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ameliyaahn3 · 4 years

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13 days series : Day One, 20th December.

Genre : Fluff, Comfort, (lame ass one) Humor.

Warning : Things get heated up at end but nothing shocking.

Word count : Around 1k800.

Summary : Akashi bringing his empress to his chalet for christmas holidays but it's also his birthday. What will Y/n prepare for him ?

Akashi Seijuro × Reader.

Even then, you weren't used of that life of luxury and comfort with Seijuro : whatever you would salivate for, he was capable to give it to you twice or in a matter of a minute -if that's not even too much-: what was for sure something you can't even dream of in your wildest fantasty. And as the wealthy man he is, once again Seijuro impressed you by bringing you on vaccation at his family chalet.

Snow was surronding the beautiful and big place when you stepped outside the car, a warm and refined hand holding your fingers at the same time. You turn your head to see your boyfriend smiling what does make you instantly excited as his eyes are slightly shining at your view. Your blood going trough your veins so fast, you can't help but wait to drag Seijuro into the house and listening to whatever he has to say about it.

You know his chalet to be somewhere he would at least visit once a year and as a place full of funny and innocent chilhood memories that conted by him would just sound so interesting. As the cold started to hit a little bit too harshly on your faces, Seijuro finally decided to guide you to the traditional house, maids and butlers behind with your baggages.

" Pleased, my love ?" You nodded positively, a grin forming on your lips, " How I could not ?" the majestous tree were absorbing your soul.

"I know that you're not always comfortable with my wealth and all thoses prestigious places but I hope this time you won't feel any discomfort being here." The way he talks so smoothely drives you naturally to look at his charming face, what do distract your attention from the unique landscape. However do you regret it ? Not even one second.

" I can't be bothered by a place that is like home for you." You said, your stomach feeling like there butterflies in it despite it does make 9 months you're together. Sensations conservating pretty good like an old bottle of wine, it's really something to be in couple with this man.

" I wish you would think of my gifts as the furnitures then." You chukle a little bit at his come-back, not bad actually but how could you not feel weird when he's offering you expensive jewerly and dates on the only motive that you're his lover ?

" Sei..."

" Because I can't imagine a world that I would truly enjoy without you, you deserve the best, Y/n. Though I've fallen for your independance, since we're one, everything mine is yours, you should not being ashamed of anything."

Seeing you opening your mouth to try to justifiate your attitude, Akashi shut it with his own, deposing a small peck on your lips that destroyed all trace of a logic and inteligent answer in your mind.

What a drag... How would you return him all he give to you the same ? Nothing that you can buy can value even the smallest thing that he had already offrered you, but it was his birthday tomorrow and except of your present you couldn't think of something appropriate to express your love to him.

" Shht, my dear. You know I'm right." He says with a smirk.

Besides making you feel like the first days, Seijuro know also how to make you pout like a child despite that you're supposed to be decently mature.

" That's not fair..."

────────── · · · · ✦

In front of the chimney, you observe the fire dancing, your head lies on Akashi shoulder's as he's taking a pause on his book and that a cup of hot chocolate is between your hands. It was for sure one of the most relaxing moment you ever had in the past 6 months, forgetting about school, work or whatever were drowning you down in general it was inexistant here.

" That table... I used to play on it a lot with my mother."

" What kind of games ?"

Akashi smile when he hear sincere interest in your voice, not surprised of your curiosity when it involve him even for the silliest subjects. It was one of the reason you were with him afterall and not another person.

" Cards games mostly and even if I was a child, I don't remember having similar struggles winning against my mother than anybody else till now."

" So she was an high level player ?"

" Surprisingly not and she would admit herself that she was even quite unlucky, I used to not understand why I had so much difficulties with her but now it's pretty clear that I was inconsciously doing of sort to play with her more."

" It's adorable but insulting at the same time, i don't know how I would take it if I was in her position. You didn't do this with me right ?"

"..."

His laugh makes you felt like death has suddenly taken your body and your diginity with it.

"Maybe you can try to found out yourself ?" He put his book aside, amused by the situation.

" I've never felt so insulted in my life... Seijuro affront me right now, one one." Determined by your pride you still kept your calm and called him more in a playful tone than anything else.

" You won't be mad at me when you will find out how I play with you Y/n?"

" I can't promise that... i've been believing that I was good at shogi during more than a year!"

" And you're good."

" But how do I know for real now ?"

"Alright, alright... let's play then. Even if you finish to be angry at me that wouldn't last long."

" Wha-? You know that you're irresistible and you makes benefit of it on me ?! That's vicious... and I love it against my own agreement. How do you do ? That's disgusting."

" You're doing this to me everyday, Y/n."

" No i don't..?"

" You definitely do."

You don't even bother to pursuing that thing and sit in front of the said table with cards that you found around. Today was the day of truth.

────────── · · · · ✦

After losing 13 rounds in a row you didn't bother to test Akashi again and let him with his undefeated title. But most importantly, while playing against him you didn't saw something that would say he was holding back on purpose, what surprised you and comforted you a little bit on your own skills.

After that, you decided to take an hot bath and you had a sumptuous diner which by the way makes you felt really heavy. Filled Up and clean, there was nothing that you would need in the moment and so time went by and at the end you wanted to sleep. The Emperor led you to your shared room and before letting your body enjoy a restful night, you took initiative of a cuddle session. Making soft contact with Akashi's skin, your fingers doing small circles on his palm hand and forearm.

As sleep is slowly taking you away, your boyfriend whispers lovely words in your right ear and stroke your back, plunging you into another world : Watching the snow failling gently in the window with the elegant lights of the room while being under thoses pretty sheets with Akashi Seijuro beside... Everything looked like a dream. You took a look in the direction of your hidden gift, thinking of how you would make it memorable and your eyes closed despite a sudden excitation and vague of ideas that poped in your head last minute.

During the whole night, it was like your soul aspired to wake up early and so you slept easily but as if you're body is schedulded, first hour in the morning, 5:45 am you were awake and as you were quiting bed stupid flash of the game yesterday evening came to your head making you thinking that Akashi pitiyied you because of small action in his game, you pipe that idea away and focus on your tasks.

First step was the more difficult one but you managed to get out the bed without being noticed. You wanted to make breakfast for him but also as he would wake up, wish him an happy birthday quite special with his present in your hands.

Maids bringed the bouquet of roses you requested and helped you cooking food. You had so much plans for his birthday... If you remember well, there was that Power Point waiting in your draft explaining how perfect he is and why he should be happy, healthy and live so much years more. But you didn't carry on that idea as that wasn't amazing enough and that in fact that would be just you acting as a fangirl of your boyfriend during an hour at least.

You watch at the time, knowing that your lover used to being awake around 6:30-7:00 also on weekends while during winter even the sun doesn't rise that early.

You walk into the room, taking your gift quickely and in silence, posing the plate of breakfast that you tried your best to please him with. Well, you look at him to see that he's sligthly waking up, a smile grows on your lips.

Once you see one of those red orbs open, you heart skips a beat, Akashi sit on his bed a genuine smile as he see you.

" Good morning, Y/n."

and you can't help but kiss him.

" Happy birthday Seijuro!"

As you crash your lips in a sweet and chaste manner yet still filled with an unquestionable passion, you give him roses and put on evidence the breakfast. The smell of roses mixed with delicious plates increasing Akashi joy even if he doesn't show it in an obvious way.

" You didn't have to do this, Y/n... But it makes me really happy, Thank you."

" Do not thank me yet..! I haven't given you everything and you deserve the best."

You lay on his hand the package, letting him being curious to what is it. After taking a glance at you, he decide to open your gift and see an antique but expensive -for someone of your class- watch with his and your initials, because the clock is foldable when you unclip it, you can see a picture of his mother that you've put.

Akashi seemed quite touched and took your hand in his, a soft and nostalgic expression on his face.

" I obvisouly can't offer you one of the newer and expensive jewerly but I was sure that this one would be at your liking."

Emotional value combined with an utilitarian purpose, not to mention the style.

" And it is, you did well Y/n. It's until now the most valuable item I have in my possesion... I will cherish your present."

" And I will cherish you... Doesn't it sounded like a weeding vows ? Haha... However I will cherish you for real and in all the way possible so even if I can't give you as much as you do in terms of material... My affection would value at least as much if it's not even a lot more."

You said that while coming closer to him, eyes full of desire and of need to proove your love. Akashi put all thoses object you bring in bed on the nearest table as a more lewd expression took place on his face.

" Convince me."

And you were already under him.

" Maybe this one would be my favorite birthday."

#akashi seijuro #knb #kuroko no basket #kuroko no basuke #anime #manga #akashi seijuro x reader #happy birthday #i love him without my consent help #really i can even try to not like him #i love him more than i would admit #13 days

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thegoldenseries · 3 years

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Writing Update: 10/26

Wow, it's been forever since I did one of these. I'm actually feeling motivated again (very excited for NaNoWriMo, trying to get everything in line for that) so I've been writing more than usual! Plus, I'm finally done with my job interviews, have work lined up for January, so I'm celebrating just a bit, lol. Here's what I've done!

Finalized my pantheon. It wasn't easy, and definitely not my favorite thing to do, but I know enough to reasonably run the religious world from here on out

Loooots of exploring character relationships and bonding. I know where these idiots are going, I just have to get them there.

Actually sat down and wrote a solid 3,700 words, if you can believe it

Did some side development for my antagonists, the Blackened Spire in particular, since he's going to become v plot-relevant in book 2

Building plans, how I hate thee. But in all seriousness, laid out some mental maps for battlegrounds

Thought a lot about fight scenes

Did some reading!

So pretty productive overall! If you'd like a little snippet of Kaylin and Riaglin worrying about our favorite mage, it's under the cut with the taglist!

“Do you mind if I ask you a more serious question? Completely off-topic.”

Kaylin’s voice had softened, and he glanced over to see she’d tilted her head upward to stare at the stars.

He followed her gaze and replied, “Go ahead.”

“It’s about Ty.”

He raised an eyebrow, forgetting she couldn’t see his face. “What about her?”

“I’m worried about her. But I don’t have a good way to, well, broach the subject, so I was hoping you could help.”

“I can try. No promises, though.”

“That’s all I can ask. But haven’t you wondered how Ty learned to fight?”

He glanced over at her. “Not really, I suppose. Why?”

“It’s just a little odd, isn’t it? I mean, she doesn’t seem like the type of person who would know how to do that. She’s got a head full of parchment and ink, as a friend of mine might say. I can’t figure out why she would’ve learned combat.”

His brow furrowed up at the sky. It was odd, now that she mentioned it. He’d just never bothered to think about it before.

“I’ll see if I can’t ask her on the road tomorrow,” he said.

“Thanks.”

Taglist: @thewritingace @contes-de-rheio @crystallized-ink @hysteriwah @chazzawrites @hysteriwah

#golden mountain #wip update #wip #writers #writers on tumblr #writeblr #female writers #fantasy #lgbt fantasy

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castielsbeelove · 5 years

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Daenerys x Reader: Small Matters (Cont.2)

Request: I loved your jealous Daenerys fic so if you want to add it please do! Like have Sansa go too far with the reader try to kiss her or something? & that shows us an infuriated dragon queen. & since I feel Sansa would do almost anything to get at Dany rn maybe have wanting to piss her off be the only reason she pretended to be interested in the R. & this enrages Dany the most because the reader has always been insecure & now feels used as well. Lots of fluff please! comfort smut is welcome too lol

Warnings: Cursing, smut.

Pairing: Daenerys x Reader

A/N: Thanks for the request, I hope you like this anon!

It was dark when you got back from spending time with the dragons, you almost couldn’t find your way back to the castle. Daenerys chided you for being late to dinner, but you quickly soothed her nerves with an explanation and a kiss.

“We’re having elk stew tonight.” She said as the cooks brought around food to the tables.

“I’ve never had elk before.” You took a deep sip of wine and licked your lips before looking to her. Further down the table you couldn’t help but notice Sansa was looking at you, and when you locked eyes she smiled.

You thought nothing of it and smiled back. Daenerys followed your gaze, turning her head to see the Stark girl.

Sansa’s eyes moved from you to the Dragon Queen and you swore you saw her smirk before looking away.

“Have you?” You blurted in an attempt to distract your lover.

“Have I what?” It was impossible not to notice the fire in her tone as she turned back to you.

“Have you had elk?” The stuttering in your voice was pathetic. You were sure the cooks were judging you as they sat down two bowls of steaming soup on the table. “I know they don’t have them in Essos, and well-”

Daenerys shushed you and placed her hand on yours.”What’s the matter?” The change in her tone took you by surprise, only a few seconds ago she sounded as if she could burn Sansa then and there. Now her voice was warm and sweet, the way she’d talk to her dragons.

What was the matter? To be fairly honest you weren’t quite sure yourself. “I know she’s upsetting you, and knowing you’re upset because of something involving me, well, it doesn’t sit well with me.”

A smile crossed her face and then she took your hand in hers. “Like you said, nothing has ever happened and nothing will.”

The rest of dinner went perfectly. You ate three bowls of soup, forgetting to leave room for dessert. Afterwards, you excused yourself to lay down and let the food digest and to probably fall asleep as well in the process.

On your way to your room, you were plagued by awful thoughts. Why was Daenerys so resented here? What did she do to deserve the glares and distrust? She had given so much to come and fight, losing so much as well. Jorah and so many Dothraki soldiers. Yet they still, for a reason unknown to you, treated her like an outsider. The Northerners were as closed off as the Lannisters.

“(Y/N).”

Behind you, heels echoed throughout the nearly empty walls. You knew who it was before she even talked. Turning, you smiled and dipped your head. “Lady Stark.”

“You know you don’t need to address me that way.” Her false pleasantries with hidden motives were starting to get to you.

She took a few steps to you and you took a few in the direction you were already heading. This didn’t deter her of course, she instead walked with you.

“Now that the war is over, I assume you’ll be going with The Dragon Queen?” She asked beside you.

“I go where she goes.” You confirmed, approaching the chambers you and Daenerys shared. “And when she takes her throne, I’ll be right there as well.”

Sansa hummed and stopped when you got to your door. “It must be exciting. All the hope you have. I remember when I was hopeful like you.”

You evenly met her gaze and furrowed your brows, trying to figure out where this was going. Before you could respond her hand reached up and she curled her fingers in a lock of your hair. “So young and pretty, blinded by what I thought was love.”

“Sansa-”

She knew what she was doing and you knew it too. In only a second she had leaned forward with the intention of kissing you.

“Sansa Stark!” Her voice rang out, loud and deep, like a mother scolding her child, and it had the same effect. Your heart jumped with relief but at the same time ached with fear. The two of you turned to see Daenerys scorching down the hall, her jaw clenched and her eyes burning. “Get away from her. Now.”

Sansa’s lips parted and she took a step back, preparing to defend herself. But she didn’t look scared, as anyone would have been in the presence of such anger. Only surprised.

“You are the luckiest woman alive.” Daenerys seethed, grabbing your arm and pulling you back from Sansa so you stood behind her.

“Am I?” Sansa questioned with a raised brow and a slight smirk, pushing Daenerys even further.

“You are. If you weren’t Jon Snow’s sister you’d be dead by tonight.” The shock of her words caught you both off guard. “But I intend to keep my ties with the North. We leave tomorrow, and I don’t want to see you. I don’t want you to come anywhere near us again. Do you hear me?”

It was quiet. You could hear the crackle of torches burning in the halls and the deep, labored breathing of your Queen. When Sansa didn’t answer she repeated the question louder, causing you to jump. You had to admit, seeing Daenerys so angry over something like that made you fall in love all over again.

“I hear you.” The she-wolf hated the position she was in but she knew she had to submit or things would get much worse.

“I know what you’re doing, Sansa Stark.” Her voice dripped with poison. “And it is shameful, to say the least. Whatever quarrel you have with me, stay with me. Now go. Go and tell your brother how I’ve threatened you. And make sure to tell him why.”

Sansa didn’t move for a second, looking between you and Daenerys with an unreadable expression. How stupid she must have felt. Or maybe this is what she wanted all along. She dipped her head and looked at you one last time before leaving.

Inside your chambers, Daenerys freed herself from the stress and anger she had built up. Your dress caught most of it, the laces being torn and ripped down the middle. With anger and passion, she had you naked on your bed, wrapped completely in furs, warming eachother with your tongues and breath.

“We’ve been through everything together.” Daenerys panted as she watched you squirm with two of her fingers inside you. “You were with me from the start, and Sansa thinks she can smile and bat her eyelashes and-”

You flipped her over and straddled her waist. “Stop thinking about her. Think about me.”

She graced you with that soft smile and reached up to caress your cheek. She had that way about her that could melt every worry away off of you with a simple smile and touch. And she felt the exact same way about you.

“What would I do without you?” She mused, her hands running down your arms to rest on your hips.

“You’d be just fine.” You laughed lightly and leaned down to kiss her while snaking your arm between your two bodies. “Now, where were we?”

#daenerys targaryen #daenerys stormborn #daenerys x reader #Daenerys #daenerys x reader smut #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfic #game of thrones smut #myfanfic #request #sansa stark #jon snow #rhaegal

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thelioncourts · 4 years

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What if I want to be more productive and active? What can I do? It seems hopeless.

i think, when it comes to motivation, everyone is going to be different. i can tell you what works for me and that’s making a list.

every sunday night, i make a weekly ‘to do’ list. normally this includes things like ‘make grocery list’ and ‘grocery shop’ but those are sort of out the window right now. it also normally includes things like, for example, ‘wash bed sheets,’ or other bigger things.

right now, however, prepping for the week is kind of pointless because, well, i’m at home. so - and i know this sounds excessive - i’ve been doing a ‘to do’ list for every single day. for me, writing things down makes it real and there is a stupid amount of accomplishment i feel marking things off.

here’s an example of the ‘to do’ list i made for tomorrow just about an hour ago:

8:00 - wake up

8:10-8:30 - coffee

8:30-9:30 - clean (laundry, kitchen, floors)

9:30-10:30 - start on 332 midterm

10:30-10:45 - get ready for workout

10:45-11:45 - workout + protein + shower

11:45-12:00 - get ‘ready’ (my getting ready these days is brushing out my hair, putting moisturizer on, and dressing in clothes that i wouldn’t be too ashamed of being seen in)

12:00-12:30 - lunch

12:30-2:00 - free time (this is for social media, writing, tv, etc.)

2:00-3:00 - midterm, cont.

3:00-4:00 - read (shocker to no one, i’m rereading ‘captive prince’)

4:00-5:00 - go pick up groceries and drop off on front porch (we’re buying groceries for some families in town that need help buying groceries so i’m picking them up, texting them, and dropping it off on their front porch)

5:00-6:00 - get bread ready for baking on sunday + get cookie dough ready and in fridge to make later

6:00-7:00 - dinner

7:00-7:30 - finish midterm

7:30-8:30 - write

8:30-9:00 - bake cookies

9:00 + write and also do whatever i want

i know it looks like a lot and also like, wow, kirsten, you literally plan out every hour, but it keeps me sane and it keeps me motivated and it makes me feel like i did a whole lot, even if some of the stuff is just ‘lunch,’ ‘free time,’ and ‘bake cookies.’ lists work for me though. they may not work for you and maybe you can look up different ways to motivate yourself if lists aren’t your thing. but i hope you find something just so you feel better, mentally. wishing you all the luck and don’t beat yourself up if it doesn’t come to you quickly or easily, it rarely does.

#nice human #kirsten answers #Anonymous

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imaginebeatles · 8 years

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Aw dear it's completely okay if you need more time writing. I can only imagine how busy you are and the fact that you write fics in your free time for free is incredible. Sometimes we have to take a break :). People who love your work would wait 1/2

Cont. another week if you need it :) quality takes time and we understand so don't worry. I hope your inspiration and motivation come back soon haha. Just don't stress yourself and take care. Love you, Puck!!

Thank you so much, darling, and thank you for being patient as well. It’s mostly just frustrating for myself because I’ve been writing the same thing over and over again in different ways and it’s just not working, which is really annoying at this point. I’ve taken a break for it today to focus on uni work instead and I’ll do the same tomorrow and come back to it later with a cleared head. It will work eventually, but this chapter has just been really troublesome for some reason. So yeah, thank you for understanding and being patient. It really makes it a less stressful for me. So, thanks a lot and I hope that inspiration will come back soon too. I’ll keep you all updated on how it goes. Love you too!

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3one3 · 7 years

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The Sequel - 875

Sid Lowe

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 did they send me here with Marcus and a bunch of noobs? Daniel and Christian and Markus and Meredith and Marco are probably all available. He and I can’t win a team competition on our own, obviously. Fourth is so unsatisfying. I could have stayed home. I didn’t need to be here. Why did we just surrender a fourth title in like 5 years? Is €1.25 million split 5 ways really so disappointing to the others that they couldn’t bother to come? It’s not like they’re somewhere else competing for more cash this weekend. Bah humbug. I should have skipped it too. But then I wouldn’t be with him, Christina realized, in reference to the Spaniard sleeping beside her in Spain. Juan caught a ride on Cesc’s charter to Barcelona following an exhausting and demoralizing defeat to Manchester City at Stamford bridge, and just caught Christina’s exhausting and demoralizing clean ride in the second round of the Nations Cup Final, which was only good enough to keep Germany in fourth place. She stayed awake to ruminate on her Nations Cup experience while he slept peacefully snuggled up to her, with arm around her waist and two pillows to keep his face above her hair. Neither of them had any clothes on, and the rider kind of wished they did because she thought all the skin to skin contact was making her extra hot and thus making it harder to fall asleep. The footballer barely stayed awake long enough to enjoy the oral sex services offered to him out of sympathy, boredom, and the quest for distraction.

He was there to watch and support her, and to hang out in the Catalonian capital with her for two extra days. Once again the Spain manager couldn’t find a place for him in the squad for the coming qualifying matches, so once again he had the international break to himself. André wasn’t fit enough for Löw either, but he wanted to stay in Germany and work with the coaches at Brackel. Christina actually hoped she could get him to go away with her and Lukas for a few days- perhaps to a European city neither of them had been to yet, or maybe just back to London to do things they used to enjoy there. He wanted to train. She didn’t argue. Despite many visits for many Nations Cups, she’d still never experienced Barcelona as a tourist. Juan had big plans to rectify that. First, she had one more class to jump on Sunday, with Socks. There were two on the time schedule, actually, but she intended to use her second horse for the feature- a 1.55m grand prix- and spare her main mount, Nick, the extra jumps. Nearly everyone else would jump their second in the smaller class in the morning and use their Nations Cup horse for the grand prix. Christina didn’t see the point.

Her Nations Cup week was beginning to feel like something she didn’t see the point in, and one of the reasons she was lying awake in her friend’s arm was that she couldn’t help but wonder if that was going to be a theme in everything for a while. She didn’t know if the event just felt like a waste of time because Heiner and Holger selected three B team riders to accompany her and Marcus, or if she just didn’t care that much about the outcome. Nick did his part. He jumped clear in both rounds and collected a share of the €100,000 bonus. Christina was pleased with him, and with herself, and especially with the fact that she walked both courses with her mentor and her coach and thought, “it’s big, but not that hard”. A Nations Cup Final is no small thing. The course designer works on it for months, and it’s meant to challenge the world’s top riders and horses. It asked as many difficult questions as some of the Olympic courses. But it was still just two rounds, with a day off in between. The primary challenge at the Olympics is being consistent and surviving the war of attrition through day after day of elite level competition. The football wife thought of it as squeezing your biggest derby, an away clash with the team at the top of the table, and both legs of a Champions League semi-final into one week, and being prohibited from making changes to the team. The Nations Cup was a home match against Everton by comparison, after a week without a Tuesday or Wednesday fixture. Still, Christina didn’t know if she was bored with it all or if the less than ideal result just left her convincing herself she didn’t care about it anyway. She knew part of the problem was the social element. It was just her and Tom in Spain, and just Marcus and the H’s. Team dinners weren’t as fun as with the usual gang. There was less banter around the barn. The others needed more of Heiner’s attention.

Her trip to Rome the week before was slightly less devoid of fulfillment. Global Champions Tour events were always full of parties and better shopping. The hotels were better. The food was usually really good. Christina had her son, his grandparents, his cousin, and her brother and sister-in-law around to do things with when she wasn’t riding. Daniel was there. Nick and Rio were rusty, so they required her to actually pay attention and try in the saddle. Stefanie was competing in the big classes and needed a lot of handholding. There was exceptional pasta. She got to wear pretty dresses a couple of times. One of her old friends from New York was there grooming for a young American rider. Lukas did his first TV interview and told everyone his brother, Kimi, was his favorite horse. When the Tour interviewer questioned the brother-brother relationship, Lukas side-eyed him so hard that his mom burst into laughter and told the guy he should apologize for offending him. Once she got her horses sorted- which only took one class a piece- the actual riding wasn’t that interesting though, and she truly couldn’t have cared less if she won or not. Her prime purpose there was to knock off the dust and get two of her best three mounts back into competition shape so they’d be ready for the Nations Cup and Global Champions Tour Finals and maybe even retain that fitness through their next horse show drought between them and the World Cup qualifier in London in December or whatever she chose after that. So it was hard to draw any conclusions about motivation in the days between her events, and she really just wished she could stop feeling like she was supposed to be doing that- that she was supposed to be gathering evidence to help her figure out what to do next with her life. Riding was what she did, and it was hard to imagine that some boring horse shows would make her choose something else. André said they might just mean she needed to do something different with riding, like different shows, or different venues, or even different horses. He kept telling her to stop pushing it too, and to just let things come as they may.

It’s not like being at home was that much more satisfying, the Olympian reflected. Her eyes were closed and she really was trying to get to sleep, not least because she could barely move anyway. At least there’s a Ferrari at home though. I love my Ferrari. I need to find a way to do a photoshoot with my Ferrari and my Dirk and have it not be ridiculous. I’m gonna take him to London, I think. He’ll be good in that tiny ring, and he’s gonna be so bored by then if I don’t. I might try Calvin in the Puissance. He’s big and clunky but he really is the most powerful jumper in the barn, literally speaking. Them hocks, though. I hate that show, actually, but I love that it’s in London because everyone gets to come. Juanin can probably come like 4 out of the 5 nights. Can’t wait to go out with him tomorrow night. I’m sure wherever we’re going is awesome, and I missed sitting next to him at a dinner table. And we’re going to the Boqueria on Monday! I’m gonna eat all day long, Christina resolved. She eventually fell asleep thinking about all the wonderful things in Barcelona’s famous market- particularly the sweet confections. And she slept well, because jumping late into the night took a lot out of her, even if the riding wasn’t so difficult. Her days all necessarily started early up to that point. Sunday was different, since she wasn’t doing the morning class. Her internal clock woke her at 8 anyway. Juan wasn’t interested in getting out of bed at 8.

“Playing against Guardiola’s team when you don’t have anyone to hold the ball up is like running the London Marathon,” he complained when she leaned on her right elbow and attempted to talk him into getting up- not through persuasiveness, but by annoying him with her constant chatter. The Chelsea man arrived to her with a completely flat battery. Fellow Spaniard and critical cog in Conte’s plan, Alvaro Morata, had to be substituted in the first half due to injury, and it left the Blues with no out ball to evade the constant onslaught of City’s press. Christina watched the match during dinner at the horse show. She kept counting the players on the field to make sure they actually put someone on in Morata’s place, because it looked like they played a man down from then on. “You said you don’t have to be next door until noon.”

“I don’t, but I need to go to the gym, and I want breakfast, and you know, company.” She tried to appear charming and cute and undeniable, and Juan was having none of it. He just rolled his eyes and yawned. “Don’t you need to go to the gym too? Shouldn’t you do some kind of recovery for your precious marathon legs?”

“Yes, but first I should sleep two more hours.”

“I think you’re incapable of waking up at a decent hour in Spain. Seriously. Like as soon as you hit Spanish airspace, you need to sleep all day and want to eat at midnight, and your face glows like a pregnant lady.”

“You look tired. Go back to sleep. Sleep with me, cariña,” he yawned, paying no attention to her complaints. He rolled onto his side and leaned over to pull her closer- close enough that her face ended up almost in the side of his pillow pile, from which he bent down to smooch her cheek. His legs mingled with hers too, and he rubbed her back to try to make her sleepy, or at least in the mood to snuggle and probably fall asleep. “Close your eyes and think about the competition later. Visualize the ride.”

“How about I just visualize you being awake and talking to me?” she laughed.

“Whatever. Just shut up and let me sleep.”

Christina did go back to sleep. She didn’t bother with the visualization. Instead, she traced every contour of Juan’s torso- every muscle and skin fold- over and over until her eyes shut on their own again. He didn’t even notice. His sort-of-girlfriend often wondered if all men sleep like the dead or if it was a trait unique to footballers, who all seemed prone to passing out whenever left unattended in a sitting or lying down position for more than 90 seconds. The particular footballer sharing her bed actually had to work hard to rouse her from slumber two hours later. They did hit the gym together, and then the brunch buffet in the riders’ restaurant, and then the barn. The rider wanted to hang out there, safe from the public and the press, and relax with her friends until it was time to start preparing for the City of Barcelona Cup. Holger had other ideas.

“Please just do the interview,” he groaned at her after a tepid back and forth about an interview request from a local journalist. The assistant trainer’s interest in helping to secure the sit-down wasn’t clear, and Christina didn’t really care what it was. She just didn’t want to do it. “He only wants a few minutes. He only has a few minutes. He’s going to the football stadium to cover the match.”

“It’s a football journalist?” Juan questioned with renewed curiosity. He was involved because the request was to interview him and Christina together, about their friendship and how they supported one another in their respective sports.

“Yes,” Holger nodded, his expression turning hopeful. Juan’s curiosity was more promising than the rider’s snorted and snide “no”.

“Which one?” she asked, with no curiosity whatsoever. It’s definitely some hack who wants to do a story about me cheating on Schü. Without a doubt.

“Sid Lowe.”

No. Wha-

“He could have just called me,” the Chelsea man smiled, glancing at the phone in his hand. They were sitting in canvas chairs in the stable aisle near Nick and Socks’ stalls. “I know him well.”

“How’d he even know you’re here?” Christina questioned.

“Social media, probably. I posted the video of you falling down last night while we were having breakfast,” the Spaniard sniggered. He was lucky enough to capture her totally missing the landing on her signature back flip dismount off Nick’s big butt, primarily because she slipped off said butt before she could even launch herself in the air. The entire Germany contingency was watching, and laughed uproariously both at her and then at Nick when he turned his head all the way around to look at her on the ground as if to ask what on Earth she was doing.

“Is that why you keep telling me to try to go a whole day without looking at Instagram? You jerk.”

“Can we focus on the interview, please? His profile is tremendous compared to yours. It would be nice for us to borrow some from him...”

“I’ll talk to Sid,” Juan told Holger, against Christina’s obvious objections. “What?” he asked her when she made that “how could you betray me?” face at him and put her boot on the front of his chair between his legs. “He’s a good guy. You love him! You asked me to introduce you!”

“I hate you.” Schü is gonna hate this, she sighed inside as he tapped on his phone to message the London-born, Madrid-based Guardian writer, radio commentator, podcaster, and- by a country mile- Christina’s favorite football author. His second book had pride of placement on her shelf of treasured reads, next to I Am Zlatan, Bergdorf Blondes, and a first edition copy of National Velvet. I’m sure Sid has zero interest in asking us shady questions about our relationship, but he’s still going to be mad. There will be this wonderful article in the Guardian tomorrow about how Juanin and I help each other stay motivated, pick each other up, inspire one another, yadda yadda yadda, and Schü is going to read it while I’m frolicking around Barcelona without him.

“Can someone go to the security checkpoint and let him in?” the player asked. “He doesn’t have press credentials.” Holger eagerly volunteered and walked off purposely toward the front of the aisle to go fetch the writer, leaving his rider to return to wondering why he even cared about the interview or wanted her to do it. “I’m doing this because he did that nice feature for me on the launch of Common Goal, and because I trust him.”

“You trust someone who just turns up on a whim and tries to back-door an interview?”

“He messaged on my business phone a few hours ago. I just didn’t see. I try not to be on it when I’m with you.”

Oh, sure, make me feel bad by reminding me that you try to give me your undivided attention. Suuuuuure. Suuuuure. I hate- Does Tom Tom have French fries? Because much of Christina’s incredulity was an act, it was easy for her groom to distract her when he walked up to their chairs with a cardboard tray of food.

“Has Dr. Todd come back yet?” he inquired, taking a seat on the tack trunk in front of Socks’ stall. The vet was keeping an eye on Nick’s puffy left front leg. He had some swelling around the tendon down the back, just above the fetlock, when Tom took his wraps off in the morning. He jogged sound on it, and it went down some after a 30-minute walk around the show venue. Dr. Todd was supposed to re-check it, though there was nothing they could really do for it besides poultice and re-wrap, and nobody was particularly worried about it. Puffy legs would be conspicuous by their absence in most jumping horses his age.

“No. Did you get fries?” Tom’s charge sat up tall in her director’s chair to try to see in his tray.

“Yeah, and you can’t have them.”

“He’s making me do an interview I don’t want to do. I think that deserves at least one fry.”

“What interview?” He narrowed his eyes at the pair of friends mirroring one another’s crossed arms posture. Holger and the person Christina listened to for about 40 minutes each week on two different podcasts strolled into the barn before either of them could explain. Juan got up to greet his acquaintance, and introduce him to his admirer.

“She’s a big fan,” he chuckled after the formal pleasantries and handshakes. Sid Lowe was slightly taller than she expected, rounder in the middle than he appeared on TV, and every bit as friendly as she imagined. He made it very difficult for her to keep acting so put out about the interview. She was actually quite happy to meet him. He was her favorite kind of nerd, and the person she’d want to hang with at a crowded party.

“Of my puff pieces about you?” Sid questioned. He’d been pumping out Juan-admiring content for years, in great deal because he too was a big Real Oviedo shareholder and really appreciated the way the player helped to save the club.

“Of your crap Spanish jokes, your Real Oviedo fanboying, and extreme ADD,” the rider smiled. “I never miss a pod- but the free ones! I refuse to become a patron for your extra content. I’m not here to subsidize a new Podmobile,” she joked, fitting in as many references to regular parts of The Spanish Football Podcast as possible. Sid was the expert and main contributor, and his friend Phil, a Real Madrid TV employee, was the host who guided him through the week’s Spanish football themes and tried desperately to keep him on track. Christina liked it best when he got off track and shared anecdotes about people. Their podcast was one of the only football things she could still enjoy, because it was all about Spanish football and not about anything to do with her husband or most of her player friends and their families. They didn’t have reason to discuss Juan much. His exclusion from national team call ups wasn’t newsworthy anymore. “Oh! And your appreciation for Fernando Torres. I love Fernando Torres.”

“I must admit this is a bit strange. I’ve never interviewed a fan of...me.”

“We have a condition for the interview,” Juan interjected, very stern and serious.

“We do?” the rider questioned.

“You have to start answering her tweets. She tweets you regularly and you only ever replied to her once, a long time ago.”

“What do you tweet me about?”

“David Villa. And Marcos Alonso, mostly. When is he going to get a Spain call up?”

“Ah. Well. I answer that question all the time on the patron-only pods,” Sid teased, deadpan.

“Figures.”

“Chris, are you watching the time?” Tom asked. His rider apologized and introduced him too, and his question served as a nice segue to the actual interview. Holger fetched another chair for Sid, and Sid explained his interest in talking with them. He said no one writes about athlete friendships like theirs, in which the two people compete in different sports, go to events to support each other, and publically lift each other up in all their endeavors, not just sport- particularly male/female friendships. They brought up Bastian Schweinsteiger and his tennis player wife, as an example of what Juan and Christina were not. Sid wanted to talk Olympics, the Premier League, World Cups, charity projects, music videos, and what it’s like to go through professional and personal ups and downs alongside another athlete doing the same. He was really easy to talk to, and every bit as sharp and intelligent as Christina thought he’d be. Both she and Juan had to be very careful about not just what they said, but how they interacted during the fairly lengthy chat. Sid wasn’t going to miss anything. They didn’t want to accidentally give him an interview about how much they loved one another. He prefaced the whole thing by telling them that he didn’t have a specific angle for piece in mind, that it could be something for his regular Guardian column or a feature for magazine FourFourTwo, and that he might not end up writing anything at all. It would have been easy to accidentally invite him to write about obvious love suppressed between two best friends, though they were both sure that story wouldn’t interest him in the slightest. He was a real journalist, with a PhD, and he wrote a book called Catholicism, War and the Foundation of Francoism: The Juventud de Accion Popular in Spain. No one who wrote anything with a title like that could possibly relish the chance to pen a love story.

“I think it’s really important to be around people who you can admire and learn from but aren’t the same as you,” Juan said during his turn to speak at length about the importance of Christina’s friendship. There wasn’t a lot of straight question and answer going on. It was more like a casual conversation in which one participant just happened to be recording and taking notes. “You have more experienced players in the dressing room to learn from, and young guys who remind you what it’s like to play without pressure, things like this, but you’re all football players. You’re all a similar breed. I like to read books by athletes in different sports, music artists, politicians, writers. You learn different things from them. Christina is in a really different position. She competes for herself sometimes, and sometimes for a team. The psychology of that is tough. In some ways, players have to think that way, because you play for the team and you want the team to win, but you also want to play. You want to be ahead of the other guy in your position. She helps me with that. I don’t know who else could.”

“And he helps me with love/hate relationships with national team coaches,” the gold medalist chirped pointedly just to mess with Holger, who was sitting in Tom’s place on the tack trunk to listen in. “André loves Joachim Löw, and Löw loves André. He’s useless.”

“When I had the admittedly spur of the moment idea to come here to talk to you, I reached out to the horse beat guy at the radio station to get a primer on you so that I wouldn’t turn up and sound like an utter pillock,” Sid remarked, turning his focus on Christina. “She said the only thing to know about you, in terms relatable for me, is that you’re Leo Messi. I want to ask,” he went on, pivoting back to the Chelsea man. “Is that true, and is it as maddening as I suspect to be in a relationship so...so involving of comparisons, and problem sharing? Does her success grate on you, I guess is the simplistic way to put it.”

“I am not Messi.”

“She’s better than Messi. She wins big titles for her country,” the Spaniard commented without a hint of sarcasm. “And I don’t begrudge her success because I see how hard she works for it. It doesn’t make it hard for us to relate. As I said, I don’t know anyone who works like her. The unyielding commitment to doing things the correct way is much more maddening. I think of her whenever I’m tempted by a shortcut.”

“That’s his polite way of saying I have to get my own way and I’m overly dependent on routines.”

“You’ve both highlighted all the ways you’re different, and how you counter-balance one another on a lot of things. Was there a commonality that brought you together in the first place?” Sid switched which leg he crossed over which knee to support his tablet, and Christina tried to gauge how many questions were left on the screen. We’ve talked about all the interesting things, including how we came to be friends. I hope we don’t get into a thing where we’re just talking glowingly about all the things we love about one another, she thought. That wouldn’t be a very Sid Lowe-like piece.

“Just our interests, I think,” Juan shrugged. “Nothing to do with our careers. We like to talk about the same things. We both like nice cars, and art, and learning new things. She loves to cook; I love to eat. She knows all the best old movies. I love old movies.”

“We’re similar as athletes,” the rider piped up, sort of rejecting his rejection of commonality. “He’s not good at what he does on a football pitch because he trains skills all day, and I’m not good at what I do in the saddle because I have lessons every day. We train for fitness and condition and sharpness, and rely on natural talent and instinct for our skills. I think the best part of his game is between his ears, and the best thing I do is in my hands and my butt. You can’t learn those things. You can’t learn vision, or reading the game. Yeah, he needs skills to execute when he sees an opportunity- like you could practice making really quick, perfectly targeted crosses, I guess, but you can’t practice knowing when to make them. That’s what he’s so good at. He’s almost singularly good at it. I can’t name another player exactly like him. I wish for him when I watch other teams. I think all the best people at the top of the different sports are like that, you know? It was something different for me to meet another person in the same boat as me, actually. I had this weird riding upbringing where I was given the chance to ride a lot but didn’t actually get that much instruction. I used to think I just learned by observation, because I learn other things that way. Only when I came over here did I realize that my trainers have only worked to condition me, and professionalize me, and get experience, because my feel is natural, and the best asset I have. Now I know a lot of football players like that, but Juan is the only one I talk training and preparation with. André is kind of different. His natural talent is finishing, and his speed. He doesn’t practice that. He has to practice everything else. I wish he could practice the speed part because it’s gone missing on him for a long time and he could really use it back. It doesn’t work that way. Anyway, the point is, Juan is my only friend who I relate to that way. And my Olympic horse. He’s exactly the same.”

“That’s interesting. Would you characterize your competitors the same way? Are there a lot of people like...for example, like Frank Lampard. The popular trope that follows him is that he wasn’t very talented but worked harder than everyone to be good. Without throwing your fellow riders under any buses, is that how you see it?” the English writer posed as a thoughtful follow up. Juan was listening pretty keenly too. Christina liked having his ear on something like that.

“Some. There are a lot of different types of riders who can be successful at this. I know some people who win big classes and get great horses just by having the ability to stay on a psychotic but super-talented horse and not crash into the jumps. Someone like that wouldn’t get much out of most of my horses. Others rely on really polished mechanics. Others are more like me. But it’s funny. We don’t talk about feel. You can’t share a feeling, or coach someone into it. If we’re trying to help one another, we talk mechanics- try more leg here, or shift the balance sooner- stuff like that. A lot of having the feel is being open to it. It’s hard to explain. You need to open your body and have your head clear enough to tune into the horse. You need a certain amount of happiness, and content with your life. If you have too much going on inside, you’re too distracted to feel what the horse wants to tell you, or what he doesn’t want to tell you. Juan is one of the only people I talk to about that. He helps me figure out how to stay receptive. Actually, he helps me balance my neurotic need for hard work and routine with taking breaks and doing other things so that I do have that clarity of mind, and openness. We do things like stay a few extra days after a horse show to enjoy the city and leave horses and football to the side. I try to do that with André too, but it’s hard to leave family issues to the side with the horses and the football. We naturally end up talking about our son all the time, and stuff like that.”

“Chris, can you get out of the aisle? We’re going to start getting horses ready in a few minutes,” Tom said after begging pardon to interrupt. Indeed, there were more grooms around, and other riders. He took Socks’ halter off its hook and was about to drop the stall guard to bring him out. The interview was clogging up their path to the grooming area.

“I have enough, I’d say,” Sid declared with the tapping on his phone screen to end his recording. “How much time happens between getting horses ready and the cup competition?”

“For Chris, about 45 minutes,” Holger supplied. He sprang up from his seat. “Would you like to stay as our guest and watch in the hospitality tent? Or you can watch with Juan at the ring.”

“What time is kickoff at Camp Nou?” Juan inquired. His writer friend checked his cheap watch.

“4:15. I can stay for 45 minutes. How long is the whole thing?”

“About the same as a match,” the player chuckled. “Watch Chris and then go. That’s what I do at home.”

“I think I will. I want to see Leo Messi ride a horse,” Sid smiled. Holger’s eyes grew with excitement. They all picked up their canvas chairs and folded them to get them out of the way of the people working. Juan showed Sid to the drinks cooler for a Coke. Christina excused herself to change, and to reflect on the interview. It didn’t feel that revelatory in real time, but the minute it was over and everyone was standing up to move on to the next thing, a big thing hit her.

There are so many reasons he’s good for me that have absolutely nothing to do with sex and romance. I’ve been low key to high key pissed at boyfriend for so long for accepting my relationship with Juanin, and for exalting his approval, and for saying he understands that I need him and he helps make my life better. He’s just right though. The friendship is so important to everything I do. And he and I can’t seem to have the friendship without the intimacy too, to one degree or another, so it’s...it’s actually a really unselfish thing. It’s not that he doesn’t love me enough to be possessive, or isn’t strong enough to say no, or he’s hiding how much it hurts him because he doesn’t want to look wrong about all the promises. Perhaps he really doesn’t feel hurt because nothing that good for me could ever hurt him. I’ve never been able to think about my relationship with Juanin the way I had to do just now. It’s different when someone sits down and essentially says, “Okay, tell me why you have this special friendship”- when you can’t include any of the sex or love stuff, and you have to focus on the actual friendship, and the ways you support and help each other just as people and not as people in love. I haven’t been able to talk about us that way since before I knew he cared about me that way- back when I used to have to defend “we’re just friends” to Schü all the time, because he didn’t like us hanging out. I should apologize to him for using his unselfishness against him all the time, maybe.

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