tried to match their characters/body types to appropriate sports <33
rooster as a fencer, hangman as an equestrian, coyote and hondo as track&field (sprinter and shot put), phoenix and bob as shooters, fanboy as a skateboarder, and payback as a judoka!
pairing: alysa liu x fem! figure skater! reader summary: read your first olympic skate is overwhelming, emotional, and everything you dreamed of. alysa is there to celebrate the moment with you. warnings: emotional Olympic moment | crying (happy) | very supportive girlfriend | english not my native language, possibly spelling mistakes gif not mine | pics not mine a/n: i think song for performance would be: the winner is” - mychael danna or “shake it out” - florence + the machine library
The Olympic arena was buzzing with energy, lights reflecting off the ice like a sea of stars. You felt it all at once: excitement, nerves. This was your first Olympics, your first time representing Team USA on this stage, and the magnitude of it made your stomach flutter uncontrollably. Every step from the locker room to the rink felt surreal.
Your skates dug into the ice as the announcer called your name. Your heart threatened to burst through your chest, and your hands shook as you adjusted your gloves. The first notes of your program filled the arena, and suddenly the world narrowed. Everything else the cheering crowd, the flashing cameras, the pressure fell away. It was just you, the ice, and the song that had carried you through so many moments: the one that had made you fall in love with skating all over again.
Your nerves lingered at first, making your movements slightly tense, but as you glided through the first jump, a wave of calm washed over you. Each spin, each step sequence, each delicate edge you carved into the ice reminded you that you had earned this moment. Tears pricked at your eyes, unbidden, as the emotions welled up gratitude for the years of training, awe that you were even here, and joy at the sheer privilege of performing your passion on the world’s biggest stage.
By the final pose, your chest heaved with exhilaration and relief. The music faded, leaving a soft echo of applause, and you skated to the edge of the rink. You could see your coaches clapping, smiling, but your gaze immediately sought the sidelines. And there she was Alysa her face lights up, hands clapping so hard it looked like she might hurt them. Her grin was impossibly wide, eyes sparkling with pride, and when she saw you glance her way, she waved enthusiastically, shouting your name.
The scores flashed on the board. High. High enough to make your heart leap and your knees weak. You pressed a hand to your mouth, tears streaming freely. You had done it. You had skated the performance of your dreams. Your emotions overflowed, and the tears came not from stress, but from pure happiness, from the overwhelming sense of having arrived.
Alysa was already moving toward you, her arms wide. - “Come here!” - she called, her voice breaking with emotion. You barely made it off the kiss and cry before you were in her embrace, trembling as she hugged you tight, one hand brushing your hair back, the other holding your shoulder firmly as if she could somehow anchor the happiness for both of you.
“You were… incredible” - she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. - “I am so proud of you. You killed it out there!”
You laughed through your tears, shaking your head. - “I… I don’t even know what to say. I was so nervous at first. I thought I’d mess up everything…”
“You didn’t” - Alysa interrupted softly but firmly, smiling as she brushed her thumbs over your cheeks, smearing a little of your tears. - “You were perfect. Every step, every jump. I’ve never seen you shine like that before.”
You let yourself collapse fully into her arms, chest heaving, feeling the warmth and support radiate from her. The coaches came over, clapping you on the back and offering congratulations, but you barely registered them. In this moment, it was just you and Alysa.
She spun you gently on, careful not to slip, laughing as you stumbled slightly. - “I can’t even… I can’t stop smiling” - she admitted, holding you again. - “You made me so happy. Watching you… I just…” - She hugged you tighter, and you buried your face in her shoulder, sobbing a little from the sheer intensity of everything.
“Yes, you are” - Alysa said, her own eyes shining. - “And you’re amazing. And we’re going to celebrate so much later, but for now… just let me hold you.”
You nodded, clutching her back, feeling the adrenaline, the relief, the joy all mingle together. Around you, the arena was alive, the applause continuing, but it faded into background noise. Here, on this ice, with Alysa holding you, everything else could wait. You had made it. You had skated your dream. And you were sharing every bit of it with the person who believed in you the most.
After letting yourself soak in Alysa’s hug, you both stepped to the sidelines, still holding hands. Your coaches flanked you, smiling. The tension returned briefly as the next skater performed, but this time it wasn’t fear it was anticipation.
Alysa’s fingers intertwined with yours tightly, her excitement palpable. - “You’ve got this” - she whispered, leaning close so only you could hear, her voice a mix of reassurance and barely contained joy. - “I already know you’re amazing, but let’s see them all recognize it too.”
The scores began flashing for each competitor. Each time another skater’s total appeared, your pulse raced, heart in your throat. Alysa squeezed your hand with every number, her face lighting up or frowning with each placement it was like watching her own emotions mirror yours, a perfect reflection of the stakes and the joy.
Then your total appeared at the top of the scoreboard. High. Really high. Your chest tightened, and you felt tears prick again, this time of disbelief mixed with pride. Alysa’s grin widened until it practically split her face. She grabbed your face gently, brushing away a stray tear with her thumb. - “You did it. You really did it! Look at that!” - she cheered, her voice ringing over the buzz of the crowd.
You laughed and cried at the same time, pressing your forehead against hers. - “I… I can’t believe it. After all those nerves… I actually… I actually did it!”
“Yes, you did!” - Alysa exclaimed, bouncing slightly feet in excitement. She spun you around in a playful hug, careful not to let you go, laughing as your own laughter joined hers. - “And look at that placement! Team USA is going to be so proud of you. And so am I more than anything.”
You held her tight, feeling her warmth seep into every corner of your being. - “I feel… so happy” - you whispered, your voice cracking. - “And so lucky… lucky to be here, lucky to have you…”
Alysa pressed a kiss to your temple, resting her forehead against yours. - “You earned every second of this” - she murmured. - “And I’m going to celebrate you until your cheeks hurt. But first” - she grinned mischievously - “we get a proper hug that counts for about ten more Olympic medals.”
You laughed through your tears, letting her lift you slightly in a tight embrace, spinning you once before setting you down again. Coaches smiled knowingly from the sidelines, but in that moment, none of it mattered. It was just you and Alysa, celebrating a dream realized, hearts full and eyes shining.
Every time you thought about the nerves before your performance, the fear that maybe you’d falter, it melted away. Here you were: first Olympics, representing Team USA, performing the program that meant everything to you, and sharing it with someone who had cheered you on every step of the way. And Alysa… Alysa’s happiness was infectious. The way she clapped, laughed, and celebrated you made every ounce of effort worth it.
Finally, she let go just enough to grab your hands, pulling you close again. - “We’re not done celebrating” - she promised, eyes sparkling. - “Not until the whole world knows how incredible you are.”
And as you leaned into her, letting your tears mix with laughter, you knew she was right. This, the joy, the love, the triumph was a moment you would carry forever.
Later, after the applause had faded and the rink was quieter, you and Alysa walked slowly through the Olympic village, still hand in hand. The adrenaline from your performance had softened into a gentle, glowing warmth. You kept replaying the program in your mind, the jumps, the spins, the way the music had carried you and a smile kept tugging at your lips.
Alysa walked beside you, her arm brushing yours every so often, her grin soft but still bright with excitement. - “You were unreal out there” - she said, nudging you gently. - “I don’t think anyone could’ve done it better. You made me so happy, you know that?”
You leaned your head against her shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of her steps. - “I don’t know if I can even put it into words… I’m just… so glad you were there” - you whispered. - “I needed you cheering for me. Every second.”
Alysa stopped, turning to face you. Her eyes glimmered, full of love and pride. - “And I always will be. In every program, every competition… but tonight, especially” - she said, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. - “You skated your heart out, and I got to witness it. That’s all the celebration I need… well, almost all of it.”
You laughed, feeling lighter than you had in weeks, maybe months. The nerves, the pressure, the years of practice they all melted into the quiet magic of this moment: you, Alysa, and the glow of a dream realized.
“I love you” - you murmured, still clutching her hand, voice soft with happiness.
“I love you too” - she replied, smiling wide enough to make your heart skip. - “And I’m never letting go. Not here, not ever.”
You stayed like that for a while, walking slowly, hands entwined, letting the world spin around you. Somewhere nearby, other skaters celebrated, fans cheered, and cameras clicked but for you, it was just this: the warmth, the pride, the love, and the knowledge that this Olympic moment would stay with you forever.
And as the lights of the village glimmered around you, you realized that some victories weren’t just about scores or medals they were about joy, love, and the people who made every step of the journey worth it. And Alysa was at the very center of it all.
So one of my guilty pleasures is Dick Grayson Olympics fics, but specifically the ones where he is still Nightwing in this universe.
In these fics, I often see Dick struggling with some of the categories, which is great from a point of realism, but also, since when do comics concern themselves with what should be humanly possible, so with what we know of Dick in universe, it’s so much funnier to imagine that this shit should be so easy for him.
So I personally find it hilarious to imagine Dick, undercover at the Olympics, and he has his family and some of the Titans in the crowd cheering him on on the look out for whatever threat sent them there in the first place, and a video of Bruce shouting in support goes viral because people think ‘awww cute his dad’s proud of him’ until someone retweets it and goes ‘ummm I’m a lip-reader and he is not cheering him on…’ because in reality every one of the Waynes, Batfam, Titans, JL are pulling their hair out in stress that Dick is going to blow their cover, like that one scene in the Incredibles:
Obviously Dick can’t hear them, and sure he’s trying to make it close but he still overestimates everyone else (it’s the Olympics and he wanted to believe the best of them, ok?!) and so they’re on the Batplane home: Bruce has his head in his hands, and Dick’s just sat there with his medals like:
with the winter olympics coming up, can we just take a moment to think about boyfriend!bucky supporting his figure skater!girlfriend at the games?!? i so strongly that this man would pull out ALLLL the stops for her and if she won gold?! game over!
I too feel strongly about this nonny
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You spot him before you spot the cameras.
Not because he’s subtle—he isn’t. Not because he’s tucked in with the coaches—he isn’t. No, you see him because of course your boyfriend is the only man in a 20,000-seat Olympic arena holding a six-foot banner that reads GO MY GIRL OR I RIOT in sparkly silver letters.
Oh, and because he’s wearing your national team jacket.
And a matching scarf.
And face paint.
And—god help you—a foam finger.
You step onto the ice and swear you feel it shift under your blades from how hard he’s yelling.
“THAT’S MY GIRL! THAT’S MY GOLD!” Bucky’s voice booms over a hundred thousand others like he’s powered by pure devotion instead of lungs. He’s standing, hands cupped around his mouth, not caring that he’s surrounded by other skaters’ families. They stare; he beams. His entire soul is shaped like a man who would bulldoze the Olympic committee if it meant he could get closer to the barrier.
You laugh under your breath as you take your opening pose.
God, you love him.
God, he’s ridiculous.
God, you need him to stop making you smile like this before a technical panel calls you out for being distracted.
The music begins—soft, lilting, slow. And suddenly everything narrows to the slice of cold beneath your blades and the warm, steady weight of Bucky’s love anchored somewhere in the stands.
Your first jump comes easy, your body remembering what your brain refuses to—you are good enough to be here. The crowd roars when you land it clean. You don’t look toward the boards, but you don’t have to. You feel the exact moment Bucky leaps out of his seat like gravity doesn’t apply to people in love.
Halfway through your step sequence, your eyes flick toward him.
He’s crying.
Of course he is.
The world’s deadliest hands, the bluest eyes, the softest heart—your heart—clutching that banner like a lifeline as tears streak two perfect lines through his patriotic face paint.
You bite back a grin. Focus. Spin. Breathe. Leap.
Your final combination is the risky one—you and your coach fought about it for months. And Bucky… he never once doubted you. Not once. Every late night, every ice bath, every frustrated sob in the car after practice, he was the one saying, You’re going to nail it on the night that matters. I know you, doll. You always do.
So you go for it.
One rotation.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Your blade cuts through the ice with a crack that sounds like destiny.
You land.
And the arena explodes.
But even the eruption of thousands can’t drown out the one voice you are somehow always attuned to.
“THAT’S MY OLYMPIAN! THAT’S MY CHAMPION! THAT’S MY—” his voice cracks, “—FUCKING SUPERHERO!”
You finish the program breathless, trembling, joy flooding every vein in your body. You take your final pose, chest heaving, eyes stinging. A wave of sound crashes over you as the crowd rises to their feet.
You can feel him standing somewhere behind it all—your anchor, your storm, your safe place.
When you skate off, the moment you cross the curtain, Bucky barrels into the backstage hallway like security has absolutely tried—and failed—to stop him.
He catches you mid-stride, lifting you off your skates like you weigh nothing. “Baby,” he gasps, voice thick, arms locked around you, “you flew out there. I swear you had wings. I swear I saw them.”
You laugh into his chest because he means it. He genuinely thinks you touched the heavens and brought something back with you.
“Buck—put me down, I’m gonna break my blades.”
He does not put you down.
He just reorients you so he can kiss your cheeks, your forehead, your jaw, your nose—every part of you he can reach without dropping you. “I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. So proud I don’t even know what to do with myself. My heart’s doing somersaults. I might faint. Don’t let me faint on TV.”
You snort. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m in love,” he corrects seriously. “That’s different. That’s terminal.”
Before you can argue, an official calls your name to the kiss-and-cry. Bucky sets you down gently—finally—but then grabs your hands, eyes bright, voice trembling.
“No matter what the score is, you hear me? You already won. You won me months ago.”
You roll your eyes. “I don’t think that counts as an Olympic medal.”
“It should,” he mutters. “Gold level boyfriend right here.”
You squeeze his fingers and head with him toward the cameras. He’s vibrating beside you—nervous, excited, in awe.
The scores appear.
Your breath catches.
World record.
Olympic record.
Gold medal level.
The arena goes ballistic, but Bucky goes absolutely feral.
He grabs you, spins you off your feet, kissing you like there aren’t a dozen cameras pointed your way. “BABY! BABY, YOU DID IT! GOLD! GOLD! GOLD!” His voice breaks into a laugh so wet and wild you ache with love for him.
“Buck,” you wheeze, tears streaming, “I can’t breathe—”
“You don’t need air, you need—” he kisses you again “—a medal and—” another kiss “—me screaming for the rest of my life.”
Later, on the podium, he’s somehow found a second banner.
This one reads: MARRY ME OR SKATE HOME.
You don’t even know how he smuggled it in.
You catch his eyes in the crowd—blue, soaking wet, overflowing—and shake your head, smiling so hard your chest hurts.
Zoey does slopestyle snowboarding, and the big air jump
Mira does skiing aerials, and sometimes skii moguls
Rumi does short track speed skating in 500m, 1000m, and 1500m
Zoey and Mira have known each other for many years at this point and are friends and fuck buddies
the freestyle skiing and snowboarding usually happen at similar sports parks so theyve seen each other in Korea, Japan, the US, Canada, etc.
Mira has tried slopestyle skiing, but its just not her favourite
sometimes Mira and Zoey go downhill skiing/snowboarding together just for fun
Zoey was born in the US and can speak English, but has lived in South Korea for most of her life and rides for team Korea in the Olympics
Zoey is coached by Bobby, Rumi is coached by Celine, Mira is coached by her hard-ass mom
Zoey and Mira decide to go watch some short track speed skating, and theres a few South Korean skaters they can root for!
And oh my god?? Theres this girl who is just amazing
Shes long and lean, every motion is fluid, shes just taking big bites out of the ice with every lunge, and shes so fucking fast
Rumi has gold and white skates that match her gold and white gloves
her THIGHS. oh my god her thighs are amazing mira needs them wrapped around her
the South Korean olympic team is big enough that they don't know everyone on it, but yeah actually they do recognize the girl with the Very Long Purple Braid
Mira and Zoey are determined to meet Rumi and become friends with her and fuck her
they each take home gold in their respective sports, because they're Golden :)
