.”

“I’m not.” Sirius sounds almost desperate. 

Remus doesn’t back down. “You are.” Frustration and tenderness war inside him. He sets his hands on Sirius’ knees, looking him in the eyes. “Why would I lie to you?” 

A look comes over Sirius face, peculiar only in the moment before Remus recognizes it. He’s seen Sirius look that way a thousand times. At you. 

Remus’ heart thumps. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Remus’ thumb strokes over his thigh, and Sirius’ heart does something abhorrent behind his ribs

“Sirius.” Amber eyes look into his, warm and earnest and unrelenting. “Why would I lie?” 

Sirius began to sober up as soon as Remus called him earlier tonight. He’d started drinking to try and rid himself of that pesky, familiar feeling of derealization that had taken hold, but he’d stopped then. Paid his tab and gone up to the roof, where in the cool air Sirius had the powerful, frightening urge to wait for Remus and tell him everything about himself. Tell him every last terrible thing and see if he flinched. 

Only he hadn’t flinched. He’d taken Sirius home, whatever drunkenness was left lost on the wind during the walk, and taken his shoes off for him, and told him in various words that he was worth something. 

And now Remus is rubbing the sides of his knees. And his hands are gentle and so are his eyes, and his expression says that he believes it, that Sirius is worth something, and Sirus thinks, Fuck it. 

If it goes poorly, he can say tomorrow that he was drunk and doesn’t remember a thing.

Sirius mashes his lips into Remus’. 

A hoarse sound tears from somewhere inside Remus. He pushes against Sirius’ mouth, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and pressing him backwards onto the bed. The mattress is hard and the frame creaks under their combined weight, Remus’ hand finding Sirius’ throat and wrapping around it like an embrace. 

Sirius flips them over. Remus lets him, reclining back against the pillow propped along the wall and tugging Sirius closer like someone’s going to rip him away. He tastes like chocolate and cigarettes. A low whine rises in Sirius’ throat. 

Remus’ hands loosen their grip. “Wait.” 

“No,” Sirius pleads. 

“Aren’t you….” Remus pants. He pulls their lips apart but doesn’t go far, resting his forehead against Sirius’. “I’m confused. I thought you had feelings for y/n.” 

Sirius sucks in a breath. “You know about that?” 

A quiet, nervous chuckle. “Yeah, love. But you’ve just kissed me, so…I suppose I’m wondering what that means.” 

Sirius’ heart trembles. “I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t know.” 

“It’s alright.” Remus’ voice is a balm. He kisses Sirius once, a soft peck. “What do you feel?” 

Sirius opens his eyes and finds Remus watching him. The other boy’s forehead sits a bit higher than his, so Sirius has to tilt his gaze up, feeling cracked open and wretched. 

“I don’t know,” he says again, softer. “Is it bad to want both?” 

There’s a brief pause. Remus’ brow creases slightly. “I don’t think so,” he replies. “But I have to tell you something.” 

Sirius takes his forehead away from Remus’, putting a couple of inches between them. “Go on, then.” 

“Last night, I kissed y/n.” 

Sirius braces himself to hide a reaction, but there’s nowhere to hide from Remus’ perceptive gaze and after a moment, Sirius finds there’s not much reaction to hide anyway. He doesn’t feel upset. The idea of Remus kissing you is…well, it’s not unlike hearing him call you pet names or watching him touch you. Sirius doesn’t wish that Remus hadn’t done it, only that he’d been there as well. He does sort of wish that he’d gotten to kiss both of you first, though. 

“I stopped it as soon as my head caught up to me,” Remus goes on. He seems to be studying Sirius, though Sirius has no clue what he might find. “I felt really awful for doing it when I knew you had feelings for her, but now that you’ve said that, I think I might have feelings for both of you, too.” 

“Brilliant.” Sirius’ heart is hammering, but he does his best to make his voice sound unaffected. “Then what do we do now?” 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You stumble out of bed half-awake. You’re not even entirely sure if someone’s knocked on your door or if you’ve dreamed it, but your feet propel you there with urgency nonetheless. You rub your eyes as you open it, mouth stretching with a yawn. 

Sirius and Remus are standing outside, both rumpled but still in their daytime clothes. Their pupils are blown and lips wet and swollen. 

“We were wondering,” says Remus, slightly breathlessly, “if you might have a moment.”

[bichobolitach]

I’ve got brainworms

I know there is a fic about it, no I have not read it yet. I will, though! But I wanna get these out of my system first. Figure skater AU, anyone?

[avatar-anna]

Where It All Began

Hockey Player! Harry x Figure Skater! Reader

i had this finished hours ago and then tumblr didn't save it and i wanted to throw my phone out a window.

also, i don't write smut so if it's bad say nothing 🫣

When you saw Harry on the other side of your open door, you immediately slammed it shut in his face.

"Oh, come on, princess, don't be like that!"

"Go away!" you groaned loud enough that he could hear through the door.

Harry did not go away. His head thudded against the door instead. You could almost picture his forehead pressed against it, small pout on his lips for not getting his way.

"Are you really going to ignore me? After everything we've been through together?"

No. "Yes. And stop calling me princess!" you said, a little louder this time.

"I know you love it," Harry said. "You had quite a different reaction when I said it last week. A week, princess. How long are you gonna keep me in agony here?"

The night in question was one you'd been trying and failing to forget. It was a slip, a lapse in judgement, something you didn't think about carefully before doing it, and now look at where you were. Harry had been trying to talk to you, both discreetly and not so discreetly ever since, but you'd given him the cold shoulder, for no other reason than if you stayed too long in his presence you might've slipped again.

Hooking up with your mortal enemy was a horrible idea, one you were now paying dearly for.

With a scoff, you said through the door, "Don't act like half the school isn't lined up to sleep with you. Go be with one of them."

It was one of the reasons why you tried to stay away from Harry. You didn't judge him for his alleged sexual prowess, but you wanted someone committed to you and only you. If you wanted someone, that is. Between your studies and figure skating, there was no room for relationships of any kind, especially not with arrogant hockey players. Especially not Harry Styles.

"You really want that to be it?" Harry asked, ignoring your comment. "I mean it was great, but a coat closet isn't conducive to showing off my best work. Come on, princess, let me show you some of my best work."

"Maybe I don't want to because it wasn't satisfying enough." Liar. You knew it, and he knew it too.

"The stains on my shirt from you squirting everywhere say otherwise," he said, and your cheeks heated immediately. You could hear the smirk in his voice, the satisfaction in it as he remembered how you came on his fingers. It made your core pulse, but you mentally scolded yourself.

"Nothing to say to that, huh? I thought so," he said. "I can't help it now that I'm hooked, Y/n. I need that everywhere. Can you imagine riding me when you do that? Or sitting on my face? God please sit on my—"

You finally opened the door and yanked Harry inside before slamming it shut again. "Keep your voice down!" you hissed.

If you weren't so annoyed with him, you would've noticed Harry was looking at you with hearts in his eyes, but it would be a long time before you realized he looked at you like that all the time.

But unfortunately, all you saw was his smirk, his dimples set deep in his cheeks as he looked you up and down. "It wouldn't have been a problem if you had just let me in in the first place. It's not my fault you need a physical barrier to keep yourself from throwing yourself at me."

"I—I did not throw myself at you!"

"You did, but that's okay. I liked it."

"You're infuriating!"

"And you're stubborn! And blind!"

"Blind? To what?"

With each word exchanged, Harry backed you up until your back hit your bed. There was nowhere left to run, nowhere to hide. It was either push him away or give in to him.

"Look at me, princess. I want to see those pretty eyes when I say this to you," he said, voice now hushed and gravelly now that he was in your room. You looked up, unable to ignore the command in his tone or the way it turned your insides molten.

"I want you, Y/n. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since that night. Since—"

"Since?" you asked, curious why he stopped all of a sudden.

"Nevermind. The point is that I want you, and I know you want me. You can't tell me someone else has made you feel as good as I have."

No one had, and it was infuriating. You couldn't deny it, not when he was staring at you so intensely. So you fell back on your tried and true excuse. "I don't have time—"

"You think I have all sorts of free time?" Harry asked. "Both of our schedules are crazy, Y/n. All I'm asking is for you to give it a try."

"Give what a try? Sleeping together?"

Something shifted in Harry's expression, but it was back to his heated gaze before you could process it. "Yeah, princess. You need someone to take your frustrations out on? Take them out on me. Need a break from studying? I'm there. Just need someone to fuck you so hard that you forget how to think properly? Well, you saw what I did with just my fingers."

"So...just hooking up," you confirmed. "No dating."

"No dating," Harry agreed, his hand slipping to the back of your neck, the light touch sending shivers down your spine. "Just sex."

"And no one else can know," you managed to get out before finally giving in. Every cell in your body was screaming at you to kiss him, to tear his clothes off and taste him everywhere. But you had to say this first. "I don't want our friends weighing in or giving us a hard time."

"Might have to be really quiet sometimes, then. Think you can handle it?"

He was so self-assured. It was something that annoyed you to no end, but now made your pulse quicken. You were wet from the gravel in his voice alone, feeling it skitter along your skin and turning your core molten. You wanted him. It was time to stop denying yourself the pleasure he was promising you. But first, you needed to level the playing field a bit.

You kissed him, taking Harry by surprise but he was quick to recover. Shoving your hands in his hair, you threw off the baseball cap that always sat backwards on his head. He groaned against your mouth as you pulled at the roots, the sound going straight between your legs.

Hands were everywhere, and so was Harry's tongue. His mouth was on your neck, your jaw, your collar bones and chest. It was enough of a distraction to slip your hands to his waist, to flick off the button of his jeans and slide them down until they looked on the floor.

Harry stepped out of them with ease, following your lead as you turned until his back was against your bed. His eyes were heavy with lust, widening slightly as you got down on your knees and pulled his briefs down. You caught him in your hand, unable to stop yourself from licking your lips at the sight of him.

His cock was long and hard, the tip and angry shade of red, as if just blowing on it might send him over the edge. You did just that, curious to know the answer. Harry didn't come, but he made a strangled sound that made you smile. Looking up at him innocently, you finally asked him, "Can you?"

"Can I—Fuck. "Can I what, princess?"

You didn't answer right away, satisfied with making him wait. Satisfied with the moans and stuttered breaths and the harsh grip in your hair as you played with him.

Harry's cock was heavy in your mouth, and it took everything in you not to show how much you enjoyed sucking him off. Giving pleasure was something that got you off, but with him it was all dialed up. You could feel your underwear dampen as you took him further down your throat, your eyes watering as you bobbed back and forth.

Before he could hit the back of your throat, Harry's grip on your hair tightened and pulled you off him. Almost embarrassingly, you tried to reach him but he held you back.

"Can I what?" Harry repeated. His cheeks were flushed, and the look in his eyes promised a harsh throat fucking if you complied, so you did.

"Can you handle keeping your voice down too? From what I understand it doesn't seem like you can."

Harry chuckled like he was impressed, which pleased you in a way that it shouldn't have. You wanted to impress him all of a sudden. You wanted to please him.

"I guess we'll see. Get up on the bed."

You hesitated. As much as you wanted him inside you, you wanted him in your mouth more. You weren't finished yet. Or rather, Harry wasn't finished yet.

"What is it?" he asked.

You took him into your mouth again, losing yourself in the weight and feel of him on your tongue despite yourself. It was infuriating how much Harry turned you on despite how annoying he was. Mixed with your penchant for getting off and getting others off, you were a goner.

Harry's moans and the grip on your hair only fueled you. Your panties were nothing but a wet scrap of fabric at this point but you didn't care.

Before you could take him down the back of your throat, Harry pulled you off him again. In the fog of lust, you leaned for him involuntarily but he held you back.

Harry chuckled, his usual smirk not so irritating as it normally was. "A slut and a brat. I didn't know I was getting two for the price of one, but we'll work on that don't worry."

A flash of irritation came to the surface. "You're so—"

"Ah ah ah, let's get back to what you do best, yeah? If you wanna suck cock all day, by all means," Harry said, his voice so condescending you almost didn't want to, but your lust eventually won out.

You couldn't help it. You really did want him in your mouth.

"Fuck, there we go. I knew you couldn't resist for long."

"Shut up, you're ruining this for me."

"Sorry, princess, I'll let you focus. You can tap my thigh if it's too much. I have a feeling you might get carried away. Just had no idea you were such a slut for my cock."

You pinched Harry's leg instead as you worked your mouth further down his length. Hissing, he gripped your hair tight, a small warning to behave.

"What would all our friends say if they knew, huh? Everyone thinks you hate me, but in reality you can't go a whole week without my cock in you. That must really piss you off."

You breathed harshly through your nose, but Harry didn't miss that subtle squeeze of your thighs, proving him right. You could pretend all you wanted, he didn't seem to care one way or another. It probably satisfied him to no end to know that he got under your skin, that the focused, levelheaded good girl you appeared to be was a mere facade.

"You can't stand it, can you? And yet you're probably so fuckin' wet when I talk like this, huh? Dirty girl. My dirty girl. You look like a fucked out mess and you don't even care. I bet you even like it."

Harry pulled you off his cock, a small whimper leaving your swollen, drool covered lips. You looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes, too far gone to act like this wasn't exactly where you wanted to be.

"You look so cute," Harry cooed, gently wiping spit or precum from the corner of Y/n's mouth. That seemed to snap her out of her trance, and she swatted his hand away, reaching out for his length to finish him off. "Ah ah ah. I think I need to hear it first."

"Hear what?"

"How much you want this. How much you want me."

Y/n narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest as she sat back on her heels, not saying a single word.

"You can sit there and bruise your knees, princess," Harry said, running a hand over his dick, smiling slightly as he watched her eyes track the movement. "Maybe I'll just come on your face and leave without getting you off. But something tells me you might like that."

Your pussy throbbed at the thought, the little traitor, though you were starting to feel like giving in was easier than resisting, no matter how much Harry might tease you for it after.

"I get off on pleasuring other people, sue me," you snapped, pointedly looking away from Harry and his ministrations.

"True," Harry agreed. "But that's not the whole truth. Come on, Y/n. You know I'll reward you for being a good girl, but if you take too long..."

Swiping his thumb over his tip, Harry leaned his head back and moaned. The veins in his neck bulged as the muscles in his stomach contracted. His whole body was flushed pink. He really was gonna come.

"Fine! Fine," you huffed barely looking in his eyes. "I—I want you."

"You can do better than that," Harry teased, still pumping his shaft lightly. "Touch yourself while you convince me. I want to see what that little pussy will tell me if you can't say it with your words."

Whimpering, you dipped your fingers beneath your panties, gasping as they grazed your clit as they made their way down to your slit. You were soaked, which wasn't news to you, but the sound of two fingers pumping in and out of you with ease told Harry enough.

"Please," you whimpered. "I want to finish you off. I want you, Harry. Please let me suck your cock."

"Well, since you asked so nicely," Harry said, grinning almost evilly. "Keep playing with yourself too. But don't fucking come. I told you where I wanted you to squirt and it won't be on the fucking floor."

You moaned as you finally took him into your mouth again. He was close, his hips bucking into you frenetically. You focused on the tip, swirling your tongue over it while your hands took care of the rest. It was intoxicating, he was intoxicating. You lost yourself in the feel of him on your tongue, in the twinge of pain in your scalp as he kept a tight grip on your hair. You added a third finger to your throbbing pussy, moaning around Harry until it became too much.

"Come. Please come, Harry," you begged. "I'm so close and I—I can feel it."

Then, pulling your hand from your heat, you sucked at his tip, using the slickness of your hand to pump the rest of him before sliding back down his length. You could taste yourself on him, the sensation nearly sending you over the edge. Part of you wanted to know what Harry would do if you did come, if you disobeyed, but you figured there would be an opportunity for that. Right now, you wanted him, and you wanted to ride his face as reward for your hard work.

"God you're a fucking dream," Harry moaned, thrusting into your mouth after your little display.

He spilled into your mouth then, his cock twitching as you eagerly swallowed spurt after spurt of his cum. Harry cursed and moaned through it all, gently running a hand through your hair. You didn't want to let up, still in a trance as you tried to milk every possible bit out of him as possible.

"A slut in a good girl's clothes. Who knew," he said, chest rising rapidly as if he just did sprints on the ice.

Raising your brow, you licked your hand clean, keeping eye contact with him until he eventually brought you to your feet. Your legs were wobbly, but Harry steadied you. He kissed you hard, tongue thrusting into your mouth as if he was chasing the taste of your heat on your tongue. "If you wanted to get rid of me, you failed miserably, princess," he murmured onto your lips before hoisting you on your bed. You practically vibrated with anticipation, your pussy aching for his attention. It wouldn't take much to come since you were so close, but you figured your legs would be locked around Harry's head until he was ready to fuck you properly.

When Harry was situated on your bed the way he liked, he motioned for you to come closer. You crawled up the bed, stopping right before his face. His expression was eager as he helped you out of your shirt, his hands kneading your breasts appreciatively and tweaking your nipples until you moaned, moving your hips involuntarily.

"Don't or I swear to God I'm gonna come," you hissed, trying to hold your impending orgasm at bay.

"Hm. Another time then," Harry said. "Don't be gentle, okay? Make a mess out of me. Now move those panties to the side so I can get a good look at you.

It was the last intelligible thing either of you said for a while, you too lost in your own pleasure and Harry smothered in you, his hands guiding your hips and gripping your ass appreciatively. He moaned almost as much as you did, his tongue working over your slit, up to your clit, and down again over and over. You can rather quickly because of everything that happened before, your legs trembling as you tried to move off him. But he held you down, seating you on him once more.

"No."

"Harry, I—"

"No. You're not done coming yet. I need at least two more," he said before sticking two fingers into your hole and latching his lips around your clit.

He pumped at a bruising pace, sucking and flicking the tip of his tongue, driving tears to your eyes from the overstimulation. It was almost painful, but your hips bucked in time with Harry's fingers. And even though you'd never done it before in such quick succession, you could feel a second orgasm barreling through you. The pressure built and built, and all it took was the graze of Harry's teeth against your clit to send you over.

The pleasure was so intense you were pretty sure you blacked out. Harry's fingers didn't let up, curling into you and making you climax for the third time before you even finished your second.

You don't know if you screamed, you don't know if you stopped making sound altogether. All you knew was pure euphoria and the slide of Harry's tongue on your trembling thighs as he lapped up the messy aftermath of your two consecutive releases. His nose graze your clit, and you twitched, twitched, moaning or sobbing or begging, you couldn't tell.

"Okay, princess, time to lay down," Harry said.

You felt lighter than air as he laid you flat on your back. You were pretty sure you had pillows, but you couldn't recall how to ask. All you knew was the man beside you who knew how to make you c so hard you saw stars.

The same man kissed you before sliding off the bed and you reached for him, something you would never normally do. "Where—You—You're not staying with me?"

Harry's features softened as he kissed you again, this time on your cheek. "Gotta get you cleaned up. Gotta clean myself up for that matter. I'll be quick, I promise."

"Okay."

Harry was quick, just as he promised. A warm towel between your legs, your bed dipping, Harry's body wrapped around yours, the smell of his body wash comforting as it engulfed you—it all made your eyes heavy.

"Where are my pillows?" you finally asked, realizing you were using his arm as one instead.

"They, uh, took the brunt of your special talent, along with my face," he said, only slightly teasing.

"Sorry," you said, cheeks pinking.

"You'll never hear me complaining about that," Harry said, kissing your neck. "Might have to have that regularly. You've made an addict out of me."

You had enough energy to pinch the arm wrapped around you. "Pig."

"Go to sleep, princess. You're not you when you're high on orgasms, and I miss our verbal spats."

You didn't need to be told twice and fell asleep almost instantly. When you woke up, Harry and any and all traces of him were gone. Your pillows were back on the bed without their pillowcases. One glance at your hamper told you where Harry put them before he left.

Part of you didn't like that he left while you were asleep, but as the fog of sleep wore off and you fitted a shirt over your head, you told yourself it was for the best. Especially when a couple minutes later your roommate walked in.

"Hey, Y/n," she said as she set her backpack by her desk.

"Hey," you replied, stretching your arms high above your head before covering a yawn.

"I don't think I've ever seen you so tired in the middle of the day. Tough workout at the rink this morning?"

You couldn't help but grin, your afternoon with Harry replaying in your head. Despite the earth-shattering orgasms only a couple hours ago, you felt your core pulse at the memory.

"Yeah. Something like that."

[marlsswrites]

Coffee and skates

Ice skating AU, part one!!

July 1st - words: 518

Figure skating was most definitely the highlight of Regulus' day, he can't imagine who he would be without it. He went to a prestigious art university in London, and survived mostly from the money that he was able to take from his parents before he moved in with his best friends for his university accommodation - but figure skating was the only thing that really felt like it belonged to him.

He's been doing it since he could walk, start his day with an early morning brain that perfectly cleared his mind of any negative thought, for a few hours, it was just him and the smooth, gliding, sharply cold ice underneath his feet. He's ever so grateful that his university offers a figure skating extra curricular.

One of the things he loved most about his skating, was his coach. Euphemia Potter. She was the kindest woman Regulus had ever met, so rough and brave, yet soft and caring. She's the closest to a mother that he's ever had, it is a low bar, considering the state of his last one.

She understood when Regulus jumped away at any touch, or when he was startled about how motherly she was with him, it wasn't something he was used to. 

He can be quite quiet with anyone he doesn't know very well, for the first year of knowing her - Regulus hardly spoke. But now Regulus knows that she has a husband, Monty, or Flea sometimes, he's not entirely sure what that mans actual name was.

She also has a son, only a year or so older than Regulus, James Potter, described by Effie as 'the joy that keeps this world alive.' He seemed alright, Regulus didn't know much about the man, nor had he met him. All he did know was that James and Regulus' brother, Sirius, were actually quite close friends from uni - though he doesn't see his brother too much any more, he's been rather busy.

"One, two, one, two..." He heard Effie shout along in tune with the song as his skates sliced through the ice in graceful patterns. "Amazing!" She praised as he halted into his finishing position, she was helping Regulus prepare for his competition which takes place in a few months, for once he finally feels good enough. "Just perfect." As Regulus skated over to the rinks exit and smiled at her.

"I'm glad." He pushed away the smile he was hiding at her words.

"You're allowed to smile Regulus." She sighed, still a fond smile on her face. "I've got to shoot, I'm meeting James for coffee."

He nodded, sitting down next to her and unlacing his skates with quick, painted black fingers. "Have fun, I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yes yes, of course." She offered. She wasn't young, Regulus had never asked her age, but she had to be in her sixties, but he was the best coach he'd had in all his years of skating. "You'll have to meet him soon, you two would get along."

"Would we?" He questioned as the older woman hummed in response, an unreadable yet smug smile present on her face. "We'll see."

Next part

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a/n: I want to clarify that Sirius lives with James in uni accommodation, and he never ran away to the Potters, he went to Andromeda who helped him join uni, then that's when he and James met. They're in their third year, Reg in his second. :)

[hackedmotionsensors]

tis the season to dust off my hockey/figure skater au lol

I wanted Sanji to look like he was actually about to kick zoro in the face (but not really) and Zoro doesn't flinch and just grabs him. But I got a little lazy lol