Howdy, weary scroller! I must warn you that this blog is an uncouth, thirsty, NSFW multi-fandom mess with a heaping helping of general goofery.
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I'm still around, but life has diverted my attention. Hideandgopeep is really more of an archive for the time being. Please hit me up if you wanna hang out on Discord! ☺️
Most non-Minnesotans have no idea what this means, but to put it plainly: we're raised with not just the expectation but essentially -programming- to assist others who get stuck during the winter. We'll help people we'd otherwise punch on sight if they're stuck in the snow and ice, for zero reward.
This is the level of rage we're at with ICE. I'm not joking to say it's almost physically painful to not help someone stuck like that, and it's worth it because the people stuck are ICE.
The only way we have to express how mad we are above this is channeling the First Minnesota all over again.
The Scandinavians who settled in Minnesota brought with them their Norse understanding of the laws of hospitality: you do not fuck around with winter, that if someone needs help in the winter, you help them as long as they don't actively try to hurt you or your neighbors. Food, shelter, labour, whatever, if you can help in winter, you do.
ICE has violated the "actively try to hurt you or your neighbors" bit of the laws of hospitality, and thus the hospitality has been revoked. They are free to feel winter's wrath against those who would bring harm to the community.
I like to think that Lady Skaði would be proud of her distant children.
this reminds me of the mud wizard who walked through everything without any problems while the police officers kept sliding and falling and getting stuck, you can watch it right here.
for context, this was during anti-coal protests in lützerath which went on for days and included people being forcibly removed, injured, or otherwise violated by the police. they showed up in riot gear against people simply sitting and camping and wanting to protect their forests. it was a really big deal here.
Kunikida: "Two dozen chocolates for Ranpo! Oooh, new slacks for Atsushi! Lookie here, a Nintendo Switch and Animal Crossing for Kyouka!" Long pause. "And none for Dazai."
Dazai: "Well, you can't really box up sui-"
Kunikida: "Hohoho, wait!"
He tosses a small, heavy box to Dazai. Dazai opens it, finding a palm-sized rock and placard, which he reads aloud.
kinktober25 | day 1: orgasm control | ao3 link | masterlist
tags: orgasm denial, dom!Levi, cunnilingus
warnings: MDNI
wc: 360
“Oh my god, please Levi– fuck I need–“
“Not yet.” His voice is almost a coo, that deep baritone sending vibrations through your body, threatening to snap the coil that’s been building and building and building in your gut for what feels like hours, begging for release but with no end in sight.
Levi has your legs slung over his shoulders, his fingers buried deep in your pussy, working in an agonisingly slow rhythm, the obscene, squelching noises every time he enters you echoing off the walls in the room. He’s been spending the past hours between your legs, bringing you to the brink of release but never quite allowing you to finish.
It’s nothing short of torture.
“Please…” You’re babbling, tears streaming down your cheeks and onto the pillow, legs quivering, and fingers clawing weakly at the sheets. They’d been crisp and pristine when Levi had started but are now soaked with your slick, no doubt dripping down Levi’s wrist and onto the bed below.
“What do you want, baby?” Levi tilts his head to the side, his wide-blown pupils the only sign that he’s just as affected by his ministrations as you are. His brows are arched – as if he genuinely doesn’t know the answer to your question.
The pet name makes your insides clench, and you know Levi can feel it, even if his face retains that innocent, inquisitive expression.
“I want– nghhh– you! I want you oh my fucking god–“
Slowly, torturously slowly, Levi brings down his face and licks the gentlest of licks up your folds, tongue stopping right at your clit. Just lingering there, without moving so much as a fucking millimetre.
And that bastard has the audacity to smile at you. “You can take a little more, yeah? You’ll come when I tell you to, and it won’t be on my fingers but on my cock when I fuck you after I’m done playing with you.”
And then, he resumes his slow stroking and small kitten licks, grey eyes darkening even further as he watches every blissful expression you make as he forces you to suffer through yet another session of edging.
the sketch above is by me and part of the 100 day art challenge I'm doing of Levi😇
also, ty to @amywritesthings for opening my eyes to the wonders of Levi using pet names for reader with her amazing fic, press four🥰🥰
Content: Muzan x soft dom!reader (reader's pronouns and appearance are unspecified) praise kink, hand job (Muzan receiving) NSFW.
A/N: Okay, here goes nothing. This is my first fic on this blog and I'm nervous as hell. Likes, comments and reblogs are tremendously appreciated
Release.
Muzan's entire life had been plagued by frustration.
As a mortal boy, it was the frustration of illness and helplessness. Frightened, left alone and in pain, too weak to leave the confines of his bed, and forced to watch as the world went on around him.
When he became a demon and his strength flourished, he found himself frustrated that he still could not walk among others in the radiant yet unforgiving light of the sun. He was frustrated with his upper ranks who had yet to find a remedy, frustrated with the Ubuyashikis’ relentless attempts to stop him, and frustrated that you were gazing at him with something like pity as he paced the floor in your room.
“I despise it,” he muttered, “this weakness. Depending on the capabilities of others.”
“I know.”
You didn't. You couldn't. The toll of a thousand years of searing rage was beyond your comprehension. A thousand years of desperation combined with entitlement, the perfect poison.
And you were a perfect balm; very good at giving him moments of blissful relief where he almost, almost forgot. But you could never be the antidote.
“Come to bed,” you beckoned, peeling back the sheets to reveal the space you reserved for him.
“What would be the point? Even if I needed to, I wouldn’t be able to sleep. Not tonight.”
That damned smile of yours let him know that sleep was the furthest thing from your mind, as if he didn’t know.
“I’m not in the mood for that,” he muttered, coming to a standstill at the side of your bed, the moonlight shining behind him and casting a silver halo through his ebony waves.
You masked your disappointment well, though he detected it still. And it pierced like a stray arrow right through his defences.
Muzan Kibutsuji, king of demons, was many things. But with you he was helpless to resist. And on that night his weary, frustrated soul demanded nothing less than the sensation of your arms surrounding him, and your praise, poured over him like warm honey.
“My beautiful lord,” you whispered, pressed to his back, your hands caressing the swells of muscle in his chest. “You deserve the world.”
The hairs on the back of his neck raised at your gentle treatment. I do, he wanted to say, but within seconds his throat was closed, his breaths staggered.
Weakness and Muzan were mortal enemies, but with you they quickly reached an accord. It didn’t take much; the tingle in the pit of his belly when your fingertips sought the puckering bud of his nipple, or their meandering over his abdomen, and that intoxicating tickle that made him squirm. All too delicious. All too human. Soothing and maddening.
“More,” he whispered, pressing his backside to your groin, the arch of his back only serving to deliver his torso directly to your wandering fingers.
“Oh?” you teased. “More touching, or more praise?”
“Yes.” He could practically feel your smile against the nape of his neck. Oh, to be rendered such a desperate fool with just a few touches. Like a pitiful mutt, won over with belly rubs. There were many reasons he hadn’t turned you into a demon, but chief among them was his fear that you would wield far, far too much power.
“You're so beautiful, Muzan.”
He knew that, of course he did, he'd rearranged every cell in his body to achieve aesthetic perfection. But you didn't just mean that.
No, you meant the way his belly quivered beneath your touch, the way his breaths staggered while you groped him from behind, the plush of his cheek against your forearm as he rested in your embrace. You meant his scent, the sound of his voice, the coarse rasp of the hair beneath his navel.
“For you,” he whispered as your fingertips edged dangerously close to his waistband. Oh, how he wanted it.
“Mine,” you purred, your touch retreating back to his chest, then up to gently hold his throat. Your leg pressed between the seam of his thighs, easing them apart. “My love. My perfect love.”
Surrender. Complete and divine.
“Touch me…” he pleaded, his voice, normally powerful enough to command legions of demons, little more than trembling breath.
And you, thank goodness, were a merciful tormentor.
The moment your hand slid beneath the band of his trousers he let his cock grow against your palm; harder, fatter, longer, until you hummed in satisfaction. He had to be perfect for you, every bit of him, of course, but especially that. His pride wouldn't allow otherwise.
“Do you want me to stroke this pretty cock?” Your hot breath tickled his neck as he shuddered at the sensation of your thumb sliding back and forth through the slick weeping from his slit.
He nodded before his mind could form the word, “Yes…”
“And whose cock is it?”
“Yours,” he confessed. For those few blissful minutes, every bit of him was.
The way he wore his hair, his clothes, even the shape of his body, was entirely for you. He molded himself to your preferences, seeking your approval, seeking release, an end to the frustration. And you were so adept at unraveling the tension sitting behind his ribs.
“So wet,” you said, drawing his attention to the soft, repetitive schlick of his foreskin sliding back and forth over the blushing head of his cock. “Look at you. I don't think there's anything more perfect in all the world.”
There wasn't, he could see every inch of his perfection in the mirror by your bedside; his piercing carmine gaze drank it in. His legs were tangled with yours, his every breath accentuated by the fluttering undulations of his abdomen. His skin, usually so deathly pale, was flushed and gleaming.
Oh, how he loved to watch the beautifully obscene sight of his cock surrounded by your fist. And the way you were looking at him, the hunger in your eyes that rivaled any demon.
“I need to cum, I need to cum,” he heard himself plead, clawed fingers piercing cotton as he sought purchase among the bedsheets. “Please…”
“How could I ever say no to you?”
He shivered at the sensation of your tongue tracing the length of his neck and up toward his earlobe. Your free hand still groped his chest, teasing and tickling the swollen bud of his nipple. A riot of sensations, so overwhelming he had to squeeze his eyes shut.
“Let go, Muzan, my love. Cum for me.”
That's all it took for you to show him the sunlight.
For one moment it shone, blinding white behind the lids of his eyes; an all-consuming pleasure and agony, that then tore through his veins in unbearable, addictive pulses.
He couldn't speak, couldn't make demands. He could scarcely hear your praise as he came apart in your arms, the flood of his release fading to a pleasant euphoria that left him dazed.
“There,” you said, smoothing back his curls and placing a maddeningly soft kiss on his temple. “Feel better?”
Perhaps he nodded– he certainly told his head to do so– but it was so heavy and comfortable in the cradle of your arms he suspected it barely moved at all.
a/n: I ended up having to split this chapter after all, sorry to anyone looking forward to the competition! And a reminder that I really am just making things up as I go here. Yeah, usually the competitors don't share hotel rooms with their coach, but they do in Kintsugi 😈 big ol thanks as usual to @ackerbootytobbi for making sure I know how to spell and use commas! (and for sitting in that doc with me for hours 💗)
The weeks leading up to your flight were emotionally demanding. Hours of relentless training and rehearsing weren’t getting any easier, especially on days that your ankle didn’t want to cooperate. One particular day it had gotten so bad that Levi decided to reimplement the messages from your recovery plan. You miss when it was all just for the assessment. At the time it had felt like life or death and now it actually is. Every step closer to your goal was starting to feel that way.
Throughout it all though, you started to notice things. The way Levi’s expression would soften after every successful run of your program, his lingering touches when he’d correct your posture. It was undeniable how hard you were falling for him at this point. You’d miss him the little time the two of you were apart, which wasn’t often these days with needing to practice more. You started calling him for things unrelated to your training, he answered every time-
-and you called him a lot.
Around 10:00 p.m, just six hours before Levi was meant to pick you up for your flight, you tapped the Facetime icon under his contact and propped your phone up on your nightstand. It only rang twice before you saw Levi’s face take up the screen. He was leaning back against the far end of his sectional.
“Why are you awake?” He asks immediately.
“Why are you?” You combatted. “Will you finish packing with me?”
“I’m not the skater with a huge competition coming up in a few days,” He said, sitting up from his position on the couch and letting his phone rest against the arm of the couch as he pulled his legs in front of him. “And you’re not packed?” You could hear the stress in his voice.
“Like you didn’t finish packing today too.”
“I finished packing two days ago.”
“Of course you did.” You roll your eyes playfully, pausing when you hear the sound of screams and screeching tires coming from what you assume is his TV. “What are you watching?”
Levi sighs and leans forward, slightly changing the angle of his phone to reveal Erwin sitting on the opposite end of the couch with a controller in his hand. He waves before Levi readjusts the camera to face him again. You smile and greet Erwin before going back to mindlessly folding and packing outfits for your trip. The call remains quiet for a significant amount of time but it’s not an uncomfortable silence, it’s pleasant. It makes you feel like you could tackle anything as long as Levi was there. While you zip up your second suitcase Levi lets out a sigh before speaking up.
“Listen,” Levi begins, his voice cautious like he was preparing to tell you bad news. “I got an email today. They want your socials reactivated.” You let out a deep groan in response, throwing your head back dramatically. “I know, I wouldn't want to just as much as you do. It looks better for representation purposes, use it the bare minimum. It’s required.”
You remember what your feeds looked like the day you dropped out of worlds, you can only imagine what they will look like when people realize you’re back. Sure, there will be an overwhelming amount of support but you can’t lie and say the doubts won’t get to you. One thing you know about the online community that follows your sport, is that a vast majority of them do not shy away from speculation and sharing negative opinions. Especially those who favor another skater.
The phone call shifts back to that same comfortable silence. Once you are packed and ready, everything is placed right next to the front door of your apartment before slipping into your bed. On your phone Levi is taking up the screen from the nose up. He’s laying down on the couch and Erwin’s quiet snores are now the only background noise coming from your speakers.
“All set?” He asks you.
“Mhm.” You hum in response, eyes already closed as sleep threatens to take you.
“Plug your phone in.” Levi says and you groan, rolling over to grab the charger from the floor beside your bed. Your eyes drift closed and when sleep is near, his voice rings through the phone again. “Set alarms.” One eye slides back open, glaring at him as you switch apps and toggle on numerous alarms that are only a couple hours from now.
“Night.” You mumble tiredly.
“Sleep well, I’ll see you in a little bit.” Even as sleep takes over, you can’t help the disappointment that blooms in your chest when he hangs up the call.
***
Levi arrives at your door at 4:00 a.m. on the dot and you open it up for him, looking less than conscious. Your hair is tossed up lazily and you’re wearing something just a step above being mistaken for pajamas. He lets out a small chuckle before stepping just past the doorway to grab one of your three suitcases. You’d have given him more grief for laughing at you if he hadn’t grabbed the biggest one to help carry down to the car. When you reach the trunk he grabs your wrist before telling you to go sit in the car while he gets your stuff settled.
“How are you feeling?” Erwin asks from the driver's seat. You meet his eyes in the mirror and he looks nearly as sleep deprived as you do.
“Tired.”
“About Skate Paradis.” He corrects himself.
“Nervous.” You were terrified of many things but mostly of discovering if you were really ready to be back into competing, and that fear went far beyond just your ankle.
Erwin was quiet for a moment, then turned in his seat to look back at you. “If anyone should be nervous, it’s your competition.” He says confidently. “He thinks so too.” Erwin gestures to the passenger door just as Levi pulls the handle to hop in.
***
The airport was dead, allowing you to breeze through checking in your bags and getting to your gate. You were almost mad that Levi seemed to be as alert and alive as he always is knowing that he would have gotten just as little sleep as you did. Once you board the plane you find your seats quickly.
“Do you want the window? It’d be wasted on me, I'll be sleeping the whole time.”
“Absolutely not.” Levi says almost immediately.
You glance over at him, your lip curling up into an amused grin “Scared?”
“Just take the window.” He groans.
You slide in and take your seat, waiting for Levi to get settled before asking “Didn’t you travel.. like, a lot?”
“And I hated it every time.”
As the plane starts moving towards the take off strip you glance over and see Levi's got a death grip on the arm rest, his leg bouncing quickly as he stares ahead. Without even thinking twice about it, you place your hand on top of his. He doesn’t pull away, doesn't say anything but you notice immediately his leg stopped bouncing. Only when the plane takes off do you feel him tense under the gentle weight of your hand. You give it a gentle squeeze and before you know it the plane is steady and on route to your destination.
Next thing you know your eyes are fluttering open to a gentle stroke against your cheek. When you turn your head and Levi comes into clear view, he pulls his hand back.
“We landed.” He whispers.
Getting out of the airport is quick once you and Levi have your belongings. He calls for a cab to take you both to the hotel.
***
Stepping through the door to the room you’ll be staying in for the next week, you grin. You made it! After all the healing, the training, and the tears you were finally here– and this was only the beginning.
“I want this one!” You exclaim, rushing into the room towards the bed nearest to the window that looked over the city, throwing yourself onto the plush sheets.
“All yours.” Levi says, pulling his suitcase in and dragging it to the foot of his bed before climbing onto it. He laid back against the headboard and watched you roll off the bed and step out onto the balcony, taking pictures for your social media. So much for using it the bare minimum.
When you come back inside you waste no time taking your suitcases to the wardrobe to the right of the TV. You take a seat in front of the drawers and start unzipping the suitcase that contains your regular clothes.
“People actually use hotel closets?” Levi asks, raising an eyebrow at you from the bed.
“What? Did you just live out of your suitcase when you were competing?”
“I would hang my comp clothes.” He scoots to the end of the bed. “Speaking of, you better have one in that suitcase.”
You freeze, you’d spent weeks dodging Levi's attempts to get you to show him what you’ll be performing in. Even while it was sitting in your closet you’d tell him it was still being worked on. Eventually he caught on that you weren’t going to show him because he stopped pressing so hard about it. Until now.
“I know how much you love saving things for the last possible second, but there's no way you don’t have it. C’mon, show it to me.”
You glance over at your largest suitcase as you chew the inside of your lip. Eventually you were going to have to show him. Maybe you shouldn’t have made a big deal out of it, it feels silly. What was he meant to think of it anyway, all you did was make it his favorite color.
“You’re not allowed to laugh.” You warn him.
“Oh no. What did you do?” He asks, immediately skeptical of your change in behavior.
“Nothing! Just..” You trail off. Instead of digging yourself into a verbal hole, you push yourself up onto your knees and pull the luggage in front of you. Unzipping it and taking out the various items on top of the protective layer containing your outfit, you pull it out carefully and walk it over to his bed, laying it out flat. Shaking hands unseal the cover and reveal the garment underneath, now you’re really regretting hiding this from him. Why are you so nervous? You pull it out carefully by the hanger and hand it to him, not saying another word.
Levi grabs the hanger, holding the outfit out in front of him like it’s made of glass. He’s quiet for a moment, running his thumb over the sheer material of the sleeve. “It’s green.” His voice is so soft you almost couldn’t make out what he said.
“Yeah.” You can almost see the wheels turning in his head as he puts it together on his own. “You said that’s your favorite color. I thought maybe since you can’t be out there, I would take a piece of you out there with me?” You fight stuttering words, honestly expecting him to think it’s stupid or to laugh, but he surprises you.
“You had it made like this…for me?” He asks, looking up at you from the edge of the bed, a light in his eyes that you’d swear you haven’t seen before.
“I did, but-”
“Try it on for me?”
“I…” Your eyes widen before darting away quickly, body short circuiting as you think of how to respond. A part of you is convinced you didn’t hear him right.
“Wait, no I didn’t mean..” When your eyes drift back to him you notice his ears have turned a light shade of pink.
“You want to see it?” You ask in a moment of bravery and all Levi can do is nod.
You take the garment from him and walk to the bathroom. When you close the door, you let out the breath you’d been holding in. ‘shit’ you whisper to yourself, using your hands to fan your reddening face. Running your hands down the front of your pants, you will yourself to keep it together.
You strip out of your clothes and carefully slip on your comp outfit, grimacing at your reflection in the mirror, twisting your body as you scan yourself over. It looks weird without the tights, and your hair is still in the state you put it in lazily this morning. A new wave of fear washes over your body when you realize that Levi hasn’t seen you in anything less than leggings before, and you feel bare in comparison.
You take a deep breath before leaving the bathroom and turning the corner. Any worry you had earlier vanishes when you see the look on his face. You watch as his gaze falls from the top of the dress to the bottom, settling at your waist. He waves you forward, grabbing your hand when it’s finally in reach and pulls you the rest of the way in. He pulls his hand from yours and places it on your thigh just below where the skirt splits off into two halves, leaving the rest of your leg exposed besides a few gem details hanging down on strings from your hip. He slides his hand up and this sends a shiver down your spine. Carefully, he grabs onto the largest gem hanging at the bottom of the intricate design. He rolls it between his thumb and index finger before following the design up, resting his hand on your hip and running his thumb over the design there.
“You look..” Levi starts, his voice sounding strained as he looks up at you from his seated position. He doesn’t finish his sentence right away and instead stands up, his gaze falling back down over your outfit. His hand travels from your hip, fingers tracing the design all the way up to your sternum where the garment splits off, leaving a sheer black mesh between your breasts and all the way up to the neckline of the dress. He pulls back for only a moment before placing his hand at the side of your neck, thumb resting on your jaw. “It’s beautiful.” You’re frozen under his touch, too flustered to even thank him. You wonder if he can feel the same tension you do, or how hot it seems to have gotten in the room. That curiosity dissolves the moment you see him glance down at your lips.
Your eyes flicker down and back up and you swear he’s- no he is leaning in, just barely. As if on auto pilot you follow suit, leaning in to meet him halfway. Just before your lips meet you feel him grip your upper arms to stop you, turning his head with his eyes screwed shut and brows furrowed. Embarrassment floods over you. Did you make that up? Had you just made everything weird? You’re meant to share a room the whole week of competition with him, and you just ruined everything trying to kiss him.
“Sorry, that was-” Levi starts to say, still avoiding your gaze. His phone starts ringing in his back pocket and he quickly pulls it out and checks the screen almost looking relieved. “I need to take this.” he says before promptly leaving the hotel room to answer it in the hall, leaving you standing in the middle of the room. As soon as the door shuts behind him you rush into the bathroom and quickly strip out of the dress and back into your clothes from earlier. Your thoughts spiraling and replaying the events that just happened. How do you even recover from that?
Just as you’re about to convince yourself that Levi had already gone and got another room for himself you hear the door open and shut. When you pull yourself together you exit the bathroom, avoiding looking directly at him as you carefully slip the dress back on the hanger and wrap it back in its protective layer.
“They’re setting up for pictures, we should head out.” He sounds…like he usually does? There's not a single hint of discomfort in his voice. That should put you at ease, the way he chose to act like nothing just happened, but it doesn’t. Was he not the one to initiate that? The wandering hands, his touch on your face, the way he leaned in. Surely you hadn’t imagined all of that. You stare at him in disbelief for only a moment before nodding your head in agreement, choosing to let it go as you trailed behind him out the door.
***
You take a cab to the arena where they are setting up for the pictures. When you arrive there, a team pulls you off for hair and makeup. Nothing extravagant but enough to look good for your season photo, which they display on tv screens and over the arena before your performances.
Afterwards, you find Levi who’s standing away from the crowd against the wall of the rink. He’s staring down at his phone. When you approach him he offers a small smile and pulls the jacket that’s draped over his arm and holds it out for you. You take it and open it up, eyes lighting up when you realize it’s your official issued windbreaker.
“I’ve got your pass and info packets, too.” Levi says. You barely hear what he’s saying as you look over the jacket, flipping it over and admiring your country’s flag on the back. You’re overwhelmed with joy, grateful to finally be back where you belong. You slip on the jacket and zip it up before looking out at the ice where you’ll be practicing the next few days and eventually performing.
“It’s huge. I wish we could skate together one more time before I go out there.”
“Why’s that?” Levi hums.
“It feels like good luck.” You say without thinking. Skating with Levi had just become part of your routine. It was hard to think about going without it the whole week. Before he could reply, an official finally calls your name for photos.
Levi watches as you excitedly race off towards the photo setup, he can tell just by watching you how genuine that smile is. You were happy, back in your element, and he could see it written all over you. It was infectious. The photographer must have thought so too because you clearly conned him into taking some goofy ones. Levi felt a burning in his own chest as he watched the way you seamlessly molded into the poses you were given. He watched you turn your back to the camera and look back over your shoulder, pointing your thumbs to the flag on the back of your jacket. The jacket that fits perfectly on your body. His gaze lingered on your waist as you moved from pose to pose, remembering the way your comp dress hugged your figure and his thoughts started to wander. What if he had kissed you like he wanted to? A part of him regrets backing out as what could have been flashes through his mind. A searing kiss, roaming hands, undoing the clasp of that dress behind your neck.
“You ready?” Your voice takes him right out of his fantasy. He’s thankful, seeing you standing in front of him in that jacket reminds him of why he backed out in the first place. He’s your coach, and regardless it’d serve as nothing but a distraction before your first big competition. “You want to grab something to eat?” You continue when he doesn’t answer, by now it was already mid afternoon.
***
Lunch quickly turned into sightseeing, and sightseeing turned into shopping, which took you right to dinner time. Levi picked a restaurant he remembered from the couple times he competed in this city. When you’re walking back to the hotel, you notice Levi is on his phone again– are you imagining that slight curl to his lip?
You walk back into the hotel room and drop the shopping bags of souvenirs you acquired throughout the day. Exhausted, you’re ready to throw yourself in bed to prepare for the first morning of practice.
“Grab your skates.” Levi says before you can even start walking to your bed, “You said you wanted to skate with me one last time before the competition, right? For.. good luck.” He raises his eyebrow at you, wondering if you’d pass it up for the rest you arguably needed, but you weren’t strangers to pushing the limits like this.
“Levi, it’s 10 pm. The arena is closed.”
“I pulled some strings. You coming or not?”
You realize now that you weren’t imagining that smirk earlier, and also learned to stop questioning how Levi is able to get away with things like this. So, instead you nod and happily fish through your largest suitcase for the gym bag containing your skates.
The cab ride to the arena is only about ten minutes, with one phone call the doors buzz the two of you in. The building has a whole different vibe this late at night, much different than when you were here for pictures earlier in the day. Now the empty arena with far less lights feels like it was pulled straight from a horror game. Somehow it looks even bigger now that it’s just you and Levi. You can’t believe that in a few days you’ll be performing here, on live television and every seat surrounding the ice will be filled. It’s daunting how far removed you’ve become the last few months while you healed, something that was once second nature to you now feels like something you’re navigating for the first time.
You plop down on one of the benches and quickly tie your skates up, triple checking the laces before stepping out onto the ice, Levi is just behind you. The ice is fresh, smooth from the last zamboni of the night. It's your favorite ice to skate on especially when practicing with others for a competition. There's no holes in the ice from toe picks, no bodies to weave around, it’s perfect. You’re thankful Levi could do this for you.
“Do you want to do my long program with me?” You ask him.
“We can do whatever you want, this is your time.”
You nod and Levi pulls his phone out. “Sorry, I don't have access to the speakers here.” He mumbles as he starts playing the music that goes along to your performance from his phone, turning the volume up and sticking it in your pocket. He gestures his hand out for you to take the lead.
He follows you effortlessly around the arena, skipping out on the more intense jumps to watch how you do with them. Even so, he always seems to outdo you. You don’t mind it though, it helps you strive to do better. Secretly you hope to do just as well as him, though you doubt you could ever capture the beauty he possesses once he sets out on the ice.
After about three sets you give Levi his phone back, breathlessly telling him you need a break. The two of you make small talk on the wall. Levi looks out at the ice, you can tell there’s something on his mind just by the expression on his face, after a moment he turns and asks you.
“Would you like to do some lifts?”
The question throws you off. The one and only time you’d ever asked to do anything pairs related on the ice, Levi shut it down in a way that made you know not to ask again. Other than that he’d only ever do one throw off ice.
“With you?”
“Who else?” Levi looks over his shoulder dramatically, then back at you.
“Yes.” Your answer comes out faster than you’d like it to. He nods, taking you out to center rink with him.
“Do you trust me?” he asks, and when you nod he continues, laying down the ground rules. “Nothing crazy, nothing overhead, and no, I'm not throwing you on the ice days before your short program.”
“This first one is easy. Line yourself up to my hip, lift your knee and use my shoulder to hike yourself up." He moves back a little and shows you where to rest your skates on his thighs “I’ll set you down facing forward.”
You nod and the two of you set off, you gain up a steady speed and do just as Levi said, placing your forearm on his shoulder and raising your knee. In one swift motion he picks you up from under your leg and pulls your knees to his chest, locking both of his arms behind your legs to keep you steady. Your heart races as you resist the urge to put your hands on the top of his head for balance. This is your first time doing lifts on ice and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little nervous. You look around the arena as Levi carries you across the ice, you’ve never felt anything like this before.
“Arms up, lay back.” Levi calls up to you. You do as he says, letting your back fall away from him without as much as a tremble from his arms around you. When you come back up Levi pulls one of his hands out from between your thighs and places it on your hip, guiding you towards a forward facing position. Without warning he moves his hand up to your stomach and pushes your back over his shoulder. With a squeak you fall back, instinctively grabbing onto his arm as it tightens across your waist. His other hand snakes down your leg, pulling it in by the shin before tightening his grip around your ankle. Once he’s got you secure he starts spinning, a grin spreading across his face when he hears your giggling. “Let go!” He calls out, only when you do and lean all the way back does he start wishing he could see the look on your face. When he starts losing momentum he carefully bends forward and places you back down on the ice, hands resting at your hips until he was sure you weren’t too dizzy to stand.
Levi spends the next several minutes carrying you around the arena in varying positions, smirking every time your grip on him tightens as he picks up speed. At one point he was certain you’d be able to handle the throws you practice during off-ice, you catch on fast. He decided against asking, your safety being his number one priority just days before the short program. That’s exactly what you were in his arms; safe.
“Death Spiral.” Levi says. “When I grab your hand, lay back on your edge, cross your left foot over your right boot.”
You nod, skating off towards the center of the rink. Levi takes your hand and you put the distance needed between the two of you. You take a deep breath and lean back, feeling Levi’s grip on you tighten as he crouches down, using his toe pick on the ice to pivot you in a circle. You look up at him once you’re almost parallel with the floor and he flashes you a smile. You wish you could freeze this moment and make it last forever. As your spin starts to slow you attempt to pull yourself back up, Levi stands and tries to assist but your skate slides out from under you causing you to slip onto your back. Still holding onto his hand you roll your eyes up at him, shocked to see that he didn’t even almost lose his balance.
“You really never fall, do you?” You sigh.
“Guess not.” He replies. He tugs on your hand gently, ready to help you back up. You smirk up at him as your grasp tightens, in one swift movement you yank him down.
Levi’s eyes widen as he falls onto his knees, placing his free hand down on the ice beside your head to stop himself from falling onto you. “That doesn’t count,” his eyes narrow as he looks down at you, his hair hanging just a few inches from your forehead. “Quite the risk to gamble an injury like that days before a major competition.”
Your eyes lock with his, every feeling from earlier in the hotel room floods back tenfold. “I could be riskier.” Your voice comes out just above a whisper, raising your hand to cup his cheek while ignoring the subtle shake as your brain wills you to stop before you embarrass yourself. As you look up at him you see the bob of his throat, and you take that as your sign. You slide your hand up through his hair, just as you lean up in that quick moment of bravery your heart drops as the lights over the arena suddenly cut off with a loud whumpf. The abrupt darkness causes Levi to pull his head up, looking around in confusion before pulling out his phone.
“It’s midnight. The lights are probably on a timer.” He sighs, carefully pulling himself back into a standing position and turning the flashlight from his phone on. He leans down to grab your hand, this time pulling you back up onto your feet. “Careful.” He says as he illuminates the path towards the rink's exit.
Maybe this was for the best, even if it caused your heart to ache. Divine intervention had to be stopping you for a reason right? Maybe it was a sign that your feelings would get hurt, or that you just shouldn’t have thought about him like that at all..
***
The next morning your alarm rips you from your sleep at 6:00 am. It doesn’t take long for you to regret being out so late the previous night. Today is important, it’s your first scheduled practice with a select group of the other skaters competing. You’re terrified. The last time you were in this kind of setting you nearly destroyed your ankle, another mistake like that and your career is over.
You hear the dull sounds of the shower running behind the closed bathroom door and sigh, hoping he’d be done soon so you wouldn’t have to rush to make it on time, adding that much more stress to your day.
To pass the time you pull your phone from the charger and roll over onto your other side, sliding through the notifications you missed overnight. Your eyes narrow as you notice an influx of activity across multiple platforms, way more than what you’re used to. A decent chunk of new followers and several comments on your latest posts, immediately you had a terrible feeling. You start gliding through the comments, eyes widening immediately when you see the majority of the subject matter was actually Levi.
‘No offense but why her? She’s no Petra Ral’
"Is it really your last year solo?”
“Why would he risk coming back with someone like her?”
“Now it makes sense how you came back so quickly after that injury.”
You switch to another app and quickly type Levi’s name into the search bar. A new wave of anxiety floods over you when you see a few posts speculating his return to competitive figure skating, all with photos of the two of you from the previous night.
‘He’s coming back!’
‘Terrible decision on his part, we haven’t even seen how she performs post injury.’
‘She’s too old to learn pairs. He’ll get hurt again.’
You run a hand through your hair as you click on the photos and zoom in. They are all shots of Levi holding you up, and in all the pictures you could see his face clearly. You knew he would hate this if he found out, and the last thing you wanted was for him to be scared off from coaching before your first competition back. You swipe to the next picture and examine it, in this one you’re laid back over his shoulder, a look of surprise on your face and the brightest smile on Levi’s. You’ve never seen him look so happy in person. Part of you, even if it was small, was happy that this moment was encapsulated. You feel guilty for even thinking that, knowing by now that Levi went to great lengths not to be perceived in any way. Not his face and especially not his skating. He reserved those parts of himself for specific settings and special people. How did anyone get in without either of you knowing? Your heart sinks when you scroll to the last picture of Levi hovering over you on the ice, your faces only inches apart.
You pull your attention from your phone when you hear the water from the shower cut off, a few moments pass and Levi emerges from the bathroom wearing only a pair of sweat pants. As he walks towards his suitcase he runs a towel aggressively through his hair. Your eyes follow the muscles down his back, everything about him was truly breathtaking. Your eyes snap back up when you see him twist to look back at you, his slightly messy hair framing his face in a way that has your chest tightening. For a moment there you forgot all about the pictures. You needed to tell him before he found them for himself, maybe you could soften the blow.
“Levi?” You try, the only response you receive is a soft hum. “There’s pictures of-“
“I’ve seen the pictures.” By the tone of his voice alone you could tell he wasn’t a fan, he even sounded a little mad. “We can’t risk that again.”
“Okay..” Risk what? You can’t hide the disappointment in your voice. Sure, it’s probably shitty to see something like that from his perspective, but was it really that bad? You were just skating, and the theories people were coming up with based on a couple of pictures were wrong.
“It’s not a good look.” He states, his tone finite before disappearing back into the bathroom.
