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savannah-lim · 4 years

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Two For One Sacrifice Special || Dave & Savannah

Dave didn’t really know what he had signed up for. An ad in the local newspaper that he’d answered, asking for a local human sacrifice. “Find your peace today.” It had said, and the image with it had been a terrifying tangle of tentacles. This was some White Crest nonsense, alright, and Dave had wanted to understand what the hell was going on, that people felt so comfortable putting ads like that right in the paper. So he’d signed up, told them he was old and tired of living, which were both only partially true. He’d been sent some co-ordinates and a time - 7pm, under the waxing gibbous. Only problem was, those co-ordinates? Near something called the Devil’s Gullet. Dave didn’t like that one bit, as he waited. His coat oversized and loose, hiding his weapons.

Cults, missing people, human freaking sacrifice. Those were the joys of White Crest. Savannah had retraced as many of Javier’s steps as she could. He’d made a pretty big deal about reading the paper every day, even if it did read like the tabloids that wrote about Alligators in the Sewers. That was where she had seen the ad. Human Sacrifice Wanted. Well… that couldn’t be good. But the spot had been filled, and so instead she had been calling the people who printed the newspaper trying to find as much information as possible. That didn’t lead anywhere either, so she tried something else. ‘Can I watch?’ It had taken a while before the answer came back. ‘Fine, we might need a backup.’ So now, here she was, unknowingly at the place where Javier had jumped to his death, armed with her government issued weapon. “Are you the…” she asked, approaching the other man on the scene.

“Sure am,” Dave replied, his eyes narrowed. She didn’t smell like anything too suspicious. She wasn’t a shifter, that was for damn sure, and if he could get closer, he might be able to feel if her heart was hammering. Still left him with a whole range of options. He breathed in deeply, catching the thick scent of coffee, and paper like she spent most of her time in the office. Printer ink, and alcohol still clinging to her clothes. More’n that too, but he wasn’t about to dig deeper into that particular spell. No weird herbs, or magic burning, no blood. Nothing. Weird as hell. “It just you, or are we waiting for a party?”

The evening light was enough for Savannah to make out the man’s features. He had a gruffness about him, a weathered kind of look. He struck her as someone who was very hands-on, who didn’t beat around the bush. She hadn’t finished her sentence. Was he the person who posted the ad or the one who answered it? “Party? Oh, no. This isn’t my idea of a party. My idea of a party is in a warm bar, music playing, maybe some dancing. Not a giant--” She gestured to the huge hole in the ground. “What exactly is this? Why did you answer the ad?”

That wasn’t promising in the slightest. “That’s usually my idea of a party too,” Dave agreed, tilting his head to try to get a better read on her too. “Aren’t you the one who should know?” Dave asked, his eyes narrowing even more deeply. “Hell if I know what this place is. I was sent the GPS coordinates and came right here.” He sighed, deeply. This could be a real problem. If she wasn’t part of them, then she might scare them away. Which’d defeat the whole point of putting himself in danger now, wouldn’t it. “If you weren’t the one who texted, why’re you here? D’you know who did text?”

Well, her guess had been right. “Me?” Savannah questioned, scoffing. “Oh, you think I’m the--” she laughed humorlessly, shaking her head. “Oh, no, I’m the back-up. The person who goes in the hole if you can’t make it or--” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Don’t worry. It’s not going to happen.” She felt her badge from the inside of her jacket, but she wasn’t ready to show it yet. “Don’t know yet, but I’m going to find out.” She spoke normally again, in case they were being overheard. “I’m so excited. I’ve never seen an actual human sacrifice before.” She leaned as close to the hole as she dared, taking a look. “How deep do you think it goes?”

“Ah,” The actual fool in this situation, then, Dave thought a little unkindly. If she was here wanting to die, then he’d have to drag her out of here with him the moment shit went sideways. “Yeah, no need to throw you down there. Why’d you volunteer, if they already had someone?” He’d never even answered her question, but that was his prerogative. I wonder how you’d feel about salt. Dave groaned. That Dane kid was still stuck in his head too. Don’t send anyone out here, he tried to think loudly back at them, no idea if that would work. “Suspect I look the way most other humans look, not much exciting about me.” He didn’t quite hear what she said when she looked down the hole, but it didn’t matter ether way. “Think we got company.” He said, looking behind her, where two figures approached in deep red hoods, although to Dave they looked dark brown. It woulda looked impressive, if the hoods hadn’t come right from the costume store, literally. The price tags still hung on the hoods.

"Why wouldn't I volunteer for something so exciting? I wanted to see what this was all about." It was only partly a lie. Savannah was probably a little more excited about the prospect of busting up a potential cult than she should have been. Of course, unlike Javier, she had the sense to send all the information back at HQ so she wouldn't just disappear without a trace if anything happened. She lifted her eyes to examine the figures as they made their way towards them. "More than one?" she huffed. She'd hoped it would be one person. It made things easier. But they didn't exactly look professional. "Oh, come on. No need for all that secrecy. Go back to Party City and get your money back. Take those things off."

“Right,” Dave said, because she was beginning to look more foolish by the minute. He didn’t have time to say more, as the two approached in their cloaks. They looked young, from what he could see of their jaunt and their long, bony profiles. “You’re not in a position to make demands, ma’am. He is the guy. David, right?” One of them said, and while his eyes were hidden, Dave could see a bad batch of angry acne on his chin. Dave didn’t even blink as they walked over to him, clasping his hands behind his back. He looked back over to the woman, hoping she wouldn’t do anything rash. He almost missed what Acne-Chin had to say. “Shit. He’s not human!”

Savannah’s disapproval was evident as they came close enough for her to get a better look at them in spite of the hoods. “Not in a position to-- Oh, come on. I’m not going to be ordered around by Zac Efron in High School Musical.” She furrowed her brow. Technically, she could have arrested them right now, but she wanted to see what they would do. Advertising for a human sacrifice, though very suspect, wasn’t actually against the law. Not unless she could prove they were going to actually kill someone. “Uh, excuse me? What do you mean not human?”

Dave couldn’t help it, he snorted, trying not to take a liking to her when she’d volunteered herself to die. Still, the kid in the red hood wasn’t done talking, and Dave’d keep himself mild either way, trying not to curse as it revealed him. How the fuck did Acne-Chin know?“I can always tell. Her. We can use her. Can you get the circle going? I’ve got Dungeons and Dragons tonight and we gotta get this thing summoned before then or my grades’ll got to shit,” Acne-Chin said to his friend. A flap of wind caught his hood, briefly exposing the rest of his long, narrow face before tugging it back down. “Don’t worry old man, we’ll make sure you die either way.”

“Oh, no, you have to be able to legally drink to touch me.” Savannah stiffened, her features stern. Now that was enough. He’d made direct threats. Now was as good a time as any. There wasn’t going to be much more probably cause than that unless she actually let them throw this poor bastard into the hole. She reached for her badge, holding it up with one hand, brandishing her gun with the other. “FBI! Hands up, hoods down. You’re both under arrest for attempted murder.”

The acne riddled kid was reaching into his pocket as he was speaking. Dave opted to watch him do it rather than understanding the threats, so when he aimed to stab Dave caught his wrist before he could even do anything. The woman was yelling something, and the two turned to look at her simultaneously, giving Dave the chance to twist the kid’s wrist hard enough for him to drop the tackily decorated knife he was holding. Acne-Chin wilted, and Dave stepped away from him as Acne-Chin raised his hands. He hadn’t understood her yelling, but he could read the badge alright. Thank god she hadn’t really wanted to be sacrificed then. Acne-Chin started panting, his eyes wild as he made a break for the… giant hole in the ground. Before he could get much of anywhere, Dave grabbed him and shoved him to the ground. “No use in running, kid. No sacrifice for you today.”

Savannah couldn’t help but be a little impressed as Dave wrestled the knife out of the adolescent hand of the young man. The other was still brandishing one though, and she had her weapon trained on him. “Uh-uh, don’t do it, Riverdale.” He turned his head to look over his shoulder at his friend, the one who had since been wrestled to the ground, and he sighed, dropping the knife. “Damnit, Tucker, you couldn’t check if you were inviting law enforcement here?” Savannah rolled her eyes and moved in to cuff them. “Save it for the police station.” She tossed a pair of handcuffs to the other man. “Not human, huh? So they’re crazy as well as murderers?”

“Yeah, must be.” Dave lied, because like hell was he giving secrets to the FBI “Figured they were doing something weird ‘n’ creepy from the ad. Figured I was better at stopping them than some random hapless teen, you know.” Dave looked her over. “Turns out, the hapless person ain’t so hapless after all.” He wrestled the kid to the ground proper, yanking his hands behind his back, but the handcuffs were a little trickier to operate than Dave’d realised - he usually killed shit, he didn’t help cops with civilian arrests or whatever. All the while, it felt like the Devil’s Gullet was watching him, which made no sense, and made him want to get the hell outta here. He almost had the kid in the cuffs when the kid squirmed and yanked his arm free and reached into his pocket. Dave saw a round flask full of pink liquid, before it was thrown between him and the FBI lady, and exploded with a loud fizz.

“Oh, so you didn’t actually intend to let them throw you into a bottomless pit with your hands tied behind your back?” Savannah challenged. Well, that was a damn relief. She’d had enough crazy for tonight. But it seemed that crazy hadn’t had enough of her. “Watch it! He’s--” but she never got to finish her sentence. She didn’t manage to get the frat boy cultist into the back of her car by the time the other had thrown the flask. The pink liquid turned to pink smoke, engulfing the space between them. Savannah spluttered and coughed, her vision blurred, her surroundings becoming fuzzy at the edges. She saw Javier in the smoke, surrounded by faces she didn’t know. They were blurred and dream-like, but Javier was clear as day. She saw him jump into the pit, and her scream to him fell on nothingness. He couldn’t hear her.

Her head spun with an unspeakable language, like what she’d heard on Javier’s tapes, and out of the smoke, she saw squid-like tentacles reaching for her like desperate hands. She saw them mixing with Javier’s features, she saw him turn violent, and then her vision snapped back to normal. One teen had vanished in the smoke, and the other was still struggling on the ground having fallen there in the scuffle. “What the hell did you do to me, you little shit?” she snapped, and the boy gave the best shrug he could manage with handcuffed arms.

“Just showed you a little piece of the truth. What you do with it is up to you.”

“Wasn’t on my plan for the day,” Dave snorted wryly, but he should have been acting so glibly as the potion began to fizz. He coughed and spluttered, but didn’t let go of Acne-Chin once. The smoke filled his eyes and nose, suffocating out the rest of his vision. He didn’t see what she did, didn’t see anything more than the deep fog surrounding them. Maybe it was some damn part of the spell the college students hadn’t expected him to show up for, but he didn’t comment on it. Acne-Chin struggled in his grasp right up until the second the fog faded into the air. Dave was left holding the cheap red hood, and nothing else. He looked up at the agent as she snapped, visibly rattled. “Shit. You alright?”

“Ugh, yeah, I’m fine,” Savannah grumbled, rubbing the back of her head and pulling herself up off the ground, wiping off his jeans. She was having a hell of a day. “Just made my head spin for a second.” She planned on grilling this obnoxious little shit about exactly what his friend had poisoned her with. She opened up her car door, placing her captive in the back seat and locking him in. “I’m going to take him to the station and Miranda him. I trust I’ll be seeing you there to take a statement.” Her tone indicated that wasn’t merely a polite request. ��Freaking kids and their freaking death cults…” she mumbled to herself, gritting her teeth as she climbed into the front seat. This town was going to be the death of her.

#paras #with: dave #wickedswriting

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outofmylimitcal · 5 years

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The Hating Game Pt. 2 - Calum Hood

a/n: this is def a filler chapter, but i’m having maJOR writers block w this fanfic and just feeling like nothing i write is good enough, the next part will be up next week as i’m going to a music festival this weekend :) once again any and all feedback is appreciated

part 1

warnings: i love swearing so

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Unlocking the door and stepping into the foyer, Natalie turned to let Calum slip past her into the apartment. “I, uh, guess you could leave your coat in the closet or on the chair, I don’t really care.”

“Chill Nat, I’ve been to your place before.” Calum chuckled, ridding himself of his jacket and hanging it up in the closet. “You should probably drink some water and pop an Advil, you had a a lot to drink.”

Doing the same with her jacket, she turned to look at him, eyes narrowing at his comment. “Wow thanks dad, didn’t think of that one.”

Walking to the kitchen, Calum followed suit and took a seat at the breakfast bar. Fumbling through the cupboards and finding two glasses Nat filled them both up with water and placed one in front of Calum. Looking through another cupboard she found Advil she knew she would need or else the magnitude of her hangover in the morning could be deadly, popping one into her mouth and downing it with the water, she spun around and angled the bottle to Calum in a wants some motion, shaking his head no in response. Placing the cap on, and putting it back into the cupboard, she spun around to face him, fiddling with the rings on her fingers as she spoke to him. “So, uhm, thanks for tonight, I mean it.”

“It’s really not a big deal, plus I got a place to crash out of it.”

Nodding her head, Nat averted my eyes, and went to place her cup in the sink. Natalie for the love of her couldn’t figure out why she was so nervous all of the sudden, she had been around Calum plenty of times before, but never alone. And maybe the fact that not even an hour ago she was dancing and acting all coupley with him, but even then, she couldn’t place her finger on why he made her so nervous. “Well I’m gonna head to bed.” She stated walking out of the kitchen, pausing at the entry way when she didn’t hear any movement behind her, spinning back around to see Calum still sitting at the bar, she cocked her head to the side. “Aren’t you gonna come?”

“I was, uh just gonna crash on the couch.” Calum replied getting up from his stool, thumb pointing behind him at the couch that could barely hold Natalie and her five nine self, let alone Calum at his towering six one. Rounding the counter to come to the inside part of the kitchen, he moved to place his own cup in the sink.

“Nah, you can sleep in my bed, I’ve taken one too many naps on that couch to know it’s uncomfortable as shit.” Chewing her lip nervously, Natalie wondering what the fuck had gotten into her tonight, first she dances with him, then let him crash at her place, and now she was letting him sleep in her bed, had the world stopped spinning?? Kinda friends sleep in each other’s beds, right?

“Are you sure? I really don’t mind.”

“Dude c’mon before I change my mind. Hands to yourself, and this doesn’t change anything between us.” She replied, spinning on her heels and continuing the walk down the hall to her room. Once inside the room, she silently thanked herself for having a queen instead of a twin, waltzing over to my dresser and pulling out a random oversized t-shirt, and some sleep shorts. She began to head to the bathroom, but not before pointing to the side she didn’t sleep on, “You can take that side, I’m just gonna run to the washroom.”

Closing the door behind her and walking down to the bathroom, she quickly changed into her clothes, putting the sweaty ones in the laundry. Washing her face and brushing her teeth, she glanced up at herself in the mirror, letting out a shaky breath and used her free hand to rub down her face, she looked back on everything that happened tonight. “You really are a fucking mess Nat.” She whispered at the mirror. Walking back to her room, while scrolling aimlessly through her phone, she looked up once she re-entered her room to only be stopped dead in her tracks, because there sitting on her bed was a shirtless Calum in just his boxers, letting her mouth fall agape. Calum watched with a smirk on his face as she gave him the once over, the curve of his muscles, the skin she wondered was as smooth to touch as it looked, the tattoos that she wanted to spend hours tracing, and not forgetting the fact that his boxers filled out pretty well, damn did this boy look good.

“You know if you keep your mouth open like that, you’ll catch flies.” He stared at her smugly, with that stupid smirk still on his face.

Shutting her mouth quickly, and finding the nearest pillow, Nat chucked it at his head. “Fuck you.”

“You wish you could.” Calum replied, with that ever-present smirk on his face. “Cute PJ bottoms by the way, the Christmas kittens are really working for me.” Nat rounded the bed, getting situated under the covers, and flicking the lights off.

“Goodnight Calum.” She replied, trying to signal that the conversation was over.

“Char was right, you still are holding a grudge over some shit from first year.” He replied chuckling to himself before getting situated under the covers on his side. “Night Nat.”

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Nat could feel herself being pulled out of sleep but seeing as the partying and excessive drinking the night before had started to catch up to her, she snuggled back into her pillow willing herself to go back to sleep. Except her pillow was hard, and warm. Fluttering her eyes open, she found that she was met with Calum’s chest. Taking in a sharp breath, she looked up to be met with a sleeping Calum, silently snoring with each intake of breath. His arm was wrapped around her shoulder, and her arm was splayed across his stomach. Damn I didn’t know someone could be this fucking cute and have lips that look so fucking kissable she thought to herself, slowly reveling in the intimacy, but just as quickly as those thoughts came, she pushed them to the back of her brain because where the fuck did these thoughts about Calum come from. Pulling her arm slowly from his stomach, and slowly shimming out of his grip, Nat quietly tiptoed out of her room and to the kitchen.

“She’s alive.” Charlotte exclaimed from the breakfast bar, scooping the cereal into her mouth. Nat winced at the noise that just added to her ever-growing headache.

“Too loud.” Nat said while glaring at Char who just held her hands up in protest. Walking over to the coffee pot and making herself a mug. Leaning against the counter she continued to take small sips, while Charlotte scrolled aimlessly through her phone.

“Oh, great you’re both here.” Luke said as he walked into the kitchen in last night’s clothes with Sierra slowly trailing behind, obviously signalling that he stayed the night. Both Nat and Char’s eyebrows shot up, waiting for him to continue his sentence. “We’re having a little movie night tonight at our place, and I expect to see you all there. Alright, well I’m heading out, see you later babe.”

Turning to give Sierra a peck and walking out of the apartment. The minute the door clicked, Nat observed as Sierra and Charlotte gave each other a look before turning to Nat with their eyebrows raised.

“Why y’all looking at me like that?” Nat asked while bringing the mug, taking a sip, yet leaving it there to conceal her face.

“So, are you not gonna tell us what the fuck that was with Cal last night?” Sierra stated, placing a hand on her hip, and cocking an eyebrow to give Nat the full effect. Widening her eyes at Sierra comment, and at the fact that Calum was currently asleep in her bed, and there was no way that she was going to be able to get him out of their apartment without Charlotte or Sierra seeing him. You really fucking goofed Nat.

“What? Can’t friends just dance together.” Nat replied incredulously, while turning around to place more coffee in her cup, in an effort to hide the blush creeping on her face. Upon hearing her reply Charlotte almost spit out her cereal, trying to conceal her look of disbelief as quickly as it crossed her face. Turning back around, and once again raising her coffee cup, Natalie narrowed her eyes at both of the girls as they shared a look of what the fuck before breaking out into laughter.

“Yeah, well last time I checked you weren’t friends, and nothing about how you were grinding on the man was friendly.” Charlotte choked out once she had regained her composure. Earning another set of giggles from Sierra as she moved to make herself a bowl of cereal.

“I really thought you were gonna jump his bones right there on the dancefloor.” Rolling her eyes at Sierra’s comment, Natalie moved to sit at the breakfast bar with Charlotte.

“Whatever.” She scoffed. “He was just helping me with Ben and the fact that he wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“And he did leave you alone. Morning girls.” Speak of the devil and he shall appear, and if the devil was Calum well then, he was waltzing into the kitchen shirtless with his jeans hanging low on his hips. Giving him the once over again, the same dirty thoughts from last night crept back into her head, Natalie felt herself blush at that fact and remembering the events that had transpired when she woke up this morning. Sierra and Char both took a double take, as if they couldn’t believe Calum was standing in their kitchen.

“Uhm, hey cal.” Char finally spit out after what seem like forever, Sierra following with her own sentiment.

“Welp, looks like I caught y’all at an awkward time.” Cal replied looking between the girls whose brows furrowed even more glancing at Nat who was trying her hardest to hide behind her coffee cup, putting his shirt on, and turning to walk to the front door. “Anyway, I hope Luke told you, but movie night tonight. Thanks for letting me crash again Nat.”

And with that he was gone, and Nat couldn’t help but feel like she needed to be hosed down. Embarrassment was one thing, but embarrassment coupled with definitely not friendly thoughts that had gone through her head at the sight of Calum mixed together to make her feel as if she was on fire.

“When I told you to fuck him, I didn’t mean that literally.” Charlotte said after what felt like forever. Feeling her cheeks heat up at her comment, Natalie got up and went to place her mug in the sink.

“I didn’t fuck him, he just needed a place to crash, and we all know the couch is uncomfortable as shit so I offered my bed, like any friend would do.” Natalie replied matter-of-factly looking between both of the girls, before beginning the walk back to her room.

“Once again, since when are you friends?” Sierra called after her.

“Fuck off.” She said as she entered her room, and went to check her phone seeing she had a message from Cal.

Thanks for letting me crash again, see ya tonight kitten ;)

Natalie huffed in annoyance before plopping down on her made bed? She quickly sat up, seeing that Calum had remade her bed before leaving this morning and had even arranged her pillows the same way she had it last night. Moving to sit by the head board, she leaned back, closing her eyes and trying to make sense of the past 24 hours and her new-found thoughts about Calum Hood, and his little hood.

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once again if this has typos or grammar mistakes i do not claim them

taglist: @rexorangecouny @ayee-style

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lovedinapastlife · 5 years

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3x11 “The Red Dahlia” - Riverdale Reaction

Somebody ought to go in these handcuffs, and I happen to think it should be whoever approved this episode.

Let’s be clear...even if this episode was filmed in black and white, it probably still would have been the garbled, sleep-deprived ramblings of writing room edits as opposed to a compelling narrative about dames with dubious intentions and secrets to kill for. For me, at least.

I love how Betty still judges the hell outta Hal for his malevolent appreciation of a woman with a body count.

Archie “the Hulk” Andrews. Nobody likes him when he’s angry. This poor overseer even has to fight with people about TAKING A BREAK. Eat a sandwich, Archie! Maybe you’re hangry on top of needing therapy.

Veronica calling out the temporary fabulous gesture of flowers from Elio and demanding precious jewels. Pretty RICH, considering she got Bettykins flowers and cupcakes in s1e1. That is growth. Maybe.

“We all had problems, and a helluva good-looking one was about to walk through my door.” Anyone else expecting a Pop’s delivery?

I had to sigh. I know, I know it’s just the poor attempt at Noir language, but Jughead mocks her hat like two seconds later and I’m sure certain shippers were squeeing as I squinted at the general tolerance these two have for each other. He likes the $ and opportunity to play detective with Nancy Drew. V likes results. That’s it. Business partners. Woo.

Go, Fred! You PARENT your child! Aaaaand there he goes to take shots at a speakeasy. Well. You tried.

Is Thornhill big enough to have its own funeral parlor AND cemetery? Just makes it easier to hide the murder victims and suicides, I guess! This is at LEAST the second wake-ish thing they’ve hosted here. Weird family. Sorry you’re related, Betty.

Not sure why Cheryl is SO offended by the insinuation that her prostitute/murderer/sent-her-to-conversion-camp mom is dangerous. I thought Penelope was kicked out anyway? Nana Rose is my new favorite Blossom murderer for the weird line implying that she finds pretending to cry over her son/a man is a waste of time.

Did they seriously make cutoff vests with the Serpents insignia for the “TOO-WARM-TO-MOVE-A-BODY” weather, and yet dress Jughead in a SHERPA JACKET? I know he’s an “outsider,” but COME ON.

“MOBSPLAIN” - only on this show. Also, the line about it being “unrealistic” made me laugh. This show is such a cheeky bastard. Love watching V make grown men stand up straighter.

SMITHERS! Didn’t even recognize him at first. This kinda works? But I’m confused. Is V just...doing the shakedowns now? And she doesn’t see the issue with that? Got kinda creepy Daddy Issue vibes when she smiled at Reggie and called him Man in Black. I know WHY she did and it probably wasn’t meant to be creepy, I just FELT it, okay?

THEY’RE SO SOFT I’M GONNA DIE! The little back-rub? The cutie heart-eyes? I’m dying. But the writing was silly here, because Betty is all ABOUT investigating, and would totally help Jughead break in and have his back for sleuthing shenanigans with plenty of time for her thing. Also Betty seemed bemused/unimpressed at discovering the super over-the-top Maple Sex Club (THIS SHOW) whereas Jughead seemed totally unaffected. They have a more impressive setup at home, I presume.

Josie shoving Archie in a cold shower and telling him to sort his shenanigans was probably the most fun thing she’s ever done. And she wears cat ears and fancy outfits on the regular, so that’s saying something. Also, don’t they only serve mocktails at the speakeasy? Or am I not supposed to remember that?

Honestly? Most of this episode from about halfway on gets...expositional and boring and just a bunch of blackmail stalemates that do not further character, plot, relationships, nor aesthetic. Boo. Booooo! Unsatisfying stalemates don’t get better as a plot device because you acknowledge them at the end! Even Jughead’s narration was a hard cringe.

Like, did anyone think Kelly Ripa was gonna shoot Jughead? Or that he would be obnoxious enough to juggle the egg super awkwardly instead of getting ready to smash the thing as a threat? Just...no interesting conflict. Nor resolution. These actors could’ve used better staging and script, and honestly even the cinematography was unimpressive with a few exceptions (Archie’s shadow-pan to aiming the gun at the hooded man was one).

Jughead keeps shoving all his money into other people’s hands in bribery and I find that extremely problematic for many reasons. As was Betty’s later monologue about “black and white” morality with Hal. Sigh.

Minetta was alive? Who was dismembered then? Random goon #42? Is being a mayor in Riverdale just a cover for f***ing the Sheriff?

DOUBLE-TAP, MAN. Or headshot! FP’s been around this stuff enough where he should’ve gotten this right! After that whole “I’m not a killer” speech to Jughead back in season one, I just kind of rolled my eyes during this scene and went, “Sure.”

Aw, people keep trying to beat Archie to the punch...and the shot! (HA. The puns...I digress). The “atmosphere-building” monologue beforehand and lying to V indicates he might be on the path...to VILLAINY! (again) But maybe now he has some Black Hood closure. Some.

“Thank goodness it’s over” -- me, about this episode. Love the contrast of Hermione’s flimsy white trench coat though. Is Falice still a thing? Or was the one scene for fan service and now their duty is done?

Veronica: And Archie...if you ever need a friend...to talk to...

GET ON ANOTHER SHOW, because this episode only has time for dastardly plots and random sex scandals! (although I will accept a spinoff Bughead romantic detective show ANY TIME now) I realize everyone has their own agenda, but come on. Throw us a milkshake, here. At least Hiram will stop trying to kill the poor teenager. Archie, to be clear. Jughead is probably still on the table.

They literally had to write “In case you’d forgotten” in Jughead’s narration before returning to a scene. Wow. The narrative.

Ugh. Hermione. That cleanup is going to be a MESS. Shoulda shot him in the shower.

This is the second time Jughead’s been in the awkward position of his dad shooting a classmate’s dad. Oh well. “It’s Riverdale.”

That Bughead sex scene teased in the next episode better be good after this week’s shenanigans.

#riverdale reaction #riverdale react #3.11 #riverdale 3x11 #riverdale #riverdale season 3 #the red dahlia

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butterflysuki77 · 7 years

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01. Must Have Energy - Kim NamJoon fanfic

AN* So I ran across a “Bed Sharing AU” prompt list with 8 prompts and thought it’d be a great exercise to explore writing fanfics again, this time for BTS instead of anime. I just recently wrote “Grief” which is the first fanfiction I’ve written in 3 years… the first anything I’ve written in 3 years actually. So don’t be too hard on me. I intend this to be the first in a series, using all 8 prompts with different members. 8 prompts, 7 members... the 8th will be a surprise.

A special thanks to BTS… for giving me inspiration and re-igniting my passion to write again. (Gif credit to original owner.)

02. Kim SeokJin - Mama Mo’s

03. Min Yoongi - You’re Mine

04. Jung HoSeok - My Hope

05. Park Jimin - Awkwardly Perfect

06. Kim TaeHyung - The BPP

07. Jeon JungKook - Call Me Kookie

08. BTS - Hawaiian Thunderstorm

Must Have Energy

Prompt: The heater broke and I’m freezing get over here!

Pairing: Kim NamJoon x Reader

Genre: Fluff, oneshot (smut light)

Word Count: 4.1K

“Come ooooon….” you whined into the phone.

“I seriously don’t know what you expect me to do!” NamJoon laughed on the other end.

“You’re a man! Men fix things! So fix it for me!” You knew you were being unreasonable, but the chill creeping into your bones was no joke.

“Well… I can’t argue with logic like that,” he laughed again. You rolled your eyes.

“Are you coming or not?”

“Let me see what I have and I’ll head over… I can’t promise anything though.” You sighed in relief.

“Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you,” you shot out as fast as you can. “Hopefully I won’t be a popsicle by the time you get here.”

“Hurry up… got it!” You could practically hear the smirk on his face. “See you in a few…”

“Minutes right? Not hours!?” you shot back. He just laughed.

“Go put on a coat or something… the longer I’m on the phone, the longer it’ll take me to get there…”

“BYE!” you said a little too loudly, immediately hanging up. Thank God for NamJoon. You don’t know what you would do right now if he wasn’t an option. Why did the heater have to go out now… in the middle of a frickin’ snowstorm!? You had no money to hire a professional, who would charge overtime because it was a weekend… and you had no clue how to fix anything!

At least with Joon there was a chance of success… a pretty high chance… well… 50-50 maybe. You didn’t know him all that well, but you had hung out a few times… and when you were with a group, you managed to find each other and would go into your own little world sometimes. He was sweet, and funny, and the dude was a genius. He never tired of telling you about the latest books he’d read or the random information about some tree as you walked past one in the park. But could you trust him not to burn the house down?

You shook your head. Who cares if he burned the house down!? Then you’d at least be warm again! You had on a t-shirt under a sweater and leggings on under your jeans, fuzzy socks on your feet tucked into fuzzy slippers, and you were still starting to shiver.

You should have called him earlier! You were just hoping against hope that the heater would fix itself this morning, and now that it was afternoon, you were desperate. Instead of a coat, as NamJoon suggested, you grabbed the comforter off your bed and snuggled in to wait on the couch. At least the power wasn’t out… you flipped on the TV hoping there was a show about the tropics or something that would mentally warm you while you waited.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

NamJoon parked his car on the sidewalk in front of your house and sighed. He made it. The roads were awful and getting worse by the second…making it take twice as long to get to you as he’d thought. He still couldn’t believe you’d called him. Why him? Not that he was complaining…. He just thought you’d have a line of guys eager to rescue you… not that he wasn’t one of them. He grabbed his bag from the passenger seat, took a deep breath and stepped out into the wind and snow. Making it quickly to your front door he rang the bell. When the door opened, he laughed out loud.

“What!?” Apparently you didn’t notice how absolutely adorable you looked at this moment. Standing in front of him, purple floral comforter wrapped over your head, cinched at your neck with your hand, you looked like a puffy floral No-Face from Spirited Away.

“Get inside, quick!” you yelled, grabbing his arm and yanking him through the door. “You’re letting all the heat out!” He let you drag him and turned to shut the door behind him. Then he turned back to you as you let the comforter slide from your head to your shoulders.

“Here,” he said, shrugging out of his coat. He’d been wearing it, so it was still warm on the inside, and luckily the snow hadn’t made it too wet. You walked over, dropping the comforter, and he took note of your shiver. NamJoon quickly wrapped his coat over your shoulders, pulling the fur-lined hood up over your head. You put your arms through the sleeves and sighed contentedly at the warmth.

“Thank you…” you chattered. Now that his coat was off, he could tell how cool it was in your house. He could handle it though… for a while at least. After slipping off his snow-caked boots he walked into your living room, taking note of the lights and tv.

“At least it’s not your electricity,” he said. For a minute you both just kind of stood there awkwardly. NamJoon still didn’t know why you had called him instead of the countless others who were into you. Did you even know he was into you? You seemed so confident and sure of yourself… but he couldn’t tell if you ignored or laughed off his flirting because you just wanted to spare his feelings or if you seriously didn’t know he was serious. And now here he was, standing in your house… attempting to rescue you from the cold. God he hoped he could actually do something about it.

“It is cold in here,” he said to break the silence.

“Thanks for the observation, Captain Obvious!” you said, rolling your eyes. “What are you going to do about it?” He wanted to be annoyed with you, but NamJoon had to smile at the sight of you in his oversized green coat, arms folded.

“We’ll see…” he said, nervously. “How cold is it in here?”

“I don’t know…” you said. “The stupid thermostat screen is black.”

“Thermostat screen?” he asked. That was different.

“Yeah, my dad installed one of those touch screen thermostats when I first moved here. He said it was the latest thing… I actually like it...” NamJoon had an idea…

“Have you tried turning it off and on again?” he asked.

“What… like a computer?” you answered… then he saw it dawn on your face. “Cuz yeah… it IS a computer… Damn it!” He laughed.

“Show me where it is…” He followed you down the hall and stopped in front of the small, white, square box on the wall. After examining it for a minute, he reached into his bag for one of the screwdrivers he brought.

“You’re not gonna break it, are you?” you asked nervously.

“I’ll be gentle…” he teased, turning to wink at you. The way your eyes widened made him chuckle. But seriously… he hoped he wouldn’t break it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After multiple tries, online searches, and a joint effort… you finally got the thing off the wall.

“Now what?” you asked… holding the box in your hand…

“Let me check,” he said, going back to the search on his phone. You had to admit, youtube tutorials were wonderful things. “Here…” he reached for the box and you handed it to him. He tinkered with it, then smiled. “Done.”

“Done!?” you asked. “What did you do!?”

“The button… here at the back,” he leaned in to show you. He was so close, he felt like he was in the hood of the coat with you. You swallowed, nervously, completely missing what he was showing you. “Now to put it back!”

It was way easier getting the thing back onto the wall than it was taking it off… but once it clicked back on... the screen started loading, and you could have cried in relief.

“Thank you thank you thank you!” you said, wrapping your arms around him from the side and jumping up and down. NamJoon’s arm came around your shoulders and he laughed.

“No problem… Let’s just see if this fixes it.” As the main screen loaded, the temperature popped on screen. 12.7 degrees C.

“Why does it feel so much colder!?” you exclaimed. NamJoon just laughed. A second later you heard the tell-tale whirring of the heater kicking on. You squealed in excitement and threw yourself at NamJoon, arms wrapping around his neck. He stumbled backwards a bit, but caught you tightly against him, holding you slightly off the ground.

You froze. Your head was over his shoulder and you couldn’t see his face because of the stupid hood, but the feel of his arms tightly wrapped around you left you breathless. Slowly, he set you back on the ground…but his arms didn’t immediately leave your waist. You looked up at him, your eyes locking with his and he smiled down at you.

“I should come to your rescue more often…” he said in a low soft voice that had you shivering for reasons other than the cold. Suddenly his hand came up and ruffled the top of your hood, breaking the moment. “Look,” he pointed to the thermostat screen. “Already up to 13.”

“Big Whoop,” you said, starting to take the jacket off. Suddenly it felt too warm. Searching for something to say, you asked, “What’s that in Fahrenheit?” He took the jack from you and tilted his head thinking.

“55 degrees? Roughly…” Had he seriously just calculated that in his head? He put the screwdriver back in his bag, then picked it up. “Well… you’ll be warm again soon.” He turned and you followed him back down the hall to the living room. You both stood there, looking at the front door for a long moment and it hit you… You didn’t want him to leave. You liked his company! And… A shiver hit you as the cold started to seep in again. Your hand came up to rub your arm, getting some warmth back. NamJoon set his bag and coat down and moved closer.

“It’s still cold in here,” he said, picking up your comforter from where you dropped it earlier. He wrapped it around your shoulders, letting his hands cover your upper arms and rubbed. “Better?”

*grrrrr*

Your eyes widened in embarrassment and he smirked. You realized it was almost 7pm and you hadn’t eaten since breakfast. You’d been too cold to eat.

“It’s late… go eat,” he said smiling. One of his hands reached up to caress your hair in a painfully sweet gesture. As he leaned down to pick up his bag you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Stay!” you blurted out. He froze, looking up at you in mid bend. “Stay for dinner…” you amended quickly. The ideas were coming quickly now. “I mean… I at least owe you dinner… for coming to my rescue.” He stood back up.

“You really don’t have to,” he said smiling. His eyes seemed to sparkle. “I’m just glad I could help.” You thought fast.

“There’s a pizza place nearby that SWEARS they deliver no matter what,” you said. “That way you won’t have to suffer my cooking.”

“Well, with an invitation like that,” he laughed. You smiled.

“I’ll call. Basic pepperoni good?” You went to the coffee table to grab your phone and dialed the number. You had pizza waaaaay too often.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Pepperoni’s the best,” NamJoon answered, following you and sitting down on the couch after you gestured for him to do so. It was an L-shaped sectional, and he put his legs up, arms behind his head as he watched you pace back and forth in front of the TV as you ordered.

“45 minutes to an hour!?” you whined. “But you’re just down the street!” He smiled. You looked like you were some sort of royalty in a giant purple floral cloak. “Fine… I know.” You glanced quickly at him, then turned away, “Yes… same card. Same order. Please hurry though? Please!? Thanks.” You hung up and came to stand in front of him. He just looked back at you smiling. You were so cute.

“You get pizza that often, huh?” he smiled. He liked “flustered” you…

“I can’t stand my own cooking… and it’s so easy… I should probably cut back though.” Your eyes raked up and down his body and NamJoon felt heat shoot down his spine. “Aren’t you cold?” you asked, almost annoyed. NamJoon looked down at what he was wearing… oversized striped sweater…jeans…socks. Sure he was cold, but he didn’t mind the cold.

“I’m fine,” he said. “I guess I’m just warm-blooded.” He smiled up at you, as you pinched your face in thought.

“Thank God…” you said finally, moving towards him. “I’m freezing and you can help.” NamJoon’s eyes widened as you climbed onto the couch between his legs, forcing him to sit up more. You turned, your back to his chest, and pulled the comforter over both of you. His knees were bent slightly, pressed against your thighs, and he wasn’t quite sure what to do with his arms. You sighed and laid your head back against his shoulder.

That’s when his arms moved of their own accord and wrapped around you, comfortably encasing your arms. You were colder than him… even having had the jacket and comforter on. He could feel you shivering and squeezed slightly.

“This better?” he asked against your ear.

“Mhmm…” you hummed. “Toasty.” He laughed and leaned his head back against the couch cushion. When he’d woken up this morning, he never in a million years would have guessed he’d be snuggled here with you on your couch. Had he saved the country in a past life or something?

After about 20 minutes of comfortable silence, mixed with random small talk and House Hunters International, NamJoon finally had the courage to ask.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah,” you responded softly.

“Why did you call me?” He wasn’t going to ask… but his curiosity had gotten the better of him. You were quiet for a minute, thinking. “I mean,” he continued nervously, “I’m sure just about any other guy you know would have jumped at the chance to come help you… and I’m not complaining… I just-”

“You were the first person that came to mind…” you said interrupting him. “You were the only person… the best person… I knew that no matter what happened, I could count on you.” NamJoon held his breath. You were about to say something else… he could tell you were debating on whether or not to say it. “You were the only person that I trusted… that I wanted to come…”

The biggest grin spread across NamJoon’s face and he tightened his arms around you, pulling you tightly against his chest. “I’m glad you called me,” he said softly against your ear. He heard your breath hitch and couldn’t help himself. His lips closed over the top of your ear, softly nibbling… At your sweet little whimper, he let his teeth graze the edge of your ear before gliding his tongue back up and pulling it back into his mouth, softly sucking. He felt your body relax back into his and he leaned down to your earlobe. A slight tug with his teeth caused you to gasp and his thighs tightened around your hips. Your hands had moved to rest on his knees and his arms caressed yours, one hand sliding down slowly to capture yours.

His other hand left the comforter and gathered your hair to the other side, letting his fingertips caress your neck as he turned your head so he could taste your other ear. Another soft sigh escaped you, and he felt your back arch slightly as you tried to give him easier access. You were so sensitive, and he felt his blood boiling. When you arched your back even more, he let his lips trail wet kisses onto your neck. Your breathing sped up and he grinned wickedly as he let his teeth sink slowly but firmly into that sensitive spot between neck and shoulder. You gasped and squirmed in front of him, your fingers lacing with his one hand as your other hand slid up his thigh.

“NamJoon...” you breathed, and he soothed the bite with is tongue before sucking the spot gently. You whined and he felt your legs squirm again. He’d dreamt of leaving a mark on you in this spot… as well as others… and your reaction was everything he’d wanted it to be. When he felt your nails dig into his thigh though, he lost it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You heard a growl at your neck… your only warning before NamJoon’s hand dug into your hair and tightened, pulling your head back and to the side. Your gasp only served to open your mouth for his as he kissed you deeply. You moaned and turned your body to face him, kneeling between his legs. Your hands rested on his shoulders as he used the hand in your hair to control the kiss. Your entire spine tingled as his other hand fisted in the material of your sweater.

He pulled you back by your hair, exposing your neck again as he lowered his head. His hand left your back to reach up and tug your sweater and shirt down, exposing more of your shoulder and collarbone. You were breathing heavily and the feel of his mouth on your neck was like heaven. You didn’t know where this side of him was coming from! He’d always been so nice and sweet… playful of course… He had flirted with you a lot, but you never took him seriously. How could someone like him be interested in you? He was so smart, so funny, so… so… You moaned in pleasurable pain as he bit down into your shoulder. Your hand fisted into his hair and dragged his mouth back to yours.

Your kiss was deep, passionate and full of need. NamJoon let go of your hair and reached down to lift your sweater off but leaving your t-shirt. You parted only for a moment, and before you knew it he was laying you backwards on the couch, head towards the still blaring television… not that you even noticed the TV. He looked down at you, eyes dark but sparkling. He smiled, showing his dimples, and you smiled back. You shifted so one of his legs was between yours and placed a hand on his neck. This time, your kiss was tender, slowly building. He ground his hips slowly against your thigh and moaned against your lips. He lowered his body, pressing into yours.

You hooked a leg over his hip and his hand grabbed your thigh, slowly sliding up to your waist, slipping under your t-shirt and sliding up to your bare breast. You both moaned at the same time and he lifted his head, breaking your kiss to watch your face as he massaged you. He moved so both his legs were between yours and rocked his hips against your center. You gasped in pleasure and lifted your hips to meet his next grind. The friction was driving you crazy.

You grabbed his sweater, lifting and pulling until it was off. He was bare above you, golden skin with a slight sheen of sweat... he was lean and muscular and you licked your lips and you sat up to place an open mouthed kiss just under his collarbone. He groaned and cupped the back of your head, letting you move up to his neck where you gave him back the bite he'd given you earlier. He hissed and his hand fisted in your hair, pulling you back to his mouth.

"You're gonna pay for that, baby..." he growled with a smile against your lips.

“Promise?” you breathed in reply, pulling his lower lip between your teeth. His mouth crushed yours as both hands went under your shirt, lifting it off. He crushed you to him, the feeling of skin on skin contact easing the ache that had started in the pit of your stomach. He caressed your bare back before gently laying you back down again. You watch has his mouth opened at the top of your breast, teeth bared and ready to graze… your eyes closed in anticipation.

*DingDong*

Your eyes met, full of shock and horror, as you tried to register who could possibly be at the door…

“Shit!” you exclaimed, scrambling out from under him and practically falling off the couch. Your breath was coming fast, and your body was screaming in frustration. Finding his sweater before your own, you threw it on…inside out of course… and hurried to the door.

“Here’s your pizza,” said an annoyed and incredibly cold delivery guy.

“Thank you,” you said sharply, also annoyed. You moved to shut the door after taking the box.

“And your Pepsi…” he said again, blocking the door from shutting and handing you a 2Liter bottle.

“Thank you,” you said again, even more shortly. You started to shut the door.

“Sign here please,” he said blocking the door from shutting AGAIN and handing you a receipt and a pen. A shirtless NamJoon was behind you to take the pizza box and soda so you could sign. The delivery guy was either completely unsurprised by the spectacle you two made, or he was a very good actor. You signed, shoved the receipt and pen back at him.

“Thanks. Goodbye!” you said, shutting the door. You tried to take deep breaths, but your whole body was too worked up. You stood there, facing the closed door, trying to register the last 20 minutes…

Then you felt his arms wrap around you, embracing you from behind. He placed a gentle kiss on your neck.

“Hungry?” he asked, leaning his head on yours.

“Starving…” you said turning to face him. Your arms went around his neck and you kissed him deeply. He laughed into your kiss before setting you back from him.

“Let’s eat…” he gestured to the pizza.

“But…” Before you could make your argument your stomach growled. You glared up into NamJoon’s smug face.

“Eat up…” he said, leading you back over to the couch. You sat down with a pout on your face as he sat next to you and opened the box, revealing a steaming hot cheese and pepperoni pizza. Your mouth started watering. You could barely think. So much was going through your head. You had thought you had good chemistry whenever you’d hung out before, but this was off the charts. And now he wanted to stop? To eat pizza? Sure, you were hungry… but come on… you were hungry….

“Joon…” you said softly… “I… well…”

“Eat,” he ordered, handing you a slice. The smirk on his face eased some of your tension and you took a bite. His eyes met yours and darkened with intention. “You’re gonna need every bite you can get to keep your energy up…” He licked his lips before taking a bite of his own slice. You stopped chewing and smiled.

“You’re a big talker…” you said with a smirk.

“That’s not the only thing big about me…” he winked and took another bite. Your mouth went dry and your stomach flipped… “You’re gonna need at least three slices…” he estimated, eyes not leaving you. You took three bites in a row before leaning back against the couch. NamJoon laughed and moved closer to you. He was still so warm, even without his shirt on, and you couldn’t help but lean against him. He shifted the pizza to his other hand and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. You were quiet for a while…

“Looks like a blizzard out there…” you said seriously, grabbing your second slice from the box.

“Sure does…” he said taking your lead… “The roads must be dangerous.”

“Very dangerous…” you took another bite. “I couldn’t send you home in that.”

“Of course not…” NamJoon reached for his third slice.

“Not after you rescued me and everything…” you took two more bites.

“It’s the least you could do…” he said against your ear. He nibbled at your earlobe.

“Hey…” you chided… “That’s NOT pizza!” NamJoon almost doubled over with laughter, and you giggled at yourself.

“You’re amazing… you know that?” he said smiling at you. His dimples were the best things ever… you kind of wanted to lick them… He noticed the change in your eyes and his own darkened.

“Keep eating…” he tore a bite out of his pizza slice.

You swallowed and took a deep breath. NamJoon was right… you were gonna need all the energy you could for the night ahead.

You smiled and grabbed your last slice.

“Whatever you say…”

“Promise?” he asked with an eyebrow raised.

You bit back a moan and took the biggest bite you could possibly take.

Must. Have. Energy… you thought… You took one final bite, ignoring the crust.

And energy… you had.

The end.

*Any comments welcome and appreciated! Thanks!*

300 notes · View notes

3one3 · 6 years

Text

The Sequel - 903

Old Ways

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

“Hey man, do you know where Chris is? She’s not answering her phone.”

“Try Dirk’s paddock. Last I saw her was out there playing games with him. Tell her this one is ready in 10 minutes.”

“How many are left?”

“Him and two more.”

“Ugh. All right.”

Cartagena, petit in stature on the crossties in the very open, high-ceiling grooming area but far from slight or small in his impression, even with an oversized wool cooler covering much of his body, eyed André with a plain mix of suspicion and disdain. The player interrupted the curry job happening on his chest, and that was wholly unacceptable. Chest scratching via currycomb was the gray stallion’s favorite thing in the whole world. He stretched his neck out to its maximum and tilted his head and wiggled his lips and made savoring sounds. All he ever wanted from humans, besides hay and grain and water, was chest currying. André noticed the horse’s displeasure. He reached out to pat his nose just before Tom resumed making circles on his chest with the ovular grooming tool. Cartagena had been around for a long time already, but he didn’t really know him the way he knew his wife’s other horses. The horse in the next grooming stall, with Isandro, was even more foreign to the player.

Christina, Heiner, and Holger teamed up to persuade the syndicate that owned the lion’s share of Rio to invest in a mount for Stefanie. They’d been passively scouting potential horses for her for months and she had a chance to try one of them at Madrid Horse Week. Christina wished she could watch the pair in person before a decision was made, but Heiner and Holger said it was a good match, and Stefanie was already in love with Color Up, or Pacha, as he was called around the barn. A Chacco Blue son out of a Contender mare, the young bay stallion had buckets of talent and a curious, disbelieving personality. The girls all thought he was a cuddle bug in hiding, and the guys thought he was cautious and untrusting. He was just 6 years old and had a lot to learn about himself, not just show jumping. A half sibling of his with the same dam-sire was already competing at the top level and doing well, and tons of other Chacco Blue progeny dotted the orders of go at big shows, though his daughters were thus far more successful on balance than the sons.

Pasha’s greatest asset was a direct inheritance from him. He had a beautifully tight front end. He jumped everything square and tidy, clean as could be. The Oldenburg first got on the radar of the trio of trainers at the Young Horse Championships earlier in the year. Christina only saw him on video, while the other two watched him in person. He competed under one of Christian’s associates. Pasha was “one for the future”, and the trio of trainers would have to help Stefanie bring him along the right way. He needed someone to trust, and he needed patience. What he had to offer was, on all visual evidence, a great willingness to learn.

The first two things he learned at Stall Schürrle was that Goose wasn’t very welcoming and the girls always have treats. Tom moved Kyle’s retired old schoolmaster across the aisle next to Pasha so that he wasn’t alone in the otherwise unoccupied block of stalls. Goose hated everyone though, and bared his teeth and pinned his ears when the new youngster tried to visit through the bars between them. Kimi and Optimus were nicer to him outside when he was introduced to their paddock. Dirk did try to kick him in the face from the other side of the fence though. That’s why Christina was still outside when André was looking for her. She walked down with Isandro when he was going out to bring him in for Stefanie, just to see how he was getting along with her apathetic “baby” and his adorable sidekick. The newest of the gold medal winners in the barn was trying to fight him from next door. She climbed into his paddock to “scold” him but ended up just playing with him instead, “to distract him”. There was some kind of bullfighting scenario going on out there when André arrived, in the snow.

“Is this what “training like a multiple times Olympic champion” looks like?” he questioned with facetious skepticism from the fence line. His wife had told him a few days earlier, on her recommitment to her old work ethic, that she ought to train like a multiple times Olympic champion if she wanted to be one. The rider was running back and forth with her arms out beckoning her best equine friend and then bolting in the other direction when he got close. Dirk was like a really, really big dog. The actual dogs were on their way, at maximum speed, down the lane to greet André. They had their Barbour blankets on and kicked up snow such that they, combined, looked like a very small snow blower.

“Yes,” Christina verified. “We’re training for the winter Olympics.” There was a big smile visible between her fur pouf-festooned beanie and the scarf wrapped many times around her neck. She nearly slipped and fell every time she stopped or started her short little sideways run, despite wearing rubber galoshes over the foot part of her paddock boots. Her Holsteiner was mostly just moving his front feet, and had no traction trouble.

“What sport?”

“Bobsled? I dunno.” The rider was laughing and out of breath. Dirk’s ears were tall and forward, and his eyes bright. He could play her game all day, whatever it was. Calvin was standing behind him, just watching, and probably worrying that something terrible was about to happen to him. André could tell he wanted to come over and visit with him but was afraid of the commotion going on in between.

“Tom says Cartagena is ready in a few minutes.”

“Mkay.” Christina took a deep breath and stood up straight, abandoning her game posture. Dirk stretched to literally sniff out the situation. He clearly didn’t trust that the game was really over. He thought she was luring him in and would then dart away, out from under his nose. “Relax, you idiot. I’m trying to pet you.” She held her gloved hand out, and he snorted, on alert, wide stance. The hot air from his flaring nostrils made a little cloud around her hand. It took a couple of seconds for him to decide that he wasn’t getting played. His human let him sniff her open palm, and then rubbed his nose, and eventually up under his forelock. The snow was still coming down in a picturesque kind of sprinkling, so he had little flakes in his mane. Some of the other horses had hood attachments for their heavy-duty turnout blankets. Dirk didn’t like them, and he didn’t seem to get uncomfortably cold. He’s so handsome with a snowy backdrop, Christina thought wistfully. I wish I could leave him out here to play. “Time to go in, dude. We have to work still. You’re next after Cartagena. Also I’m sweating.” She tugged her waffle knit scarf down a little for ventilation. She didn’t know she’d be running around getting warm when she put her down jacket on to go outside.

“Training is over?”

“This part is. How did round-two crisis talks go?” Please say well, she willed, turning around to head for the gate. Dirk’s halter and lead were on a hook next to it. He followed her, and so did Calvin. Luckily they weren’t the kind of pasture buddies who get so attached that they can’t be left alone. The Hannoverian would definitely try to follow his friend out, but wouldn’t have a breakdown when he was pushed back and left behind.

“It wasn’t a crisis talk. It’s not a crisis until Watzke and Zorc call Marco and Nuri to the offices to talk about what the players want. It was just the regular team meeting. It was...not pleasant. We’ll see what happens at the weekend. Are you coming in now?” André stopped petting Spencer and Lucky to unsnap the chain for the gate as the Pied Piper approached with her followers. He wasn’t in any mood to talk about the team talk. Real Madrid beat his club 3-2 and it should have been a hiding. No one took anything positive from the minor rally. He didn’t play a single minute. He felt extra bad about it after watching Christina retweet a video of Juan absolutely destroying defenders on a crazy, dancing run the night before, all day long. It was as if she was sitting around looking for every person who posted it just so she could retweet it again. She even posted it on her Instagram. Bosz still wasn’t fired.

“Yeah, Dirk too. Watch out, puppies. G’d up idiot stallion coming out.” Christina reached around the post for the halter and knowingly took the second one, not the one on top, without having to look. Calvin had already come in, worked, and been put back out, so his was logically on top. The silver plates on both of them just said Schürrle on them, not their own names, but Calvin’s was much too big for Dirk’s finer head. Christina paused after fitting his over his ears and snapping the throatlatch to get a hello kiss from her visitor, whom she did not expect to see at the barn, much less out in the cold. “How come you’re braving the elements?”

“I was hoping you were almost done and interested in sneaking into the house for a nap.”

“Sneaking into the house?”

“Well if you just walk in normally then Mausi wants to show you whatever he made today, and play some game, or eat snacks with him or whatever. If we sneak in then we can go straight upstairs and have a nap,” the footballer explained. He waved Calvin back so that he could close the gate right behind Dirk, even though his wife had the situation under control. She could lead one horse out and turn him around while keeping a hand on the gate and closing it before the other one could escape. She did it without thinking.

“By “take a nap” do you mean do things in bed other than nap?” A sideways glance conveyed her meaning about his potential hidden meaning.

“No. I’m tired, Prinzessin.” André patted Dirk’s blanketed flank on his way to falling into step beside her and playing with the faux fox fur ball bobbing atop her head.

“Oh. Well I would love to nap with you if I could. I have him and Cartagena and Rio left to do.”

“Are those the fleece-lined pants Rafa gave you last year?”

“No. It’s not cold enough for those. I went with the half chaps today though, obviously.” Christina gestured down at the brown suede chaps on her lower legs. They were a lot warmer than her field boots, and riding in her winter paddock boots meant there was room for thick socks inside that would never fit in the field boots.

“I’m freezing.” Her human partner had a longish parka on with a cashmere hat, and tennis shoes that didn’t really keep the wet out. Horse and rider walked in the middle of the path, which had been mostly cleared through a combination of salt and traffic, and he was forced to walk on the side, where there were a few inches of snow. I want to go get under the covers with her and be warm and relax for a while, he lamented. I know I could talk her into it but I also know I shouldn’t. She wants to train, and it’s making her happy to do it on a real schedule again.

“There’s hot cocoa mix in the lounge. Or are you gonna go nap solo?”

“I don’t know. What are we doing later? Are we eating home?”

“We’re having super herby skillet roasted chicken with toasted wild rice and mushrooms, onions, and carrots.”

“That sounds nice.”

“It was, yesterday, when I made it. Hopefully it still is,” Christina laughed. “I’m willing to forego leftovers if you want to go out though.”

“I want whichever dinner gets you on the couch with me sooner.”

“It’s only three. I’ll be home in a couple of hours. There’s plenty of time for the couch before dinner.” She let her left hand swing around a little to feel for André’s right one, but it was in his coat pocket. They texted about the match earlier in the day while he was on the plane back from Madrid. She didn’t think he’d want to get into it again. It just worried her some that he was so desperate for a nap. It wasn’t like they had to wake up early for the flight, and they didn’t train when they got back to Brackel. It was a meetings-only kind of day for them.

“Yeah. I’m going to get a head start, I think. Mausi was mad that I only stopped at the house to change before coming out here. I should go see him. Tim called me about the London property. I should call him back.”

“What about it?”

“I think he has someone who wants to lease it.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll find out and then we can talk about it,” the footballer assured. “I’m gonna go. Have good rides, Prinzessin.” He stopped at the double doors at the back of the barn to give her a kiss and pat Dirk’s neck once more. Walking down the shed-row and through the narrow gate in the hedge was a much faster and more direct route back to the house than going inside with them and going out the courtyard doors and around the hedge, though the second one was completely clear of snow and the other was not.

“I’m gonna have to put him on antidepressants if that team doesn’t get its head out of its own ass soon,” his wife told her Holsteiner. “I can’t even try to temper my frustration by apportioning some blame to him, because it’s not like he ever gets a chance to play. You and me will need to win some stuff next week to make him feel at least a little better. You ready to get back in the game? Ready for minutes?”

“Did Schü find you?” Tom asked as they arrived in the grooming stall next to Cartagena. Pasha was already in the ring with Stefanie.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t clip him in. He’s coming over here.”

“You can’t tack up a horse in Isa’s crossties?”

“No. My stuff is here.”

“Men.” Christina shook her head disapprovingly at Dirk and handed his lead to the groom. The Dutch stallion got a quick smooch and scratch on his muzzle before she grabbed her helmet off the hanging bridle hook and put it on in place of her hat, which she tossed onto the bench across the aisle. “I’ll be like 20 minutes. Can you make sure Socks gets wrapped when he comes in? I don’t know that he really needs it, but just in case...”

“Kyle is in there putting out quilts and bandages for 5, fresh from the dyer.”

“Make sure Dirk gets the black ones. No poultice.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Black on black Back On Track. Say that 10 times fast.”

“Rather not.”

“K. Let’s go, Mr. Kingpin.”

Cartagena did not acknowledge his brand new, random nickname she pulled from her general association of the city of Cartagena with drug trafficking. Nor did he bristle at the fact that she told Tom she wanted the Back On Track pillow wraps for Dirk and not for him. They came with special fibers in them that promote blood flow, which reduces or prevents inflammation. All of the horses were treated in some way after jumping, as nearly all of them did that day. Some had to have their ice boots, some just got cold hosing, and some were rubbed down with liniment. If it were a big jumping day or one with a hard gallop in the field, Dirk, Nick, Rio, Calvin, and Dezy all spent some time with the Game Ready wraps, plugged into the magical machine. After whichever appropriate treatment, there was wrapping. Some were wrapped completely dry with traditional white “shipping” quilts, or pillow wraps as they’re also called, and burgundy or black stable bandages- like polo wraps, but longer, thinner, and stretchier, to provide more consistent tightness up and down the leg over the bulky quilt. Some were poulticed first, with wet brown paper bag wrapped loosely around the clay-like stuff to protect the quilt. There were other gels and products that could go on before the wrapping too. Dirk and Nick were always wrapped with the Back On Track-brand black quilts and matching black standing bandages.

Christina’s collection of quilts included multiple brands and sizes, as front and hind legs require different widths, and because she’d accumulated them over decades. Her grooms needed a ton of them. They can’t be re-used without washing, and they were used constantly. The regular ones were used for shipping too. So putting out the wraps for later was no insignificant task for Kyle. It required a lot of hunting and matching. Christina, Tom, and Isandro all abided by the same rule- no mismatched wraps of any kind, because it can result in uneven wrapping, which is bad for the legs. Helpfully, most of the quilts and bandages were marked in some way. Some were embroidered with “MARTIN” or “SCHÜRRLE”, or the name and a number corresponding to the other one in the pair. Some had names and/or numbers added in permanent marker. There were a couple of sets of standing bandages made by adidas, with the three white stripes just on the last 12” or so of the wrap by the Velcro. Those were easy to pair.

That she had specific wraps on her mind as she pulled Cartagena’s halter off and got ready to head into the indoor was a further sign that she was back to working the way she used to, before her out of the saddle life got in the way and made her crazy. It wasn’t something she really needed to be thinking about. Her grooms knew what to do and what she wanted. But she liked to feel as if she was on top of everything, not leaving anything up to others. It wouldn’t be Tom’s mistake if Dirk didn’t get the treatment she thought was best for him. It would be hers, for assuming Tom anticipated her thinking. The rider almost forgot she once ascribed herself that level of responsibility, until Juan talked to Sid Lowe about it and inadvertently reminded her. That wrapping was on her mind in that moment instead of her husband’s football depression was a big change too. While she felt absolutely gutted for him and wanted to do whatever she could to improve his mood and empower him to perform well, she was able to drop that subject entirely the second she set eyes on her next mount- the next horse she needed to work with and train, not just exercise. For a long time, she would have been able to think of nothing outside the typical spiral of “ugh” that began with a Borussia Dortmund foul-up and ended in “and he uprooted our entire life to bring us here for this garbage”. It was a lot easier to work and train while thinking about how on top of things her guys were in terms of caring for the horses than it was to do anything while she dwelled on all the wrong turns taken by her co-pilot.

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