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aries-writingblog · 3 years

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Stay With Me (7)

Summary: James Buchanan Barnes had never looked at himself as a family guy. He never even thought of it until she came around, flipping his world inside out. Bucky likes trouble and this girl? Well, she seems to invite chaos to dinner.

Pairing: Mob! Bucky Barnes x OC! Alex Grant

Chapter Word Count: 1939

Chapter Warnings: Language, threats, violence, blood, knives, mentions of the stalker

A/N: This is an OC story but I try to make them with the least amount of physical description as necessary. The pronouns used are feminine for the character.

“Alex- we’re taking Alpine to the backyard!” Wanda called over her shoulder, cuddling the white fur-ball to her chest. She was followed by a gaggle of their friends, all piling outside to watch the cat.

“I’ll come get you when the pizza’s here!” Alex responded, turning back to Pepper. The woman poured another glass of wine, pushing it over the counter. Alex accepted it, gulping down a few mouthfuls.

“Bucky isn’t coming today?” Pepper asked, looking over to Tony who was lounging in the living room with Pietro. Tony was wearing a crown that read ‘birthday girl’, he brought it as a joke and Wanda refused to put it on. Pietro, however, had taken the offer immediately. They had been passing the crown back and forth for the past half hour.

“No, he had business today. He took them out for dinner last night instead.” Alex explained, licking frosting off her fingers. She turned the cake once more, giving it a final check.

“So things are getting pretty serious, then?” She questioned, crossing her legs, cocking a brow. Alex scoffed, piping Wanda’s name under Pietro’s. They all argued about the dessert this morning- Pietro claiming he should be above his sister since he was older. Wanda claimed the spot because she was Alex’s favorite- which started a whole new argument, resulting in Alex refusing to make a cake at all. In the end, here she was, frosting the cake in her own decision- Pietro then Wanda.

“I don’t know about serious.” Her eyes cut over to Natasha who snorted. The red read leaned forward across the island, tapping a fingernail against the marble.

“Please- you should’ve seen them last night!” She crowed. “They acted like the cutest little family I’d ever seen! He acts like they’re his kids!” Alex scoffed, picking the cake up and putting it in the fridge. “And he looked at her like she was a goddess come to earth- it was fucking insane! And the gifts he gave them- it was absolutely wild, that man should come with a warning label.” Pepper chuckled as Alex reached over, snagging the bottle of wine from her sister.

“That’s enough of that for you.”

“Hey!”

“Why do you think it isn’t serious, Alex? It seems like Bucky wants to stick around, he loves you.” Pepper reasoned. Alex’s face felt hot, she avoided eye contact with the women, puttering around the kitchen. Natasha groaned dramatically, banging her head against the table.

“You’re not allowed to get cold feet on this guy, Alexandria Grant.” Natasha sat back up, staring at her half- sister. “I let you run from John, I helped smooth things over with mom and dad- not my best work but they still claim you as their daughter sometimes! I will not let you ruin this for yourself. That man is done for- he loves you, it’s in every move he makes. And I’ve never seen Pietro and Wanda that happy either, he’s willing to accept everything you throw his way, no questions asked. You’re never happy unless you’re failing, it’s always been that way.”

The kitchen fell silent, Pepper staring between the two women. Alex kept washing the dishes at the sink, her back turned to Natasha. Alex knew she was right, when things got good, she left before they could turn bad. She was a runner, it was how she lived, how she survived.

“Do us all a favor and just... be happy. Don’t run again.”

~~~~~~

Bucky was fed up with the idiots surrounding him. They had been pushing for twenty five percent of all markets, all day. Steve made him swear he wouldn’t lose his temper when he heard. So, Bucky threatened to just leave- the deal would fall through. The men changed their stance on it- not much though. Bucky was now dead set on pushing them lower. Just because they were assholes.

“We’ve made more connections than some of your senior officers in less time- six months.” Rumlow argued, pushing Bucky to raise the margins. “You can’t argue we don’t do good work.”

“It’s not that you’re not doing good work- it’s great work.” Steve assured the men. “But you can’t come into the ranks above senior officers- that’s not how it works with us.”

“That’s bullshit!” Pierce shouted, slamming a fist to the table. Bucky simply sat back, lacing his fingers together. “Why should we sit lower on a pay grade if we’re doing triple the work?”

“Because of your lack of subordination.” Bucky finally spoke up, running a hand across his beard. He drug his eyes between the two men lazily. “You may sell more product, move more weapons, have more connections than seven of those pricks combined but, they’re loyal. I guarantee that you two gentlemen already have a plan in mind to kill me. So, I think I’ll pass on this deal.” He tapped the table twice, standing up.

“You walk out of this meeting and we’ll just have to pay a little visit to that bitch you’re hiding.” Rumlow’s voice cut the air, filling Bucky’s ears. His whole body filled with rage- white hot anger. Steve tensed beside him. He whirled around, pulling the glock from his holster, aiming it directly at the man’s forehead.

“You even think about her again, I’ll make sure you never see the light of day.” He growled. Steve stepped up beside him, hands on his belt. Pierce shrugged, as if his business partner was in no trouble.

“Well... look at that- you owe me twenty bucks, Brock.” He drawled, leaning back in his chair. A dangerous, dark smirk crawled it’s way onto his lips. “He’s not just using her to get his cock sucked-“

Bucky cocked the gun, firing a shot into Pierce’s abdomen. He then pointed the gun back at Rumlow, only to find the man had pulled a knife. Bucky chuckled darkly.

“I didn’t want any trouble out of you two- I was actually considering the deal you had when we walked in this morning.” Bucky admitted, waving the muzzle in Rumlow’s face. “Then, you disrespected my girl. You threatened her. And that’s a crime that requires the death sentence in my book. If I find any of you ex-Hydra dickheads, fucking around anywhere near her, I’ll obliterate your whole branch.”

“Oh please, if you were gonna do something... you’d have done... done it already.” Pierce panted, blood splattering onto his lips, dribbling down his chin. He kept his hands pressed to the wound, blood seeping out over his fingers. Bucky gave a sick smile, reaching over and pressing down hard over the man’s hands.

“I’m letting you off with a warning, Pierce. If I were you, I’d take it and shut my mouth.” He hissed. Just as he went to back away, Bucky felt a stab of pain enter his right thigh. He looked back over to see Rumlow’s knife lodged in the muscle, blood making his pants stick to his skin. “You wanna meet God today, fucker?”

Bucky fired a shot into Rumlow’s chest, another in Pierce’s knee cap, just for the hell of it. He backed away, shoving the doors open, following Steve out to the armored SUV.

“Call the guards posted at Alex’s house. Make sure they’re on the lookout.” Bucky instructed, wiping Pierce’s blood off his hand. Steve did as he was told, looking back over to Bucky’s thigh.

“You wanna stop and get that looked at?” He asked. Bucky grit his teeth, feeling his jaw pop with the pressure. Any other day, he would do it himself- hell, even get Steve to look at it. But right now, Bucky just wanted to be home.

“No- Davis,” he addressed the driver. “I'm going to Alex’s.”

~~~~~~

Bucky staggered up the steps, the street dark. The lights were still on in the house but it was quiet. He’d missed the party. His knuckles rapped three times, leaning against the threshold of the house. The door swung open, revealing Pepper. She gave a look of surprise before looking down, seeing the knife still sticking out of his thigh.

“Oh my- Alex!” She called, ushering Bucky into the house. He limped in, allowing Pepper to steady him. Tony and Natasha looked over from the living room, concern across their features. Alex came through from the garage, looking for the cry she’d heard. Upon seeing Bucky, her eyes lit up, approaching him. Then, she saw what Pepper had seen.

“You fucking idiot!” She leapt into action, shoving the man down to sit on the hardwood floors. “Nat, get some wet rags from the kitchen, Pepper I have an emergency kit in my bathroom upstairs. Grab a couple towels while you’re there.” She turned back to Bucky, examining the wound. “You’re a dumbass, you know that?”

“Yeah, sweetheart. I do.” He sighed, leaning his head back and giving her a weak smile. She carefully maneuvered around the knife blade, tearing the edge of his pants wider to get a better look. “But if you wanted to rip my clothes off, all you had to do was ask.”

“Not the time, James.” She barked, reaching for the towels Pepper brought down. She wrapped it around the knife, pressing down on the area. “I’m gonna pull the knife out, alright- there’s gonna be a big rush of blood but I’ve got you, okay. Do you trust me?” Bucky met her eyes, the answer already clear.

“With everything.” He murmured, watching as she steadied her hands and took a deep breath. Alex yanked the knife, Bucky flinched, grunting in pain.

“Sorry- I’m sorry.” She whispered, moving to quickly stop the bleeding. The door opened again, Steve coming in through the door.

“Oh, good. You’re not in the bushes outside.” He muttered, glancing at the audience of people. “Hello.”

“Steve- what happened?” Alex asked, pressing a fresh cloth to the wound. Bucky shot a glance at his friend, effectively communicating that it would be a very bad night if he told the truth.

“Just, uh... letter opener accident?” Bucky groaned, his head thumping on the wall behind him. The stairs creaked.

“Alex?” Pietro called. Her head shot up, casting a glance over to the group.

“Somebody- keep them upstairs.” Every adult rushed to do so, a stampede of feet going upstairs. Alex kept pressure on the wound, Bucky noticed she kept her attention solely on his thigh, never looking up to him.

“Hey- I’m alright...” he whispered, bringing a hand up to her cheek, pushing her loose hair behind her ear. “Alex... look at me. Come on, pretty girl. Let me see those eyes.” She reluctantly dragged them up to his, a smile on his face. “There she is. I’m alright, just a business deal gone bad. This is the best case scenario, really. I’m sorry that I brought this home to you- I just... I wanted someone I could trust.”

“I...” she shook her head, lowering her eyes again. “Bucky- I’m sorry... there’s... I’ve been getting these phone calls- they started Monday. It’s only gotten worse.”

“What phone calls?” He asked, gaze hardening, heart plummeting to his feet, smacking his stomach on the way down. When she didn’t answer, he pushed her further. “Alex.”

“Just- calls! A weird, voice calls and just describes my whole day in detail, when I got to work, when I drank coffee, took a bathroom break, slept in an on call room- you showing up! The kids, getting off the bus-“

“Okay-“ Bucky shushed her, his hand resting on her neck. “It’s alright. I’ll figure it out, alright?”

“James...” Alex looked up, true panic in her eyes. “I think it’s John.”

#bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes fic #bucky x oc

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alias-b · 4 years

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sins of my youth. 008

Billy Hargrove x OC! Evie Fenny~ Also posted to my AO3

Summary: It was common knowledge that Billy Hargrove hated Hawkins. Hated Cherry Lane. Even loathed the strange girl next door. Evie Fenny wasn’t too fond of the chaotic Cali transfer either. An awful high school tradition sparks a chain of events that changes everything, ultimately bringing two frayed souls together.

A/N: New chapter!! Revenge plots, unlikely allies, and a romantic dip. TW: Hints of teen bullying and mentions of pica. Billy's anger gets scary for a hot sec. Enjoy!! TAGLIST OPEN!!

Chapter 8: Because My Calendar Is Open

“Wish it was warm enough to eat outside.” Evie grumbled. Picking crust off her sandwich.

Ignored Carol’s cackling three tables away. All the clicking of cutlery on plastic trays grated worse.

“How was that dinner at Billy’s?” Heather looked up from her lunch.

“Susan had to call and cancel. I guess she wasn’t feeling well.” Evie frowned. Wondered if Neil liked her staying out late with Mona and her friends. “Rain check.”

Behind Heather, Steve Harrington was wandering with a tray. Looking lost as he always did this time. No longer friends with Tommy and giving Nancy and Jonathan some space.

“Steve.” Evie piped up, pressing her lips. “Want to sit with us?”

He blinked. Crossed.

“Yeah...that’s cool.” He slid into the bench next to Evie. Plastered a little charm. “Ladies.”

“Hey.” Heather’s smile brought pink into Steve’s soft cheeks.

“Evie, you know Hargrove is staring at you, right?” Steve started to cut into his slab of meatloaf, gesturing with his chin. “What’s the deal with that? He’s been trying to use his laser eyes since school started again.”

Evie spotted Billy a couple tables behind Heather. Intent. He didn’t look away when their eyes met. Evie just shrugged.

“I don’t know what you mean, he’s just annoying. Forgot he even existed.” Evie scooped up some mushy peas and gagged them down. Heather studied her.

“He’s a little prick.” She decided.

“He’s a dumb guy.”

“He’s not a guy, Evie, he’s a prick.”

Steve snickered at them.

“You reject him or something? Seems like a persistent asshole.” Steve went on.

“As if Billy Hargrove would ever be into me.” Evie looked away. Said that before.

“Whatever. Billy and his penis don’t deserve you.” Heather got Steve choking on milk laughing. Some came out his nose. “Oh no!”

“Here.” Evie was giggling too, pressing a napkin to her friend’s mouth and nose. “Heather, go easy on him.”

“So much for King Steve, right?” A laugh followed but it sounded weak. Evie only pressed her lips.

“Royalty is overrated. Steve is fine.” She smiled a little for him. Met his dewy eyes and pulled away. When she faced Heather, Billy was gone. “Heather and I were hitting the movies after school. Want to go with us?”

“Like hang out?” Steve perked so Heather nodded too. All smiles. “Uh, yeah. I’d like that. I’ll drive.”

“Perfect. We do this thing where we show up and watch whatever is playing soon. Bad or not... Oh, shoot...I gotta hit the library, I forgot to return something.” Heather winked and got up to dispose of her trash. Left Evie with the pretty boy.

“You ride your bike in, don’t you?” Steve turned his head as Evie picked up her water. “It’s winter.”

“Seasons change, my boy.” Evie sipped, beaming.

“I just wondered if maybe you wanted like a ride to school and back.”

“Heather usually is able to grab me. The before and after school extracurriculars are starting to pile for her…” She blinked.

“You live on Cherry, you’re not out of the way for me.”

“I so am.” Evie chuckled and shrugged.

“Just a ride, maybe you can help me graduate.” Steve held out a hand. “Fair?”

“Sure.” They shook on it. “Thanks.”

“Well, well, well.” Carol flipped her helmet of orange hair aside and settled palms flat on the table. “Fallen from grace and now sucking up to the ice queen. I hear pretty boys can thaw her though, Steve, so you might get lucky for once. Does Mr. Bowers even speak to other students, or are you just needy enough for the list?”

“Carol. I already know the answer,” Steve touched his chest, “but, do you really have nowhere better to be?”

“Looks like Fenny gets around, huh?” Tommy curled an arm around his girl’s shoulder. Flashed that crooked smile. “Just going down the list now.”

Normally, Evie would have spoken up. Witty comeback. But, she just glared at the ugly cafeteria tiles.

“How about you get lost?” Steve continued. Evie’s hands curled into her lap. The amusement from their friends just grew louder and she couldn’t stand it. Anger burned white hot and a bark stopped them all.

“Hey.” Billy crossed back in. Few tables stopped to see him command. “Knock it off, let’s go.”

“But-”

“Just leave it the fuck alone, Carol. Yeah? This shit is done to death and I’m over it. You’re being really pathetic. Both of you. C’mon.” Billy flared up, head cocking. “Only gonna ask you idiots once, the fucking cackling is giving me a headache. Leave her alone from now on, unless you want a problem with me. Bye.”

He pointed toward the door. Not joking. A few students moved to go.

Carol and Tommy both seemed to sag and follow after them. Their friends at the table decided the fun was over and crossed out too.

Billy cast Evie one lingering stare, ignored Steve, and went the other direction. Shoved the door to go outside.

“Did...that just happen? What’s up with him, seriously?” Steve turned back to Evie staring at where Billy had disappeared too. Lips parted.

“I...I don’t know.” She asserted. “And I don’t care, I gotta...go.”

“You barely ate anything.”

“Filled up at breakfast, not much of an appetite.” Evie forced a chuckle. “See you in class?”

“Sure…” Steve pushed his hands into his pockets. Let her go.

** ** **

Billy didn’t appear again from all his smoke and stars. Never quipped about those almost heroics from the days before. But, his snapping kept Carol and her gaggle off of Evie completely.

Like magic.

More January snow fell with the weekend. Never ending frost with a perfect blanket of peace. Icicles shimmering on every house. The whole street sparkled.

Evie bundled and slung a bag over one shoulder. Figured venturing into town was better than sitting in a freezing house contemplating what to swallow next.

She tried to slow. To stop. To let things pass. This habit was eating her right back.

Evie started to pass the Hargrove house and looked up to watch the new flurries fall. Too delicate upon her cheeks. Like confetti.

She thought of the intimate way Billy had touched her lips with two fingers to brush a piece away before kissing her. Again and again.

The thought bloomed unwanted roses up her cheeks.

She caught a glimmer on the sidewalk right in front of Billy’s car and Neil’s truck parked there. Couldn’t stop herself from shiny things. Bent down and pulled her glove off to pluck something silver up. A chain. And a pendant came with as Evie held it out from her expression.

A Playboy charm.

Crouched there, she sighed into pure cold. Blinked and let her eyes focus on Billy’s car beyond it. Quiet and undisturbed.

So, Evie thought.

Lips parted when she saw the passenger side door. Even with a few splatters of snow, words came into focus.

Carved crude and angry into the side.

Prick.

Bold, ugly letters.

Evie shot to her feet. Shuddering and alert like someone was watching.

“Oh, my god.” She puffed, cradling the chain to her chest.

By some twist of horrible fate, the front door beyond the porch opened.

Billy stepped out. Cool as a cucumber. Lighting a cigarette. Stunning in a brown, leather bomber.

Feet shuffled back. She stared at Billy with this clear look of horror when he spotted her.

“Photo will last longer, Angel, but I charge for them.” He quipped, massaging his front suggestively. Lighter flicking closed.

Billy hadn’t seen his car.

Evie felt adrenaline kick in when the bus passed behind her. Steps hurried up the sidewalk to get on it without glancing back. A hand covered her lips. Evie paid and sat down. Dared to peer back at Billy’s house.

He was standing between the vehicles. Eyes pointed on the craving.

And then he slowly lifted his blaring gaze to where she’d disappeared too.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Evie thought she might have a panic attack right there. Tried to catch her breath until the bus rolled onto Main Street before a hand tugged frantically to get off. She went into the first store she saw. Grocery store big enough to hide in. Attempted again to get her lungs working.

Maybe running wasn't the best idea, but staying to explain seemed impossible.

The charm left an imprint in her hand from clutching it so tight.

Billy thought she did that. Fuck. And he was going to fucking kill her.

Evie scurried around the aisles. Kept checking the windows for the furious, rumbling Camaro. Pulled a beanie lower and her hood up before creeping back outside to cross the street. Tucked curls aside.

She could have blamed Heather if the charm wasn’t damning enough. Her friend had used the word prick a number of colorful times.

Brock Tannen was fucking with them both now.

“Shit, shit.” Evie muttered. Few residents paced to get their own errands done. The rev of an engine shot sparks up Evie’s soul. She whirled down an alleyway, figured he might just run her over.

“Fenny!” Billy skidded halfway down the path and curved. Lunged out of his car. “Get back here! You think I won’t recognize that ass anywhere you stick it? What the fuck! C’mere!” His snarling echoed.

Evie was sprinting now, but Billy worked out and he was taller so he caught up easily. Two tight hands yanked her coat so hard, she skidded on slush and fell next to some stone steps. Hard thud planked her body.

Stars burst. A groan pushed from pink lips before eyes focused on Billy Hargrove about to breathe fire and lay waste to her.

She’d never seen such an expression on a boy before. Pure, burning fury and hate.

Wild like he wasn’t really seeing her.

Scrambling, Evie had also never witnessed something so frightening. Billy’s hands were on her shoulders. Pressing his steel weight down so he could snap his jaw. Starving.

“What the fuck! You fucking keyed my car! My fucking car, you bitch?” Profanities of all sizes and colors were spitting from his lips. Evie just looked shaken and terrified at him. Realized she wasn’t talking so her brain tried to mash words together.

“I didn’t! I didn’t do it!” She barely spoke over his rage. Hands pushed at his chest with no hope to get him off.

For a moment, she wondered if he’d try to hit her. He just growled and yelled. Unleashing fury he might have pent up.

“Billy! Billy, it wasn’t me!” Evie tried again. Brought her palm up so he could see the chain twisted around her fingers. “Tannen! Look! Just look, I didn’t...”

Billy finally shut down. Went still to narrow on the charm, recognizing it.

The fingers twisted into her coat were hauled up by bigger hands and a taller figure.

“Hargrove, it’s too early for this, Jesus Christ.” Chief Hopper had parked his Blazer and was now smacking Billy into the side of it. He turned and noticed Evie pushing herself off the wet ground. “Evie Fenny? Are you okay?”

Wind blew through the alley.

“Yeah, I…” She saw handcuffs and Billy squirmed before she sprang up. “Wait a second. That wasn't…”

“Looked like this boy had you pinned down.” Hopper was trying to get Billy to keep still. "A new low, kid."

“Get off me, you damn pig!”

“Lovely.” Jim gruffed, sighing. “We’ll talk about this at the station.”

“Wait, we were...fooling around.” Evie hurried and grasped Jim’s arm. Backed off when his head whipped toward her in disbelief. “I fell and took him with me. It was an accident. Please don’t take Billy away.” Hands clasped to plead.

A curly head tilted toward her too. If Billy had issues with the police, Neil would snap him in half.

“Please, Chief, just let him go. This is a big misunderstanding. Billy and I will go home. Please.” Evie tugged again and Hopper blinked a couple times.

“Just fooling around?” He looked to Billy, who was completely simmered again.

“Uh, yeah. I’m revved, Chief, just look at her.”

“Okay…” Jim cringed. “Just...get out of here and stay out of trouble, kid. Drive under the speed limit, yeah?”

“I love law, Chief Hopper.” Billy quipped. Hopper peered at Evie again so she smiled and grabbed Billy’s hand.

“We’ll be going now. Billy owes me a ride.” She tugged, still breathing heavier. The Chief got back into his car to go, head shaking. Teenagers.

Evie snatched from Billy and shoved him away the second the older man had gone.

“Don’t ever come at me like that again.” Her voice tremored lower. One finger poked his muscled torso. Billy only stared. “Never again.” She tossed the chain at his chest. “Your new best friend screwed you over. Not me. Eat that up, prick.”

Evie started walking again and saw a piece of cardboard duct taped over the nasty carving. Billy caught up with her.

“That shithead isn’t my friend. He framed you...not very well.” Billy let the chain dangle before his face. “He’s fucking dead. My dad’s gonna ream me when he sees the car. Shit... Fucking shit!”

Evie paused to peer back at him. Head in his hands, crouched over to curse. She slowed. A beat.

“Look, I...I know a garage that’ll help you out with a discount. My mom’s friends with the owner and his wife. Perks.” She stuffed her hands away and looked down at her clothing. “Shit, I’m soaked.”

“Never heard that before.” Billy joked, smirking. “Thanks...for keeping me out of cuffs.”

“You’re an asshole still.”

“Yeah.” He agreed, going to the car. “Get in.”

“Why?”

“Take me to the garage so I can get my shit fixed. See if I have enough for it.” Billy rubbed his eyes. “Fuck.”

“Only if I drive.” Evie crossed her arms. Billy did a double take. “I have my license.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes or I’ll walk.” Evie shot back until he tossed the keys at her to catch. Billy bitched about it, but slid into the passenger side. The engine revved so he hissed.

“Easy...”

“That’s rich.” Evie squealed off. Obeyed the speed limit. “Thought Tannen was your buddy.”

“I think I punched him after the dance. I was still kinda drunk.” Billy gave an agitated breath. Sunk into the seat. “Why’s he hate you so much?”

“Because I exist in this body with this brain and I breathe, it doesn’t matter.” Evie turned a corner. Avoided his stare. “I think he hates anything that isn’t him.”

“Well, Tannen hates us both. Framing you and fucking with my car.” Billy paused. Got sly. “So, how are we getting him back?”

“Revenge? No, not interested.”

“C’mon, Angel, live a little.”

Evie skidded to stop at a red light. Head snapping to see him.

“Yeah, I tried that with you already.” She seethed. Billy studied her. “I’m taking you to the garage and I’m catching a bus home. My clothes are still damp, thanks for that.”

“Brock’s date was fourteen, did you know that? He’s a piece of shit and he’s asking for it. You don’t have to like me, we can just hate the same person who hates us. Teach him a lesson.”

“Any bright ideas?” Evie continued down the street. No answer. “Thought so.”

“I’ll think of something.” Billy paused. “Tannen’s got a cushy little life doesn’t he? Perfect family. Girls lined up.”

“He’s dating the daughter of a pastor. Sweet cheerleader who goes to Bates. Cheating on her because she isn’t putting out. But, she’s good for the image and for his ritzy Ridgemont family. Heather’s parents run in a similar circle. She always has dirt.”

“Yeah? What’s Tannen like?”

“His car and his image.” Evie parked. “Go in and drop my mom’s name. The guy’s sweet, he’ll help you out.” She tossed the keys in Billy’s lap. “See you later.”

“Wait.” Billy hurried around the car as she got out. “Just, wait. Let’s get back at him.”

“I don’t care as much as you do, Billy.” Evie passed with snow falling into her long, spiraling curls.

“Sure you do, you’re just pretending you don’t.” Billy snagged her wrist. “Evie. I am fucking sorry. About the shitty dance. About school. It’s fucked and I don’t blame you for being this upset.”

The continued groveling made her smirk.

“Not upset.” Evie crossed her arms.

“He flashed that money in my face and I just figured I could show you a good time and keep you out of it. But, the whole thing when I saw it...I really thought they weren’t serious about the pool. I wanted out of the deal. I kissed you after midnight. It was still fucked. The other girls, they… You know, I’ve been thinking about them too. We could get revenge for them. Shove it up Tannen’s ass.”

“Did you fake it?”

“Fake what?”

“All of it.” Evie gathered the courage. “The...talking. The smiles. The laughter. Dancing with me. Why did you kiss me after midnight?”

“I just…” Billy shrugged hopelessly. Lashes fluttering. “I felt like it. I don’t have to bullshit around you. You call me out when I do either way. I don’t know. You kissed me first and I thought...I just wanted to kiss you. I asked you to a fucking motel.”

“And I was gonna go with you.” Evie shrugged. “But, you lied to get me there. I can’t help but feel that bullshit laced all of it. Do you understand that?”

“Yeah.” Billy sighed. Stood there against winter. Unafraid. “Fact remains, I didn’t want anything else.”

Evie gave a breath into the cool air.

Neither did I.

“Let’s get your door fixed.” Evie went around him to go into the shop. She did all the talking to a burly man with a hook prosthetic for one hand while Billy teetered on his feet behind her. “Give him a couple hours to work.”

“Daddy’ll miss you.” Billy huffed, digging for a cigarette while his precious car was moved away. Evie gave him this scrunched look and shook her head, laughing.

“Well, see you around.” Evie got the back of her jacket snatched and huffed for theatrics.

“Nice try, you think I can’t follow you all over this town? Look, grabbing you was... I shouldn't have done that. I won't come at you like that again.” Billy turned her, cigarette dangling from his lips. “Tannen.”

“Your problem.”

“He’s gonna be your problem too, Evie.” Billy stood over her, plucking his smoke out to puff. “If you don’t help, I might run off and do something stupid.”

“All your life.” She cocked her head. Gave another sound of aggravation. “Just because I know I can’t outrun you. Let’s go. It’s too cold.” A hand tugged his jacket until he was walking next to her. Billy felt his stomach bubble with excitement. “There’s this place Heather and I like...up the block.”

They walked slushy sidewalks to the corner where a little cafe sat. Teens wandered a smoky, dim lit lounge. Evie pulled her coat, beanie, and gloves away to sit. Billy stole an ashtray and followed. Peering around at all the art and empty stage. Hippy sort of place, not like other hangout spots in Hawkins.

“The co-owned bakery next door supplies all their pastries.”

“Broke now.”

“I’m offering.” Evie decided. “Not cause I like you. I just don’t like to eat alone at a table.” Billy’s eyebrows lifted before he tapped his ashes.

“You pick.”

“Do you drink hot cocoa?” Evie watched him nod when a boy crossed over. “Jesse, hey.”

“Fen,” the boy grinned broader, “hi.” Year younger and going to Hill Valley. Family moved a town over but kept the location for their beloved cafe. “Marty was just asking if I’d seen you around Hawkins.”

“Yeah, let him know Heather and I said hi. First year of college any good?”

“He likes the Florida weather.” Jesse swept his mop of brown curls aside, a million piercings along his ear and eyebrow caught the light. Broad boy who enjoyed football, painting, and the piano. Peered at Billy and blushed. “Who’s your cute friend?”

“Down boy. This is Billy, he’s having a day that only your hot chocolate and apple strudels can cure.”

“Where’d you get your ink?” Billy eyed Jesse’s decorated arms.

“City, not far. I’ll write it down for you.” A wink. Billy seemed to like the attention today. Jesse turned back to Evie. “My mom tried to dye her hair in the bathroom. Didn’t go well so Mona will be seeing her this week.”

“Ouch. Again?” Evie chuckled. “What color this time?”

“What supposed to be strawberry sky and it’s...cotton candy pink. I liked it.” He laughed. “Sprinkle of cinnamon on the cocoa?”

“You know me too well.” Evie let him go off then faced Billy. “High School running back. Sweetheart. I dated his older brother. Briefly before the move."

"So, you guys still talk or...?" He faked disinterest and she snorted at the attempt.

"Not really. I mean, we ended fine, he's just a college kid now." Evie cracked a smile, narrowing. "But, my mom’s friends with his mom.”

“What mom doesn’t Mona know? Figure she leads the network.” Billy countered. Evie shrugged.

“Good point, she’s a social nut.”

“Speaking of, isn’t that her?” Blue eyes turned out the frosted windows. Mona in a short dress, fitted chic coat, and tall platform heels that rode up her knees. Nancy Sinatra would be proud. Walking with a bunch of paper bags, headed back toward her shop. Men stopped to see her bounce. “Damn.”

“Stop looking at my mom, perv.” Evie reached for his jaw and turned it back toward her. Breath catching as she slipped away quicker. “Why’d Susan cancel on us?”

“Dad canceled. Not Susan. He just made her do the dirty work.” Billy explained, snuffing his cigarette out.

“He didn’t like her staying out with friends late?” Evie guessed. “What kind of husband doesn’t want his wife to have friends in a new place? I bet she’s lonely.”

“You lonely?”

“I have friends. Are you lonely with your fake fans?” Evie shot back, sitting up. He batted his lashes, undaunted.

“Dad doesn’t like anything except maybe his collection of belts and a full bottle.” Billy shrugged his jacket off. Played with his ring. Head turning, the little spike hanging from his ear caught the light outside.

Infuriating, how pretty he was not doing anything.

“Does he hit her too?”

“Too?” Billy snapped back in, leaning forward with his arms crossed. “What’s that mean?”

Evie only stared at him.

“Sorry.”

“No, I…” Billy cursed to himself. “You probably get a front row seat. You know, he didn’t start going at Susan until the move here. She’s learning though. Quickly. How to play dad’s game.”

“Does he go after Max?”

“No, he’s too distracted with me and I keep Max out of trouble. He will one day when she’s older.”

Evie looked at his hand and wondered about touching it. Billy seemed to feel it hang in the air so he sat back.

“Bowers ever hit you?”

“No, he doesn’t-” Evie caught herself with wide eyes. Got smaller. “He’d never hit me.”

“So, you’re admitting it.” Billy leaned forth again. Even closer. Some instrumental and chatter covered their voices.

“No one will believe you.” She repeated, eyes on the table.

“No, probably not. Won’t tell even if I think it’s fucked.” He screwed his eyes at her. “How?”

“How’s it possible for someone gorgeous to get with a girl like me?” She sounded wounded.

“No, just...how?”

They paused when Jesse returned. A full plate of warm, golden pastries. Two steaming mugs. Evie tipped him with a sudden smile.

“Thanks, Jess.”

“Anytime. Don’t be a stranger.” He looked to Billy. “You too, got it? I wrote that address down. They love taking new people if you need ink. Come in here and...show it off.”

“I just might. Thanks.” Billy sparked with his usual charm as the boy went.

“You love to flirt.”

“I love to be desired, don’t you?” Billy stuffed the card away, peered at his mug before drinking. Evie followed. “So. We got time.”

“Why do you care?”

“I just do. I think you're interesting, Evie. This town needs a blast of color and I found it.” Billy stared. “Think I’m gonna judge you?”

“Yeah.” Blunt.

“Well, I’m not. Not you.” He plucked up a little pastry when she didn’t. “Don’t let me eat this whole damn plate.” Evie scoffed, breathless and took one to chew. Licking sugar from her lips.

“Billy, why...why are you here with me still?” She narrowed again.

“Because,” he sparkled, “my calendar's open.”

Evie tried to look away. To laugh him off. Couldn’t find the will and locked in.

“Well, I don’t want to get into it here. So, let’s just enjoy the heater and sweets.” Evie reached for another flaky pastry. Billy grabbed one too. They filled their bellies in silence. Eyes locking then averting ever so often.

“Let’s get out of here. Walk.” Billy licked his thumb. Arms crossing to lean over and see her drink.

“You want me to spill badly.”

“I took you out and you had a shitty time, I don't do that. I want to make up for it.”

“You don’t like the snow,” Evie ruffled her curls, “don’t know how you’re surviving it, Cali.”

Billy peered out the window. Let the glow bathe his face. Cool and almost iridescent. Brightening his eyes framed with those sinful lashes.

“You like winter?” He asked out of the blue.

“Actually, yeah. It’s not so bad. Prefer fall. I like tucking in with a warm blanket and cocoa. I like the snow, things always feel...new after." Evie felt a distance quell. He seemed to notice it too. Wistful and vast. "It covers up what came before.”

“Well, let’s go walk in it.” Billy pushed up. “I’ll meet you halfway and brave it.”

Evie stared at the table. Watched him start to go before she shoved her hat on. Got up and followed.

“If I just say that I forgive you, can we part ways?” Evie got in front of him outside. Flecks of snow tumbled into her hair. Melted on strawberry cheeks. Billy was too many colors against white and grey. Ocean blues. Peaches. Cherries. Honey. All sun kissed freckles and golden hair.

“We could make a bet.” Billy stepped closer to curl a devilish smile.

“Another bet?” Her brow lifted. “No thanks, my track record with you and bets is zero.”

“No fun at all.” Billy puffed. “Evie, the way I see it, neither of us can leave the other alone.”

“That’s a you problem.”

“You know you can shake me and you’re not trying too hard, I think you’re just curious enough to stick around.” Billy cocked his head. “So, I’m just saying we should chase that. It was fucked up and...I am sorry. For you and those other girls. I say that you and I hang out long enough to get revenge on Tannen and then, I swear...cross my heart as fuck all...that I’ll leave you alone once that prick gets it. Only if you want me gone.”

“You tried this.”

“I didn’t mean it then.” He stuffed hands into his pockets and she exhaled out her nose. Shuffled on the slick sidewalk.

“But, you magically do now?”

“Maybe that’s what has us stuck, we want to do something about it.”

“You swear?”

“Every damn day.” Cheeky shit.

Evie’s eyes squinted at him. Sized him up.

“I just...I don’t forgive you.”

“I can live with that,” he said, “for now. I haven’t earned shit. I’ll make it up to you.”

Promises. Promises.

“I don’t,” Evie tried again to disengage, “I don’t think you can.”

“C’mon.” Billy slid in front of her when she turned. Got lush. “Evie.”

“Let’s just not make this harder than it needs to be.” Her hands lifted. Evie went around him and Billy’s arms went out aimlessly.

“What would your Mr. Darcy do to make you feel better?”

“What?” Evie spun on her heel, almost laughing. Billy peered away.

“I got his name right. How’d he make you feel better? Listen, Evie...I deserve the cold shoulder. I do. It fucking…” Billy sucked in air and came to her at the corner. “I’ll level with you. I’ve been beating the shit out of myself for what happened and I deserve that. Does that help you? I can’t even get it up...you know what I’m saying? I liked it. Being there with you and I can’t change what happened after-”

“Ick. I wish I didn’t know what you mean.” Her face screwed up. A beat to break for laughter. “Is this really that important to you?” Billy got close with those wandering eyes.

“Yes… It really fucking is.” He hissed lower. "Truth is, I even want more of those signature bad kisses we love to share. If you can still call them that, Angel."

Evie huffed. Almost aggravated. Not really. Stepped back to look him up and down.

“There’s one thing you might be able to do to make me feel better.” She crossed her arms. Brought on hands up to tap her chin in thought.

“And?” Billy gasped out.

“One question.” She rounded him, eyes wandered to scrutinize. “Do you still have that white button up?”

Billy turned his head, earring dangling before he narrowed.

“Uh, yeah....” He looked a little apprehensive when she smiled fuller. Sly.

“We can work with that.”

** ** **

Three knocks and Heather Holloway was blinking her doe eyes at an odd pair.

“What’s he doing here?” She pulled at Evie’s arm to get between them. “What did I tell you, Hargrove?”

“Billy’s trying to make amends, Heath.” Evie said flatter. They stood before her huge mansion on Loch Nora. “Are your parents or the housekeeper around?”

“Not today.” Heather was still all daggers at Billy. “We don’t need Billy’s amends. He’s done enough.”

“There’s a bigger asshole to be worrying about.” Billy spoke. “Tannen.”

“Your buddy? I’m not so sure.”

“No, he...has a point. But, we’re not here to discuss that. Yet.” Evie blinked. Smiled. “Can we use your pool?”

Heather looked confused. The curls piled up onto her head bounced a little. No makeup. Lazy sweater dress.

“Why?”

“It’s indoors and heated.”

“Not heated right now.”

“Even better.” Evie beamed when Billy’s face dropped. “Sidebar, just us girls.”

Billy hung out on the snowy steps while they went just in the door. There was a great deal of snickering before Heather returned biting her cheek. Fully amused.

“You can come in. Shoes off.”

Billy stepped inside to obey, looking around.

“Jesus, Holloway, this place… Is daddy the mayor?”

“He runs the paper.”

“Explains a lot.” Billy grumbled as her head snapped at him. “Easy. Not here to fight. Just...acting out Evie’s whatever Darcy fantasy to make her forgive me.”

“Never said I would forgive you.” She noted down the hall.

“This won’t hurt my chances.” Billy was stepping out of his shoes. Evie looped her arm into Heather’s.

“This way.”

He walked slower behind them to observe the place. Cheesy family portraits galore. Too many vases with fake flowers. Floral wallpaper. Rich people.

“So, what the hell brought you two back together?” Heather had asked.

“Not together.” Evie piped quicker. “Tannen keyed Billy’s car, framed me for it. I sorta helped him get it fixed.”

“He, what? ” Heather paused, opening a textured glass door.

“Yeah, big mess. Tannen’s not quitting.” Evie picked up as they went into the pool room. Odd to be in here while frost covered the back windows.

“Probably cause I punched him.”

Heather snorted at that, stepped on a button to bring the cover rolling back over the illuminated fresh water.

“You sure this is what your dream freak would do?”

“So, sure. Don’t forget your line.” Evie flicked a piece of paper she’d written on at his chest. Billy griped when Heather laughed at him trying to get out of his coat and jeans. White shirt and grey briefs. Evie peered at his muscled thighs and looked up at the ceiling.

Whew.

“You can look, ladies.” A sleazy grin bloomed. “You’re both lucky I wore underwear today.”

“Gross.” Heather came around the pool to her friend.

“Well, do your thing, William.” Evie giggled, gesturing. “Or should I say: Fitzwilliam.”

“How’d a guy with that name not get his fucking ass kicked? Instead, he’s drowning in pussy, I don’t get it.” Billy stepped into the water. Bitched about the cold and sauntered to the center holding his paper up. Soaked his shirt through.

“This isn’t even in the book.” Heather had whispered so Evie hushed her.

“Yeah, duh, but...Billy doesn’t know that. Look how hard he’s trying. It's almost cute. Almost.” She covered her mouth. “Plus, I dreamed about this once, let a girl live here. It can happen one day.”

“Is he like...really trying?”

“Starting to think he is. Won't leave me alone and he...I'm not exactly running either anymore.” Evie peered at Billy turning around. Voice rose. “You look great.”

“Bite me.” He dunked while holding one hand up to keep the line from getting wet. Came up ruffling his curls like some ethereal merman. Still stunning. White shirt clinging to his rock hard chest. Evie bit her lip with hooded eyes and missed Heather watching her face.

“Say the line!” She called then. Billy rolled his eyes with the longest huff he could muster.

“In vain I have-”

“With a little life, Billy!” Heather laughed at him there. Billy sucked in to pout. Water sloshing all over to prune his fingers. Hair and face dripping. Eyelashes clumped.

“In vain!” He just said it louder. Slower. “I have struggled!”

Evie and Heather had to kneel down because they were laughing so hard. Clinging together on the tiles.

“Keep going!” Evie waved her hand and tried to breathe. Billy groaned, eyes rolling.

“It will not do…” He’d already gotten water smudging the page. “My feelings will not be...regressed?”

“Repressed!” Came the correction. Billy shot the rest out in one swift breath.

“You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you!"

“How, what?” Evie was all giggles.

“How! Ardently! I admire! And love you!” He played a total smart ass. Smoldered. Broke. “Can I be done now? My balls are getting kinda high in here.”

Evie cackled comically, holding her stomach and rolling before she waved a hand.

“Yeah, yeah, you can get out. Oh, god. I can't...” She wiped her eyes and heard splashing. Scrambled because Billy was marching toward her sopping wet. Heather skidded to get away before Billy dove on Evie and shook himself out like a mad dog. Spraying her with water. “Billy! No!”

“Billy, yes!” He pushed her shoulders down and ignored the slaps at his chest.

They both were laughing now. Loudly. Almost free. Almost forgetting.

Heather grabbed a stack of towels and paused to see. Billy’s infectious grin and Evie Fenny so lost in it that nothing else mattered.

Evie caught her friend's confused expression and shoved Billy off.

“Okay, okay, you’re done.” Evie shot up. Cheeks rosy. “Uh, bathroom.” She got a towel from Heather’s arm and jogged away. Faster than she meant. Billy pulled up to his knees so Heather padded toward him.

“What are you doing?”

“Fuck if I know at this point.” Billy felt her drop a towel over his back. Pushed to his feet to see her. “Thanks.”

“Are you actually trying here or are you going to hurt my friend again?”

Billy ruffled his hair and wiped his face. Holding the towel over broad shoulders.

“Listen, only thing I know for sure is I don’t ever want to hurt Evie again.” Billy stopped after that to let it sink in. “You know her best, what the fuck else can I do here?”

Heather’s lips turned up. Spread to show teeth.

“You want to know what Evie likes.” Tables turning.

“I know some stuff. Give me some more to work with. And don’t lie, we played that game.”

Heather exhaled to study him.

“Just because you seem to be trying and that’s the hardest my friend has laughed in awhile.” Heather peered at the door. “Evie’s a hopeless romantic even if she hides it. A regular dreaming Cinderella. She likes people unafraid to show how they feel about her and anything made of chocolate…"

"That checks out, I can work with it."

"That dance was cruel. You’re lucky she’s even allowing you the gift of embarrassing yourself in her presence.”

“Noted.” Billy peeled his shirt off and wrapped the towel around his waist. “I have a change of clothes in my car. Will it be weird if I jet out in this and my boots?”

“Ahhh, give me your keys. I’ll find it.” They paused to step away from each other when Evie returned. Towel bunched to her chest. Eyes flicking between them. Avoiding Billy’s damp chest rising and falling, his saint chain glittering and stuck to skin.

“So, this thing about Tannen. Oof. I have an idea.” Evie cleared her throat.

"Ohh, look at Miss Naughty Evangeline." Billy mocked with a southern twang. "Getting into the spirit. Why, now?"

"Because my calendar is open." She cocked her head up. Looked wildly pretty there with her devious pride. “Does Tommy still have Bubbles’ number?”

Billy flashed a smirk. Let it illuminate his face until she matched it. Heather wondered about offering them a room.

“Angel, I’m really liking the way you think.”

~~~~~~~~

Thanks all for reading!!! I love these two so much!! As always, feel free to chat with me. Askbox and taglist are both open. ^_^

@80sbxtch @nottherightseason @orxhidshavana @alagalaska @alongcamedolly @kellyk-chan @billy--hargroves @10blurredsmoke10

#billy hargrove #Billy hargrove x oc #Billy Hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #Billy hargrove fanfic #mine #writing #SOMY #angel fenny #BILLY X ANGEL

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lunar-jimin · 4 years

Text

i still wonder wonder beautiful story still wonder wonder best part i still wander wander next story i want to make you mine

Paring: Taehyung x fem!reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: a dash of angst with a side of horny

Words: 1k

Warnings: male masturbation, taehyung being a horny shit, taehyung also kind of stalks oc, but not in an aggressive way, more of like a “i like you and you’re always here, so i’m gonna watch you from the distance because i’m a coward” kinda way

a/n: I was originally excited to post this, but @jamaisjoons dropped her monster of her fic, and really that should be you only priority in life rn. But I’m still proud. Also my headers are getting worse and worse as I lose motivation, so...but I’m popping out a drabble a day so that’s what counts. Also this once again for @ficswithluv‘s Bulletproof Bingo.

bingo m.list | bingo card | m.list

The heavy grey clouds threatened to let loose a torrent of rain, but Taehyung paid them no mind. He wouldn't give up his Sundays in the park for anything. His friends found his weekend habit a bit peculiar, but they figured it had to do with his overly art-oriented mind. Something to do with flowers.

Taehyung had to admit the flowers were quite beautiful in the spring. The whole park was painted in a rainbow of petals. Nothing was better than a lazy bike ride in April. And it was the park's natural beauty that originally drew him in, but it was you that had kept him coming. When he first saw you, he didn't think you were real, but sure enough every Sunday, you were there.

Each time, you found yourself on the edge of a large meadow, with a blanket, a book, and your meal of choice. Taehyung would watch you from a bench across the field, pretending to be reading a book of his own. His gaze would softly trace over the curve of your body, as his hand mindlessly turned the pages.

You had to be the most beautiful person he had ever seen. You were all at once sweet and sexy, and your choice in literature only fueled his fantasies of making you read while his hands were under your skirt. And your skirts- don't even get him started on your skirts. They weren't short like the ones girls at the club would wear, but they did show off enough of your leg to give him dangerous thoughts. Even during the cold autumn and winter months, you would wear them with soft pastel tights beneath.

Today your skirt was a pastel blue matched with a cream-colored sweater and a brown jacket. You were quietly munching on a sandwich, while fully engrossed in a thick Dicken's novel. Taehyung shifted in his seat. A soft breeze blew over, a sign that autumn was finally here to stay. Golden brown leaves blanketed the park and he couldn't help the chuckle the escaped his mouth as he watched a gaggle of children jump in a pile.

He wondered if you would want kids. He wanted kids. Five of them. He wondered if you would be okay with that. It was time's like these that Taehyung felt a little gross with himself. He didn't know so much as your name, and here he was questioning whether or not you would be okay baring his children.

He often thought about approaching you, but every time he got close to doing it, his nerves got the better of him. The butterflies in his stomach would turn into vicious crows and he would find himself paralyzed with fear. What would you think of him? Would you find him as attractive as he found you? Would you think he was witty? Worthy of your intellect? What if he said the wrong thing? What if you never wanted to see him again? So he stayed on his side of the field and watched you on yours, so close, but never close enough.

Sure enough, a sprinkle had begun to drizzle down onto the park goers. You stayed for a little while longer before the sprinkle had begun to pick up intensity. Taehyung sighed in disappointment as you packed up your things and made your way out of the field. An ache filled his heart as he watched you go and he silently cursed the weather gods for taking away his time with you. Usually, he would spend the entire afternoon watching you, but today he only got a measly hour.

On the bus ride back to his apartment, he couldn't take his mind off of you. He absent-mindedly stared out the window, watching the drops roll down. All he could picture was your leaving figure, the way your skirt accentuated your hips and ass just right. He let out an internal groan when he felt himself chub up in his pants at the image. He glanced to his left and silently prayed that the sweet old grandma across the aisle from him wouldn't notice the tent in his pants.

It wasn't the first time the thought of you turned him on, not by a long shot. Despite your relatively modest apparel, Taehyung would still find something about you that made him drool. He had lost count of the number of times he had laid in bed with his fist around his cock, trying not to cum too fast to the thought of your pretty pink lips wrapped around him.

By the time he got off the bus, he was at full mast, awkwardly shuffling down the aisle, and avoiding making eye contact with the passengers. He made his way to his apartment door as fast as he could, not even bothering to take his damp coat off as he plopped down on the couch and slipped his hand into his pants.

He hadn't been this hard in a while, he wasn't sure what had triggered him. After giving himself a few quick pumps, he hastily unbuttoned his fly to pull out his now dripping cock. He sighed in relief, throwing his head back while his hand moved at an almost superhuman speed. Images of you flickered through his mind. Your eyes, your hair, your breasts, and your damn skirts flooded his imagination. He didn't even need to picture you naked to bring him to the breaking point. All he needed was the image of you bent over a desk, tights, and panties at your knees while he plowed into you from behind.

And just like that, he was cumming all over his shirt and pants. All he could see was white as he let out an almost animalistic roar. He lay on the couch listless for what felt like an eternity before finally tucking himself in his pants and heading to his room to change. As he lay in bed that night, he vowed to himself that next time, he would talk to you.

Sure enough, Sunday rolled around and he found himself standing by his usual bench next to the field. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to step forward, and before he knew it, he was standing by the edge of your blanket. You looked up at him from the Virginia Woolf novel you were reading, confusion painted across your face. Taehyung almost lost his breath at how striking your eyes were, but he managed to steady himself.

"Hi," he breathed, "I think you're the most beautiful person I've ever seen."

You grinned.

#fwlbingo #ficswithlove #bangtanidx #btsbookclub #taehyung #smut #angst #bts

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rowdysakura · 7 years

Text

Rizumo Week 2017, Day 2 - Embarassment

title: you’re no rock n’ roll fun fandom: Ao no Exorcist / Blue Exorcist characters: Kamiki Izumo, Okumura Rin, Moriyama Shiemi, and a gaggle of OC kids series: all the good in me is because of you (it’s true)

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale deeply and pray to Inari to give her the strength to not punch her second secretary through the wall. It’d be the start of a bad track record, for one. (Although, to be fair, the first one had been a demon impersonating the exorcist that was her first unknown-to-her dead secretary.) For two, Emi isn’t truly the source of her vexation. Thus, it would be entirely unfair to break the young girl’s face.

Izumo covers her face with a single hand, the other resting on her hip as she hangs her head. There’s a long moment as she goes through a couple of more cycles of meditative breathing before she drops both hands to her sides. Her head tilts back to stare up at the ceiling in apparent despair.

“How long have they been here?” she asks, tone full of the tiredness of a war general finally settling into the grave of defeat.

Emi winces sympathetically and gives Izumo’s shoulder a squeeze.

“It’s only been two minutes, it can’t be too bad right?” she answers, cheer in the lines of body and the smile on her face. Even her long brown hair seems cheerful in the way it bobs as she nods encouragingly.

Her smile is a lie, however. Izumo knows this down to her very bones. She’s done this too many times to be fooled. Has watched the light drain from her subordinates eyes, bit by painful bit, as she’s sent them again and again on this mission, a fate worse than death.

(”Never be the one to keep Arc Knight Izumo’s family busy while she’s out,” they whisper around the water cooler. Only when the light is brightest for fear of bringing ill luck, otherwise. “You’ll never come out the same.”)

It is that bad, Izumo knows. Her red eyes pierce brown and find nothing--Emi is dead inside already. Which is why she’s meeting Izumo outside her subordinates’ shared office space and not Izumo’s own. Emi’s given up. Set them free. Izumo finds herself imagining the carnage that awaits the two of them beyond the ridiculously tall, ridiculously thick double doors.

Izumo sighs. Then straightens, pulling back her shoulders and tilting her chin up. If she is going to walk into hell then she is going in proud and unbroken.

Decision made, Izumo strides forward. Emi trails behind her superior. Her own back unbowed, as well. Izumo will remember her fondly.

Grasping a handle, Izumo pulls open the wooden door. Internally, she braces for screaming both wild, victorious and low, despairing kinds; for seeing her subordinates, good exorcists the lot of them, spread among their desks, slumping lifelessly like forgotten debris; for the horde held precariously within to come rushing towards her the moment she’s noticed. She does not brace, instead, for silence.

Only just realizing she has closed her eyes, Izumo cautiously cracks a single one open.

“SURPRISE!”

Izumo’s eyes fly wide open, her hand gripping tightly onto the door handle in shock. Her mouth drops open and all she can do is stare.

There’s a different sort of carnage than what she had expected: confetti, burst across the office upon her entrance, a banner strung from the ceiling declaring “Happy Birthday, Kamiki Izumo (Mom)!”, and a ridiculously large cake behind the whole group. There were screams but all of delight and cheer. Not a single one of horror. Before her stands the horde, her little family of gremlins: children, husband, and wife, grinning wildly in alliance with her coworkers, waiting for her reaction.

“Oh,” murmurs Izumo. It’s all she can seem to get out past the sudden lump in her throat.

It’s enough, however. Emi slips out from behind her to join Izumo’s subordinates while the red-haired twins, Izanagi and Izanami, rush towards their flabbergasted mother. The rest of her children and her spouses follow after at their own paces. The twins collide with her legs before wrapping their arms firmly around them. In unison their grinning faces peer up at Izumo with mismatched eyes.

“Are you--”

“--very surprised?”

“We did our bestest--”

“--to keep it secret!”

Heat begins to creep up her neck as Izumo laughs just a bit nervously before encircling the two in a hug as best she can.

“Oh, yes, very surprised,” she replies, watching her words transform their faces from happy to positively gleeful.

Izumo lets them go, though they remain attached, to draw her next two kids--Shiro and Sadako--into an embrace. They’re older than the twins. Twelve and ten and already standing at her shoulder. Sadako presses her face into Izumo’s neck while Shiro leans up to a plant a shameless kiss on her cheek. Izumo ruffles his hair in retaliation, smiling as he squawks.

“Mother, I worked all day on that!”

“It was a beautiful mohawk,” Izumo allows. Smile turning into a smirk as Shiro protests that he’s ‘not beautiful, oh my god.’ “But, you know the rules, kisses get smushes.”

Shiro pouts, whining, “I’ve never heard of that.”

“Are you sure that’s not a made-up rule, mom?” asks Sadako, in turn.

“Oh, no, it’s definitely a real rule. I was there when she put it into the official lawbook,” assures Aiko as she comes up and manages to encircle her siblings and mother in one huge hug. Only fifteen and she’s already as tall as her father. It brings a spark of prideful envy to Izumo, as her eldest leans in to press their foreheads together. “Happy birthday, Mom.”

Before Izumo can say anything (though she doubts she could’ve, that lump seems to have grown several sizes in just a span of seconds), Izanami yelps excitedly, “She’s very surprised!”

The six of them break into laughs drawing apart just as Rin and Shiemi arrive, bringing up the rear.

“Really? I was worried you would figure it out and be all grumpy about it,” admits Rin, his grin unwavering.

Shiemi slaps him lightly on the arm before stepping forward and grasping Izumo’s hands, “What Rin means to say is that while we know you don’t particularly care to celebrate your birthday...so we hope this is okay.”

“A-and! If you don’t like it we don’t have to do this ever again,” assures Rin quickly, looking ready to take cover behind Shiemi.

“We just want to show you how much we appreciate you, is all,” finishes Aiko, giving her mother’s shoulder a soft squeeze. Sadako, Shiro, Izanami and Izanagi all give chorusing agreements.

The seven of them give her such hopeful looks that Izumo almost feels scared to breathe. She does, somehow. Past the tightness and the lump.

“Heh, well,” begins Izumo, licking her lips and swallowing. Her eyes avert to the ground. “What am I supposed to say to that? Especially, with those puppy dog looks that I’m pretty sure I banned...Of, course I like it. Thank you, very, very much for caring so much about me.”

“C’mon, bring it in!” Izumo calls, keeping her head down even as she raises her arms.

“Group hug!” shriek the twins.

Shiro gulps, “Two hugs in one day? Is this the end--ow, Sadako!”

“Get in here already.”

“I’m so glad you liked it! Just wait until you taste the cake I made your favorite kind.”

“I made sure he didn’t go too overboard on the sweetness factor, too,” Aiko adds, squeezing into the hug from behind. “And Shiemi brewed some mean tea.”

“We did--”

“--the presents!”

“I’m the one who came up with the plan! Your secretary helped too, I guess.”

At that, Izumo weakly rubs her knuckles into her eldest son’s black hair, forcing out, “I-it was you who conspired to give me a conniption, then, huh?”

Her eyes burn and she can’t seem to draw in enough air. A small tremble runs through the purple-haired woman’s frame and Izumo draws her family in tighter with a shaky inhale. Her family’s voices buzz around her, almost lost in the background drone of her cheerful colleagues.

I haven’t been fair to them, she thinks, remembering many birthdays passed by with ‘abrupt’ long-term, out of country exorcism missions that she simply ‘couldn’t’ pass up or flat out refusal to participate in anything more extravagant than a nice dinner at home, sans presents. Even now, she can feel the urge to brush them off and flee. The urge to hide away from the day that had only ever served to remind her mother how much she hadn’t wanted Izumo.

(I wish I’d never given birth to you!)

Shame bubbles up inside Izumo. Only to be smothered by the sheer overwhelming amount of love pouring from her family to her. She hugs them tighter still, a sniffle breaking from her.

Shiemi gasps, “Izumo! Are you crying?”

Her family pulls back in concern, Rin spluttering, “N-now, don’t you start! If you start cr...crying then I...I...I will too!”

He really does start blubbering, waterworks, soft sniveling, snot and all, sending the twins off into whimpers. Aiko pats Rin’s back in faint amusement while Sadako worriedly gathers up Izanagi and Izanami to shush them. Beside his two mothers, Shiro stands stiffly. His arms raised in apparent surrender and eyes so wide he looks like he might faint at any second.

“I’m not crying!” protests Izumo in a sharp whisper. She attempts to point an accusatory finger in Rin’s direction. It’s rather difficult, however, when Shiemi holds onto her hands firmly. Supposedly, in attempt to calm her. “I-I’m just real-real-really happy!”

“See? Happy crying, happy crying, no need for you two to go weeping too!” Sadako all but wails in the background.

“I’m g-glad!” sobs out Rin.

Izumo chokes out, “Stop yelling!”

It’s too late, however, the damage has been done. The victim of carnage Izumo had been expecting earlier, namely dignity, has come at last. She just never thought it would be hers.

“Stop looking! Get back to work, you heathens!” Izumo shouts at her subordinates. They all stare back at her with an odd mix of well-trained fear and bemused bewilderment in their gaze. If Izumo hadn’t been ready for funeral drums before she certainly is now.

“But we haven’t even had cake yet!” objects Emi from the crowd, looking quite put out.

“She’s right. You haven’t opened presents either. How about we take care of that and then they can go back to work afterwards,” soothes Shiemi, sounding all too reasonable and polite.

Izumo can only stare at her wife with watery eyes, betrayed.

“Oooh, yes, don’t you two want cake? You only get cake if you stop crying, though!”

The tears drain away immediately to be replaced by near battle cries.

“Cake!” shrieks Izanagi.

“I want cake!” demands Izanami.

Grinning the sort of mad grin that possesses those who’ve just scraped by death, Sadako jogs away with the twins in arm, shouting, “Alright! Cake for everyone!”

A cheer goes up from the crowd at her declaration, followed by ever more raucous orders for only the biggest, most icing-est pieces of cake from the two twins.

Aiko hums. One more pat to her father’s back and she’s striding over to the still frozen Shiro. She hooks an arm about him and starts to drag him away, musing aloud, “I could definitely go for some cake. How about you, Shiro?”

Indescribable mumbles are the only response she receives.

“Good enough,” declares the eldest Kamiki-Okumura cheerily, steering them towards the front of the growing line.

Shiemi and Izumo watch them go. Shiemi faintly amused. Izumo falling somewhere to between mortification and glassy eyed acceptance. When they glance back at each other, Shiemi’s smile softens. Gently, she dabs at Izumo’s eyes, drying them.

“Let’s go eat, alright?”

Izumo doesn’t nod, or make a noise of agreement, but she doesn’t resist Shiemi’s tug towards the promising, if diminishing, cake. A sort of smile is even managing to creep onto her face. Sure, she’s certainly going to be a laughing stock around her office for a while but for once she’s pleased and happy on her birthday. With her family no less! Snide marks around the office aren’t anything a little iron fist ruling can’t fix. If she ever comes off this endorphin high, that is. She might not even care--

“Aaah, I love you guys so much!”

Izumo and Shiemi don’t even get a chance to run before they’re lifted off their feet by one--no longer sobbing but still deliriously overcome with emotion--Rin.

“I love you too, Rin,” returns Shiemi serenely. A faint blush spreading across her cheeks. Quite oppositely, Izumo writhes, claws, and howls like a trapped, wild animal.

“We love you too, Dad!” chorus all their children at once. More than one voice muffled through cake.

Izumo slumps in Rin’s arms. They’re out to kill her. Honestly, truly. Through kindness.

“Shameless! All of you are shameless!”

notes: honestly hope to explain this with subsequent stories but for now here’s a rough guide.

Izumo had Aiko when she was 22. Izumo, Rin, and Shiemi are all 37 in this fic. The rest of the children were adopted at various points. Shiemi became a part of the marriage (although not officially recognized) around the time Shiro was adopted.

Aiko is a carbon copy of her mother Izumo, bc manga genetics, with her father’s build, quarter demon, does not appear to have her father’s flames. Wears her hair ridiculously long. They don’t think she’s ever cut it, not even once. Training to be an exorcist, possibly dragoon.

Shiro is a brown haired and brown-eyed human. His hair pretty shaggy, he tries to do mohawks and fails spectacularly. Hasn’t decided whether he wants to be a cook or rockstar.

Sadako is also human. Currently, she has black hair but she eventually starts dying it blonde like her mother Shiemi. Blue eyes. Loves dressing up. Practicing to become a professional kickboxer.

Izanagi and Izanami are half demons that can teleport and communicate telepathically with one another. They have small horns hidden by their red hair and red and green eyes (ones red and ones blue, for both of them). They’re about 3 here. Both have an unstoppable sweet tooth and sensitivity to other’s emotions.

#foxfiction #rizumo week 2x17 #rizumo #izumo kamiki #rin okumura #shiemi moriyama #ao no exorcist #blue exorcist #ane fic #ane #izumo #rin #shiemi #aaaand yeah basically they're in a polyamorous marriage bc fuck u why not they're the best ot3 #anyway this meh compared to my other one but here u go #i think i hit both options for this prompt but i went with embarrassed bc izumo is embarrassed #somone save her

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3one3 · 6 years

Text

The Sequel - 895

Wardrobe Approval

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea/BVB players, and random awesome OC’s (okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

Christina’s flight from Munich, where she stopped to visit her doctor, got her to Doha at 4:45 on Tuesday afternoon. Juan’s inbound flight from London arrived about an hour later, at 5:50. She wanted to hang out in the arrivals terminal and wait for him, but Jan Tops, the show jumping legend and proprietor of the Global Champions Tour, asked her to meet with him and the editor of the Tour’s new lifestyle magazine at the hotel so that she could sign some copies of the quarterly on which she was the debut cover star. The magazine launch was happening during the competition, on Saturday afternoon, between the Global Champions League Final and the Grand Prix of Doha. Christina wasn’t expected to change out of her riding clothes and get into a dress for all the pictures, or hang around the event for the whole two hours during which it was scheduled, so they wanted her to do a little photoshoot with the editor, someone from the publishing company, the photographer who came to Dortmund to get the art for the cover and her feature story, and the woman who wrote that feature, plus some of the big advertisers who subsidized much of the issue. Rather than wait for her companion at the airport, she needed to hurry to her hotel room bathroom and make herself pretty and put-together.

Some of the advertisers had gifts delivered in advance of her arrival. She found a box of Tom Ford makeup goodies, a bunch of Kiehl’s skincare products, a cashmere glove and scarf set from Loro Piana, a small Nancy Gonzalez shoulder bag, and some clothes from Rag & Bone and Gucci. From the gifts, she selected baby pink high-waisted, tie-front, wide-leg trousers to pair with a loose white crewneck blouse from home that had precious tie-detail cuffs too. Dramatic baby pink pants were a first for her, and that was somewhat exciting. Also, she kind of forgot that it was 80* and perpetually sunny where she was going when she packed black leather pants to go with that top. The pink trousers were much more appropriate for Doha. They were also way too long, so she had to wear them with the soaring sandals she brought for after-hours activities. The details of her pre-launch outfit were important because Juan totally didn’t recognize her in the lobby when he got to the Four Seasons. Christina had to excuse herself from the group of magazine people and click-clack-speed-walk to the elevator to intercept him. His phone didn’t work there yet, but she’d given him their room number when he had wifi in the airport. He was evidently very absorbed in the phone anyway, because she scared him half to death when she stepped in front of him and tried to kiss his cheek.

“I’m sorry,” she laughed at his surprised and defensive reaction.

“Why are you dressed like a wealthy 1970’s housewife?” the footballer questioned as he air-kissed both of her cheeks. He wisely avoided messing up the extensive makeup.

“Am I?” Christina looked down at her outfit and shrugged. She was happy to see him. That negated his skepticism about the wardrobe call.

“Yes,” Juan laughed. “A beautiful one though?” he asked more than stated.

“Do you want to go put your stuff in the room and then come hang out? I don’t know how long this is going to take. I just came down myself a minute ago. We’re doing the pictures outside by the pool.”

“I don’t want to interfere while you’re working. Go have your picture taken and then we’ll have some food, sí?”

“Do I have to change my outfit before dinner?” the rider sassed. Juan looked her up and down, appraising her clothes again.

“Yes. Hakkasan?”

“Yaaaaaassssss.” Her eyes grew big, brimming with excitement and temptation. I totally forgot they have a Hakkasan! We wanted to go last time but the guys decided to do Nobu instead since it’s right here. I want Peking duck.

“Is 8 too early? I’ll call for a table.”

A relatively low-maintenance girl from a wealthy New York family, Christina was the type to love aimless wandering around Paris with no plan or bookings, and then be equally enchanted by a man confidently offering a hard-to-get, sexy reservation for dinner. The princess within her, with her love of Smith & Wollensky steaks, her first-name-recognition of the best personal shoppers at Neiman Marcus, and her lash-fluttering adoration of smooth gentlemen with exceptional manners and perfectly tailored clothes, absolutely swooned for a dinner-date somewhere exclusive, poorly lit, overpriced, and heavy on the classic formality. She went weak in the knees at just the nonchalance in a princely gent’s invitation. She always had. It was a “Daddy Issue”. Anything was attainable for her father, so nothing was a big deal. She looked for that easy attitude in other men as an admirable and desirable trait. No other little girls were celebrating their 4th birthday at Windows on The World, the fine dining restaurant on the top floor of the World Trade Center, when she did. Surely no other little girls knew that the kitchen was in the basement and there were special high-speed elevators to bring the food up to the restaurant. At the same time, that little girl had a thirst for exploration and adventure that made a stroll along an unfamiliar street in a familiar city, or any street in a new one, with a game and curious companion, an absolute delight.

So as romantic and fun as her quick trip to Paris was with André, Christina was excited by Juan’s easy swooping in with the get-changed-I’m-taking-you-to-a-$250-duck-dinner thing within 60 seconds of laying eyes on her in a very, very foreign country. It was the seamlessness of it all. He came with a plan, but it didn’t sound overly curated- with just enough thoughtfulness to prove his understanding of his girlfriend and her travel habits, and that he’d looked forward to their trip enough to have checked out the local dining scene. He was wearing a black t-shirt and really nice medium wash blue jeans, and that meant he was automatically undeniable. He was clearly thrilled to see her too, but not in an outward way that anyone but Christina and his other close friends and family would notice. He didn’t need to go loiter around her while she fulfilled her work commitment. He had standards. He didn’t like her outfit and he didn’t want to take her out in it, but he wasn’t going to say it that way, or be a wimp and try to hint at it. He conveyed a clear but inoffensive message of disapproval. All of it added up to a very specific, “just so” manner that she found totally devastating in the best way. She gave him her room key and went back to the magazine gaggle with a swagger in her step.

She practically ran back to the elevator when they were finished doing photos, making her sign magazines, and schmoozing about the book, the competition, and the title. It was already 7:15 and she wasn’t sure how long the taxi ride to Hakkasan might be because she had no idea where the St. Regis was. Juan was speaking to someone on the phone when she got to the room- a predominantly beige affair with some dark wood furnishings, a nice enough sand-marble bathroom, and a good size terrace with a view of the pool and the sea. He made a hurry-up gesture and she turned around to go to the closet in the square-footage-wasting entrance hallway. There was a pair of light gray skinny jeans in her open suitcase on the stand in there, and an off-white polyester sleeveless top hanging above. Christina grabbed the pants and yanked the shirt off the hanger, then headed into the bedroom to change. Her pink trousers were so wide that she could get them off without removing her strappy sandals. It didn’t occur to her until she’d swapped shirts that she’d need to take the shoes off to get the jeans on. With a groan of frustration at that realization, she dropped the pants on the bedspread again and bent over to undo the tiny buckle on the gold-chain-accented Tom Ford sandal. It would have been much easier to put her butt on the bed too and not try to balance on one white 105mm heel, but haste overshadowed reason. And then the Spaniard on the phone overshadowed Christina.

Oh hello, she said to herself when she felt two hands on her hips and something like denim push into her butt. Those pink pants were fully lined and in no way see-through, but they fit snugly in the butt, so she wore one of the nude thongs she always had on under her breeches. Evidently her behind was too tempting in said thong to go ignored. Juan let go with one hand to adjust the phone held between his ear and his shoulder, and leaned more heavily into the rider. Without his help to keep her steady, she went flying.

“Dude!” she exclaimed in a heap on the floor. He had to pull the phone away from his face to save the ears of whomever he was speaking to from his hysterical guffawing. I guess I can get these off as long as I’m down here, Christina begrudgingly decided. Her dainty sandals included a wraparound ankle strap with a small gold chain stitched on top, and featured really annoying buckles. She’d only managed to get the end out of the keeper before her friend knocked her over. It was work to yank the prong out of the hole. Her Tom Fords were very lightly used, so the hole was still very tight. She mouthed “help” at Juan and made a woe-is-me face until he squatted to use some footballer strength to free her from her designer footwear. He even offered her a helping hand to get off the carpet, but then he was back on her bum again the second she bent over to stick her right foot in her jeans.

At least he’s nicer about it, the cover-girl snorted inside while the Chelsea man kneaded the plumpest part of her butt cheeks. His greedy fingers kept at it even as she shifted to get her other foot in the gray pants, and then moved up to her waist while she shimmied them up. By the time the button was through the hole and the zipper was up, his hands had found their way to her ribcage, just under her bra, and he was telling the person on the other end of the call, in Spanish, that he needed to go.

“I missed you more than usual, this past week,” Juan told her conversationally- that is to say, without sounding flirtatious, or seductive- once he was finished. Christina was fixing her pockets so that they weren’t bunched up on her hips.

“Get your filthy paws off me so I can finish getting ready,” she shot back, feigning more aggravation than she really harbored.

“We have time. I made the booking for 8:30.”

“Oh. Well then why did you tell me to hurry up and let me run around like a Trump campaign coffee boy in Moscow?”

“Because you use up as much time as you’re given. Turn around.” The player withdrew his hands just long enough for her to move, and then replaced them on her cheeks when he leaned forward to give her a real hello-kiss. We never get to have these when we first see each other, Christina reflected after it, while Juan lingered right in her face, his nose almost touching hers. We never get to do hello-kisses properly until we get behind closed doors somewhere. It sucks. You miss somebody and you’re so happy to see him and you can’t wait to touch him and smooch him and you have to do a phony, just-friends greeting instead of the I-love-you-sooooo-much one. It’s like if every time your team scored a goal, you couldn’t clap or fist pump, or yell “yeah!” until 5 minutes later in the restroom. Juan gave her one more little, tender kiss, and then sat heavily on the foot of the bed. “How was your magazine thing?”

“It was fine,” the equestrian star shrugged, plopping down beside him to make her life easier in terms of re-installing her sandals. “I just smiled a lot and then answered some questions about how my ponies are doing and who I think is going to win on Saturday.”

“Are you going to win on Saturday?”

“I dunno. Do you mind if we stop by Al Shaqab after dinner? I want to see Rio Grande and Socks.”

“Why would I mind? Did they just get here too?”

“No. I told you they came yesterday.”

“Should we bring them fortune cookies?”

“I don’t know if Hakkasan even does fortune cookies, but yes, if they do, absolutely,” Christina smiled. I’m glad my “head” coach has finally fully grasped the nature of my relationship with my boys. He finally gets that I treat them like spoiled children. Schü got that right away. He offered to buy Dirk a banana from the crepe tent the first time we had breakfast together, in Florida. It was like four days after we met. I know Juanin has been aware of those relationships but I’m not sure he always fully understood. I think it’s hard for people who don’t have animals to get it. “Should we go? Do you have my keycard? Let me just throw some stuff in a bag.”

They got a ride to the renowned Chinese restaurant and preceded to order way too much food, as was standard with Christina. She wanted the whole applewood Peking duck and the traditional pancakes and accompaniments, but also stir fried vegetables in ginger sauce, wok-fried lobster, fried rice, and sliced pepper steak. Juan pointed out that it wasn’t like being at home, where taking the copious extra food home made perfect sense. His date conceded the lobster and beef, and there was still leftovers. All they took with them after the marathon meal was fortune cookies, which they actually had to ask for. But then the security guards wouldn’t let them into Al Shaqab to give the horses their dessert anyway. Christina hadn’t yet been to the venue, so she didn’t have her credential yet, nor the player’s. Her passport wasn’t enough to get her in, and she was afraid to try bribery because she wasn’t sure if that was a big deal in a place like Qatar. The security officer they were dealing with had already flipped out about her leaning backwards on Juan and dropping her head on his shoulder because it brought her face awfully close to his and that was evidently a no-no in the land of no PDA allowed. It wasn’t even meant to be affectionate. Her feet just hurt from her shoes and the guy was taking a long time checking with superiors or something on the phone and her friend was there to physically support her. He made fun of her on the way back to the Four Seasons, joking about what a great public story it would be if she were thrown in a Qatari prison for being a heathen in public with not her husband.

“Daniel and Christian and the guys are chilling at the bar on the pier. Do you want to go have a drink or something?” the heathen inquired as she got out of the car in front of the hotel. “I know it’s late but with the time difference I feel like it’s early still.”

“The whole two hours.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t care. Whatever you want, cariña.”

“Okay. I’ll tell them we’re coming to say hey. I want to run upstairs first and get a sweater.”

“Mhm,” Juan yawned, holding the interior door for her. It was definitely getting colder out- down in the low 70’s from the afternoon’s mid-80’s, but the blast of the air-conditioning in the lobby was still quite noticeable. Christina put her texting on hold to rub her arm. It took a minute to get an elevator, and she walked up to her friend and demanded he either hug her or take over rubbing her bare arms for her while she tapped away at the phone.

“Who else is here?”

“Daniel, Christian, the other Christian, Marco, Nicola, maybe Janne? And then from not-Germany, Edwina, obvs, Eric, Scott, Simon, my friend from Spain, Kevin, Lorenzo, Bertram, Lauren and Laura and Lillie from the US, Ben, Janika...Most of the best people, except Marcus, because he doesn’t like leaving Europe, and the Americans who stayed home to do World Cup qualifiers at indoors. Oh and all my Belgian friends, who are also in the US to do the World Cup Qualifiers at indoors. Also, I told you all of this already. Do you not remember asking me about the competition and me going through the entire entry list, horse by horse, to assess the odds?”

“Maybe? I don’t know,” he shrugged, his voice kind of flat. She didn’t know how to take that. That’s the second thing he completely forgot or just never heard the first time, she realized. Is he tired, or in a bad mood? He’s the one who suggested coming here with me in the first place. I hope he didn’t wish he could take it back. I know tagging along on a horse show week can be really boring, and he talks to Marcus more than the other guys so that sucks that he’s not here, but I’m going to have so much free time to go do fun things with him. The doors dinged open and Juan’s hands dropped away from her goosebump-covered skin. They stepped out onto the generic blue hallway carpet together, turned to the left, and let themselves into the second door on the Gulf side.

“I think I’m gonna change my shoes too,” the rider announced before taking a seat on the foot of the bed. “Or I could just take these off and not put any on. Do you not want to go to the bar?”

“I don’t mind. It’s up to you.”

“Is something wrong? You’re all...meh, all of a sudden, Juanin.”

“You changed the picture on your mobile,” the Chelsea man replied after staring blankly in her direction for what seemed like a really long time. He sat next to her and pointed at the screen in her hand. Her new wallpaper was a selfie she took with André during a piggyback ride.

“I made Schü carry me up 4 million stairs at Sacre Coeur,” she smirked. “He lost a bet.”

“I don’t feel jealous of him many times. I think I’ve said, when I see you kiss him all day long I used to have that jealousy. Now you kiss me every time you get up or sit down, so not so much anymore. I feel it when you go to Paris with him though,” Juan laughed ruefully. “Remember when you were pregnant and you invited yourself to some dinner I had to go to? We almost didn’t go because you wanted to drive to Paris.”

“And then I said I was kidding and went to Paris with Schü in the middle of the night.” Christina finished the memory for him with a look of resignation about her.

“Twice you go off to Paris for a quick last minute trip with him.”

“Twice I told him I wanted to go wander around Paris and eat in quintessentially French cafes, and twice he didn’t hesitate.”

“Neither did I.”

“I know. And it was really fucked up of me the first time. But why are you mad about it this time?”

“I’m not mad. I’m jeeealouuuuus.” Juan drawled out his answer as if he were talking to someone with trouble understanding, and he smiled. That was a good enough signal to make his friend feel significantly less under pressure in the moment. She hated when she did the wrong thing, and that overnight drive to Paris back in the day was definitely the wrong thing.

“You got upset with me last week for being jealous that you talked to some girl in a nightclub,” she shot back pointedly, but just to be funny. She also flopped backward on the mattress and drew her knees up, then let them fall over to her right, toward him.

“Different thing.”

“Oh is it?”

“Yes. I think, in my official capacity here as your psychological coach, that it would be best for you, with the competition in mind, to start getting ready for bed. No drinks on the pier.”

“And in your capacity here as not my psychological coach, is that opinion based on your need for snuggles in front of the TV, or sexy fun time? Or are you just worried you’re gonna get jealous when I laugh too hard at D’s jokes?”

“To be honest I just thought you were hoping I would say no in the first place, and that you sat down and got comfortable because you don’t really want to go down there,” Juan chuckled. “I don’t care whichever we do. Usually when you want to do something you just tell me we’re doing it. I assumed you were looking for me to say no and give you an excuse.”

“Oh I am done feeling obligated to do anything with my teammates,” Christina snorted dismissively. “I don’t need any excuses. I won them a fucking gold medal.” She did her best “honey, please” tone.

“Well let’s go then,” her scruffy-faced roommate replied, poking at her tummy where her shirt had ridden up as she stretched her legs down straight.

“I’ve kind of lost the motivation to get up though.”

“And is that based on your need for cuddles in front of the television, or sexy fun time?” the Spaniard questioned knowingly. She rolled onto her stomach, and he jiggled one side of her butt as much as was possible in her tight jeans.

“Both, I think. I need to do nothing until the food blockade breaks up, and then I need Juanin love.” Her hips lifted up off the bedspread so that she could shake her butt herself. I need Juanin to fuck me in this position exactly. Well, I would probably sit up on my elbows. Because he does amazing things to me in this position, and because I love how good it feels to stretch my lower back. Nicky needs his chiropractor every other week and I need mine. Mine’s more handsome, she thought, trying to keep the smile out of her eyes while giving him her innocent and nonchalant look. He rolled his eyes at her, pinched her behind, and got up to start changing into more comfortable clothes.

She texted Daniel to cancel her appearance, and confirmed her morning schedule with Tom, whose accommodations were right at Al Shaqab. The royal equestrian facility was designed for hosting international competitions of all sorts, and had a place for everyone involved- equine and human. Organizers of other shows, be they regional show jumping events, breed shows, or the very popular Arabian competitions, put exhibitors and riders up in the same dormitory-like rooms on site that Tom and his colleagues were in. The Global Champions Tour was too fancy for that. The Tour always put riders up in a 4 or 5 star hotel, no matter the city. Getting riders to go to places like Doha and Shanghai was hard enough without then putting them in dorms. The schedule they went over was quite light. Wednesday involved a mid-morning horse inspection followed by a draw for the starting order for the first big event, open schooling in the arena from 4-6, and then a formal warm-up class immediately after that ran like a regular class but counted for naught. Both of Christina’s horses were to be presented for the jog after 11, so there would be plenty of time to sleep in, work out, and have a nice breakfast before heading over. Then there was time to leave the show and go shopping or wandering, or come back to the hotel to relax by the pool. All of that was explained to Juan, with extra emphasis on the free time. He didn’t react in any remarkable way. She didn’t want to see his reaction to her goodnight call to André, so she made it outside on the balcony.

“Are you exhausted from playing?” she asked him, since Borussia Dortmund played a closed-doors friendly at Brackel against Bochum to try to shed the funk of losing and give some of the players returning from injury a chance to get minutes without pressure. André participated for 90 minutes and scored two goals in the 4-2 win.

“Yes. I’m about to go to bed. I’ve got one of your cashmere blankets, and the lights are already off,” he told her. “I want to hear about your night, Prinzessin, but I need to sleep.”

“Aww don’t worry. There’s nothing to hear about. Get some rest. You deserve it. I bet you’ll sleep good. Call me in the morning.”

“Love you.”

“Gooodnight, babe.” Well no reason to have shielded Juanin from THAT, the sympathetic wife and girlfriend commented to herself. This is kind of a weird time for me between the two of them. I had that talk with Schü two nights ago, and lately it’s so easy to remember why I want to be with him. But nothing is changing with Juan. I still want to be with him too. He’s so...We’re so...It’s like a real relationship now. We don’t even pretend to be friends anymore. It’s weird to be in this situation. It’s okay, right now. I don’t know how long that lasts though, she thought, staring out into the Arabian Gulf and zoning out of everything else happening around her- behind, in the room, and down on the ground level, where people hung out by the pool and on the pier. When does it start to feel like there isn’t enough to go round? When does it feel like one takes away from the other? Like I told Schü, it was easy before to be okay with our problems because I had Juan. I put more of me into being with him than Schü in those situations. It’s not- The sound of the sliding door opening startled her out of introspection. A head stuck out.

“What are you doing?” it questioned with furrowed brows.

“Nothing.”

“Do you want anything from room service? I feel like a nice tea.”

“No thank you.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Schü was going to sleep so it was a quick call. I’m coming in,” Christina hastily explained. She turned the rest of the way around from the railing, and Juan pushed the door open more so a whole human could fit through rather than just a head. “Did you unpack anything earlier? I didn’t even notice when I was hurrying to change. I can give up some hangers if you need.”

“I already hung up my shirts. Is the white dress in there for the party on Saturday?” He walked by the human unzipping her pants and headed for the phone, but there was more than a conversational lilt to his tone, and that caught her ear. It made her smile to herself. She loved knowing his tells, and knowing his turn-ons. He was entirely the reason there was a white dress in the closet.

“The black Balmain mesh-sleeve mini dress fresh from Paris is for the party. The white one-shoulder, collar-neck mini dress is for your Kygo thing.” Because you looooove me in white dresses and because you’re gonna dance with me and hopefully you’ll be a little drunk. And maybe I won’t wear underwear. Hmm. The rider stared at the imaginary light bulb in the middle distance for a moment before pushing her jeans down. Everything is backwards. I did the explore-a-city-with-no-plan thing with Schü, and then had excessively romantic sex with him, and he’s been totally chill about Juan lately. Juan did the smooth-guy-dinner-reservation thing, he’s the one that’s jealous, and I just had a mini-fantasy about being naughty with him in a nightclub in the most prude country I’ve ever been in. Usually everything is the opposite. I’ve been having all the romantic sex with him, and dreaming about it, even. I told Juan about my butt thing. Everything is opposite.

“Do you want to have dinner with him tomorrow or no?” The Spaniard had his hand on the receiver already but was looking at the spacey rider.

“Yeah, if you want. I don’t care. I should be done with the horses by 8. I can have a snack or something between the schooling and the warm up so I can make it to late dinner.”

“But do you have another dress?” he teased while pushing buttons. Someone in the kitchen answered before Christina had a chance to. He ordered his tea and she changed into a t-shirt and more comfortable underwear.

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3one3 · 7 years

Text

The Sequel - 801

Intent

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea/BVB players, and random awesome OC’s (okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

“Why is it so hard to find Swedish meatballs in Sweden? Every time I come here, no meatballs. I just want oniony, garlicky beef in a meaty cream sauce with noodles. Is that so much to ask for?”

“Why are you so hard to please?”

Christina glared at Marcus for his frank response to her complaint over dinner on Friday. The two Germans and their gaggle of kids convened for catered food in the riders’ lounge before the course walk for the “qualifier for the qualifier”. Christian was the only other top ranked German in Gothenburg and much of the usual European clique was in Florida for a huge purse in Wellington on Saturday night, so there was room in the World Cup Qualifier for Stefanie and Julian. Even Jelly Bean was doing okay in the other international classes. Kyle and Calvin finished in the top 5 in a Young Rider class on Thursday and his coach wasn’t entirely sure if the performance was that good or if the quality of the competition was poor. The pair had 8 jumping and one time fault. The unusual make up of the riders assembled for the week meant fewer familiar faces in the lounge for dinnertime. The Gothenburg Horse Show also killed two birds with one stone and added value to their VIP package by putting the riders’ lounge in the VIP Village, and thus giving patrons access to the horse people. Christina had a hard enough time identifying these lesser-known riders without mixing spectators in. On the plus side, fewer top class riders meant it should be easy for her to get the points she needed. All of those standing between her and 18th on the World Cup list were absent.

“Why does my phone keep kicking me off the wifi here? I have to put in the login info every time I unlock my phone,” Stefanie grumbled, phone in one hand and fork in the other. Both girls loaded up their plates with the vegetable sides from the buffet, and one went for a trio of small fish portions while the other picked at a couple of slices of flavorless roast beef. “Does anyone have the schedule memorized?”

“No but I got tired of the crap wifi too so I took screenshots of the schedule.” Christina picked up her phone to tap in the passcode and hand it over so the other rider could save herself the trouble of having to put in the 14-digit security key for the horse show network. There was spotty to no regular phone service in most parts of the Scandinavium, and it got even worse when the building was full.

“I’m getting dessert,” Kyle announced. “Are we supposed to bring something for Tom?”

“No. He ate already. You can get me a latte though,” his coach winked. He lifted the brim of her CWD hat on his way out of his seat, just to be annoying. Her ponytail was through the back and everyone knew it was an elaborate process for her to get her cap on just right so that no hair was sticking out by her face, it wasn’t too tight by her ears, the ponytail elastic was in the right place, etc. Disturbing it meant having to do it all over again. Her other minion started to ask a question while she started to fix the hat and hair problem.

“Chris, what is...” Her voice trailed off but not the inquisitive and concerned look on her face. She was looking at the phone.

“What is what?”

“Nothing. I...I was looking at the wrong day. Thanks.” The bottle blonde with the more wild and free mane slid the device back across the tablecloth, and looked distracted.

“We don’t jump ‘til 6 tomorrow. Were you trying to figure out the thing in the morning that sounds like a bookcase? It’s the big cup for the 7-year-olds.”

“Is there a schooling break in the schedule tomorrow?” Marcus interjected.

“Not officially but I bet there is a lot of time between the driving and the start of the meter-55 so the warm up ring ought to be empty for a while. Do you want to riiiiiiide together?” Christina fluttered her lashes at her mentor and pretended she was being casual. In reality, she definitely wanted a chance to school with him in a somewhat private or at least uncrowded environment so that he could give comments or guidance. She was doing all right so far. Socks was okay, Dirk was okay, Rio was okay. The first two would both jump Saturday night, and Rio had the whole day off from competition, so that afternoon was a good time for a little informal lesson with Marcus. She wanted to be better than okay, and most importantly, she wanted to feel like it was safe to expect better than okay from herself. A one-on-one with her most trusted advisor on riding matters could help in the confidence department.

“Have my people get in touch with your people,” he told her with a wink. That meant he was willing and that their grooms should coordinate a time. The grooms always knew what was happening with the rings better than their bosses.

“We are venturing out of this place for lunch tomorrow,” his actual paying American student pointed out. She was 21 and rode with all the right people in the US as a junior. Her parents could afford to ship her and some horses over to Germany for the kind of training becoming almost necessary for young riders trying to get in the USET. All the best kids were either doing stints in or moving semi-permanently to Europe to ride under the world’s best. Christina thought it was kind of sad that the American kids had to do that- that there weren’t enough qualified, capable, and willing top American riders and coaches to mentor them. Surely there were enough opportunities to compete there. To her the trend just made it harder for really talented kids with small checkbooks to break through. “Does anyone else want to come? Or have some idea where to look for a good place?”

“I has press. And football matches to watch.” She turned her lip over to pout, though she had no real interest in exploring Gothenburg. “Stef?”

“Wha?”

“Are you tired already? We don’t even jump until like almost 10.”

“No, sorry, I just zoned out. What are we talking about?”

“Me and Kyle and Jess and Caitlyn are going out for lunch tomorrow,” the youngest of the riders answered. She continued to explain her plan to escape horse show food and the oppression of being indoors for 15 or 16 hours straight, and Christina tuned out to text all three of her boys.

Lukas was at the apartment with Espen, winding down and getting ready for bed. The two older boys were in hotels with their teammates. BVB was due to play in Freiburg on Saturday afternoon, and the Blues were taking on Swansea at Stamford Bridge in the early kickoff. Both players were in near constant contact with Christina from her goodbye to the London estate on Wednesday morning right through her Friday dinner. Both were worried that she would let the first thing ruin the whole event. They both switched back and forth between trying to be distracting, to take her mind off moving and off the pressure to qualify for the Final, and being supportive, to let her know they knew she would do just fine and that they were looking forward to seeing her- one on Saturday night and the other on Wednesday. They differed on their tactics for talking to her that night before the start of her last chance to qualify.

“Tell Rio we’re sending him back to Brazil if he isn’t a good boy,” the German wrote.

“You’re going to show your intent in the ring one way or another. Make sure your intent is to win, cariña. If you believe it, you get what you want. And then you’ll be in a good mood later for what I want :)” the Spaniard sent.

Both messages made the rider smile. André’s was cute and typical. Juan’s was thoughtful, meaningful, and naughty. Both messages were appreciated.

“Ok I will babe but his new owners live in Europe,” the rider reminded her husband.

“What exactly is your intent for this “later”?” she asked her friend.

Kyle delivered a very small but very nice smelling latte from the espresso bar, and Christina ignored the rest of her food in favor of savoring the beverage. She was tired. Schooling started at 5am for her, and the show day started at 9. After two classes with Socks and Dirk, which also included preparing Stefanie and Julian and Jelly Bean too, she had press to do, an autograph session for the FEI and the show, and then another for CWD in the boutique area. Rio needed some exercise in there too since he wouldn’t jump until later. There was no time to grab a nap, or even to switch off and be alone. The caffeine in the coffee was more sustaining for her just then than the carbs and protein in her various vegetables and uninspired beef.

“I’ll tell you later :)”

“You suck.”

“The qualifier qualifier is online?”

“Yes but I jump 29th and Stef is 32nd so don’t put it on right at 9:45 or you’ll have to watch a lot of show jumping for nothing.”

“Is there a second round or will you be in bed at a decent hour?”

“Now I know your intent :)”

“Concentrate less on my intent and more on yours!”

“I intend to be up very late.”

“Good.”

“Because I’m drinking a latte at 8 something at night.”

“Oh.”

“Oh your face.”

“Oh your face between my legs.”

“No that’s tomorrow, if you win something for me when I get there.”

“Boo, you whore.”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

“Are you having coffee because you’re tired or because you’re nervous?”

“Tired.”

“Maybe have two then.”

“Then I’ll be up all night.”

“I’ll help you sleep. Call me when you get to the room.”

“Yeah I know that kind of intent, Juanin.”

“No, seriously. I’ll keep you company if you can’t sleep, or tell you a bedtime story.”

“K. I’ll get a to-go coffee when I’m done with this one then.”

“Chris, do you want Jules ready before Dirk so you can school Stef before you get on, or are you helping her while you ride?” Kyle inquired, drawing his trainer and boss away from her text conversation. He and Stefanie were grooming for each other for the week so that Tom only had to do Dirk, Rio, and Socks.

“Yes, she does,” Marcus replied on his teammate’s behalf. He looked her in the face pointedly, as if to dissuade her from the notion of arguing in case she wanted to. Christina just nodded. I guess that means he’s going to help me. He can’t be harassing me while I warm up if I’m busy harassing her. Is that because he thinks after watching me ride up to this point that I need extra help? Or just because tonight actually matters?

“I’m going to take him for a stroll now then. Every time I take him out and put him on the crossties he steps side to side and bumps into the walls. If we go on walkabout first- he sleeps on the crossties.”

“That’s just because he doesn’t like you,” Stefanie smirked. “When he gets to see Tom and remembers that Tom exists, he realizes how lame you are.”

“She says to the gent who is going to go ready her horse for her out of the goodness of his heart.” Kyle rolled his eyes and then excused himself to go do as he said.

How long are the two of them going to last as roommates before they start hooking up? He sleeps with everyone. Literally everyone. I’m surprised he’s never flirted with ME. I guess he’s afraid of André, or losing his entire life, basically. And in spite of my well thought out campaign to make Stefario a solid item again, that relationship is on life support, Christina sighed to herself. She’d been trying all sorts of things to “fix” Stefanie and Mario. An intimate dinner at André’s for the 4 of them sort of helped a little because it was a chance for them to be together for a night and simply enjoy the company. Having another couple around meant they couldn’t even try to talk about their problems, so there were no bad vibes to intrude on the good ones. That dinner didn’t lead to much further communication though, so the matchmaker started making random conversation with her student about how nice it was going to be to have André to lean on during the busy times coming, and how nice it was to have a Dortmund tour guide to help get more familiar with their new city, and even how terrible the weather was there, as an excuse to talk about the wonders of extreme cuddling. André kept telling her it was rainy and cold everyday and that he needed her to hurry up and move so that he had someone to burrow with and keep him warm, and he wasn’t even kidding or trying to be cute. He was freezing for an entire week. Still, Stefanie wouldn’t even so much as lament the lack of footballer cuddling in her life. I don’t see her falling for Kyle anytime soon, or ever, really, but I can see her sleeping with him. She knows how he is, and that they could hookup whenever and it wouldn’t have any bearing on anything. It wouldn’t change anything at the barn, or between them. Oh to be young and mostly single!

Christina finished her latte and got another in a paper cup to take with her for the course walk. Her small crew split in half to pace out the track and plan their strategies. She didn’t need Marcus to spoon feed the jumps to her, and Stefanie did need a certain measure of jump-by-jump guidance, so it made sense for the girls to walk together, alone. The younger one seemed worryingly distracted, however. Or upset about something. There was a history of shaky nerves there, and of seeing them expressed in different ways, so Christina tried not to be too concerned about it. She had a nagging suspicion though that whatever put the stress on her pupil and friend’s face was not horse related.

The course itself wasn’t terribly challenging. It was essentially two figure 8’s with a half-lap of the ring in between. That ovular ring was wider in the middle than at the ends, and pretty roomy as indoor ones go. That made it possible for the designer to fit jumps 4-across in the middle, and necessitated that both triple combinations go through that area. Rectangular arenas only have room for triples down the long sides, which can be extra difficult as the crowd is right on top of the horse. There were quite a few places to try tighter turns, and the time allowed would end up being pretty close for anyone who pondered their track. Eight of the 16 efforts were oxers. The part Christina identified as the trickiest was actually the half-lap. Fence 6 was the liverpool, off the right lead, at the far end of the ring on an angle just above the middle of the short “side”, and #7 was an oxer on the long-looking but not long-riding approach around the turn, dead center on the rail on one long side of the oval, followed by nearly the same arc in reverse but actually-long-ride to #8, a skinny vertical aimed directly at the in-gate. From there, horse and rider would pass the gate and make a hard right around an oxer to line up #9a/b, the big combination across the diagonal- vertical, one stride, oxer, two strides direct to #10, making a de facto triple even if it wasn’t numbered as such. For Rio that sequence of obstacles was going to require patience and conservation. He would want and need to open his stride to get from #6 to #7 in three very direct strides, then be allowed to gather speed over the 5 strides to #8, one of the few areas in the course where there was a related distance constituted by more than three strides, and then be asked to balance and collect and contain his constantly over-revving powerplant to get up the diagonal combination. Marcus, who jumped first of 32, made it look easy, as usual. The girls watched a few rounds after his, and then went back to their stalls to finish getting dressed to ride.

“Are you nervous?” Christina asked Stefanie while she tucked her white shirt into her white breeches and the quiet one held and looked at her phone like she wanted to do something on it but didn’t know what. “Only two people won’t qualify. It’s 30 of 32. You have to be like deliberately terrible not to get through.”

“No...not exactly.”

“Mkay. I’m Face Timing Schü now so don’t say anything you don’t want him to hear, or find a way to walk in front of the phone topless. Unless you want him to see you topless. That’s fine too.” The newly-ex-Londoner finished securing her Hermès belt and grabbed her phone from the top tray inside her trunk to summon André. It was easiest to get him through Face Time because the wifi was decent in the stabling area, away from the crowds, and the network coverage was nonexistent. The player answered immediately. He was sitting in bed with Marco, and it sounded like there were more people in the room. She waved at him and then warned that she had to put “him” down so that she could do her hair in the mirror next to her garment bag.

“How much longer before I should get the stream going?” her very yellow-clad partner inquired. He got up to go in the bathroom to talk to her.

“Probably about an hour. What are you doing?”

“Sitting around talking about our girls, obviously.”

“Chyea.”

“Just hanging out. Are you ready to go? You’ve warned Los Del Rio that he will pay the consequences for not giving his best?” André watched his screen even though all he could see was the convention hall ceiling and occasionally an elbow. He was pretty sure there was nothing to worry about in terms of his girl qualifying for the Final in Omaha. Even if she had one of her disaster weekends, or one of the inconsistent variety, with big swings in the results, she would likely get the handful of points she needed. A constant for him since his transfer to BVB was feeling particularly out of touch with her on her competition weeks though. Over and over again things happened between them that reinforced for him that he had trouble reading her and understanding her and anticipating her feelings when they were apart. It made it hard to trust his gut in deciding whether she was “okay”, or if she was nervy, or fearful. It was even hard to trust his instinct when it said she sounded like she was having fun. He had to see her face on TV with her trophy to know for sure that she enjoyed herself in Bordeaux.

“Aww, it’s taken years but I finally have everyone calling my horses silly names,” she cooed without looking down from the mirror. She was securing the first of two hairnets into place.

“What did you have for dinner? I had some sweet potato soup that you should make for me.”

“Coffee.”

“You didn’t eat?” That’s not good. Either her tummy is already upset, because she’s anxious or something, or it’s going to be in a little while because she’s hungry and can’t have coffee on an empty tummy, the footballer thought. Hyperawareness of “signs” of Christina’s state of mind was becoming too familiar to him.

“I had a little something. They have a 24-hour bar/cafe/convenience store in the lobby at the hotel so I can get second-dinner later.” She bent down to get her subtly Swarovski-embellished helmet from inside the trunk and stuck her tongue out at André in the process. He couldn’t see her at all once she flipped her long ponytail over from the nape of her neck and used the second hairnet to keep it in place, her helmet between her knees so she could carefully install it from back to front without having to move her head too much first and potentially aiding her hair’s perpetual attempts to escape the netting. The results of her process were typical. “How do I look?”

“Stunning.” André winked at her and made her roll her eyes under the brim of her helmet. “Good luck, Prinzessin. Have fun.”

“K.”

“Love you.”

“Love you toooo. Byyyye.” Christina gave her partner a long distance kiss and waved goodbye before ending the chat. All right, time to pick a jacket. Black, navy, or gray tonight? She used the toe of her right boot to nudge and lift the spur on the back of her left one, for no particular reason, while staring at the adidas bag hanging on the wall with all of her show coats inside.

“Do you really love him?” Stefanie asked behind her. She was already ready to go- boots and helmet on, jacket over her arm, bat and gloves in hand.

“Yeah, of course,” the trainer chuckled. I’m going blue tonight. Riri looks pretty in blue.

“You’re sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. Why?” She paused her reach for the bag to turn around and furrow her brows at the other rider. What in the world is this about?

“I don’t know. I’ll see you at the ring.” Stefanie dodged the dubious and quizzical inquiry by literally speed walking out of the stall. Is she having some kind of existential Mario crisis? Was she too wondering at dinner how long it will be before she’s banging Kyle? Is she trying to figure out if you still get wanna-bang-that-guy feels even when you love someone else, like as a way to figure out if she actually loves Mario?

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