#Crochet Braids near me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

iplayghoul · 3 months ago

Text

let the light in

xx: cowboys! eren & onyankopon x reader . .

9.9k words — life on a ranch, porn with plot, tension, feelings, eventual sex, fucking in.. mud & rain, reader is referred to as 'she', 'girlie' etc, use of 'daddy', lots of spit & being dirty, reader is a country bumpkin, light arguing, thumb in ass, pussy spanking, spitroasting, cunnilingus, crying, some squirting & creaming, lots of shortened words & punctuation (country dialect duhh), not proof read sorry, awkward moments.

notes: been writin dis since december 2023... enjoy u guys :] rbgs appreciated

“hiya mrs. brown!”

worn out boots of marble cake pink and brown swirls, graze the dirtied gravel near the elderly woman's cottage as you slip from the horse. mary-lou, you affectionately call her, dusting her pinked moist nose with a pat before hobbling onto the stone path. over the horizon, the pastel orange and yellows of the sun threaten to melt into your skin, kissing it golden as the morning begins and so do your deliveries.

golden-blonde, french curl braids woven into your roots fall past your lower back ending in thick, loose curls, some held together by bows and others hair clips. they bounced with every step. mrs. brown was the first on your list of deliveries today. on cool mornings like this when spring teases its approach, you often bake little treats for the other villagers. apple tarts, blueberry jellies, cherry pies with freshly picked fruits, warm buttery honey-milk breads and healthy breakfast muffins: all made with ingredients grown at home! but, we'll explore the garden later.

calling this a village was a bit of a stretch, realistically, a happy delusion at most. acres of farm property was shared by each of the residents whose homes were nearby, despite the farm areas creating distances of land behind them. tok, tok, tok! the haste below mary-lou's hooves pulled you back to your task as you rearranged the goodies and stepped onto the wooden plank. mrs. brown sat atop her rocking chair, crocheting a blanket you'd commissioned. a chuckle, “ [ ] , dearest, always in y’head, aren't yuh?” mrs. brown softly muttered, deep brown skin crumpled besides her lips, short pastel curls tickling her ears. hands busied with the neapolitan coloured yarn. her countryside twang was a pleasant aerated tone, reminding you of your own parents.

you huff and offer a smile. “mrs. brown I've—”, “must I remind you, dearest, eleonora,” the playfulness in her voice offers it a quiver. “and let me guess . . . cherry pie?” thin, quivering lips stretch to a smile, your plump ones mimic hers as you nod with a sweetened expression. “yes, eleonora, I know how much y’love cherry pies n’–”, “and my grandson does too, y'know!” you stop to stare at her as she wears nothing but a smug look on her face, her head bobbing side to side with a ‘you know damn well’ manner.

eleonora lived mostly alone. when her daughter married, giving her a sole grandson they'd moved to the city. luckily for her, and you, her grandson moved back on his own to the country. he fixed cars, motorcycles, tractors– you name it, he's got it covered. she said his name was onyankopon or, ony’. to be honest, you spied around one time to catch a glimpse of him. back when you first moved in and eleonora became immediately smitten with the idea of you and her grandson as potential lovers, you snuck around where ony's ranch was, peaking at who the man could be. you barely saw him really, the small flash of him you saw all greasy with engine oil was so far away! but infatuation always grew in you from a small bud, slowly growing before flower petals started spilling out your throat.

“are ya’ stoppin by him too, darlin’?” she pries further, “I ‘dunno els’ . . . y'know I haven't actually met ‘em right?”, “oh I know dear,'' she breathes, “ he's strong, he's tall, he surely is handy ‘round the house and- and he's not ‘onna dem toxic masculine things i hear ‘bout on the Internet! I think he's had a boyfrien’ b'fore, that must count!” she relieves your hands of the heavy treats while speaking, “eleonora . . .”, “c'mon darlin’, you've got t'get married someday, n’ imma’ be the flower gal!”

all you can do is shake your head and accept the sweet kiss to the cheek she offers you before trotting back to your horse. mary-lou grew rather impatient! settling her brown and white spotted body to the ground awaiting your return. to be completely honest, you craved love. the partying, sex and relationships of college got old and moving here right after left you high and dry with the weight of ‘unlovable’ bearing down on your shoulders. the lack of men your age was . . . a troublesome dilemma but who were you to complain? you hiked yourself back onto mary-lou and continued your journey to the next cottage home.

looking over the blueberry skies and whipped cream clouds kept you in grandiose delusions of a love so pure and sweet, like powdered sugar that you could indulge in, maybe one day.

♡

“down girl, down!”

The rough, deep voice shakes the silence near the upcoming ranch. after your deliveries, you'd end up with a few apple-cherry tarts remaining, sometimes the neighbours are vacationing in the city, or insist you keep some! by this time, the sun shone fully now, its warmth tingling your skin. “awe, shucks, man!” another voice caused your brows to furrow, peering up ahead at the ranch . . . the one in which eleonora's grandson resided. from what you could see without the sun in your eyes, two men of tall statures– roughhousing with gorgeous horses. the one in the cowboy's hat was doing a terrible job of trying to calm one of them. their manes were a beautiful silky white, shining healthily under the sun as they lifted their front legs to the air before trotting around the . . . shirtless men again. mother would scold you now if she could see you openly ogling at the two, you push that thought to the back of your mind.

mary-lou slows on your command beside their ranch gate, huffing and happily shaking out her mane as she watches the other horses play. something possesses you to hop off with the remaining tarts, awkwardly shuffling to the fence– your pink-brown boots were worn mismatched to your strapless white lace top and similar mini-skirt. “uh . . . howdy there fellas!” both men turned to your direction, blocking their eyes from the sun and beginning to stroll over.

the closer view made your breath catch in your throat. the one on the left, you assume is el's grandson, his skin was a dark mahogany brown, he glistened slightly with sweat in the sun, deeply defined muscles prelude veins below his belly button then covered by bright blue jeans and black cowboy boots to match his hat.

he had a handsome face.

thick two-toned lips spread to reveal a bright smile, a few teeth plated with gold caps as he teased the man to his right. this man had dark, black, shining curls that rested atop his shoulders, two eyebrow slits decorated with piercings, matching ones on his . . . pretty lips. his skin was a dusted tan, sunkissed tone and he wore black jeans atop his brown boots. You couldn't miss the tattoos that crept up the side of his abdominals, you were curious.

“how c'n we help ya’, miss?” the left spoke up and your cheeks felt hot, it's been a while since you heard that pet name, you chalked it up to the blazing sun. “well, uh, you're eleonora's grandson, right?” you nibble on your nails nervously, he nods, “I just . . . thought it’d be nice to give y'all these extra treats i baked.” pushing the basket in their direction and allowing the dark haired one to peep under the cloth, he had a mischievous look to him and he elbowed the other in the ribs with a slick smile, “wass ya’ name, pretty? ‘m eren, dis is ony’,” he pointed between them, “ n’ y’made these y’self, ma’?” eren pulls out a tart, staring down at you through long eyelashes, “oh! uh I‘m [ ], n’ yes! I did n' I grew all'em fruits m'self too!” you bounce on the heels of your boots, nervously.

ony’ stays mostly quiet you've noticed, taking in your outfit as well, his eyes raking over you. eren warmly feeds him a bite of the tart as their horses trot over to mingle with mary-lou. “how long ya’ been livin’ ‘round here, sugar?” ony’ speaks up soft and mellow, grabbing himself his own tart to taste. eren reaches out to pet mary-lou. “i guess it’s been a about a year now! y’see i moved out ‘round here after college.” you nibbled your shiney bottom lip, “what ‘bout y’all? your grandma talks ‘bout you all the time, but, i ain’t really seen you round here?” you turn to eren who makes a kissy face at mary-lou before turning to you. “i mostly tend to the farm ma’, as y’can tell, ‘m better with the animals than ony’ here.” he flashes you a smile and props his arms against the fence biting his lip and lowering closer to your eye level. ony’ playfully smacks his arm, flashing a gorgeous smile with his gold teeth sparkling in the sun, “shut up, man.”

you look away quickly, catching yourself staring at his lips, he certainly doesn't miss it. you totally push the basket towards eren’s arms, “y’c’n have the basket y’know i always weave more, i’ve gotta get goin, now,” you rush, “wait– take m’ number, pretty,” eren offers before reciting it a couple times so you’ve got it down. “n’ which onna’ these ranches ‘s yours, mama?”, you're mounting mary-lou once more, “it's not too far! it's the ranch with the blue fence n’ the pond out front!”

♡

the days after that remained uneventful, with no deliveries of any kind, you preferred to remain on the ranch tending to the animals and house work. you'd never texted eren, only saved his number and stalked his contact profile . . . and opened his chat section many-a-times without saying anything. taking a liking to someone new is hard. you don't forget the many times a partner toyed with you, assuming innocence and naivity of you based soley off your appearance, then doing whatever they'd wanted behind your back. you were past that now, hopefully at least; the concrete walls you used to block others out wasn't something you'd liked to be reminded of.

padding out the back door, the coldness of the stone path chills beneath your bare feet. your toes painted with the cutest design within your artistic range, accompanied by the musical arrangement of your anklet. you pick up a dirtied bucket with the many things you'd needed to complete your chores for the morning, taking a long look at the expanse of the ranch.

a deep breath of clean air, healthy green fields relieve your eyes of their stress; partly cloudy skies was the forecast! weather for hanging outside, the cumulus clouds indicated it to be the perfect day for fishing too! the pond was still, the little lambs were just waking up in their pen, the gardenias were blooming; the white dexter cattle mulled around, seemingly bored behind the fence. just as you begin to walk by with the bucket of feed, the cows behind let out soft, deep ‘mooooo’s’: a ‘good morning!’ greeting in their own way. each receiving gentle pets to their fur.

your mental list of duties was shorter today: pet the cattle, inspect the lambs & brush their fur, throw feed for the chickens & clean their coupes, feed the dogs, feed the fish.

you couldn't help but wear your best little dress to do the tasks today, a simple white thing that cupped your breasts just right. “oh, how are ya’ buttercup!” you squealed in delight as the silky white wolf dog rushed up to lick your feet, his opposite onyx counterpart, bentley offered a short bark to show her delight, sitting peacefully and obediently. she'd recently fallen pregnant with pups, confusing as you'd given both animals the proper precautionary procedures! while filling their food bowls, you couldn't help but be reminded of eren and ony’. your toes dug into the grass a bit, excited at the idea of . . . sharing your home with someone else again. both men seemed pleasant, highly attractive, but feelings always confused you. perhaps they were only being decent human beings to you, nothing more.

to be honest, you hadn't had the best history with relationships. it's part of– it's one of the main reasons you'd decided to move out to the countryside. casual sex was fine, yeah, whatever, you enjoyed it. however, when it comes to your relationships, you refuse to believe you attract shitty people. from making fun of how excited your are by things, to the way you dressed, wore your makeup, your hair, how you cry— the whole works had been used against you. there was only so much of it you could handle. moving away meant . . . fresh start, new people, new experiences. and most importantly, a place where everyone did as they pleased. as much as people think gossip goes around in small villages, the country area was mostly pleasant. neighbours traded crops for items, enjoyed each other's company and minded their own business.

sitting beside the pond, bentley and buttercup eagerly cuddled up at your side; the joy this life brought you was comparable to hot chocolate at the end of a winter day. now you think about how long its been since you could cuddle someone on a cold day. it probably hasn't been since your mother was alive. now was a good time to visit eleonora.

♡

a raspberry lemon loaf warmed your hands as the weather began to cool. the trudge to eleonora's ranch was tranquil, pleasant animals, butterflies and chirping birds kept you occupied for most of it. that is, until your boots dragged to a stop in the dirt, noticing a familiar face in el's front yard.

onyankopon's hair was short, brushed into smooth waves atop his head and faded on the sides, revealed by the lack of cowboy hat. he was shirtless, once again, knee deep in the dirt of his grandmother's yard where he dug the soil for new plants. you swallow, nibbling a plump lip that made your mouth spring from the strawberry flavoured gloss. a colder breeze blew up under your thighs, blowing your simple little dress slightly; furrowing your brows with concern as you peered at the beautiful bright sky, you force yourself to walk up to the gate and begin to unlatch it.

eren's grassy green eyes meet you first, his hands busily feeding a plump cherry into his mouth. pretty pink lips sucked them in, unwelcoming to the juicy red droplets that escaped the cherry. he licks his lips to pull them in. you take a deep breath and focus on not dropping the raspberry lemon loaf. “h-hiya everybody!” you greet, noticing eleonora seated in her usual spot on the rocking chair of her porch while observing the two men.

you hold the loaf somewhat close to you and swallow hard, walking along the stone path of which both men were at either side of. ony’ in the dirt and eren manspreading on the front steps. you held eyes with the ground. “howdy ony’, eren, nice to see you two ‘gain,” you say in a pleasant mumble as you make way up the stairs to eleonora. “brought you this raspberry lemon loaf els’!” you look at her smiling slightly, caught off guard by that signature smug look she held. what insane thoughts about your love life could she be brewing now? the silence from the two men was noticeable too, you were sure they'd turn to look at you as you presented the treat for el’, “my, my! well doesn't this just look lovely!” she claps clammy hands clad in flower themed rings and laughs jolly. “ony’, son, could you get us some tissues n’ forks? oh- n’ eren darlin’ why don't you bring out the pitcher ‘f lemonade with s'm glasses.” the two men stand as she calls upon them, uttering out their deep ‘yes ma'am's’ as they towered above you in walking by. your eyes trailed them slightly before turning back to eleonora who never (not once) misses your silent pining.

ony’ wore his jeans low on his waist, the band of his boxers showed off its maker's name. eren, on the other hand, wore a white wife-beater below unbuckled blue overalls, leaving them hanging over at his waist. “so, have ya’ found y'self a boyfren’, honey?” eleanora asks somewhat loudly as the two men shuffle around the kitchen bearby and your eye widen. “now what kinda’ question is that els’?” you sputtered, “you know I haven't got one.” eleonora giggles like a school girl. you take a cool seat onto the steps. eren and ony’ share small smiles as they return with lemonade and dishes. ony’ takes a seat in a chair opposite eleonora, elevated above you whilst eren makes himself comfortable back in his spot across from you on the steps. raspberry lemon loaf is shared around with the cool glasses of not-too-sweet lemonade to wash it down, eating brought silence besides low groans from the two men who seemed to enjoy your baking. their groans were not sensual, but pressing your thighs together was still a must as a reaction to the unexpected sounds of pleasure. fuck, you felt like a creep. eleonora complimented your skills, asking, “[ ] , did ya’ grow these in the box gardens y'made?” you nod and swallow quickly, all attention to you as eren mumbles ‘box garden?'. ``yea els’, the box gardens ar’ doin’ great, but I've got some extra wood around I think I'mma try to make a few more like the boxes I bought from the market!” eleonora smiles as if she were expecting to hear you randomly bring up your recycling duties.

“ony’, can't you n’ eren build those boxes f’[ ]? I strongly believe lil’ ol’ her shouldn't handle all dat’ wood . . .” you internally blush deeply at the innuendo and take the final bite of your slice of the loaf. eren speaks up, “y'sure right on we can, els’ . . . y'okay wit’ us helpin’ y'out ma?” he takes a quick glance up at ony, locking eyes with him who also lets his stare above you burn into your scalp. “s– sure, I don't mind!” you mutter out lightly and eleonora gives a jolly clap, “well ain't that just darlin’! the day's young, y'all can get started right now!” you have to hold your breath to avoid your last sip of lemonade going down your larynx. the two men mentioned how they're not busy the rest of the day and wouldn't mind before you can even collect yourself. somehow, coming over to eleonora always results in you being roped into another scheme of hers.

and just like that, you found yourself on a quiet . . . and awkward walk back to your ranch with the two young men following closely behind you. anxiety bubbled in your stomach, clamping your lips shut to avoid letting the insecure feeling from escaping your lips. the nerves were getting to you with every second that passed by. “s-so, uh– wassup wit y'all ‘round here?” they both walk up to match your pace. “oh, well, ony here prefers to do all the technical shit like– fixin’ cars n’ all'at.” eren shoves his palms into the pockets of his overalls, walking up ahead where he could look back at the two of you while talking, he maintains glances with onyankopon that you just don't seem to understand. “I prefer to stay on the ranch n’ watch the animals– y'got any besides that horsie?”

“oh– yea i've got m’ horse, mary-lou, two wolfies: bentley n’ buttercup.” a sweet smile stretches on your face, tummy warming a bit. “oh! and I've got names f'all my fish in the pond, my little lambs– oh they're just the cutest! a–and my fluffy cows! they're lovely,” you clasp your hands in excitement, eyes following your footsteps, sputtering happily over the animals. “gosh, n’ I'm tryin’ out a little butterfly area in my front garden, but m’ not the best at it, can’t tame butterflies y’know— they pee on ya’ too! that's fuckin’ crazy,” you reveal with a giggle. as you look up to ask the two a question, you can't help but blush, embarrassingly at that. eren and ony stared at you with pleasant smiles, deeply dimpled too. “oh my, m’ sorry for my ramblin’ how rude of me–”,”no. no, keep talkin’ pretty.” ony's deep voice encourages you and you peer curiously at him: trying to figure him out. he turns away from you licking his lips and spares eren a look before he starts walking again. it urges you both to continue onto the ranch as well, eren shakes his head with a chuckle; he thinks he’s got a handful on his hands.

“y’got a boyfren’ ‘round here, [ ] ?” eren brushes hair over his shoulders, asking the question calmly whilst maintaining a look up the path, ony’s arm brushed yours as he walked close by. “well– no, what about you?” you melt your lips together before stuttering out,”wait, not– i mean, girlfriend . . . well– i don’t care–!” ony barks out a laugh while eren turns around to give you a bright smile, all three of you burst into giggles. “nah, no girlfren’ or boyfren’, ma’.” ony speaks up gently, “but, uh– me n’ E’ might be lookin’ for a third to make us official, i dunno.” your eyes widen but ony gives a nonchalant shrug, handsome face glowing with a smug smile like he didn't just drop #thebomb on you. it reminded you of his grandmother, you look to eren who’s looking back at you and onyankopon with just a slight grin and your breath catches in your throat. “oh! there’s the ranch just up ahead,” you blurt out and skip past eren, scurrying over to unlatch the gate to your front garden as the two followed you in.

now your heart felt like it could melt. like– like a huge strawberry ready to burst! what did ony’ mean by that? oh, how you felt like a dizzy little dove. luckily the dogs rushed up to you, excitable and ready to meet the new visitors who they eagerly sniffed. ony’ and eren were happy to roughhouse on sight laughing with the dogs and complimenting the patch of primula's you were trying to grow, the pretty pinki-ish flowers were just beautiful. you lead them through your home, overly conscious about each step you took while they surely eyed every nook and cranny of your decor. “um- y'guys need anything? I've got some snacks . . .”, “nah, we're good,” eren mumbled, sounding obviously distracted by their nosey observations of your living space. you hear the tone of your dryer going off just as you unlatch the netted back door that served as another layer next to the already opened wooden one.

“holy shit,” ony’ whispered, your organization of the backyard was impeccable. clean and solid fencing around the cows, plants on the left with storage on the other. you left the two to walk out into the cold breeze that passed by as they observe the surroundings and the pile of wood waiting for them; all while you quickly rushed to the laundry room nearby to dislodge your clothing and stuff them into a basket. you hurry back out to join them.

“so, here's one of the other boxes i made,” you gesture to the dirty box filled with planted Spanish thyme, “i know it looks kinda wonky but, hopefully you guys can do better,” you offer an awkward laugh and sit on the back steps, legs crossed.

eren and onyankopon share a look, then grab some planks bringing them more into your line of view with some of the tools nearby and sitting in the grass. even in your own home, you felt a little out of place. in silence, eren and ony’ shared alot of chemistry you didn't understand. despite this, what ony’ said on the way here never left your mind. “y'guys got alot ‘f experience . . . relationship-wise?” you scratch behind your ear. they worked separately lining up wood and nailing them into place, muscles working diligently. “mm, yea. ‘guess y'can say that ma',” eren glances at ony who hums low and offers you a small smile.

“it's jus’ that– ‘m thinkin’ ‘bout watchu said earlier . . .” you blink, fumbling, “unless that was like a joke ‘r somethin’—”

“i wasn't joking.” onyankopon confirms calmly, his jaw tight. you allow the silence to continue for a few beats, eyes flickering back and forth between the two and your hands petting the dogs that came to lay beside you. “we don't expect ya’ to jus’ trust us like that, missy,” eren offers gently, shoving his curls into a small bun and you nibble your bottom lip.

ony's brows furrow and he's hammering the last few nails into his box before he speaks up. “how c'n we get to know you ma’? me n’ E’ been . . . chillin’ for over a year. since college, actually, n’ we been watchin’ y'too. w’dont expect you to feel the way we do in 10 minutes or even in a day. let us get t'know you.” you squint a little.

“y'serious?” your chest feels a little hot and you're praying to the gods you don't fuck this up. “c's i don't intend on gettin played wit’ ‘specially not out here, y’hear me?” and you don't mean to raise your voice a little, the sounds just flow out. “hey, hey now,” eren pushes his finished work aside and stands, tugging his overalls up, hands resting on his hips. “we don't got no bad intentions, sugar, chill wit’ us,” and you blink up at him, unmoved.

“m'kay, let's just say i decided to ‘chill’ wit’ y'guys,” you stand up, fold your arms and start, “what exactly are we g'nna do, hm?” you look back and forth between them, not missing the way your buttercup whines on the steps where she lay, evidently fed up with all the chatter. “y'got 3 seconds n’ don't say sex. one,”

“who said anythin’ ‘bout sex?” ony’ joins you two as he puts the tools down, “two,” “yea, y'better shut that shit up. let's bake sumn together, show us around y'day, hang wit’ us at our ranch, talk about shit. fuck y’mean sex?” you stubbornly stay silent and stare. eren’s jaw bone pokes out with the way he clenches it. “we're not lookin’ for sex. if we wanted sex from you we coulda seduced you a long time ago, sugar,” he shrugs with a smile and you lick your lips, sighing. “okay, ‘m sorry. I’–I'm such a bad host,” you mutter out, “y'all want anything to eat? or some water.” you hear a low ‘okay’ from ony’ so you shuffle away to the kitchen to grab some bottles for them.

you tried to focus on the coldness of the bottles on the way back as a way to cool your temperament. “i moved out here wit’ intention ‘f startin’ fresh n’ shit.” you start, tossing them bottles before plopping yourself beside buttercup who nuzzled her cold nose into your thigh. the two men were sitting once again, evidently having spoken to each other in your absence.

your voice was shaky as you took a deep breath, garnering the courage to speak up for how you felt, “i'm tired of gettin’ dogged out, n’ played wit’ n’ allat bullshit.” you pout.

“‘m not exactly sure how gettin’ involved wit’ two handsom’ fellas is gonna help me figure out to– to i dunno, regulate m’ emotions.” you frown and shove some braids back behind your ear, “s’ like i damn near avoided it– i moved back t’the country damnit.” a sigh, “i cant just figure out how to adore n’ love– people again or if i'mma be able t'dish it out as much as before.”

“you get what i mean?” your ramble ceased as you finally look up from your focus on your knees and look back and forth between ony and eren. ony chuckles softly while eren offers you a smile and speaks up.

“we'll take it slow, you'n gotta ‘love’ anybody yet, mama,” ony nods at his words, “gotta build a friendship wit'chu first, we not playin’ ‘round.”

♡

a week or so passes in which life goes by as normal. you spend your days busying yourself with gardening and grooming your animals, baking treats and new concoctions. the only exception is eren and onyankopon have somehow easily squeezed themselves into your life.

on your deliveries you hear, “howdy, ma',” they chase across their lawn and hop across the fence to drag you inside and sit you down in the warm house where the two eagerly pester you to try the . . . ‘shrimp alfredo’ they whipped up.

thus, the two would end up in your kitchen, breathing over your hair whilst you instructed them on the proper technique. “naw, i don’ told E to do all'at,” onyankopon protests. so too do they pester mary-lou and your dogs, roughhousing and giving them baths much to their dismay.

through many experiences you learn, onyankopon isn't particularly fond of being tickled, or of wearing shirts. he stays shirtless almost all twenty-four hours of the day and you can only avert your eyes. eren is obsessed with overalls and has an array of them: gray ones, distressed ones, short ones, and he never buckles them properly.. on the ranch, the two gorgeous white haired horses were named armin and reiner, two friends they shared from college. sparkling like diamonds as you're given the opportunity to ride them each around the boys’ ranch in the golden sun. you'd also learned that the two were sexually . . . fluid, they'd called it. vaguely, they'd mentioned their sex lives and based on what they said you couldn't help but assume they were talking about each other. who else was there out here except you?

“yeeehaw! can't catch up, can'ya’?” eren howls and shouts as he trots across the ranch on his horse, ony lagging behind in the chase. here you sat on a wooden little bench near the steps of ony' and eren's ranch; clad in a simple white cropped tank and blue jeans with a chunky belt, your cream coloured cowboy hat sit pretty atop your head. a pretty calico cat licked at your bare feet and nudged you for pets.

at this point, you felt yourself slipping. it was obvious by now you'd grown to enjoy each other's company and serious conversations were imminent.

what were we, how will the dynamics work, what would they expect from you? just then you felt a tap to your forehead.

“heya, girlie,” eren squats down before you to grab your attention, “watchu, thinkin’ ‘bout,” ony’ mumbled, toying with a toothpick between his teeth.

you smack glossy lips together, “jus’. . . ‘bout us three y'know? how- like, where do we go fr'm here huh?” your eyes flutter, cheeks warming. you feel the silence actually, eren and ony’ are doing that stupid thing where they talk to each other with their eyes.

butterflies flap their wings about, joyous as ever. it makes you smile a little, as you're beginning to grow nervous. “let's talk inside ma’,” onyankopon suggests, stepping past you into the house where eren follows.

“me n’ ‘ren c'n take care ‘f each other n’ you, know that?”

you all shuffle onto the dark gray couch in the living space. ony’ and eren's ranch had a deep modern aesthetic. dark oak accents adorned both the outside and inside, complimented by gray and brown shades of furniture.

“i know that . . . ,” you pout,

“so wassup,” eren stares you down, the emerald swirl of his eyes warmed your belly yet you couldn't maintain eye contact with him for long, eren just had that kind of stare without realizing it himself.

“‘m g'nna be frank, ion wanna impose on nothin’ y'folks got . . . n’ my past relationships ain't been the best.” you huff and continue, “‘m jus’ puttin’ that out there. i feel like we've been talkin’ for a while n' I'm fond of y'all.”

“i jus’ don't wanna be the one to mess things up,” you finish in a whisper.

onyankopon hums low and eren plays with his lip ring, “n’ das’ all, girlie?” he asks and pursed his lips, dimple deepening at that. you give a nod and a small ‘yup’ while intertwining your hands onto your knees that were pressed together. “y’ talk to us, we talk to you, got that? if it's an issue y'got: don't hesitate to let us know,” ony’ iterates.

eren makes a noise of agreement, “y’communicate everythin’ wit us, sugar, we're serious,” and you nod slowly. “‘kay . . . i get that,” your eyes feel a little wet with emotion, ones you're not too sure of yourself.

you were happy to hear them affirming their commitment yet still anxious for the future. regardless, you couldn't help but lurch forward, you grab the back of eren's neck to press a sweet strawberry jelly flavoured kiss to his cheek, leaving a baby pink glossy print on his cheek along with a loud ‘mwah’ as you smiled. similarly, you crawl over his lap to do the same to ony’ who only bit back a grin, gold capped teeth glistening in the light much like the glossed smudge on his face.

♡

inevitably came the days you'd call the ‘honeymoon’ phase in a relationship, except it lasted what felt like forever.

these days you preferred to be cuddled up in your bedroom, legs being warmed by a black, gray and white blanket you were committed to crocheting. with a couple dark, gloomy days where the usual creamy clouds frowned down on you, the animals often retreated to their pens and little beds of hay to seek warmed from stormy weather. buttercup and bently invaded each others personal space in their dog beds down at the living room, you smile a little at the thought.

“yeen gotta be like that, ony’,” you hear eren groan in a mischievous pout as the two men exit your bathroom smelling of your bath soap. onyankopon mumbles something of ‘’s a stupid idea’. you giggle under your breath, hands hard at work weaving and looping the thick yarn for the blanket.

“ [ ] , watchu’ think, sugar?” eren plops himself onto the bed, “hm?” still fixated on your progress, ony’ huffs from his seat on the ottoman, lotioning his chest and arms then turning back to rub some excess onto eren's foot. “i told ony’, let's take the horses f’ a ride, ma’, he talkin’ bout ‘oh it's rainy’, i think it'll be chill,” he smiles big and winks expecting something of an applause for his great idea of fun.

“ion mind whateva’ y'guys wanna do, jus’ once we shower ‘gain after, ‘fore we get sick,” you shake your head at the thought. ony’ smacks his teeth, “c'mon, don't support him.”

“what, playin’ in the rain is fun, baby!” you chuckle, eren simply props his head on his palm, enthralled by your meticulous work. regardless, he nods mindlessly in agreement at the discussion.

just like that, cowboy hats and boots were thrown on and you head down to the stables to round up the horses. ony’ and eren raced each other down to them before you could even get a word in. the thought reminded you of buttercup and bently who currently settled and slept with one's head atop the other.

the fresh rain smell hits your nostrils quickly, smelling of the humidity off the grass and pitch of the street. you could audibly hear the wind bristling about the bushes as it cooled your skin. all you wore was a thin white tank top, jeans along with your classic pink-brown boots to match your hat. eren and ony’ warmed up the horses, encouraging mary-lou to shake out her mane and trot a little. onyankopon was seated by reiner, rubbing at his legs to warm him a bit and doing the same to armin. of course, you stare unabashedly, his muscles (unclothed) bulged with each motion, waistline visible amid his jeans.

you stare so much so, that you don't even notice eren come up to your side to press a wet kiss to your neck, he wraps an arm around your shoulders and gives your ear a kiss too, “starin’ at my man, girlie?” he laughs boyishly and you swat him, “dat’s m’ man too, freak,” he gasps falsely at the insult and you speed off to grab the harness for mary-lou; ony’ pretends he didn't hear the bickering and mounts his horse.

“s’ not rainin’ all too much now, see?” eren comments, scooping his hair back into a low bun under his hat. the three of you clicked and clocked through the damp grass and onto the street, letting the drizzle of rain moisten your skin with each speckle. you gnaw at your bottom lip, lost in thought as you trail behind the two men. at the same time, another cold gust would brush past you three, drying your skin again. yet, as you flinch when a particularly large droplet mands on your cheek, the rain picks up again and you smile.

sometimes moments like these felt so good, connecting with nature and taking in the beauty of the weather. it didn't stop you from being distracted, eren's white wife-beater was getting soaked. the tattoos creeping up his side peaked through the material and stared right back at you. you bitr back a groan and cover your warming face with your palms, wiping it clean of rain, while eren and onyankopon fall back on their horses. the peaceful silence with nothing but the ‘tock’ of the horses’ hooves kept your mind wandering.

now drenched, you could only imagine peeling off these clothes, a strap of your flimsy little tank top blew off your shoulder, and you felt the material sticking to the bulge of your breasts nestled in your black bra that now stood out ten times as much. god, you felt like a fuckin’ pervert. you couldn't even bring yourself to look down at your own chest, feeling scandalized enough. something about thinking of yourself in . . . near erotic situations such as this made your clit thump like a sweet little rabbit's nose.

nonetheless, you ignore it and allow the rocking atop mary-lou as she walks to distract you. onyankopon rides his horse nearer to yours and eren does the same, you gasp under your breath when ony’ nudges you. “wassup,” he murmured, “nothin’ ‘m jus’ distracted.” you comment plainly and eren huffs out a laugh beside you.

all you do is stare down at mary-lou and pet her mane, the pulse between your legs pushed to the back of your mind. “y'so bad at lyin’, know that?” eren laughs, you blush and groan, “no ‘m not, shut up,”

“chill, chill,” ony’ whispers, in his stupid, sexy, amazing, deep voice and you let out a big shuddering breath. as you're riding you feel ony's wet bicep brushing against yours. this had to be the end of you.

ony’ reaches an arm behind you, stretching to meanly pinch eren's shoulder. you're not sure what that meant but you didn't care to know. “where we ridin’ to?” you ask, rubbing glossy lips together. “mm, let's jus’ head to me n’ ony's ranch,”

“kay,” you settle with that, sweet n’ soft.

“wanna race, jaeger?” ony’ slips in lowly, pulling ahead and looking back at you two with his. . . stupid handsome smile, “h- hey now, let's not–” and you're interrupted by shouts, “let's go!” eren pulls off.

you groan softly, hiking up mary-lou’s harness a bit as you begin to gallop behind the two men. the raindrops stung against your skin and you whined trying to catch up to the two and your breaths harsh. with each hard breath you let out you couldn't help but let it bubble up into laughter, you just felt so good.

you felt giddy, blinking away raindrops that attacked at your eyes and racing past the two men, who yelled and called out to you, “yo, ma’ we gon' catch up,” ony's cowboy hat flies back behind his head, held up by the string beneath his string as he pulls the white horse forward chasing after you.

the three of you speed past grunge fencings and rosey bushes all bowing their heads now from the deluge. your tank top was completely soaked, and you imagine so was eren's when you pulled in the gates of their ranch and headed around back where you could free mary-lou to run around in the fenced horse enclosure.

you sit on the ground and linger near the side of the house by some plants, boots kicking about scattered hay and picking up sticky mud. eren and ony’ pull in the same time, wet chests heaving and eyeing you as they quickly hop off and lead their horses to the enclosure. “you win, watchu want?” eren huffs out, swinging his hat off and tossing it to the side, letting the rain seep into his curls. “hm?” you moan while rain kisses you, “i get a prize?”

he nods and slumping down against the wall next to you and propping his arm on a plant. you take the time to stare at his pecs . . . light brown nipples peaking through at you. eren catches you staring, it forces you to look away quick and brush a wet braid out of your face just as ony’ arrives.

“yall chillin’?”

“yea . . . mama's chillin’ alright,” eren smiles up at ony who lays in the grass beside you. “she baskin’ in her– win,” eren laments, reaching forward to tickle you and you bark out laughter lurching at him. his fingers pet your ribcage and you grab eren's shoulders, “what the– fuck! eren!” you squeal and wrangle with him. ony’ sits in the wet dirt beside you guys with his hands resting behind his head, basking in the rain and ignoring the shoves and pushes nudging him.

“i swear t’ god ‘ren, you– ack!” eren flips you on your back and you land hard with your head on ony's thigh while he wrangles your hands above your head. digging your feet in the ground for leverage couldn't help with the mud slipping beneath you. onyankopon only hums in amusement, watching you stop struggling beneath eren, your chests bouncing with gasps of air.

“you . . . y'know that's not fair, eren,” “i know what's not fair, sugar?” he stares you down, grip on your wrists tight with his chest pressing against yours. the swell of your breasts popped out of your tank top, glistening and sticky when it touched his skin. “mmm, you want somethin’?” he sucks his lip rings into his mouth teasing you, eyes wide and glossed over, throat drying. you lick your lips and slip from his grasp, sitting up and leaning your back onto ony's chest. just as you make that decision you swallow hard feeling his wet chest through your thin top. you wipe some wetness off your forehead evidently applying some mud that was on your arm to the spot.

you catch your breath, rubbing dirtied arms onto your shirt to clean them as best you could. you felt filthy but god, your fat little cunt ached laying in the dirt.

“onyan'” you call out to the man behind you with your eyes trained on eren who simply sits back smiling impishly at you, “yea, sugar?”

“wan’ m’ prize,” it comes out in a whine.

“yeah? ‘n what's that gon’ be,” he murmurs low in your ear, eren still hears him. you let out a ‘hmph!’ deep in your throat. then, you drag dirty hands against your tank top before peeling it off you and above your head, tossing it into some grass elsewhere.

crawling on your knees, ass arching in ony's direction, you gesture to eren with a finger, “come here, c'mon,” and you grab the back of his neck, kissing up his sweaty wet throat licking and sucking up anything your mouth touched. you press your lips to eren's, cold wet metal between you two when you let his tongue into your mouth, sucking it up when your lips lock hot.

eren groans into your mouth, hand gripping at your ass concealed by your jeans and he falls back into the mud. you reveled in the slick sound of your lips separating from each other, tuning out how soaked your jeans were getting in the rain. the ambient pelting sound on the rooftops only edged you on further, sitting in eren's lap.

“fuck, you're nasty,” eren mumbles against your lips when you pull away for a second, fingers toggling with the buttons on his jeans. he resists a big smile, elbows resting in the muddied dirt to hold himself up while you roughly tug his jeans down a bit. just enough room for you to reach his dick.

“see how she treatin’ me, ony'?” eren wipes rain off his nose, locking heavy-lidded eyes with onyankopon then down at you, “she roughin’ me up ‘cause she won,” he grumbles and you pull his cock out.

eren flinches when his dick is exposed to the rain, tan-brown tip oozing pre mixed with droplets. your knees dug into the mud beneath you, ass arching up. you stare shamelessly at eren's dick, letting the saliva build up about your tongue while you press a few kisses to the tip. his breath shudders above you, leaning his head back for the rain to fall on his face. “c'mon, pretty, do watchu want,” you grip him tight, feeling like your palm could memorize the girth and veins that popped out. then, tugging him up slightly, you slot your mouth in the gap between the bottom of his dick to his balls. sucking on the skin, you let you built up salivation drip down his balls, slurping the heavy sack onto your tongue.

you suck eren's balls into your mouth, swirling your tongue around mounds and his mouth drops open revealing his tongue ring. he grins, giving you a loud shameless groan, he was certainly showing off for ony’ who sit behind you watching. “suck it like dat, yea,” eren mumbles to you, licking the rainwater off his lips. he lets you have your way a bit more, focused on your features: the way the rain made your eyelashes clump together, the droplets sliding down your nose, to the spitty goop around your mouth all over his balls.

“c'mon, c'mon,” he pulls your mouth off him with a hand gripping the base of your hair, licking the splittle off your chin then kissing it into your mouth and swallowing your whines. “y' fuckin’ nasty, jaeger,” onyankopon mutters lowly behind you and eren bites back a smile. “filthy ass, take that shit off,” you up off your knees, flopping back on your ass where you fiddle with the buttons on your jeans.

your cheeks burned, both eren and ony's eyes grilled into you and everywhere you touched got streaks of mud in it after having your hands dig into the sopping ground. on your arms, your boobs, eren's shirt. slowly, you shucked your jeans down, slipping them past your ankles along with your boots. your panties were stuck up your ass when you sit in some wet patches of dirty hay, tossing the jeans aside realizing you wore significantly less than the other two men with rain beating all over you.

eren and ony’ share a look then eren's the first to lurch forward gripping your legs with his muddied hands, pushing you back to lay in the dirt and kissing about the clear parts of your belly. he nips at the swell of your breasts in your bra, sucking and kissing wherever he saw fit. “er– eren,” he's prying your legs apart, pushing them ‘till your knees were besides your ears. “eren, stop–,” then he's plucking your panties out your ass and sliding them up your thighs, he stretches the thin little things beyond repair to sling them off your ankles. “what the fuck,” you whisper, eren's fucking unreachable n’ you're both staring at your fat puffy cunt. he takes a second to look to the side at ony’ before returning his attention to your pussy, sprinkles of water sliding down, yet the blubber of slick collected between your lips was noticeable.

the pretty thing was so fat your hardened clit could barely peak through. eren dips his tongue deep, digging at your hole then dragging his tongue through your folds illiciting a low gasp. the cold metal bar in his tongue nudged at your clit. he curled his tongue around the bundle of nerves, giving it a few flicks before spitting and licking another strop up your cunt. “feels– fuckin’ good, eren, oh,” you whimper, his gentle motions paired with the ambient beating of rain against your skin had you on a high. he shakes his head side in your cunt, arousal making sticky strings beside his cheeks as his nose nudges the fat of your pussy. “holy shit,” you press your head into the soft ground beneath you, eyelids fluttering shut when eren suckles softly on your clit. you hum and moan, licking your lips and feeling your head spin, “‘ren . . . oh my god,” he slurps noisily suctioning his mouth over your pussy, sucking hard over and over and over again relishing in the throb of your clit against his tongue.

“he knows, baby,” ony’ murmurs and your mouth drops open with a loud moan, his voice just did something for you. you felt the muscles in your legs twitch, itching to close them with each swipe of eren's tongue and swirling pleasure in your tummy. your hands dig into the dirt behind you, legs quivering.

“tastes fuckin’ good don't it?” he's mumbling and eren's groans into your pussy sends shockwaves against your clit, he nods vigorously. “ohh– shit,” you sit up on your elbows digging in the mud, hair soaked and heavy and your legs only spread wider; your eyes trained on eren's tongue making sloppy circles around the fat mound in your pussy.

eager, you slip your hands into eren's wet curls, stuffing his face into your cunt, “eren, eren– yea-ah!” his groans rumble in his throat and here came the fucking waterworks. your climax comes hard along with several slick kisses to your clit, beads of sweat and rain slipping down between a furrowed brow and a guttural moan ripping from your throat.

eren's mouth releases its latch onto you, your legs flopping into puddles of dirt beneath you. “prepped her f'you,” eren licks his lips and looks to onyankopon who sits there with a fat bulge beneath his jeans although unbuttoned.

“mm yeah?,” you both shuffle over to the wet patch of hay ony’ sat in, slightly less soaked albeit equally as muddy.

onyankopon gestures to eren with two fingers as he lifts himself up, brushing water from his face and allowing eren to take a seat against the wall. your eyes flicker between them, sitting with your butt resting on the heels of your feet feeling exposed. it doesn't help that eren reaches behind you to unhook your bra, your cheeks feel hot. nevertheless, you slip them off your arms.

onyankopon shucks down his jeans just below his ass, “ [ ], come right here,” walking on your knees you shuffle forward to ony’ who puts a hand above the swell of your ass, pressing his bare chest to yours. ony's gaze is something serious, he bends his neck and clasps his lips to yours. it's slow, methodical and hot. onyankopon breathes deep and groans into your mouth. your body goes limp a little: drooping in his grasp and relaxing against his body as his tongue gently guided yours against his own. “mhm, okay . . . okay,” he presses a few kisses to your lips with a squeeze around your throat as he weans you off his mouth.

“turn ‘round,”

you whine, “w'nna look at'chu,”

ony's unmoved, he swallows, “look at ‘ren, baby,” and he guides you as you turn in the slippery mud to arch your ass up to him, his palm glides down the small of your back deepening that arch while your head rests on your folded arms before you. the position makes it hard for you to focus properly on eren, you peep at him through your eyelashes.

your cunt is sticky, swollen lips bound together by the white film of your arousal after the orgasm eren gave you, and you feel ony's hands kneading your ass. he spreads them, watching your pussy lightly spread open with it. you hear his belt buckle jingle slightly as his hands continue to massage your back right along with the downpour. ony’ grips his cock in his hands, tugging the thick thing lightly a couple times. he catches eren staring as he pumps it harshly before pressing the fat tip against you.

“fuuuck,” ony’ slaps his cockhead at your entrance letting it get coated by your arousal before slipping the first inch in slowly and already you're speechless. “holy– shit,” your cunt stretched to accommodate the girth and ony’ grips the curve of your back for leverage, letting out a guttural groan while slowly inching into you.

he sits in it for a moment, allowing you just a moment to familiarize yourself with the fat pipe he just lay in you; then, he's pulling out slowly and pushing in again and you whine. “what the fuck,” you feel ony’ lean his weight over you, and you gasp as he starts smacking his hips to your ass.

paired with the wetness of the rain, his hips leave a stinging slap against you and you're faltering with your tits mushed against the mud. eren left your pussy sloppy, your cunt whipping up loads of cream slick around ony's cock and your mouth is just ajar. jaw tightening with shallow, whiny moans cascading past your lips, ‘ah's and ‘oh's are all the men hear. “mm, ony’,” you try to murmur, body giving way fully to the mud beneath and ony's grip on your tightens,”watchu’ want, hm',” he grumbles.

oh how he knows nothing of the way your clit throbs everytime his heavy balls slap against your cunt.

“wan'— wan’ it deeper, please,” and you gasp hard when ony’s hand comes up to your ass, digging his thumb into the curled rim of your butt before bringing a foot to the ground for leverage; his ankle beside your ear, you eagerly grab onto it. “got fuckin’ good manners, don't she?” he grunts out, and the other man nods.

onyankopon gives you two warning strokes, pressing his cock to the hilt and curling his thumb inside your ass and you feel overwhelmed. then, you gasp in a loud sob as ony’ starts drilling his cock deeper into you, his hips smack you hard and his weight presses you everytime he drives his cock in. “fuck, fuck–,” you're squealing, hands draw digs into the mud as you can't help but writhe against the mud. “feel good?” you all but whine in response, “feel fuckin' good?” “ye- yes!” you mewl out. ony’s muscles contract and you can see it in his leg, intent on keeping you from sliding away from him under the soaked muddy slop.

the noises are . . . obscene. pornographic bursts of air shooting out amidst the stirring up of your melting cunt and your cheeks burn with embarrassment along with fresh tears streaming but you're breathless. “so fuckin’ loud,” ony’ mumurs, his lips curling into a smile when he hears the noises you make.

“m’– fuck, m’ sorry,” you weep and your walls squeeze ony’ tight. you feel a glob of slick collect at the tippy top of your cunt, the fat bulge of your clit and stickily drip down onto the ground with each rock of your bodies. “takin’ m'shit fuckin’ good, sugar,” onyankopon drawls low and you sob.

you hear him whistle above you and with a quickness eren's pants come into view. he sits, legs spread with his groin in line with your face against the ground. he scoots forward enough so he can lift your head and replace the mud beneath your nose with the musk of his balls. “‘ren, ‘ren, ren,” you're chanting, itching for your orgasm approaching with each quick and sloppy drag of cock in you. “m” right here, girlie,” ony's pummeling you from behind and your drooly mouth now has eren's pretty tanned cock slapping against it. “holy– fuck, hng- shit,” you mutter out before you're latching your lips onto eren's tip, inviting him into your mouth. he controls it, gripping your braids and rocking your head onto his dick.

“c'mon, c'mon, takin’ that shit s'fuckin’ good,” eren praises when he starts to snap his hips into your mouth, matching ony's strokes. he strokes your soaked hair gently, juxtaposing the nasty aggression each rock of his hips brought. you gagged, muffled, globs of spit streaking down your chin as you relaxed your throat for eren's dick. in the same way, you're making a mess on ony's cock, coating his length in hot creamy release that trickled down your own cunt. “she's fuckin’ creamin' on it, E',” and you moan when eren laughs cruelly above you, “cream on y’fuckin’ cock, ma’,” he grunts.

each drag of cock against the ridges of your cunt, the slosh of your mouth had you moaning in a frenzy. “was’ ya’ problem, huh?” eren groans out, and onyankopon knows exactly what your problem is.

“mama's bout to fuckin’ nut, huh?” he can feel the extra squeeze around his cock and rolls his neck to let some rain coat his face and distract him from his own ache. they listen to how you squeal around eren's cock, hands grabbing at his jeans and ony’ pumps his thumb into your ass consistency.

“mmm, fuck,” onyankopon hums, angling himself so the curve of his cock digs at you just right, and he smiles: satisfied when you start to squirm and fuss beneath him. eren pulls you off and you sob, coughing a little to clear your larynx. you whimper as eren all but ruts against your face. “keep her right fuckin’ there,” ony’ groans and you grasp onto eren's jeans, cunt twitching with each movement yet eren forces your shoulders back to keep your body where ony’ wants you: daggering his cock into you with a forcefull quickness that eren's rutting mimics.

“ohmygod, oh!” you blubber out, chanting ‘shit, shit, shit's

“gon’ leave you fuckin’ gapin’, quit playin’,” and you weep.

your hips twitch and you feel the knot in your stomach stiffening, “wan’ you're cum, want y'all's c–cum, fuckkk,” wail into eren's skin and take his cock back into your mouth just as your cunt spurts and your ears feel clogged from the rush of blood to your abdomen. “take it, take it, take that cum, baby,” eren groans. you felt light-headed, stars twinkling at you around the edges of your vision as your eyes rolled and soon you were forced to blink away the brain fog to swallow the thick loads eren gushes into your mouth.

he whines, unabashedly and onyankopon gives you a couple more strokes before his cock is digging into you to bury his surge of cum into you with a hiss.

eren falls back, letting you catch your breath and stroking rain away from your face. ony’ pulls out quick before you start to get sore, giving your cunt a few wet slaps before eren's pulling your limp aching body onto him to give you some relief. “gotchu’, gotchu’.” he consoles.

“c'mon, E,” ony’ rushes, “huh?”

“gotta’ get out the fuckin’ rain,” he puffs out a laugh before he's lifting you off eren. they both try not to slip in the mud, hurrying off into the ranch for long hot showers.

1K notes · View notes

somejazzinthemorning · 2 years ago

Text

tightrope. 07

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Original Female Character Warnings: Foul language; Word Count: ~11.6K Previous chapter: 06.

The run had completely exhausted me. Steep hills were clearly not my strong point, but I couldn't say the effort wasn't worth it. The line of the horizon fused with whatever lines we’d woven for ourselves, which had divided the two parallel lives we lived away from each other’s gaze.

Although having him around was challenging, I felt lighter. Experiencing the person he had become, mature and adult, but still so him, made me proud and sad in the same measure. Nonetheless, that talk and confrontation were needed. I needed that, to see and listen to that other side of him and learn to trust it. That other side, the version of him that took shape in these last years. Sainz.

It was Sainz that I couldn’t trust. Not Carlos, not Chili as we used to call him. Sainz. The night before, during the match, I had seen a fraction of Carlos when he put his hand on my thigh and made sure I was comfortable with the guests, a fraction of Chili when he got me a beer without me asking, and then a lot of Sainz each time the people around us tried, forcefully and some times even embarrassingly, to get his attention.

It didn’t matter the glimmers of hope that having him around brought me, there was still a barrier. The fall was too big to risk and the rope was held too high. And yet, having him back seemed to offer a glimpse of stability in a life that had become increasingly unsteady.

Rio was leaving, the unpredictability of my career was taking a toll on me and everything else seemed to be constantly shifting. In the midst of all that chaos, the possibility of Carlos staying around was like an anchor that kept me from being swept away.

The fear of getting hurt again was still there, lurking beneath the surface, but for better or for worse, Carlos Sainz had once again become a fixture in my life, and I couldn't help but wonder what the future held for us.

That afternoon, after lunch, I fell asleep near the pool, and my feet dipped in the water.

I woke up to the sound of two loud motors, a distinct sharp noise. They were not cars or jetskis. I sat up and looked around, half of me still battling laziness and sleepiness, another part of me completely annoyed by being woken up by that sound.

Marjorie, who I gathered had been asleep in one of the loungers, grunted while getting up. “What the actual f—” and then her tone shifted, “Hi babe!”

I looked behind me; my brother was standing on the terrace, at the top of the stairs.

“We got two bikes!” Rio proudly announced.

“You got what?” Her ginger hair fell in waves on her back.

“Two bikes, for me and Chili.” He pointed with his thumb to the path leading to the front of the house. “Let’s go for a ride.”

“Weren’t you two supposed to go to the market?”

“Evita, come oooon. We couldn’t let the opportunity escape.” I looked at Marjorie, confused and she was looking at me too, with sleepy eyes and frowned brown. “Andiamo, ragazze!”

Marjorie motioned with her head and I got up from the sponge mattress I’d laid down on the grass. The fabric was hot to the touch. I dragged it to one of the loungers before turning back to my brother who impatiently waited.

“Where did you even find the bikes?” I asked him.

“We rented them.”

I looked up, my hands on the straps of my sandals. Carlos appeared behind Rio, holding what seemed to be two pairs of leather gloves and a white helmet. He passed one of the pairs to my brother and instantly, a childish grin took his features; his eyes glistening like a little kid on a Christmas morning.

“Nice,” he said under his breath.

I made my way up the stairs fixing the creases on my dress, tight but fresh, crocheted in summery clothes. Marjorie and I had spent the early hours of the afternoon on the sea, and then laid down for a nap near the pool, in the shadow of the trees in the garden. My hair, in a braid, was still a bit wet, falling over my shoulder.

“Are you even allowed to ride a bike during summer break?”

Rio looked down at me, and then at Carlos and me again. “Help me here, mate,” he extended his hand to the Spaniard and while Carlos helped him with the strap, he said: “It’s just a bike ride. We need to get his back tomorrow.”

Marjorie turned to the guys and called out, "Carlos?”

I looked over to see my sister-in-law motioning towards me, silently asking for his confirmation. "It's just a ride to the market and back," he reassured me, "relax, just a stroll." I let out a defeated sigh and glanced over to Marjorie, who simply shrugged in response. "The bikes are in front," he informed us.

As I walked towards the front of the house, I saw the bikes and three more helmets parked in the shadow next to Carlos' car. Carlos himself was already getting on his bike, putting on his leather gloves and white helmet, his hair slightly dishevelled but somehow still looking impeccable. Damn him and his hair. He then donned his Ray-Bans.

A couple of steps away, Rio had already started his engine.

Carlos extended the last helmet to me. "Come on. It'll be fun.”

I took the helmet and then his hand, hopping on the bike behind him. A rush of excitement ran through me, though it was tempered with a tinge of nervousness. He placed his right hand on my thigh, the warmth of his skin seeping through mine. He turned his head back to me. "Ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

The wind blew through my hair as we rode along the narrow path leading to the main road. I held onto Carlos' waist tightly, feeling the muscles under his shirt tense as we swerved around sharp corners. I let my arms wrap around his waist, my hands meeting each other on his abdomen. We rode in silence for a few minutes, the only sounds being the hum of the engine and the rush of air in my ears. The scent of the sea melded with the smells of oil and rubber, as well as Carlos' cologne. The notes of sandalwood grew more intense with the heat and the sweat.

It didn’t take us long to arrive at the familiar market, planted near a small village bathed by the Mediterranean. Rio and Marjorie had already parked their bike and were waiting for us. Carlos parked next to them.

"Not that bad, huh?" my brother's voice roared over the sound of the engine, approaching us to help me dismount. "Drama queen."

“Not bad.”

“I could get used to this, actually,” Carlos said.

I snorted, undoing the straps of my helmet. “Nah, you couldn’t.”

Carlos took off his helmet, running his fingers through his hair, and I couldn't help but notice the way the sunlight caught the highlights in his hair. “Why not?”

“I think this is the first time I’ve seen you ride a bike.”

“And?” He extended his hand and took my helmet out of my hands.

“If it was not for Rio, you wouldn’t rent it, in the first place. Let alone buy one.”

“Did you hear this?” He asked my brother.

“And she’s right.”

As Carlos chuckled, he reached into his pocket, tucking his gloves away as we strolled towards the bustling market. The sound of waves crashing against the shore grew louder with each step, and the sweet scent of ripe fruit tickled my senses, making my stomach growl in anticipation.

The market was bustling with locals and tourists alike, the stalls selling everything from fruit, to fresh seafood and handmade crafts. The air was thick with the mingling of scents and languages, creating an atmosphere that was full of the Mediterranean's enchanting charm that I missed so dearly.

As we wandered, Rio and Carlos drifted ahead. Meanwhile, Marjorie and I lingered at each stall, taking in the sights and sounds, chatting with the sellers, and breathing in the fragrant aromas. Our organic net bags were already heavy when we found the guy—Rio on his phone, and Carlos hunched over one of the stalls. Marjorie stopped next to Rio, and I walked over to the stall, sneaking in being Carlos.

“Oh, the sign says they’re the sweetest in the market,” I said. Carlos turned to me, holding a small bunch of grapes. I motioned to another stall not too far away, “they all say the same.”

The Spaniard raised the bunch of grapes to the level of his eyes. “They look pretty good to me.”

“But are they the sweetest?” I replied, my tone teasing.

He plucked a grape from the bunch, his grin wide and eyebrows raised playfully. "Let's find out."

A Spanish song that I didn’t know was playing on the radio set over a crate of fruit, and a tired, melancholy whistling could be heard accompanying the melody. I looked around. With his eyes on a newspaper, an old man was sitting on a wooden bench; a coffee stain on the sleeve of his shirt rolled up to his elbows.

“You can’t eat the grapes…” I whispered, my eyes drifting from the old man to the handsome, way younger Spaniard in front of me. Carlos teased me, opening his mouth. I frowned.

“You eat it, then,” he held it out to me. I shook my head. “He won’t go after a lady. Come on.”

I hesitated for a moment, but the whistling continued, and the man seemed too distracted with the news to pay attention to two tourists in his stall. Carlos’ eyes flickered with something I couldn’t quite understand, his expression becoming sterner as I leaned him, grabbed the grape from his pinch and popped it in my mouth.

It burst with flavour, the sweetness tingling on my tongue, making me close my eyes in pleasure. Carlos' grin widened, and he plucked another grape, offering it to me again.

"You know what, the sign might be actually telling the truth.”

“Should I have this one?”

“Hm, hm,” I nodded, reaching for another one, from the small bunch he was holding. He, too, reached for another grape. My eyes drifted from his portrait to his slender fingers, taking their time picking one of the half dozen left in the saturated red bunch.

But instead of hearing a pleasurable hum coming from his lips, the old man’s voice permeated the moment. He was now hobbling over to the stall, eyes flashing with annoyance.

“¡Que cosa! Look at the sign!” The old man harrumphed, pointing to another sign. “No eating before paying!”

“Oh, no, I—”

“Lo siento, señor,” Carlos turned around, interrupting me. “We’re just…”

The old man's eyes widened, and he took both hands to his head. "Ay! Carlos Sainz!" he exclaimed, rushing over to us in fast, unsteady steps. Carlos looked at me, his embarrassment resembled in his shaky grin.

Carlos chuckled, "Yes, that's me."

"My grandson loves you!" The old man beamed, gesturing to a small frame next to the radio, a small boy was smiling in the picture and then shook Carlos’ hand vigorously. "He always wants to watch you on TV. And your father! Your father is a legend." The man looked around. “Is he around by any chance?”

“No, no,” Carlos pointed at me, and then at the couple waiting for us not too far away. “Just the four of us, for today. And let me apologize for the grapes, we’re going to pay for them.”

The old man just waved his hand dismissively, "No, no, it's okay. Keep them!” His voice softened, noticing Carlos wouldn’t accept to take the fruit. “It’s my offer. Please, take them. And take this, too." He then reached behind the stall and pulled out a small basket. His hand, wrinkly and hairy, hovered on top of the fruit. “Do you like figs?”

The bright colours caught my attention. The smell, the colours, the music coming from the radio, so slow and light, stretching through the air. It felt like being trapped in a living painting.

“Eva,” I heard Carlos. I hadn't noticed he was looking at me before. “Do you like figs?” And then, motioned to the old man, waiting for my reply.

“I’m sorry. I do, I love figs.”

The old man's grin widened. “Come close, try one.”

The old man opened it up for me. I took a bite. Soft and juicy, with a delicate sweetness that was almost addictive. As I bit on it, the juice ran down my fingers, creating a thin, sweet, shiny film around my lips and fingers. I couldn't resist licking them, savouring the sweet nectar and the way it clung to my skin. I couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious under Carlos' intense gaze. His eyes bore into me, fixated on the way my lips wrapped around my thumb. It was like he was watching my every move, studying my every expression, trying to decipher my thoughts.

I couldn't help but feel a little flustered under his gaze, but at the same time, I couldn't deny the thrill that ran through me. There was something about the way he looked at me. Intense and magnetic, that sent shivers down my spine.

Carlos cleared his throat, breaking me out of my reverie, and turned to the stall once again.

"Yeah. We will take some figs.”

Wednesday was slow.

Heart beating fast, but reality danced around us at a slow pace.

What can one do when reality tastes like figs and smells like the sea and sandalwood?

It was not just the figs and the sea air, and the cologne. It was not just the Mediterranean light or the aura that so easily takes us over. It was the way he looked at me. The adoring gaze, that I knew from before, but was now tainted by a thin layer of lust, tick enough to cloud my senses and drive me into spirals.

Thursday passed in a breeze; I only saw him for dinner, as he spent all day golfing with the boys. And then came Friday.

Like some other days, we were at home. We spent the day alternating between basking in the sun on the yacht, driving around in jetskis or diving into the crystal-clear water. Easy.

It was easier when we were at home.

The trees and the sea shielded us from reality and for a time we could simply live without worrying about curious eyes or unwelcomed lenses. I liked that. To be locked away from the world in a reality moulded to us, for us.

On top of that, seeing my friends talk in the garden, or joke around in the yacht, wearing swimsuits with a beer in hand, and walking around barefoot not worrying about anything else but the moment, reminded me of the little family we once were. I loved our bubble, where no one was famous and no friendships had been torn apart by distance.

Like I did every day, I texted a photo to my mom — Rio laid in a hammock, with the sea as the background, but this time she texted me back saying she should have accepted Reye’s invitation to spend a few days there. I said she should have, it would have been nice for them.

And then I read the messages Lin and Nicola had left in our group chat, avoiding all the questions about Carlos, because there were a lot of them. And finally, I called Amanda, trying to assure her I was in fact enjoying the vacation and was not locked in the office. I think I spent half an hour talking to her, filling her up on the events of the recent days before my brother interrupted me.

“C’mon. Volleyball,” Rio stood between me and the sun, putting a shadow over me and shielding my skin from the warm kiss of the sun. “Carlos wants to play. Vamos.”

Amanda said goodbye in a hurry, probably after listening to Rio’s voice. I left my phone on the side and sat up on the lounger, facing Rio that was already standing in his blue swimming trunks with an orange and yellow volleyball under his arm.

“And what do I have to do with that?”

“We’re uneven.”

“Well, stay with me and Carlos plays in your place.”

In response to my suggestion, my brother just shrugged and looked behind him at Guillermo, Blanca’s boyfriend, helping Carlos assemble the net. My attention was grabbed by Marjorie, running down the stairs with her ginger hair arranged in a messy french braid and wearing a long shirt over her black swimsuit.

“Eva! C’mon, lass,” she screamed, joining Carlos and Guillermo next to the net.

“Volleyball isn’t played with teams of four!” I screamed back, making Rio sigh again, this time threatening to throw the ball in my direction. I just put both my hands in front of my face, in an instinct to protect myself. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“DiMaggio versus Sainz,” Carlos screamed from the other side of the garden. The net was set and he was standing next to Marjorie.

“Ah, you traitor,” Blanca interjected, joining her boyfriend on the other side of the net. Ana and Rodrigo joined them too.

Rio looked back at me, his eyebrow raised in a defiant expression and the victorious look of someone who knows that had won a battle. He knew I couldn’t say no, especially now that everybody was ready and waiting for me, and there was an actual challenge. As I went past him, I took the ball from his hands, hearing in response a couple of Italian curse words and a strident laugh from Marjorie.

Carlos, on the other side of the net, smiled at me. “See?” he asked Marjorie. “All it takes is adding a bit of competition and she changes her mind.”

“I won’t forget you’re the enemy, Sainz,” I threw the ball at him. “You serve.”

That didn’t take the smile away from his face. Marjorie ran to her position in front of her husband and I went to her side. I looked at Carlos as he spun the ball in his hands and threw it in the air.

The following moments rolled in slow motion. His arms extended over his head and his hair moved graciously with his jump. With the sound of the impact of his hand on the synthetic leather of the ball, a wave crashed over me. My eyes ventured along the lines of his body; it was inevitable to not admire the way his arms contracted or the way his movement revealed a patch of paler skin, covered with a light brown fuzz, just above the waistband of his shorts.

The lines, the sumptuously curved outlines of him. His body seemed to be sculpted with the sole purpose of making me desire him.

I turned my head to the other side of the net, my eyes following the ball, fully committed to the game, but I couldn’t forget Carlos was there, always two steps away from me. I tried to dodge him every time we got too close, always looking back to be sure I wouldn’t have to feel his sweaty skin against mine.

Every cell of my body buzzed just from that idea.

I wanted it more than I cared to admit.

Even to myself.

In the intervals between points, Marjorie and Rio would kiss or hug each other. In the meantime, Carlos would approach me with a smile and an open hand for a high-five and our eyes would lock. No words, nothing. Just a casual glance and I would feel myself melting inside. Everything else faded in comparison. The conversations, the laughs, the screams and the insults. Each time his eyes landed on me, everything went silent. And I realised a big part of why I enjoyed that little bubble was because Carlos was with me in it and, for the first time in a while, none of us was trying to burst it.

“Last one,” Blanca was the one to call it and, although we had a pretty good advantage, I knew we wanted that last point on our side. “We need to leave in two hours.”

Rodrigo took the ball in his hand and I moved to my place. I could see Blanca on the other side of the net, her hair tied in a messy ponytail. In a couple of seconds, her face became a blur and the screams and the laughs came back in a rush.

“Eva!” Marjorie screamed my name and I knew I was the only one who could reach the ball. I ran to the net, ready to block their move and all of a sudden, a strong grip on both sides of my waist.

Arms extended over my head, hands ready to take the impact and my mind desperately trying to ignore his strong firm hands. The ball fell on the floor on the other side and, quicker than that, I felt my feet on the ground and my back going against Carlos’ chest. Instantly, his arms wrapped around my body, stopping me from falling.

I turned around, my eyes locked with his. My eyes refused to let go of his, my body was unresponsive to anything but the warmth of his embrace. I looked down, at my hands on his chest. I could feel his heartbeat on my digits. His sweat on my palms. Jesus.

I knew he felt it too.

“Good team effort,” he whispered.

Rio screamed victory, I took a step back. The bubble burst.

Carlos turned his back, not before winking at me, and then walked to Marjorie and Rio and I, still trying to recollect myself and drift back to reality, went back to my sun lounger, where my phone and water bottle rested in the shadow. I sat down, had a sip of the water and looked at the group, each individual following their own path. Guillermo and Carlos stayed there to take down the net, I went inside.

The skin of my palms tingled.

Even under the cold brush of the water, I could feel the beating of his heart on my digits and the fire his touch had ignited on my skin. I was down bad, horrendously bad. Not even a cold shower could bring me back on my feet.

Carlos had made his point straight, with words and gestures both.

The brush of his fingers on my arm during the flight. The touch under the table. His piercing gaze. The grip on my waist that afternoon. That was his way of showing it. He would not cross any line, but he was not going to back down.

And I hoped, God, I really hoped, I was reading it right.

I promised myself to make an effort to understand that whatever lines we’d drawn for ourselves weren’t eternal. They were just as ephemeral as every moment we chose to share with each other and so, they were capable of being erased and forgotten.

Dropping my barriers and welcoming the idea of trusting him again wouldn’t be as difficult as forcing him back out once again, now that he’d settled himself under a comfortable light in my mind. He was going back to being Carlos again. The boy next door and my brother’s best friend. Not the cocky, egoistic and overly busy Ferrari driver.

I left the room after being called twice by Rio, the first of all of us to get ready. He’d sit on my bed for a while, waiting for me to get ready and complain about my make-up and the dress I’d chosen. Rio was just like my dad—a fan of simplicity. He even made me spin in front of him, in the dusty pink backless dress, to make sure it wasn’t too revealing for the occasion.

We stopped as soon as we reached the entrance hall, where a portion of the group had already gathered. Guillermo and Rodrigo were already waiting outside, having a casual conversation by the car which keys were already in Blanca's hand. The keys to the other car, the Alfa Romeo Stelvio that Carlos had been driving over the last few days, still remained in the decorative bowl on the console.

“You haven’t decided on the ride, yet?” Rio sounded annoyed, a short sight leaving his lips before sitting next to his wife on the sage chaise lounge in front of the console.

“What’s the deal? Why isn’t Carlos driving?” I asked.

“They are eighteen again,” Marjorie mumbled, slightly irritated.

“We deserve a proper boys’ night,” my brother corrected her, his arm wrapping around Marjorie’s shoulders and giving her a small kiss on the cheek. “Where’s he, anyway?”

“On the phone,” Blanca replied. “We’re late. Do you want to call a cab?”

“No need, I can drive,” I said, walking to the console and taking the keys. “It’s fine.”

My brother and Marjorie followed Ana and Blanca outside, their silhouettes disappearing against the sunlight cast on the driveway. Before entering the car, the older shouted. “The car’s parked in the garage!”

With them outside, Carlos’ voice was clear, echoing in the space. It was easy to find him.

“We need to leave,” his eyes met mine the second I walked through the archway that led to the kitchen. He was putting his phone in the pocket of his dark jeans, standing near a window. “We’re already late.”

“Okay, let’s go, then,” he walked to me, extending his hand in my direction.

“We agreed I was going to drive,” I closed my hand around the keys and he stopped in front of me.

He frowned. “I don’t care. I’m driving.”

I took a deep breath and looked at him before speaking. Bad choice. He had his usual smile on his lips, a sweet smile that in the blink of an eye became a smirk full of meaning. I narrowed my eyes, my grip on the keys getting stronger.

“I do. I’m driving.”

Carlos took a step forward, getting closer to me. I had to raise my head a bit more to maintain eye contact. Annoying bastard. I rolled my eyes at his attempt to make himself look intimidating, or whatever it was he was trying to do.

“Drop it.” He glanced at my hand. “You know I don’t like being driven around, especially in my own car.”

“I’m holding the keys. Unless you take them from me, I’ll be driving.” Carlos didn’t move an inch. “We can stay here until you get tired.”

"Is that a challenge?"

"Try me."

Joder. He relaxed his eyebrows and his smirk grew bigger. The next thing I knew, the air around us was being charged with electricity as his hazel eyes locked onto mine like he was trying to read my soul. God damn you. His sweet, tender gaze had turned into something darker, something so much deeper.

He took another step and, once again, he was dangerously close. This time I wouldn’t mind if he erased all the lines and barriers and dropped all my shields himself. His thumb rubbed the back of my hand. My eyes couldn’t leave his face. I was petrified at the moment, drifting away from all the negative feelings and diving into him. He leaned in and, for a second that seemed to last an eternity, I thought he was going to kiss me.

But he didn’t.

And I had opened my hand, just enough for him to take the key from my hand before I was able to understand what had just happened.

“Don’t worry. I won’t do it,” Carlos’ lips were brushing against my ear. My eyes were open wide, looking into the void. “Learn the lesson the first time.”

He left the kitchen. I just shook my head, my mind completely bereft of everything but the electricity his little move had filled my body with. I took a deep breath and resigned to the fact he had taken the best of me. I would’ve found that funny if I wasn’t completely flustered. Fucking idiot.

We had been invited to a party by one of Carlos’ friends.

There was a small group waiting for us, from which I recognized a fair share of faces from that night. From the way the group welcomed Carlos, one would think the party had been thrown for him or by him. The host had even reserved him a parking spot on the driveway. Blanca had no such luck; she parked outside, on the road.

The house was not too far away from Costa del Pins and, just like the Sainzes’, it was located on a hillside and offered a nice view of the serene sea, still clear blue and dancing with ease against the rocks. From the driveway, standing next to my brother and Marjorie, I admired the house. My gaze continuously shifted from the building to Carlos, whose attention resided on a blonde girl, Mila, to who we were introduced the night of the match. They seemed to get along well.

For a second, I regretted leaving so early that night.

Just minutes before he had been so close to me that I felt inebriated by his perfume, almost dizzy just from experiencing him so close, and now there he was, walking alongside this girl with too much make-up and a sad sense of fashion.

Jealously doesn’t look pretty on me.

And I was not even sure why I was jealous.

As we walked across the stone path that lead us to the terrace at the back of the house, the music got louder and the voices and laughter became more clear. Rio and Marjorie were too busy with each other, as usual, and Blanca and Ana were talking about something I couldn’t find interest in simply because my eyes couldn’t leave the man walking ahead of us and the blonde on his side.

“Sainz!” The German accent that shouted out was strong. It stole Carlos’ attention and, consecutively, mine. I remembered that face from the night before and quickly realized that the German rally driver a.k.a. The Guy, was our host for the night. “You came, ’migo!”

Of course, Carlos pulled him for a hug, like they hadn't seen each other in forever. Suddenly, everything he did made me angry. Every drop of resentment was coming back. I was jealous and although I was doing everything to look like I wasn’t, I didn’t bother to convince myself otherwise.

“You already know them, no?” Carlos pointed to us. Rio hugged him as well and Marjorie did the same with her usual enthusiasm. Blanca and Ana were more simple – a polite kiss on the cheek was more than enough. Their boyfriends opted for a handshake.

When I approached him, the guy had a smile on his face. His eyes sparkled when I smiled at him too. I kissed his cheeks, once on each side. “I’m Eva.”

“DiMaggio, I remember,” he completed. “If Sainz didn’t steal all of our attention yesterday, I’d have more things to recall about you.”

“He likes the attention,” I think my eyes drifted to the girl for a second. “You’ll get used to it.”

His name hadn’t yet come to my mind. I couldn’t remember much from last night, not even who was the team Real had played against because, as the German said, Carlos had been the only thing I cared to pay attention to.

The guy only chuckled at my comment and patted Sainz on the back. “Call for me if you need anything. I’ll be around.” Then, he turned back to me. “You don’t need to call, I’ll have an eye on you at all times.”

That was a surprise, I’ll admit. The words drew a small laugh and a nod on my part. “I’ll remember that.”

When the guy turned around, Marjorie came up to me. Her ginger hair was tied in a high ponytail that fell over her bare shoulder. She looked at me with a big smile.

“Uwe’s into you!” Uwe. That was his name. Too unusual for me to simply remember. “Be sure to have some fun today.”

“He’s too… German?” I pondered, watching him disappear in the crowd; his shirt, with an awful pattern, disappeared with him.

“He’s quite a character, I know…” she paused. “But you probably won’t see him again, ever.”

That was a good argument, I’ll give her that, but it also reminded me of a certain Italian driver, whose presence had been lingering on my mind since the morning I’d left Imola. I tried not to think about him, which was not that hard considering that Carlos monopolized my attention the last few days, but I couldn’t help thinking about why he didn’t say anything about that poor spectacle in my hotel room.

I knew I would see Pulcini again and it didn’t stop me from anything.

On the other hand, I was pretty drunk that night and tonight I couldn’t even drink half as much. Also, Carlos was right there. If the mere memory of him had made me leave Andreas in a bathroom stall, I couldn’t tell what his presence would provoke. But, to be honest, if the blonde didn’t leave his side, I would probably sleep with Uwe just out of spite.

As I said, jealousy doesn’t look pretty on me.

“This may sound terrible, but I don’t remember all the names from last night. Could you reintroduce me to your friends?” Oh, her voice was annoying. My gaze drifted to her and then to him. Rio, standing next to Carlos was the first to step closer and introduce himself. Carlos made her a favour by introducing the rest of us. “I’m Mila, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said in return.

I couldn't do more than just smile before excusing myself and leaving the group. Marjorie walked by my side, accompanying me to the bar on the right side where the guests were talking and swinging to the music.

Everybody seemed to know everybody. During the short walk, Blanca and Ana stopped multiple times to hug a few friends and introduce me and Marjorie to the ones we didn’t yet get to know. The good looks and the expensive perfumes were abundant. It actually seemed like it was the ideal night to have some fun.

An hour had already passed while we sat on the couches near the bar and my feet were already complaining. It surprised me how easy it was to get lost in the small talk, especially when the people around turned out to be more interesting than I thought. I accepted two flutes of champagne. That was plenty to get just loose enough to enjoy the party without getting drunk.

Every time my eyes met Carlos, he was always surrounded by a different small crowd, but the blonde girl was always there, right at his right side. Each time I laid my eyes on them it was a reminder of his status and the rumours that often appeared connected to his name all around social media. They’d gotten worse after Carlos signed for Ferrari and because we hardly saw each other since then, and I refused to say his name or talk about him with his sisters or my brother, there was no way of knowing if those rumours were real or just fabricated lies the fans made to entertain themselves.

Either way, Mia, Mila, or whatever her name was, didn’t leave his side. There was no way of denying that she really wanted his attention all for herself and, unlike the photos that occasionally appeared online, this time I could see them crystal clear. No blur or too much grain.

“Those meetings you’ve been having…” Blanca captured my attention, “work or race-related?”

“Normal work, nothing exciting,” I let her know. Marjorie and Blanca seemed appeased with the answer too. “I’m trying to not worry about racing, just for one week.”

“You deserve a real break,” the younger of the Sainzes took a sip of her drink. “And that includes tonight. I don’t wanna talk about work, especially when we know Eva is having a hard time.”

“No, it’s fine,” I said, my back hitting the soft fabric of the couch. “I haven’t asked you yet,” my attention drifted to Marjorie, looking at me with a confused look on her face. “How are you handling all of this?”

“Oh,” a pause, then a sip. Then, she let the cup meet the mate black coaster placed on the table and played with the napkin at its side. “Not bad.”

I narrowed my eyes. “That means it’s not going well.”

“It’s not bad,” she repeated herself. “These last days have been amazing, I feel like I’m rediscovering my husband. At the same time, it feels like a goodbye, you know?”

Ana and Blanca shared a look. I think they felt displaced. They barely knew Marjorie and the last days didn’t give them enough time to understand the dynamics of her marriage with my brother.

“I mean,” she continued and quickly stopped again, almost like she was analysing what to say, or how to say it. I felt her eyes drifting to the man standing a few feet ahead, leaning to the railing on the other side of the terrace and accompanied by a blonde who was still laughing too much at his words and I quickly understood where the conversation was leading. “Look what the distance did to you and Carlos.”

“Carlos and I were never married. Not even— Don’t go there.”

“Nevertheless,” she kept going, “I have two kids at home and Fabrizio wants to move to Italy. We’re talking about it, but it seems wise to move. At the same time, I see what all of this did to you two and you were not even married,” she rebated my point with the same argument. “It’s hard enough when he travels two weekends in the same month. How am I supposed to deal with having him home for only two weeks a month, if I get those two weeks?”

Fair point.

“We’re married. I’ll miss him, as a husband,” she sighed. “And the babies... you know.”

I blinked, no words left to be spoken. I knew. I didn’t miss Carlos as a husband, nor as a boyfriend, but I’d missed him. In the beginning, those phone calls and facetime sessions made the feeling grow, but the love I felt for him grew at the same rate as the longing. I’d missed him as much as I’d loved him. So I couldn’t picture what the future would be like for Marjorie.

“I don’t know if it helps,” Blanca said, “but our father wasn’t around either. He spent a lot of time away. That didn’t make us love him less.”

Marjorie shrugged. “The only thing I know is that I will never ask him not to go. I know it’s difficult for him too, although it doesn’t look like it.”

A smile tugged the corner of her lips and her eyes travelled across the crowd. My brother was talking and laughing with two guys I recognized from the match the night before. Marjorie looked at him with a warm smile on her lips.

“Trust is important,” I said, “and you both trust and love each other so much it makes me nauseous. You will be fine.”

Trust is important. Trust was everything stopping me from acting, even though my body was ready to betray me and fall into Carlos’ trap. No matter how much I desired Carlos, I couldn’t trust him and that meant we would fall from the tightrope the second I surrendered my body and soul to his arms and warm lips.

“What’s hardest to trust?” Marjorie said, looking at her man, who was now winking at her. She smiled at him, and then turned to me, again. “Him or the people around him?”

She was talking about Rio, and whatever could happen during race weekends, or the eventuality of him moving alone to Italy, but that hit a little close to home.

“Him,” I said. “People won’t do anything he doesn’t let them do. He won’t do anything he doesn’t want to do.”

The blonde, Mila, was touching him. Small pats on his arm to pull his attention back to her, another small pat on his chest while he spoke and she leaned her head back, laughing at whatever he was saying. Another embarrassing show; quite pathetic.

“That’s true,” Ana added. “But you don’t seem like a couple with problems in that regard,” she continued, her hand reaching for the cup filled with white sangria. “Rio is and always was a nice guy, you know it better than us.”

Marjorie was not uncertain about how faithful her husband was; she was scared of the void he would leave behind. The unanswered calls. The postponed encounters. The empty space at dinners and birthday parties. I promised her that I would sleep at hers one or two nights each week to keep her feet warm; she knew I wasn’t joking.

After this conversation reached its natural end, I dragged her to the dance floor. On top of her wearing heels, she complained about not having enough rhythm to dance, or even enough balance. I told her to get another drink, with the excuse that the right amount of alcohol would give her the rhythm she needed. Marjorie found her rhythm and new confidence at the bottom of her fourth drink and I found myself to be less patient than I thought. In need of both resting my feet and taking a break from Marjorie, who was too playful and talkative after those four drinks, I led the group to the couches where the boys were sitting.

Carlos’ blonde had disappeared. Another one had resurged on his side, this time a man—the host.

After almost forcing Marjorie to sit next to Rio and take a break, I went to the bar. One of the two silver foxes serving drinks stopped what he was doing to pay attention to my request. Virgin Mojito, I asked. My insides were asking for more alcohol, especially before my amazing idea of getting my friends drunk, but I knew my limits.

“Quite a character, no?” I didn’t need to look to my right to understand who said these words. I would recognize his voice and accent anywhere.

“You and Marjorie are spending too much time together; she said the same thing.” Carlos put down his tumbler on the counter; the bartender replaced it with another, this one with a thick line of a brownish liquid around a large ice cube. “How many of those did you have?”

“Not enough.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Why do you care?”

I raised an eyebrow. “I don’t wanna drag you from the car to your bed. Marjorie is giving me enough trouble already.”

“Don’t worry about it, Blanca can take me home,” he deadpanned and then, with two sips, Carlos drank the whole thing. I abstained from making any comment. “Don’t look at me like that. I can get drunk once in a while.”

“Where’s your blonde? Did she leave you hanging and now you’re mad about it?” He scowled at me. “Am I wrong? Sorry, my mistake,” I huffed sarcastically. Carlos didn’t say anything. I was getting more annoyed with each second he ignored me. “Can you please stop ignoring my presence? I’m right here.”

“Where she is, is not of your business.”

I tilted my head. “Are you a grumpy drunk? I was hoping for something different.” Carlos looked around, his hand going to his hair and sorting it out. The wind was messing with his hair, but somehow, he still looked handsome. “Or are you just mad?”

“I’m annoyed.”

“Why’s that?” Carlos turned to me, eyes piercing through mine. He bit his lip and then shook his head.

“Go enjoy the party. Our host had a lot of questions about you,” he finally responded. My gaze looked for Uwe, sitting with another group, his rebellious blonde hair falling in front of his eyes. The man didn’t seem to stop in one place for more than two minutes. “I’m sure he doesn’t want to stay a stranger.”

Reverse psychology or what?

“Maybe I will,” I responded offhandedly and took a sip of my drink that I didn’t notice was waiting for me on the counter, drops of condensation staining the coaster of a deeper black. “Enjoy Mia.”

“Mila,” he corrected me, to which I just grinned. He knew I knew her name.

Leaving the bar behind, my feet starting to ache on the heels and my eyes already tired from the strong lights that had replaced the pastel dusky tones of the sunset, I found myself in a dilemma, contemplating what game Carlos was playing.

Marjorie sat on Rio’s lap to give me her place on the couch. She was just another level of clingy when she was drunk and my brother didn’t seem to mind. His hands were around her, holding her close to him. Compared to the other two couples in the group, they were more carefree. The Sainzes were not big fans of PDA.

“I hope that one has alcohol on it,” the enthusiastic and accent-filled voice of our host erupted in our surroundings a few beats later, interrupting a boring conversation about how Rodrigo could improve his golfing skills.

The German driver leaned against the back of the couch in front of me, behind Ana. “Oh, it doesn’t,” I replied. “I’m behaving tonight.”

“Too bad,” the guy winked and Marjorie patted Rio’s shoulder. My brother dragged himself to the end of the couch and moved slightly to the side, creating a little spot for Uwe to sit. He put his beer on the table, next to the fancy glasses filled with drinks of all colours. “Your friend there told me you’re a driver too,” he signalled to Carlos with his head. “In which category?”

“For the last year, I’ve been driving in the Ferrari Challenge. I’m looking at endurance for next year,” his eyes widened and his smile grew a bit more. “I made my debut in WEC last year when a driver got COVID. That was good.”

“That’s interesting,” he said.

Marjorie leaned into me, trying to whisper something to Uwe, but failed and her words came out loud and excited. “She won the championship last week!”

“Ja?! Sainz forgot to mention that,” he looked at me, impressed. Men usually didn’t get this excited when told about my driving skills and just from his reaction, the German scored some points in his favour.

“The first woman to do so!” Marjorie added and I rolled my eyes.

“Marjorie—” I stopped her, but the guy interrupted me.

“What? If the fruit won’t sell itself…” Marjorie said in her defence and the guy nodded in agreement. “Take her dancing, Uwe. She needs some fun.”

I was surprised by her tenacity in ensuring I have some fun tonight. The tall blonde German took my hand and walked in front of me, gently dragging me to the dance floor. My eyes dropped to the floor to be sure my heels would not fail me. When I looked back up to find him, I noticed the height difference. Too German, indeed.

As soon as we approached the small crowd around the DJ, he pulled me close by my waist. His grip was firm and confident and his posture changed the second his fingers found my skin, as if he enjoyed my delicate size and weight. The crowd surrounded us when he stopped, the bodies of the guest shielding us from the eyes of those scattered around the terrace. His hand drifted to my bare back. He felt warm and gentle.

“I hope you enjoy the music,” he whispered as I drowned in his cologne when he leaned against me, so close to my ear I could feel the brush of his lips against the sensitive skin. He smelled of pine and bay – fresh, crisp and masculine. “I’m hoping for some reggaeton.”

I laughed and he grinned back at me. “It’s a better fit for dancing, that’s for sure.” The rhythm of the current music was not bad, but not suited for the contact I knew he was hoping for. He hadn’t let go of me. His warm touch on my lower back kept reminding me of Marjorie’s words. “I hope you get lucky.”

He chucked. “That’s up to you.”

“Don’t step out of line,” I got on my tip-toes and, on the way to his ear, I could feel his breath against my cheek.

The music carried us away, not reggaeton yet, but it had just the pace we needed to dance and explore each other a bit more.

I didn’t feel anything whenever his lips got closer to my skin, not even in anticipation to feel them end all the need for touch and attention. Thinking about it, I didn’t even remember the last time I got laid and that was worrying, to say the least. Even though Uwe was there, making sure I knew he was available, he was not Carlos; in fact, he was Carlos’ polar opposite. Attractive, nonetheless. Blonde, tall, strong. Nice accent. Nice hands. Long, warm fingers. I could go on, I could make a list of this man’s wonders and I knew he would not make me feel half as good as Sainz could.

He bit my earlobe. Hands conducting my waist. I moved a few inches away, the corner of my lips curling into a smile. He tightened the grip around my waist, both his hands holding me close.

“Behave,” I said playfully.

“You can walk away if you want to,” he let go of me and I shook my head in disapproval. His hands met my waist again. The music changed and I chuckled at the familiar sound and so did the crowd, as they quickly started singing. “Dance with me, DiMaggio,” he commanded.

We danced, slowly and easily. I didn’t even know where we were standing, as the music and his touch clouded my mind with nothing but this moment. His fingers kissed my skin in an adoring way, the lyrics to the songs escaping his lips with a funny accent he tried to fight. It made me laugh and correct him on his Spanish more than once.

He turned me around, my back to his chest, his hands on my waist, his touch warm, firm and strong, pushing me to him. The shirt was so thin that his body heat seeped through the fabric and reached the exposed skin of my back. I could feel his strong hands everywhere as we danced some more until the set ended. As the music changed to a more upbeat one, I turned back to him.

During the movement I caught a glimpse of him, alone. A beer in his hand and nothing but the dark sky around him.

“Another drink?” The German’s voice snapped me back to the moment.

My eyes seemed too hard to move, I was stuck there, on him. But then a slimmer silhouette appeared at his side, with blonde hair and a big smile.

I smiled. “No, thanks. I told you. I’m behaving.”

“Hope that’s only regarding the alcohol,” he murmured and he licked his lips.

“Let’s see,” I said as my eyes dropped to his lips and then to the medallion hidden under the fabric of his shirt. “What does it say?”

He noticed what my gaze has fallen upon and he followed it by dropping his forehead closer to mine. “Das Blaue vom Himmel versprechen,” he answered. I turned it around with the help of my fingers.

“The blue of the sky?” I asked, not letting go of the amulet.

“Promise the blue of the sky. It’s a saying. There’s a certain ring to it.” I nodded at the explanation and out of nowhere, his lips crashed against mine.

Harsh and wet. Brutal and aggressive. Ocean and tequila.

Tasted so wrong. So wrong.

Wrong in way too many ways.

The moment awakened the memories of an Italian guy left alone in a bathroom stall and the reasons that had made me leave. He was not Carlos. They were not Carlos. Carlos. My eyes drifted to him, his eyes piercing through the crowd to find mine. Even with his friend’s lips on the skin of my neck and his arms firmly grabbing my ass, I couldn’t find the strength to break the eye contact.

It felt like an out-of-body experience. I could feel every cell of my body reject the man touching me, yet I was locked in a man standing not too far away, not moving, but getting more distant each second.

My look, a shout for help.

His made me burn. No emotion, just a blank expression.

Surprisingly, Uwe didn’t seem to be bothered by the glances Sainz cast in our direction; in fact, I wasn’t even sure if he was aware of them. His attention was focused on me. His hands, his lips, his eyes. Unfortunately for him, I couldn’t reciprocate the devotion.

Every time his eyes dropped to another part of me other than my face, my eyes would go back to the Spaniard on the other side of the crowd, leaning against the fence of the terrace. Alone. He’s alone.

The cast of Carlos' gaze was making me dizzy. Even worse, making me feel guilty. Guilty. His eyes were half-lidded, his hair mussed and his clothes dishevelled. He looked drunk. He was drunk.

And he started walking towards us.

“Eva,” his voice resonated, hoarse and deep as always. The only difference was that his lips were barely moving. “I would like to go home.”

“Already? But we’re all having so much fun, ‘migo,” the German exclaimed. Carlos was unfazed. Uwe’s words seemed to enter one ear and escape from the other, as Carlos didn’t even look at him. I was unsure if he had even listened to his friend. His gaze was focused on me.

“Eva.”

“Don’t worry, pal, I can take her home,” Uwe offered, his hand falling on Carlos’ shoulder. The Spaniard moved just enough to make the blonde retract his hand.

“Eva, I need you to take me home,” Carlos insisted. I sent an apologetic look to Uwe, whose confused eyes drifted from me to Carlos, repeatedly. I looked over the crowd, my eyes trying to find Blanca. He grabbed my hand. “Take me home.”

For fuck’s sake.

The man was drunk and acting like a fool and yet my body reacted to that gesture, electricity sparkling from the point of contact. I looked at him, directly into his eyes. They were dark, the black of his eyes dripping into the hazel iris. He tensed his jaw.

I turned back to Uwe. My hand on Carlos’. The German nodded at my words and took a step back to let me through the crowd.

“Not what I expected when told you to enjoy the party.”

“Sorry?”

“This,” he motioned to Uwe. I dropped his hand.

“You think I was?”

“Looked like it.”

A frown instantly took over my face, confusion growing inside. I walked to my brother, who was probably as drunk as Carlos, and his girlfriend, who was leaning against the handrail. Rio’s eyes followed Carlos and not me. His lips curled into a smile watching him trying to reach me.

“Land him a hand, ‘Vita. He’s fucked up.”

Of course, I didn’t. My steps led me to Marjorie and I stood next to her, waiting for Carlos to slowly make his way through the crowd. I dared to look down, at the foam the waves created when they kissed the cliff and followed the trails of white foam. The music made it impossible to hear the claps of the waves.

“You’re so wasted, bro!” Rio hailed Carlos when he finished his unstable walk and finally reached us. “Where’s blondie?”

“You should worry about your wife,” Carlos responded and my eyes drifted to Marjorie, frowning at the Spaniard’s comment.

Rio and Marjorie walked in front of us. He was holding her by the waist, saying things in her ear I was sure I didn’t want to listen to. I didn’t try to match my pace to Carlos’, but he made an effort to catch mine. We had to wait for him in the car.

“Could you please stop?”

Carlos had opened and closed his window three times in the last ten minutes. “It’s hot,” was the excuse he gave when he lowered the glass for the first time. And for why he had closed it a short moment after, he only offered a measly “It’s messing my hair”. After those first times, he repeated the words two times, each time after the annoying noise of the mechanism.

“I’m hot,” he said for the fourth time, the glass going down and the cold night air filling the car. I could feel my skin being taken by goosebumps as the cold air touched my skin.

“I’ll leave you on the side of the road if you close it one more time,” I threatened him.

Marjorie and Rio had fallen asleep five minutes into the drive home and Carlos had sat in silence next to me, watching me drive. My ear drums were still suffering from the loud music of the party, so I was quite enjoying the silence.

“Oh, please don’t,” he said, his voice mildly sarcastic and his eyes avoiding mine. I could see his pupils dilate as he looked at me.

“Just shut up, please,” my eyes didn’t leave the road, which was only lit by the headlights and the street lamps, except to look up at the dark velvety stripes painted in the night sky. “You don’t even look like yourself when you’re drunk,” I mumbled.

“You’re sober and I can say the same.”

“Why?”

“You kissed.” There was a slight pause but I refused to look at the man whose arm, resting on the console, almost touched mine. “You didn’t let me kiss you.”

You didn’t let me kiss you.

I blinked, trying to understand if the words were real and not a fabrication of my tired mind. Does he think I wanted that kiss? I kept my eyes on the road, my grip firm on the steering wheel. I couldn’t think of anything to say.

“D’you like it?” he continued, “Him? The kiss?”

“You’re drunk. We will talk tomorrow,” was all I said. This was not the time or place to talk about anything remotely related to all the feelings and emotions I wanted to repress.

“I’m not that drunk, Eva,” he sighed. A long breath escaped me, not knowing exactly what to do or say to amend the situation.

Again, the imabalance. If on one side I was pissed at him for dragging me out of the party like he owned me and had some kind of sick power over me, I was also thankful to know he still cared. Also, not only he cared but he was jealous of Uwe.

Is this insanity taking over?

You didn’t let me kiss you. Another man's kiss would never make me descend into a weeks-long spiral. I wanted to tell him that. I wanted him to know that I’d been craving him, desiring him, dreaming about him each night since our dinner weeks before.

“You flee my touch. You act like I’m a pervert,” he kept going.

What? I glanced at him from under my lashes, trying to gauge his expression. His stubble framed his face, giving him a vulnerable look that made my heart dance in my chest. The wind was making his hair messier; the untamed dark strands made him look even more vulnerable, yet his words cut deeper than ever. How could he look so fragile and yet sting me out like this?

“I don’t—”

“You do. And now that guy? That guy? D’you really think I don’t notice how you step away from me every time I touch you? Every fucking time, Eva.”

“It’s not like that.” Carlos looked over the window. I peeked in the rearview mirror, hoping I would find Marjorie and Rio still sleeping. They were. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“No.” Just no.

But he didn’t speak. For a couple of minutes, silence reigned in the car and a battle happened inside me. So many thoughts and guilt. Resentment and desire in the same measure.

“Tell me what’s it like then.”

“I don’t want to,” I sounded like my two-year-old nieces, for fuck’s sake. I turned into the gate of the residential area.

In the five minutes it took me to drive from the entrance to the residence, Marjorie and Rio woke up and complained two times about how cold the car was. Two times each. I didn’t say a word until I parked the car in the driveway, leaving enough space for Blanca’s.

“You should use the garage,” Carlos complained, dragging himself out of the car. His hand over his abdomen and a funny expression on his face.

“And you should drink less.”

Before I could reach the house, whose door my brother had opened, I heard his room’s door close. They were in a rush. Behind me, Carlos walked slowly. Not that drunk, he said. The man could barely walk in a straight line or have his eyes completely open.

I stood by the door, on the inside of the house and waited for him to go past me so I could lock the door. As he did, he turned to me. One of his hands travelled to the cold skin of my waist, the other to my face, his index finger caressing my cheek.

Warmth and delicacy. He could barely stand straight but his touch was delicate and soft against my skin. Seconds of pure bliss. I felt a silent sigh leaving me and, without realizing it, I took a step back. Like a marionette cut from its strings, my back hit the door frame.

I immediately condemned my body for doing so. He shook his head. “See?”

He left me standing there, my blood rushing inside my veins. The sad look in his eyes and the memory of this touch remained in my mind until I saw his body disappear being a wall. Then I placed my hand on the place he’d touched me, trying to bring back the comfort of his touch. I could feel the leftover warmth on my skin.

I didn’t move until I heard his steps reach the top of the stairs, making sure he would make it upstairs safe. When the sound stopped, probably indicating he had reached his bedroom, I turned away. I walked to the kitchen, searching for a water bottle and a large bowl and then I made my way upstairs.

Upstairs was dark and silent. Rio and Marjorie’s door was closed and even though Carlos had left his open, I couldn’t hear anything. Before walking to his room to check if he was okay and to leave the water and the bowl next to his bed, I left my heels and wallet in my room.

I knocked. Didn’t hear anything. The door was ajar and the silence hurt my ears, still buzzing from the loud music at the party. I peeked inside; an orange hue was talking over the room, coming from the lamps on the bedside tables. Carlos was nowhere to be seen.

When I was about to call his name, I saw a stream of light coming from the bathroom, casting a white line on the dark rug in front of the door, but the silence continued.

I left the bottle and the bowl on the nightstand, where his phone was charging and his wallet was left open, and then turned around to the door from where the light was coming. I couldn’t see much more than the image of his back through the small gap. Although I felt like I was invading his privacy, as I actually was, I let myself enjoy that moment of intimacy.

He was still wearing his jeans. And socks. Green socks.

I would have killed to see him like this.

I heard the splash of the water hitting the porcelain of the sink. My image was reflected in the mirror when he bent down to wash his face and even though I tried to escape his gaze, his reflexes were faster than mine. He turned to me.

“I left water and a bowl on your bedside table,” I said. “Just in case.”

Carlos used a towel to dry his hands and face and walked past me, turning off the bathroom light on his way. Darkness fell into the room, the glow from the lights too low to light up the whole space. He became nothing but shades.

“I’m not a child,” I heard him undo the zipper of his jeans and take them off under the orangy glow. I drifted my gaze to the well-lit water bottle and, made myself read the label, fighting the urge to look at him. “You can go now.”

“You have no right to be mad at me.”

“Now you want to talk,” he deadpanned. The ruffle of the comforter and then a muted thud, his body meeting the bed. “I want to sleep.”

“Have some water first,” mentally, I complimented the choice of low brightness on the lamps. I really didn’t want to see his reaction to my words – his grunt was enough to know he was annoyed. I grabbed the bottle and extended my arm towards him.

He turned to me and the light reached his face faster than my eyes did. The beams outlined his features: the nose, the lips, the full eyelashes and gave a new sparkle to his eyes. Under the warm tones, he looked peaceful and somewhat delicate, and that wasn’t a word I would naturally use for him.

“I’m not a child,” he repeated his words from before and didn’t take the bottle from my hands.

“Yet you’re behaving like one.”

“Go to bed, Eva.”

“I don’t want you to choke to death on your own vomit.”

His eyes widened, a snort coming from his mouth before his words. “I won’t.”

“You can’t be sure,” I replied and I moved the bottle in front of his face. “Just a sip.”

“Eva,” a sigh and then my hand got lighter. He took the bottle from my hand and I took a step back. It didn’t take long until I heard a satisfied sigh.

“Try to not die,” and with these parting words, I walked away from the bed.

“Eva,” he called my name again and each time he was taking more time with it. Perhaps he was tired, or the alcohol was slowing him down, but my name sounded like music.

The accent. The v on his lips sounded like a b. Soft and tender.

And just like that, I couldn’t resist turning back to look at him. He was a striking silhouette under that stupid orange dim light; shirtless, his head against the headboard and his hair falling on his forehead and at that moment, I understood it was too late to fight the feelings.

“Can we talk tomorrow? You need sleep.”

“When?”

I shrugged. “Any time will do.”

“Eva,” he had his eyes almost closed, his face down on the pillow; my name sounded like a siren call. I wanted to dive in and meet him in bed. “Don’t see him again.”

His soft whisper cut through the silence like thunder.

I got close, just so I could turn off the lights and let him rest, but as I did so, my eyes caught the sight of his tired face. The line of his perfect lashes, the hair ruffled against the pillow, the light kissing his face, making him even more beautiful.

My fingers lingered over the light switch, postponing the gesture that would make him disappear in the dark. I stood next to him for a couple of minutes, staring adoringly at his face and appreciating the tranquillity of his sleep. It didn’t feel wrong, not even for a second.

He had ruined me the moment he brushed his lips against mine and reopened the door where all the what-ifs were stored and left to be forgotten. He set them free and they twirled around me, poking me with all the scenarios I’d made so much effort to forget.

But perhaps I shouldn't forget them. Perhaps I belonged here, at his side, not afraid to look at him and adore his face. Without the weight of the world and its expectations, I could just be here, tracing the lines between the light and the shadows with my eyes, be free to admit I wanted to kiss him right where the light touched him. How much I envied that orange dim light that staked a claim on him before I could.

With a click, all of it vanished into the dark.

I don't even know what to say. First of all, THANK YOU for reading and leaving messages and comments. I can't tell you how much I value every single word you write me. also: virtually hugging all of you sainz girlies. it was tough, today. still hurts. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Let me know what you think. See you around, Bru 🩷

#Tightrope #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz fanfic #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #fanf1ction #f1 fanfic #driver x you #f1 driver x you #f1 driver x reader #driver x reader #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz angst

241 notes · View notes

acesofspadess · 1 year ago

Text

Start of Something New

a/n so it starts!!!!!!!!

Worth The Risk Masterlist

summary: An early morning start leads to the start of something new...

The comfort of your best friend's bed would always amaze you. She had the perfect princess bed, the perfect princess room. It must have been nice growing up like a princess. You wouldn’t know. You didn’t have a sob story family, not really you'd say. You lived with your grandparents, your birth parents were never in the picture. Your grandparents spoiled you the best they could, which was more than enough for you, but it was nowhere near Beverly’s lifestyle, but you still got a lot.

It seemed this aspect is what brought you two together. You met in Year 7 when you complimented her Mary Janes. You ended up sitting next to each other and 3 months later for your birthday she bought you a matching pair. When her birthday came around you crocheted her a sweater using her favourite colours. She wore it almost everyday that it was cold.

Beverly’s brother Bentely, was 2 years older than you both and welcomed you into the family like his own sister. You had pretty young grandparents thankfully, and the Williams absolutely loved them. The Williams on year as a Christmas gift helped renovate some of the stuff in your house to better the home, but kept it in a way their seemed nothing changed at all. You were a short train ride away from your home in Hazel Grove to the Williams in central Manchester, so you were always switching houses.

Because of that, it was well known to the Williams siblings how much you were always singing, even when you tried to hide it.

“Autumn, wake up.” Beverly shook you as you slowly opened your eyes. You expected to see the sun glaring at you through the window, but it wasn’t. “What time is it Bev?” you had a deeper voice to begin with, but with the lack of use and sleepiness it sounded like you just came from a rave. “Early. Now get up and put some clothes on, we've got a surprise for you.”

“Who is we?”

~~~

Bev was truly a blessing, she had taken every measure to learn how to deal with your curls. You now guessed her wanting to wash and braid your hair overnight was for whatever you were currently getting ready for.

“Good Morning Fall, a fine July 10th no?.” you were met at the bottom of the stairs with Bentely. “Are you in on this too then?” he nodded, handing you a mug of tea. “Thank you Meadow, and why was the date needed?.” you teased using his fake name. He called you ‘Fall’ a play on your name and you called him 'Meadow', the meaning of his name.

“Okay are we ready?” Beverly trotted down the stairs holding two shirts. “What are the shirts for?” you asked noting that one of you would not be wearing it, and you had a strange feeling it was you. “Oh me and Ben are gonna change when we get there. You got your keys?” She directed the last bit towards her brother who shook them for her to see. “Okay lets go.”

“Go where?”

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

It didn’t take long for you to realise where you were going when the stadium popped into view. “You two are taking the piss right now. Why are we here?” you started panicking. You were at the Fountain Studios, the place of the X-Factor. “Surprise!” Bev cheered from the passenger seat handing you a travel cup with steaming tea inside. “Meadow, why didn’t you tell me?” you whined and he laughed. “Mom paid me,” he shrugged. And you groaned. “Mom’s in on this too? I don’t even know what to sing.”

“New York State Of Mind.”

They both said at the same time and you threw your head back against the back seat. “I'm gonna fail.” you cried and Bev rested her hand on your knee. “If you don’t make it through we’ll take you shopping.” You shrugged her hand off with a laugh. You finished your tea and walked through the lot to get in line. You were singing to the siblings as you walked through the long line. It felt like forever and no time at all before you were getting your paper with your number on it. “230408. When you get famous I wonder how many people are going to get tattoos of it.” Bentley joked and you laughed, “You have to get it first though.”

The rest of the wait had you nervous until you ran into someone. “I’m so sorry I wasn't paying attention.” you immediately started apologising. “No you’re alright.” he laughed and you joined him. “Autumn.” you held your hand out. “Harry.” he shook your hand before you introduced who you guys were with. You all chatted on until the very last moment, you even met a boy named Zayn whom you had taken a picture with. You and Harry had little interviews shot and were giggling the whole time.

Harry went right before you and you were there to give him a hug when he came off stage headed to the next round.

You were next and the siblings made sure to give you a hug before you went on. “Youll do great.” Bev whispered before you were walking on stage. You were met with cheers from the audience and you felt really good for just those 5 seconds.

“Hello.” you spoke into the mic looking at the three judges. “Nice to meet you, what's your name?”

“Um, I’m Autumn Solace.” When you said it you heard cheers and wondered if it was from Zayn and Harry’s familly. Simon looked back at the audience and you smiled. “How old are you Autumn? Nicole asked before Simon.

“I’m 15.” everyone awed as you said it and you smiled bashfully. “Okay so tell me a bit about you.” Simon asked and you wracked your brain for any information. “I work at an ice cream shop on Saturdays but I make clothes in my free time” you decided to say, to which Simon looked surprised. “What kind of clothes do you make?” Nicole asked and you turned to her. “All kinds really, I made my best friend a knitted sweater, but I'll put old clothes together to make something new.”

“When do you have time to do all this with school?” she gasped confused. “Well I just finished my GCSEs so I'm going back to college in September.” the audience gasped because you were a year early. “Wow, and what are you gonna study?” Simon spoke up instead of Nicole.

“I want to study Business, Law, and Physcology, and maybe an art, I'm not sure yet.” Everyone cheered and Simon looked shocked. “So what are you doing here?” he questioned. “Um, my best friend signed me up without telling me. She knew I wanted to go on but would never sign up myself.”

“Why did you want to come on this show?”

“My mum said I was a good singer. And my friends thinks so.”

“Okay well mums usually don’t know.” Everyone, including you, laughed. “Well exactly, so I wanted to hear it from people who know.” Simon seemed to like your response, “do you think you can do it?”

You thought for a second, “I think I can do it for where I’m at, but with help I'm sure I can do a lot better.” Suck up to them, you heard Bev’s voice through your head. “Okay, what are you going to be singing?”

You looked to Bev and she nodded, “New York State of Mind, by Billy Joel.” The audience clapped and the judges looked shocked. “Okay, let's hear it.”

The ending of one of your favorite songs played and you waited for your part to come up

It comes down to reality

And it's fine with me 'cause I've let it slide

Don't care if it's Chinatown or up on Riverside

As you changed into higher pitch the audience cheered and you kept going

I don't have any reasons

I've left them all behind

I'm in a New York

The riff came naturally and you surprised everyone including yourself

State of mind

You held onto the last note as the music finalised and the room went up in applause. You gave a short bow as Simon asked Louis what he thought. “I'm glad we got to hear your voice in such a song. For 15 you have such a nice voice.” He complimented you and you smiled. “Thank you.”

When Simon asked Nicole you knew it wasn’t good by her face. “I mean I agree with Louis but I think you're still so young, you don’t have enough experience or confidence yet.” you thanked her still as the audience booed him. “Yeah someone in the audience just said rubbish and I have to agree with them.” Simon replied and you couldn’t help the grin that painted your face. “Cause you know, the show is designed to find someone like you, whether you're 15, 16, it doesn’t matter. I think with just time you can be really good.” Hearing those words was unbelievable from someone of his power. “Thank you so much.” The audience cheered loudly before Simon was going down the line.

“Louis?”

“I like you Autumn, so i'm going to say yes ”

“Nicole?”

“For all the right reasons, I'm going to say no.” The boo’s that go around were louder and more proficient.

“I don’t think they booed you loud enough there.” Simon egged on the audience who booed once again but louder.

“And I think you’ll be happy to be hearing,” Simon started and you froze. “That I agree with Louis.” the music played again as you thanked them with a big smile. “Thank you so much!” and you walked off stage into Beverly’s awaiting arms. When Bentley hugged you he spun you around and you laughed with tears clouding your eyes. “We told you you could do it!” you laughed all together and as you headed to walk out you saw Harry and his family.

“Congratulations!” Anne was the first to spot you and pull you in for a hug. You immediately felt at home in her arms. “Thank you so much.” you pulled back from her and waved to Harry who finally came over to you. “You did really good.” he shyly answered to your beckon. “You did amazing your self.” You watched as he blushed looking down. “Ill see you around then yeah?” you asked and when he nodded you gave him a side hug before you being pulled away by Bentley saying Beverly was ready to go shopping. You turned around last minute to see him smiling with his family before looking back up at you and you smiled before he was out of your sight.

Worth The Risk Masterlist

tags:

@youcan-nolonger-run @ravenclawdirectioner

@luxiorchive @maeflowers653 @purple9950 @forkmeniall @nathalielovesonedirection @hopsydaisy @shortie-niya

89 notes · View notes

nezebel · 2 years ago

Text

♡ jojos + jobros doing black!readers' hair ♡

a/n: i was talking to some friends about how badly jjba characters could fuck up our box braids. i'm gonna do multiple of these, but for now i'm just gonna do the first 3 jojos/bros. there's a lot of parts so I wanna split them equally- the next one will be part 4, 5, and 6 (maybe 7). hope you enjoy! also ty for over 50 likes on my first post! mwah mwah mwah

Part 1 Jonathan Joestar

Very gentle with your hair. Despite his size, he tries to treat you (and thankfully your hair) as if it might break at any moment. Unfortunately, this means he isn't very willing to actually detangle it.

"Jonathan, please. I need you to actually comb the tangles out of my hair or we'll never be finished."

"I know, my love. I'm sorry. But it might hurt..." "You can be insufferable at times, darling."

Eventually leaves you to detangle your hair by himself so he can do the braiding part, which goes WAY faster. He's quite skilled with his fingers. Makes your braids gorgeous and even adds in crystals and little accessories to spice it up. Overall, 8/10!

Robert E.O. Speedwagon

Very confused. Did you say twists or braids? What's the difference? How do you know? Where did these hairstyles even come from? No matter. Despite his confusion, he's determined to help you out. He's good with detangling and decent with braiding, but decides twisting is the easier way out. It takes him a bit of time to do it though.

"Are you almost done with that twist, darling?" You mumble, exasperated. "Yes dear, just give me a second- oh, that doesn't go that way- sorry, dear-" You giggle as he struggles to finish a single twist, still having half of your hair to finish.

Finally finishes your hair after many, MANY hours. At least he made your hair cute, though. Buys you charms and hair ties so you can style your twists. 7.5/10 for Speedwagon!

Part 2 Joseph Joestar

No idea what he's doing. Tugs, knots, and pulls at your hair accidentally as he simply tries to put it into passion twists. The extensions made it even more difficult as he fumbled with them, trying to make them mesh into your hair seamlessly as you always had. Still very confused.

"Joseph, what the actual fuck are you doing?"

"I DON'T KNOW!" "You better figure it out, Jojo. Please. Do you need a little help?" "For the last time, dollface, I don't need any help. 'M Joseph f'ing Joestar. I can figure this out," He mumbles as he continues to struggle and stress your hair.

When he's done, you look like you got jumped. You give him a kiss and a pat on the back. He tried his best. You secretly take the twists he did out and put your own in overnight, then tell him the twists simply settled last night.

"Huh! Guess I'm not so bad, eh?"

You sigh, then give him a sweet smile. "No, sweetheart. Not at all."

Overall, 4/10. He tried his best, but unfortunately his best was not enough.

Caesar A. Zeppeli

Shocks you with how skillful he is. Even adds in color to your passion twists! Blonde, of course, so you can match with him. Works efficiently and without struggle, but leaves the ends of your twists looking kind of funny.

"Why do the ends of the twists look like that?" "Like what?" Caesar stops and looks at a twist. "Ah. I wasn't exactly sure how to end them. Mi dispiace, amore." Oh well. It wasn't all that bad. And besides, whenever he calls you amore, you can't stay mad at him.

"No worries, darling. I'll fix them later."

Helps you fix the ends of your twists and gives you a pearl necklace to go with the finished look. Overall, 9.5/10!

Part 3

Jotaro Kujo

Very grumpy. Almost says no when you ask him to help you with your hair because he thought it'd be too difficult (and he was kind of right), but you assured him he'd be fine and you'd guide him through the steps of the hairstyle.

"...What did you say this hairstyle was called?" "Goddess braids! They're like box braids, but you have to crochet water wave extensions through the top of the braid." You show him a photo of the hairstyle and he damn near faints.

"...Yare yare. Why do you have to choose such complicated styles?"

"One thing I won't do is hear complaints from a man who didn't wash his hair for 50 days. Better start detangliinggggg..."

He sighs, chuckling a bit, then begins to do your hair.

Finishes relatively quickly and gives you the color of your choice. Buys you an extra large bonnet to keep the curls from getting too frizzy and gives you some silver and gold charms that match some of the charms on his hat. The braids could be better but for his first time doing braids they're pretty good. Overall, 7.5/10, especially for his patience! (still looks irritated about the amount of time it took though)

Kakyoin Noriaki

Very good with washing, detangling, and parting your hair. He does feel stuck about how many braids he has to do or how fast he has to do them. You simply tell him to take his time (but not too much time) and that you can tell him what to do.

"Okay, I'm starting the braids now."

"You said that 10 minutes ago."

"..." "I mean it this time."

Slightly hesitant about actually starting your hair, but he makes it work. Asks if you want to do light pink to match with him and gives you cherry-shaped charms. Also adds pink, red, and white beads to the ends of your braids because he saw someone do that once and thought they'd look cute on you. Overall, 8/10. The braids are pretty and he didn't take too long at all.

Looking in the mirror, you gasp as you look at your gorgeous new braids. "Oh my goshhh, Kakyoin. Have you done this before? You aren't walking around wearing box braids, right? These are so cute!"

He smiles, giving you a quick peck on the cheek. "I tried my best. I'm glad you like them."

idk when part 2 is coming out. maybe later today. hope you enjoyed this little fanfic or whatever, it took me a little while to write lol. feel free to send requests of what you'd like to see next!

#jotaro kujo x reader #kakyoin x reader #part 1 jojo #part 2 jojo #part 3 jojo #caesar zeppeli #joseph joestar #jonathan joestar x reader #reo speedwagon #speedwagon x reader #x black reader #x black gn reader #jjba x reader #x reader #x y/n #anime #self insert #aaaa #my fingers hurt

120 notes · View notes

memento-morianon · 12 hours ago

Text

behind the scenes

@creators-club @bardic-tales

it's behind the scenes day! time to talk about the process behind my writing and stuff lol.

usually when I write a chapter, I'll list the details in bullet point form first, and then flesh it out afterwards. you can see this in some rough draft excerpts where I got tired and couldn't make it through the brain fog, so I just made a summary of the rest of the chapter and moved on. If I didn't do it like this, I'd still be stuck in the intro chapters.

I usually write on my laptop while I'm cozy in an armchair, frequently with a dog on my lap because our dog has learned that once I sit down with my creative projects, I'm unlikely to move from that spot for hours on end, making me an ideal warm spot for his naps.

(image description: a fluffy smallish dog sleeping with his tongue sticking out. he's got a crochet project on his back. end description.)

and for a little peek at how much my protagonists have changed, here's a side by side of my very first art of Morianon next to his current design:

(image description: on the left is a colored pencil drawing on an index card, showing a young elf boy with tan skin and messy black hair. It's labeled "Mori" with the year 2014. on the left side is a digital painting of a bird-like humanoid man with green and blue feathers covering most of his tan skin. He has a scar across his face, a vaguely sketched tattoo on his forehead, and red and cream paint around his eyes. this side is labeled "Morianon" with the year 2024. it's also colored to resemble an index card behind him. end description.)

I forgot this was his tenth anniversary of existence! Near exact, even! It was definitely autumn when I originally designed him, and I came up with a full name after deciding to call him Mori. Ironically I was learning Spanish at the time but I didn't realize until much much later that "mori" is latin for death/die. as in memento mori. which I should have noticed. since I had learned French in high school and was learning Spanish when I first created him. Initially, his full name was Morianten, but I didn't feel right about it later and altered it to Morianon. It's an elvish name, but I haven't decided if it means anything yet lol.

And I tried but I cannot find the oldest art I made for Evarin! I know there's gotta be some original sketches of her somewhere. I don't remember exactly when she became a character, she happened after my brain took a liking to Mori and decided to give him some friends. So in lieu of having any older art of her, I made a comparison of what she looked like before I had nailed down my gnome and orc designs vs what she looks like now. Her name was originally Evelyn.

(image description: two digital painting portraits in shades of purple. on the left is Evelyn, painted in 2021. she has a humanoid face, but the proportions are elongated and she has small pointy ears. Her hair is tied in a high ponytail and she has thick sideburns. on the right is Evarin, painted in 2024. She has more pig-like facial features with a snout and the faint bump of a tusk under her lower lip, where the root sticks out from the jaw bone. her sideburns look neater here, and her hair is in a braid. She also has a vague forehead tattoo and red and cream paint around her eyes. Both versions have a visible unibrow. end description.)

The face paint is one of the most recent decisions; I hadn't figured out elvish wedding customs yet, but since Mori was raised by elves I thought he and Evarin should have elvish wedding symbols somewhere. Ended up going for face paint because I gave all my male elves and their cousin species a little nose bump on the side, kinda like mandrils (it's more vibrant on the drow, the elves and stroi have a subtler bump) and I liked the idea that they might use the area around their nose as a place for social status face paint, such as to show they're married. each elf culture has a different set of colors and designs unique to them. but I keep forgetting to add it when I draw Mori and Evarin, so I've also made it a character trait that Mori, feeling disconnected from elvish culture cuz he's half bird dude, often neglects the face paint, and his wife being a gnome also does not remind him about it.

Sometimes you just have to follow the Bob Ross philosophy of "happy accidents" whenever you make a mistake lol

#writeblr #mm characters #original writing #creators club #behind the scenes

3 notes · View notes

ask-tweek-and-those-guys · 2 years ago

Text

The headcanons I promised!

CRAIG

-Exact opposite of Stan, he box dyes his blonde hair black

-He knits little hats for Stripe

-He knits big hats for Tweek

-He actually knits all of his gifts for Tweek

-He doesn't like coffee, he prefers energy drinks

-Autistic bc he is me

-LOVES SPACE

-Space and guinea pigs are his special interests

-Vans kid

-Although he prefers roller skating to skateboarding

-He has those glow-in-the-dark stars all over his ceiling and National Geographic space posters everywhere

-Stripe has a super awesome house/play area thingy

-He actually brings Stripe most places

-He sits in his hat

-Or his front pocket

-Lots of blue in his wardrobe

-He's got like 6 of the same blue NASA hoodie

-He also brings his knitting bag everywhere

-It helps with stimming and stuff

-That's also why he didn't ditch his hat

-He plays with the flaps to stim without bringing much attention to himself during class

-Tweek finds it super endearing

TWEEK

-Crochets!

-He gives Craig crocheted guinea pigs in return for the knitted sweaters

-Tweek also brings his crochet stuff everywhere

-Helps with his anxiety

-He doesn't like the way energy drinks taste, they're too sour for him

-Coffee is nice and bitter

-He keeps his hair tied back so he doesn't tug on it

-Craig braids it sometimes

-He smokes a little bit when he's extra stressed

-Only cigs

-Never drinks though

-Hates the way alcohol tastes

-He doesn't like the idea of having a bad trip or just being alone while under the influence, so if he does smoke a little weed, it's always with Craig's supervision

-He rarely smokes weed though

-Doesn't need it considering what's in his parents coffee

-Craig's room makes him feel so safe

-If Tweek is ever having a panic attack, Craig gives him his hat

-It grounds Tweek really well

-If Tweek is panicking in class, Craig will literally drop everything to go get him from class

-They have a special text code

-If Tweek puts double exclamation points at the end of a message, then Craig knows he should call the school and pretend to be Tweek's father

-A bit difficult given his nasally tone, but he manages to fool the office

-Besides, Mr. Tweak calls him out enough to work at Tweak Bros. to make it seem real

-They usually go get Tweek's favorite fast food to make him feel better

-It's Jersey Mike's

-Subway stresses him out

-He loves subs though

-Craig always orders for him

-In return, Tweek gives him the cheese from his sandwich

-Tweek still tweaks, but not nearly as bad as when he was a kid

-Craig has taught him some grounding tactics and they work super well

-(Craig researched anxiety for hours after they got together)

JIMMY

-Silly fella

-He's a goofy guy

-He's strangely good at helping with anxiety

-He doesn't have it himself, he's just helped Tweek enough times to know some stuff

-Love cats

-Like his special interests are cats and comedy

-He will stim so much if a cat comes and sits on his lap or even near him if he's writing a new set

-He knows so many obscure cat facts

-He probably spent hours researching every breed he could

-Has an adapted vehicle so that he can go places without having to call a friend for a ride or get an Uber

-Likes to read

-He loves the Diary of a Wimpy Kid books

-His favorite though is actually a super sad book

-When Breath Becomes Air

-He may be a comic, but he can appreciate a sad biography

-He's got a green thumb

-He and Tweek run the gardening club

-He's also in the board game club with Tolkien

-President and head editor of the school newspaper

-Takes writing very seriously

-He unironically loves minion memes

-Like he just thinks they're so cringy and hilarious

-He also probably knows all sorts of cool friendship bracelet patterns from going to camp so much

-He def gives them out at the beginning of the year

-Does his stand up routine for the guys at lunch

-He hates having his crutches decorated

-Makes him feel like that's all he is, the kid with crutches

-He randomly wears suits and for the whole day he'll just do a stand up bit the whole day

-He's just a silly lil fella

CLYDE

-Kinda whiny

-He makes Craig drive him everywhere

-Tacos are his favorite food

-Scared of dogs

-(Not so) Secretly crushing on Scott

-He's captain of the football team

-Sportsy fella

-He's kinda stocky

-Not as bad as Cartman of course, but he's got a little weight on him

-Loves 80s-90s styles

-Def a crybaby, poor kid

-Still super sensitive about what happened to his mom

-Craig is his best friend

-Craig will beat up anyone that makes Clyde cry

-Huge flirt but he's def easily flustered

-Fidgety kid

-He's got ADHD

-Because I said so

-He's underrated tbh

-He and Jimmy run the comedy club for school

-He's a silly lil guy

-He always joins Jimmy on suit days

-He's really a good guy

-LOVES TAYLOR SWIFT

-Huge TayTay fan

TOLKIEN

-Academic tbh

-He thinks reading is dumb though

-He likes when people read to him though

-He's also a huge Taylor fan

-He and Clyde run the school's fan club

-Although Tolkien would never admit it

-He wants to save a little face

-Loves cooking

-He cooks for the gang all the time

-He makes them all hang out at his house so that he can try a new recipe during movie night

-They always get to be the first ones to try it out

-I don't have much for Tolkien, sorry y'all 😔

#sp craig #craig tucker #sp tweek #tweek tweak #sp jimmy #jimmy valmer #sp clyde #clyde donovan #sp tolkein #tolkien black

37 notes · View notes

capnjaket · 11 months ago

Text

The Opposite of Lost - Chapter Six

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x Female OC

Warnings: Loss of loved ones

a/n: YAY Sorry this took so long! I've been so excited to reveal the big secret in this chapter - I really hope you like it! Thanks for your support for anyone who has liked or read this so far :)))

Word count: 4.5k

Chapter Six

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆ Joshua

“Wanna come over?”

“Like right now? To your house?” I questioned.

“Yeah I - My uncle’s gone for the week so I can finally have friends over.” She started sounding a little unsure of herself.

“Okay I’ll be right over then. Sounds good.” I kindly agreed, but scrunched my face up with a fist resting on my forehead at the thought of having to talk to her about my feelings so soon.

“Yay! I’ll see you soon.” Rosemary went back to being her spritely self, hanging up.

On the drive over, my mind was working overtime trying to conjure up some sort of plan. I decided that the only way I’d be able to do it was if it was early on, because my nerves were already getting the better of me and she’d surely notice something was off and ask and it wouldn’t go the way I wanted it to.

Reaching the door, my body was stiff as a board, back muscles tensing uncontrollably. But as the door opened and her polite smile and beautiful face greeted me, my worries shuffled to the side. Rosemary threw me in a whirlwind of peace and danger.

“Hi!” Even though we were making eye contact, my mind had been worlds away before she spoke and brought me out of the trance.

“Hi.”

“Welcome to my humble abode Joshua Michael.” She giggled.

“Pleased to be here, Rosemary June.”

The house was pretty simple; a main living/dining area that sat next to the kitchen, two bedrooms, one on either side of the space. Everything was a different shade of cream, the walls, the curtains, the carpet. The main space lacked life; even the brown sofas were boring and plain. She walked me straight into her bedroom, and I was pleased to see that her touch had been made on the room. A plethora of band posters covered one of the walls, including a large brown one of ‘Bread’. There were upwards of fifteen plants scattered around, most sitting on the windowsill, and a few larger ones on the floor. There were trinkets and candles everywhere, each surface holding something on it along with a plant. She had her guitar on a stand in the corner, next to her double bed which was covered in a colorful crochet blanket and a vintage style quilt.

“Geez do I need a national parks permit to enter this place?” I joked, motioning to the room. Rosemary walked over and sat on one end of her bed, sitting in her usual one-leg-swinging-one-leg-folded posture, grinning up at me. She patted the space next to her and I comfortably sat like her, still taking in the room. Ok now is your chance. Do it while you still can. I thought. “Rosemary can I - I wanted to talk to you about something.” I looked into her eyes as I told her this before I quickly tore my eyes away from her, realizing that focusing on her beautiful face right now would only make it harder.

“Yes…” Rosemary replied, “What is it?”

“I –” My gaze swept over the pictures on her nightstand behind her. And just as I was about to start speaking again, my eye caught on one particular photo. It was a framed image of an older looking man and a young girl, who was clearly Rosemary only a few years ago. They were standing above a large valley that looked like it was in Colorado, or somewhere near. She looked slightly shorter, with braided hair, being side hugged by the man with graying blonde hair and a wide smile. He looked familiar. My brow furrowed. “The man in that photo… is he your grandfather?” I pointed.

I could see her stiffen and sit upright, sharply turning to see what photo I was talking about. “Yes.” She said carefully.

I continued in wonder; “He looks strikingly like John Denver. As in like if that wasn’t you next to him I’d have said that photo was of John Denver.” I went on, in fascinated disbelief.

Rosemary didn’t say a word. I finally looked at her to get an answer. She had pursed lips, eyes almost to the point of glistening; they were so wide. Her whole body expanded as she took a deep breath, eyes slowly locking on mine.

My face dropped.

“That’s because he is.” She whispered, sounding so unsure. She spared a glance at the guitar in the corner. I looked too. I was looking at John Denver’s fucking guitar. My mouth hung completely agape.

“You’re not saying what I think you’re saying right?” I ran my shaking fingers across my mouth. “You’re only joking. Stop fucking with me.”

“No, I am telling you the truth Joshua.” She leaned forward a bit and tilted her head in order to get me to look at her. “I wouldn’t lie to you about this.” She said kindly.

“Sorry I just–” I collected my thoughts. She blew out a huge breath, the tension releasing from her form as she bit back a smile. I guessed it was because she had finally told someone this secret she had been holding for so long. Everything started making sense. From the first time we were alone on the trails, and she got really quiet when I hummed ‘Leaving on a Jet Plane’, to playing ‘The Music is You’ and making her cry. “Oh my god in the garage that day I am so sorry. I wish I hadn’t upset you like that.” I gushed.

“Joshua–” She spoke over my insistent rambling.

“And Jake going on about your guitar, that must have been so hard I just, I’m so sorry I truly had no idea–”

“Joshua. It’s okay. Let me speak, please. Let me explain.” I stopped, despite the rapid thumping of blood I could feel through my whole body. “If I wanted to tell you earlier I would. And I was actually going to tell you today, but you figured it out faster than I expected.” She grinned. “This secret is serious though. No-one knows. I need to keep it quiet for my own safety, that’s the way it is for me right now.” She explained. “And, all of those times you mentioned, they didn’t hurt me: instead they meant the world to me. I mean, in you, I could finally see my Grandfather again.”

She reached over and grabbed my hand. We shared a long moment of silence as we both processed everything, and when it was time, I looked back up at her, grinning so hard. Rosemary was the coolest and she was John fucking Denver’s granddaughter.

“Thankyou for telling me.” I squeezed her hand in mine. “So he’s the one you grew up with on the farm? The one who taught you guitar?”

“Yep.”

“Wanna give me the family rundown? Because I’m a little confused at why you’re in Frankenmuth right now if I’m being honest with you.”

“Okay well my Mom was Pa’s only child, and she had me quite young with a bit of a douche guy who up and left pretty quickly. So my dad was out of the picture from the get go, and he passed away soon after anyway. I think it was some sort of substance abuse. I never wanted to ask. Then Mom died when I was only a few years old in a car crash, and I was left in my grandparents' care. Then when they both passed, I was sent here, my only living relative - my dad’s brother Tom.” I listened intently. After this section she checked on me to make sure I was keeping up. “So here’s the thing. Tom has no idea who Pa was, because Mom and Dad weren’t together long. I can’t tell him because there is a lot of money in my name that he could potentially try to take from me. Pa and my grandmother left basically everything to me, but until I’m eighteen I can’t access it. And so Pa made sure that in the case of them passing before I was old enough, I could choose to hide my identity. So here I am, fake last name, in a random town with a relative I didn’t know existed, and who didn’t know I existed.”

“Woah woah woah. Fake last name?”

“I just told you about my generational wealth and that’s what you want to ask me about?” She rolled her eyes. “Well Mom was an only child, so naturally with my absent father she gave me her name. And I don’t think it’s the most inconspicuous thing to walk around as Rosemary June Denver, do you?” I laughed with her.

She spent a while talking about her life freely, showing me pictures of her little family at the farm, and her guitar up close, pointing out the ‘made for John Denver’ leather plaque inside the body. She absolutely glowed as she told me about him teaching her guitar, and how the very quilt we were sitting on was made for her by her grandmother. It filled my heart to hear that she had been loved in such an expanse. Just the way she deserved. Just the way she showed love to me and my family.

On the thought of love, I started to wonder how on earth I was going to confess anything to her now knowing this. If I thought I had even a sliver of chances then, what was I going to have now, knowing how special she truly is? She’s Rosemary Denver for christ sakes; way above my pay grade. She would no doubt leave as soon as she could, away from this stupid little town and little me. I would never be good enough for her, even if she wasn’t the only living relative of my hero. I realized at that moment that she was too special for me all along, she definitely had no interest in me, and I was completely delusional to think otherwise.

“What were you going to tell me earlier Josh?” She said. My heart dropped for the millionth time today.

“Oh it was nothing.” I responded to her lighthearted question.

“You did seem pretty serious about it earlier… What was it? Please?”

“Rosemary, don't worry about it. It was silly, irrelevant.” I didn’t want to process this heartbreak right now. I just wanted to have a good time with Rosemary. Why couldn’t she move on?

“No, Josh, tell me. I’m not gonna think you’re silly. Whatever it is.” She pestered, grabbing my bicep softly.

“Please I… Uh.” I pulled away from her. Rosemary’s touch was all consuming, and it was something I shouldn’t let myself have - it would only make it harder to lose her. But as I moved back, I saw her face plummet, dropping deep into hurt and confusion. “Wait no sorry I … God why is this so hard?” I stumbled on my words, trying to find a way out.

“What’s so hard? Why can’t you just tell me Joshua? I just told you my whole fucking life story. I told you things that are not even safe to tell you. Things that are so hard for me. And you can’t tell me some thing that’s been on your mind?” Her eyes started to well up, trying desperately to hold onto my stare which constantly darted.

“I’m sorry I just can’t find the words… to uh… the words–”

“The words to what, Josh? Spit it out.”

I huffed a breath. “The words to tell you I think I’m falling in love with you.” Her eyes blew wide with confusion. FUCK why did I say that. No no no what do I do…

“What– I thought… What about Florence?”

“Oh cut the shit Rosemary you know I don’t like her.” I snapped in my emotional state. “Shit sorry I didn’t mean to say it like that. Fuck. I really like you Rosemary. Like really really like. As in I probably could call it love. That's what I was going to tell you, but I backed out because now I know you’re John Denver’s fucking descendant and you’re way too cool and amazing and special for me and it made me realise I could never deserve you and I–” I rambled on and on, before finally taking a breath. I looked up to see tears fully forming on the rims of Rosemary’s eyes.

“Josh,” She started, her voice low. “What if I think I’m falling in love with you too?” My heart jumped. But just as I was about to respond she started again, rambling exactly the same way I did, carefully masking her hurt with kindness. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Pa, it’s just no one knows and it’s really important for my safety and I also didn’t want you to see me any differently… but if that means you can’t love me then that’s okay I guess I mean–”

I leaned forward and pressed my lips against hers, silencing her. She loved me back. That’s all I heard. I just hoped I would be enough in that moment. After a moment she kissed me back, reaching up to my jaw to hold me to her, neither of us willing to let the other go.

When we finally pulled apart, it was because our smiles grew too wide to hold a pout, unable to kiss. I looked right in her eyes, enjoying the way I could see each muscle tense into a squint from her grin. She grabbed my hands, letting her forehead fall forwards onto mine.

“Sorry for not telling you any of this earlier.” She whispered.

“I forgive you. Except for the whole ‘I love you back’ thing. I wish I could’ve known that sooner, it would have made this a whole lot easier.” I chuckled.

“Yeah well I don’t think I’m entirely to blame for that one buddy.” She tilted her head to touch her nose to mine.

I pushed my body weight forward to crash us both onto the bed together. “I’m sorry, Buddy? Who am I, your child?” I said, as we tossed about in a play fight.

“What would you like me to call you then Joshua?” She attempted to grab my wrists as I started tickling her.

“How about… your boyfriend.” We stilled. Her eyes lit up, and mine also did, seeing how happy it made her. She nodded. “And you’re my girlfriend.”

Next came two months of pure bliss. Rosemary was safe, Rosemary was happy, Rosemary was my girlfriend. We continued our weekly hikes on Sundays, meeting up around midday, and going off to somewhere new each time. We picked flowers for each other on every walk, and when it was too cool for them to keep growing, we just started giving each other cool sticks and sprigs of greenery. Despite the colder weather, we pushed on, bundling up on ridges and boulders late into the freezing night so we could watch the stars and talk until our eyes drooped. Then we’d hike back to our cars, sleepy and happy, dragging each other hand in hand. And in the morning, when our friends made fun of our dark eye bags and poor attention, we’d just look at each other and laugh.

She explained to me that she had gotten her job at the diner so that she could buy herself things that she didn’t want to bother her uncle about. But her birthday was coming up, and she had saved up plenty of money to last her until then, so she quit. After that we had even more time together, more often than not choosing to stay warm in my house.

My family loved her, especially my Mom. Although I couldn’t explain Rosemary’s situation just yet, Mom now knew she only lived with her uncle, so she was always happy to let Rosemary hang around. Rosemary wooed her too, bringing plants that she had propagated for us regularly, though I selfishly took most of them to my room, so that I could take care of them and think of her.

On the first saturday of November, Jake had booked the band a show in a well established bar a few towns over, and naturally, I asked Rosemary to join us. She excitedly told me she would gladly drive down, and that Jita could come up with her too. It was the start of something big for us, being seen somewhere other than our small town, and by new people. We all had our doubts on whether the audience would like it, since we’d been rocking with a regular crowd in Frankenmuth for some time. But, we took our chances.

It felt strange unpacking our gear in this new location, where we didn’t know the owners or any of the staff. We did our best to look a bit professional and not like the highschoolers we were, keeping Sammy in line as much as possible. It was reasonably big, definitely larger than our venue at home. Dim yellow overhead lighting lit the space from the short ceilings, and the walls were painted different dark maroons and greens. There were dirty, clattering wood tables and chairs squished into the floor, and two of the walls were lined with booth seating.

“Jita’s still coming, right?” Jake nervously asked me as we worked together to plug in our amps and long leads.

“Yes, I already told you. She’s coming with Rosemary right now. They should be here soon, actually.” Jake had still yet to make a move on Jita, even though it was plainly obvious to everyone else what was going on. Around Jita, Jake dropped the cool guy attitude for awkwardness and was continually more gentlemanly to her than anyone he’d ever met, and I caught Rosemary having to kick Jita multiple times at the lunch table for ogling too long at my twin. But somehow, my shy little brother still grappled with having to confess anything to her.

About half an hour went by, and the little corner stage looked ready to go, so we stepped aside to get ready for the show. Rosemary finally came through the door then, dragging Jita along behind her.

“Ardy! Jita! Look who finally decided to show up!” ‘Ardy’ was a name I’d started calling her recently, after realizing her initials ‘R.D’ had a nice ring to them. It was special, being able to secretly call her by her real name. I think she liked that too. And thankfully no-one really questioned it.

“You’re one to talk, you’re always late mister!” Rosemary poked me in the chest before I enveloped her into a hug. “And you haven’t even started the show.” We swayed a bit, and I reveled in the contact to ease my anxiety.

“I know, I’m just kidding.” I huffed out, turning to peck the top of her head. She was dressed nice, hair half-up half-down yet still lovely and wild. Thin braids were mixed into her natural brown curls. She had put on a bit of makeup, and was wearing her lovely blue jean bell bottoms along with a tight white shirt and an old brown leather bomber jacket. The jacket, I’d learned, was her grandfathers, along with much of her wardrobe. It explained the many oversized jackets and button ups she tended to wear. I found that Rosemary was a beautifully sentimental person, and it made me glad to see her be comforted by these items.

Eventually, the bar filled up, and my parents and Danny’s had found a table alongside Rosemary and Jita. I could see them happily chatting away as we did our final checks before we played.

*❀。• ₊°。Rosemary

It was a big day. I was so excited, and gladly shared it with both sets of parents and Jita where we sat in the audience. I could tell Josh was nervous. They were talking in a circle, planning out their performance or whatever they needed to do, but he kept glancing out at the full room of people. Each time, I made eye contact with him, and he smiled. I hoped I was helping.

Deep inside, I knew it would be all okay. The audience was going to love them, I just knew it. Today was going to be the start of something really good for the boys, no matter how unsure they were about it.

“How’s it going with you Miss Rosemary?” Karen kindly turned to me.

“Well thank you, Karen! Did Josh give you that little English Ivy? I told him to give it to you this time since he already put one in his room.”

“Yes darling! I put it above the cabinets in the kitchen. Josh was so upset that he couldn’t keep it to himself. He kept mumbling about how it wasn’t fair, and that you were his girlfriend.” She said cheekily. I laughed with her at the thought of him moping about. “I’ve been meaning to get Josh to ask, what are your plans for Christmas?”

I hadn’t thought about Christmas yet. I needed to get through my birthday first, find a house, move out, think about my identity. And, it was going to be my first Christmas without Pa. My grandmother had passed a year or so prior, and that changed things, but this year I would face it alone. But… maybe not?

“I’m… not sure yet.” Was all I could answer. I gave her an absent minded smile.

She reached out to hold my hand on the table. “Well, we’d love to have you around for the day, or dinner, anytime you’d like, if you want to my dear, no pressure.” My heart swelled.

“Thank you, truly. I wouldn’t want to intrude-”

“Upbupbup!” She interrupted. “None of that. You are always welcome in our house. I’m sure everyone would love to have you, especially Josh’s grandparents. They keep asking to see you after everything wonderful Josh has said. So I think the more the merrier!” Karen gladly spoke, doing good convincing.

“I’ll be sure to let you know.”

When the band finally got set up in their spots, there was no loud cheer, no pausing of conversations to give them any moment of acknowledgement. And although that could have been disheartening, it might have been for the best - they were nervous after all, and didn’t really want all eyes on them just yet.

But, when Jake played the intro to Safari Song, all heads started turning. For the entirety of the set the room was alive. The cheers got louder and louder after each song, and I watched the parents next to me each grow a strong glint of pride in their eyes. Our little table all danced in our seats, laughing and singing along to Highway Tune, the song they finished with.

As the last cheer wore off, Josh screamed a final “Thankyou!” into the mic before they left the stage. As they walked towards our table, I saw Jake get stopped by someone I assumed to be the manager or owner of the bar, taking him over to the corner to talk. I hugged Josh tight and whispered praises into his ear when he finally reached us. We all got swept up in congratulating the boys, but stole glances over towards Jake talking to the man. Poor jake was struggling to contain himself, clearly worn out yet high on adrenaline from the performance, but also focused on taking in every word the guy said to him.

“Looks like good news boys.” Kelly nodded to Jake who now wore a shit eating grin while being patted hard on the shoulder by the older man before walking towards us.

“He wants us back.” Jake said in shocked elation. “He wants us to come back the week after next.” We erupted in joy altogether.

We sat and enjoyed our lousy bar snacks and drinks while squished onto the one happy table, and every now and then a stranger would walk past and congratulate the boys on their set. It was getting late, and we had a drive ahead of us, so we all worked together to pack up the equipment into the van. Jita was stuck by Jake's side the whole time, happy to help him with his gear even though she didn’t really know what to do.

“Hey I think Jita’s going to come in the van with us, is it okay if you drive Josh home?” Jake asked me.

“No worries at all.” I winked.

We were about half the way home before we even got off the topic of the show.

“So it is my birthday on Sunday next week.”

“Oh really I had no idea! I haven’t asked you about this at all. Like ever.” Josh teased sarcastically.

“SHH I have a point! I had a look online… and I found somewhere to live. And they do same day settlement.” Josh’s face fell a bit. “I have to move out of my uncle’s place, Josh. And for obvious reasons I’m going to do it as soon as possible. If all goes to plan, I just need your help to move my stuff in. Is that okay?”

“Where are you going?” Josh asked, looking like a sad puppy.

“Nowhere far! Still in Frankenmuth. Josh… I’m not leaving. I want to stay here, with you.” I said carefully.

“Oh good.” He put a hand to his heart. “You had me worried there.” He laughed.

“I – Uh, I want to talk to Jake and your family about my situation before it all happens though. It’s going to be a little hard to explain how an eighteen year old can afford a cabin working at a diner.” We both giggled. I had become closer to Jake than anyone in the family other than Josh, simply because the twins tended to be together a lot. It was becoming harder and harder for Josh and I to avoid accidentally mentioning Pa infront of Jake, and I felt like I owed it to him to tell him first.

“Whatever you want. I’m sure it will all be okay. Wanna tell them early this week so they have a little while to mull it over before everything happens?” Josh worked through the plan in his mind. “Jake’s going to need some time to process it, I’m sure. I also imagine he can keep it in for half a week. Mom, I’m not so sure – we might have to save that for like Friday night.”

“Sounds good, I trust your judgment on this.” I said.

“So a cabin, huh?”

“More of like a house mostly made of wood. I’m romanticizing.”

“Sounds like you.” He poked.

“Your Mom said something about Christmas tonight too, I don’t know what your thoughts were on it. Should I come?”

“Wait she invited you to ours? Damn I was going to do that! Of course, I really want you to be there. If it gets too much I can help you out though, okay? Please will you come?”

“I’ll come over in the afternoon, then. How does that sound.”

“Sounds like my whole family will be drunk already. What a blast. But anytime, really.”

#josh kiszka #josh gvf #josh kiszka x reader #josh kiszka fic #josh kiszka gvf #danny wagner #jake kiszka #sam kiszka #josh kiszka x oc #john denver #gvf fic

4 notes · View notes

yuuniee · 6 months ago

Text

“Oi, oi! Don’cha lookin’ at me like you’ve got somethin’ with-- Ah, I-I mean...”

Name: Elsie Laranetta

Japanese: エルシー・ララネッタ (erushii raranetta)

Dorm: Savanaclaw

Birthday: 19th May

Age: 17

Height: 149 cm

Dominant Hand: Right

Homeland: Harveston

Family: Unnamed mother, unnamed father, eight unnamed siblings

Voiced by: [TBA]

Nicknames/Aliases: Sea Bunny (Floyd), Dame Lapin (Rook), Little Hare (“Phantom”)

Grade: First

Class: 1-D (no. 18)

Club: Magift Club

Best Subject: Evocation

Hobby: Crocheting

Favorite Food: Carrot cake

Least Favorite Food: Black coffee

Pet Peeves: Dogs

Talent: Disguise

Appearence: Elsie is a young rabbit beastwoman with two long ears. Her long, white hair is usually in braids and she wears a pair of glasses. Her blue, doe eyes also bears long eyelashes. She also has a pair of moles on her left cheek. (°-°∶)

In her dorm uniform, she wears the Savanaclaw uniform with a long pair of pants and a pair of brown boots. Like Ruggie, she wears a scarf. (although hers is plain red)

Personality: She is seen as the timid and cute girl in school, some people even wonder why a girl like this is in Savanaclaw instead of Pomefiore. But the truth is.. she acts like that in first sight. She is actually very energetic, spirited and doesn’t know when to stop. Unfortunately, this gets her into a lot of trouble...

Unique Magic: “Call of the Forest”

It allows her to summon an animal spirit. If an animal (or beastman) is in her range, then she summons the spirit of that animal. (E.g; If Leona is near, she’ll end up summoning a lion spirit. If Jack is near, she’ll end up summoning a wolf spirit. etc.) If there isn’t, then she is able to summon any animal spirit (a.k.a there won’t be a limit)

[x]

Fun Facts:

She’s been childhood friends with Vivienne since they were around seven and eight respectively.

The said incident has caused her to get multiple scars around her body and caused permanent issues like being in a wheelchair at certain days. She might be taking medicines to lessen the pain, but she does have some days where she has to sit on a wheelchair.

Her parents unfortunately abandoned her.

She used to play clarinet, but she later stopped because she was bored.

Although she hates dressing up in what she calls as ‘fancy clothing’, like tutus, frilly dresses and jewelry, she wears them when the situation calls for it.

She is an actress in training like Vivienne, though her manager is pretty hard on her.

Although she can speak normally, there are moments where she slips into her country accent. (This is also one of the reasons why she gets on well with Epel!) She also translates what he says sometimes.

She was won multiple gymnastics competitions in first place, needless to say that she is quite flexible.

[More facts are yet to come, please be patient!]

#twisted wonderland oc #twst oc #savanaclaw oc #elsie laranetta

0 notes

fanartfic · 9 months ago

Text

Faerunian FebFanFic Prompt #1:

What was Tav doing when they were abducted?

This should be fun! I think this challenge will fill in some of the gaps in my fic. I don’t know if I can do all of them, but I’ll do my best!

This is based on my girl, Tavya Telurrin.

From Everything to Nothing

“Hey, Tav, can you had me that tent pole?”

“Sure, Terryn, give me a moment,” Tavya laid out the last jar of honey in the display on their market table and grabbed the aforementioned tent pole, holding it out to her husband.

“Thanks, love.” Terryn winked a sparkling green eye at her. “That should do it,”

He grunted as he fixed the canvas canopy to the pole and hoisted it up, creating a barrier between them and the sunlight that was bearing down on them. He surveyed his handiwork before brushing off his hands. Meanwhile, Tav sat down behind their booth, pulling out a craft project she was working on.

“It’s getting hot out today,” Terryn remarked, as he sought refuge from the sun.

“You left your hair down, that’s why,” said Tav, her eyes not leaving the crochet hook in her hand. She was making a scarf for Terryn from a bright blue wool that he had found. She was almost finished. It had taken her all summer to make it, and she was just putting on the finishing touches.

"Perhaps. . . Can you braid it for me?"

"Can't you do it yourself?"

"You're so much better at it though,"

Tavya let out an exaggerated sigh and rolled her eyes as she scooted her chair back.

"Alright, get over here," she pointed to the ground in front of her.

Terryn obeyed immediately, sitting cross-legged in front of his wife.

"Thank you, dear."

"Mhmm."

Tavya combed her fingers through his jet-black hair, easing out the tangles before beginning a braid near the top of his skull. She added more hair to it as she went down to his neck, cinching it close to his scalp. There were some flyaways around his face, but there always was. He didn't seem to mind much.

She finished braiding the rest of his hair into a tail and tied it off with a piece of scrap yarn from her craft bag.

"There, finished." Tavya said, slapping both hands down onto Terryn's shoulders and giving them a quick squeeze.

Terryn craned his neck over his shoulder to look up at her.

"I feel better already," he smiled.

He got to his feet and brushed off his breeches.

"Now, where did that goblin of ours go?" He sqinted his eyes as he peered about the market. After a few moments, he scowled, then put two fingers into his mouth, letting out a loud, shrill whistle.

He waited for a moment, the nodded in satisfaction when another whistle echoed from the other side of the market.

"Ah, there she is." Terryn pulled a crate of vegetables out of the cart and set them on the table. He grabbed out one of the carrots and walked around to where their mule, Chauncey, stood with a water bucket in front of him.

"Here boy, enjoy." Terryn held the carrot out to him and rubbed his muscular neck as the mule chomped down on his snack.

"You're going to spoil him,"

"Says the one who gives him sugar cubes,"

Tavya chuckled as she continued a few more crochet stitches. Then she smiled, and held up her work.

"Finally got it finished!" she beamed as she tossed it to Terryn.

He caught it with one hand and stretched it out with the other, enjoying his wife's handiwork. Even though he had complained about it being hot out, he looped the scarf around his neck and flipped one end over his shoulder.

"How do I look?"

"Dashing, as always," Tav smiled up at him.

Terryn came over and planted a kiss on her lips.

"Have you been in the honey again?"

"Maybe,"

Terryn chuckled and kissed her again. "Maybe you're just naturally sweet,"

"You and I both know that isn't true," Tavya smirked.

“Yes, we do, don’t we,” Terryn smiled, giving Tavya another heartfelt kiss. “But you are my everything all the same,”

Tavya brushed a stray hair behind his ear. “As you are mine,”

They were in the middle of another kiss when the voice of a very excited little girl rang out as their daughter, Japheth, ran up to them.

"Osi, Osi! Come see this bracelet I found!"

"What is it, pedal?" Tavya smiled as she ran into her arms. She gave Japheth a tight squeeze before letting go.

The black-haired girl before her favored her father, with the same nose and piercing green eyes. But her stubborn and strong willed nature she got from her mother.

"It's at the jeweler's tent, come and see!" Japheth bounced on her feet excitedly

"Alright, alright, help me up," Tavya held out her hand and Japheth grabbed it with both of her small ones, groaning with effort as she pulled Tavya to her feet.

"Tsk tsk tsk, shameless old woman," Terryn teased.

"Oh hush you," Tavya spun and smacked his arm, but the shared teasing grin between them belied her amusement. "I'm not that old."

Terryn shrugged. "You're 248 years older than me. . . So, yes, you're old. I'm almost a child compared to you."

"Then remind me to spank you for being naughty when we get home."

"Don't tempt me with a good time," Terryn grinned, earning him another smack upside the head.

"Osi, come on!" Japheth whined, pulling on her mother's arm.

"Alright, Japheth, I'm coming! Just let me say goodbye to your father," Tavya pulled against her daughter to lean in and give Terryn a fond kiss. "Be back in a bit,"

"Ugh! No more kisses! Come on Osi!."

Tavya couldn't help but laugh as her daughter dragged her away, waving to Terryn as he minded the stall. "Where is this bracelet of yours?"

Japheth led her mother through the crowd to where a rather opulent tent had been set up. Tavya looked at it in uncertainty.

"Pedal, I don't think I can afford what is in there," she said, slowing down.

"You can! I asked about it!" Japheth bounded up to the doorway of the tent and called out excitedly. "Saer! I'm back with my Osi!"

Tavya nodded to the gentleman that smiled from behind his counter. "Ah yes, little one. I have kept it here for you," he opened his cash box and pulled out the aforementioned bracelet.

Tav came up and took a look at it. It was a simple thing, made of bits of odd gemstones. Primarily Tigers Eye agate, and a few gems of roughly cut and polished Amethyst.

"A scrap piece, really, but your daughter seemed intent on having it," the jeweler shrugged. "So I said I would hold it for her until she returned with you."

"You are too kind. Most vendors don't hold product for customers," said Tavya.

The jeweler, an elderly half-elf, merely smiled.

"True, but I couldn't say no to that face. You're daughter and I discussed a price of 3 gold."

Japheth looked up at her mother and bounced on her toes. "Please Osi?" She pleaded, her eyes sparkling as she begged.

Tavya sighed. "I have the same problem, Saer." She chuckled, as she dug in her pocket for the money. "I have a hard time saying 'no' as well."

She handed the coins to Japheth, who excitedly handed them to the jeweler. Both of them were all smiles as he placed the bracelet on her wrist.

"Thank you for your patronage, please do come again!" The jeweler called as he waved goodbye.

Japheth was enamoured with the bracelet as they walked back to where Terryn stood at their booth, haggling over some of Tavya's honey. He caught a glimpse of them and waved quickly as he dealt with the customer.

There was a sound of thunder, and the roar of some large beast. Screams began to echo through the market as panic set in. Terryn's eyes grew wide as he raced to the cart and pulled his sword out from a hidden compartment.

Tavya didn't even look behind her as she scooped Japheth into her arms and sprinted towards her husband. People knocked into her and almost bowled her over, but as much as Tav was a farmer, she had also been a well-trained warrior during her time. She managed to keep her feet.

"Come on! We got to find cover!" Terryn, being bigger and stronger, took Japheth in his arms in one hand, his sword held at the ready in the other.

"Did you see what it was?" Tavya panted as she kept pace with Terryn.

His face looked pale. Tavya had only seen him a few times like that.

"Terryn, what is it?" Tavya demanded.

"Illithids. . . It's an illithid Nautoloid." Terryn said, pressing his back against a stone wall. Japheth clung to him, beginning to shake and sob in fear.

"It's alright, pedal. We'll be fine. Your Osa and Osi are good fighters. We'll protect you," Terryn tried to reassure his daughter.

A dark shadow looked above them as a large tentacle came down from the sky, wrapping itself around the bell tower as the bellkeep tried desperately to sound the alarm. It tensed, and the stone cracked beneath its strength, toppling the tower and sending the stone to plummet to the streets.

"Run!" Terryn cried, taking off to get as far away from the falling stones as possible.

More tentacles snaked about, striking people and seemingly turning them into dust. Just as they rounded a corner, another one was barreling towards them.

"Look out!"

It stuck the three of them all at once, just as a huge stone block plummeted down into the street where they stood.

Tavya heard her daughter's scream, her husband crying out her name.

Then there was nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

#fanfic #baldurs gate tav #my tav #baldur’s gate fanfiction #bg3ficfeb #im a mom so the ending is my worst nightmare #baldurs gate 3 #faerunian fanfic February

1 note · View note

beautifulbuckys · 2 years ago

Text

Can’t Stay Away (1)

Out of all of the wizarding kids Harry’s best friends could’ve been, why did it need to be a Weasley?

George Weasley x Reader

A/N: Hello! I’m back to writing! I’ve been in a huge Harry Potter phase recently. So...I’m doing some come back writing with a multi-part story! Enjoy!!

Warnings: Some swearing, enemies to lovers. Some back and forth between characters! No use of Y/N

Out of all of the wizarding kids' Harry’s best friends could’ve been, why did it need to be a Weasley?

Don’t get me wrong, the Weasley’s are a lovely family. Molly treats me with warmth as she would another daughter. Arthur would send me owl after owl questioning me on muggle happenings. Whenever I could see Charlie and Bill it was always pleasant. Percy would be tolerable at best. Fred constantly dropped flowers off in my dorm room yet always denied it. Ron confided in me and trusted me with anything regarding Harry. Ginny was almost like a little sister to me, I’d braid her hair and she showed me how to sew.

George?

Where do I begin?

Since we began our first year, he found a way to get under my skin. Literally. Once a spell he meant to cast on Filch backfired and lead me to the uncomfortable feeling of movement under my skin for 3 weeks. A time after that, he’d stained my silk scarf gifted to me by Harry when we were small. If you add on the act that he’s loud, disruptive, unruly, and barbaric; he’s a total unlikeable package!

The worst of it? The time he broke my pearl necklace during a failed escape from Snape after a prank. He’d collided with me right by the corridor closest to the Great Hall. Our chests collided violently and he pushed himself away. Unfortunately taking my necklace with him. The same necklace that my Mom had gifted to me when I was around 3. The last thing I had to remind me of her. The closest thing I had to her.

Fred had begged and pleaded with me to forgive George. Damage was done.

And since, I haven’t had a pleasant experience with him. Yet I find myself at the Weasley’s crumbling house every summer. It’s become a routine since we left the Dursleys. I’d room with Ginny, while Harry would stay with Ron. It worked out perfectly. Ginny and I would find ourselves sitting in the glowing sun helping Molly with the gardening. I found it quite peaceful. Us three stuck together a lot considering the amount of testosterone that lived in the Burrow. We’d sit in the same corner of the wobbly, patchy wood dinner table that sat in the middle of the cramped dining room. We’d share tea and Molly would educate us on the proper ways to crochet or knit.

Harry was surrounded by the lively Weasley boys. I never see them repeating a single task during the day, always onto something new. They’ll have practice quidditch matches during midday. Harry and Ron always manage to be on the same team, much like Fred and George. They’d move onto roughhousing near the garden patch, leading to a solid scolding done by Molly. I’d never missed the few occasions the boys would disappear for hours, only to return muddy and worn.

Today was no different.

“Oi, boys! What have I said about you lot wrestling in the mud! I absolutely refuse to clean this laundry. Fred and George. First to the showers! You’re helping us with dinner this evening!” Molly shouted at the returning group from just behind a small berry bush sitting outside the kitchen window.

Fred scoffed, throwing his pale arms into the air. “Mum! We were having fun, Harry learned some new moves!”

Nevertheless, the twins disappeared inside.

“I don’t know what I’ll do with those two boys. Always dabbling into trouble.” Molly turned to me, pushing a small ginger back curl with her forearm.

The sun was just beginning to set, creating a soft pink and orange hue in the sky. Whenever sunsets like this happened, they made me smile. Orange was a happy color. It reminded me of the Weasley family no matter the hassle they added to your lives. The Weasleys were my found family. Whenever a tough day happened and a sunset like this followed, I couldn’t help but picture the zany family bouncing in the sky.

I barely realized I was spacing out before a tall figure appeared to the right of me.

George.

I looked over to my left, where he stood next to me. He was wearing a periwinkle tee that wasn’t shy highlighting the slight muscle tone in his arms. George’s fiery hair was messy and wet. Some pieces clung to his forehead, while others stuck up like bedhead. Small freckles dusted his nose, adding a pop of color to his otherwise pale face.

“What’s got your focus?” He spoke softly. The kitchen was bustling with life, a few Weasleys and Harry running to help with supper. I was assigned to snap the ends of the fresh green beans we had grown. George picked up a few from the pile in front of me and began assisting.

“Nothing too important.”

“Seems it.” He pushed.

I tilt my head slightly in his direction. His tall frame is balanced on the aged kitchen counted by his hip. George’s legs were crossed, his patched white ankle socks slightly revealing themselves from underneath his discolored red pajamas.

“What’s it to you, Weasley?”

The sharp corners of his mouth perk into a smirk. “I can’t help but notice I’m the only one you call Weasley. I live in a house full of Weasleys. Yet Ron is Ron. Percy is Percy. Bill is Bill. But I’m Weasley.” I finally turn my head fully in his direction. His smirk is still prevalent on his face. I wanted to smack it off of him.

“Congratulations.” I sassed.

George snapped an end of a green bean off, tossing it in his mouth. “Someone is awfully snippy today,” He whispered. “Harry get some mud on your scarf?” The smirk he had been wearing never left his face. It sat, proud. What an asshole.

Thankfully, Molly had swiped me away to set the dinner table. The table, obviously repaired to expand its area, was rough and bumpy. There were a few times I’d assisted Harry and Ron with splinters they gained from the old piece of furniture. It was wobbly. What some would consider run down, I’d call it well loved. The original table dawned a dark oak color. The staining darkened the color and once made the woodwork shine. The first addition to the table was some leftover wood from Molly’s garden boxed. It was a birch slab nailed onto the original table. When a table cloth covered the table, a large dip was noticeable due to the level difference. The legs were also constructed with scrap pieces, causing one leg to be longer than the other. Yet, it still held the original charm the initial table was blessed with.

Molly had handed me an emerald green table cloth to cover the rugged surface. The various sets of worn china decorated the tabletop. Small ivory plates decorated with cornflowers were scattered on the table. While Arthur and Molly’s seats had the older, cream and rose plates they loved. Molly’s mother had gifted the couple with this set of dinnerware after their wedding. It definitely didn’t go unappreciated.

As the family settled down for dinner, conversations varied from Harry’s dream last night to Ron’s rat eating a hole through Percy’s special prefect robes.

“That damn rat needs some bloody training. He’s the worst behaved Weasley! And that’s counting Ron! Do you have any idea how much those robes cost?” Percy whined, gripping his chipped metal fork. His thin eyebrows furrowed, causing a horrible wrinkle on his forehead.

Ron shoved a slab of chicken breast into his mouth. “The school gave them to you.” He spoke with his mouth full. Thin pieces of chicken slipped out of his mouth while speaking.

Percy glared at Ron.

“They’re priceless.”

I giggled at Ron’s antics, him joining me. Percy began ranting about how his position of power made Ron jealous and that’s why he sent Scabbers to go chew a hole in the hood of the robe. While rambling, he flailed his frail arms into the air; nearly smacking Fred in the process. Fred dodged the hit dramatically while scoffing.

“Oi, can you watch where you’re swinging those muscles? I get you’ve been doing 5 push-ups every night but spare us from your fury,” The older twin snickered. The dim yellow lights of the Burrow cast a shadow down his face. His brow bones shadowed his chocolate eyes. From this angle, he could’ve been mistaken for one of those cheap muggle Halloween statues.

Percy didn’t take this comment lightly. He shut up quickly and began rapidly eating his food. Occasionally, he’d mumble something under his breath and glare at Ron.

“Dear brother I think you hurt poor Percy’s feelings!” George gasped. He raised his hands to his cheeks and feigned a shocked expression. Slight chuckles could be heard from Ginny beside me. “I demand at once that you apologize to my esteemed relative. If you don’t, I fear your food may be coming out from the other end!” George’s fake expression was replaced by a boyish grin. If you looked closely, you just see the tiniest dimple on both corners of his mouth.

“Thank you, Geor-” Percy began.

“My brother cannot help the brute strength that he gets from being part cyclops! It already ruins his self-esteem enough that he looks like one. Do not begin to make him fear using his true strength around those he’s supposed to feel safe around.” The entire table of Weasley’s erupted in laughter, excluding Molly. Ginny’s face could match her hair color. I could’ve sworn I saw tears falling from the corners of Fred’s eyes. I laughed too, I can’t lie about that. I’ve always found Percy to be tightly wound and in need of a serious laugh every once in a while.

As I wiped the falling tears from my face, I glanced across the table. George was staring right at me. We made brief eye contact before I broke it, bringing my eyes to the meal in front of me.

Shit. I laughed at George Weasley’s joke. I broke my front.

Dinner otherwise was rather peaceful. Of course, Molly scolded both twins for picking on their older brother. Arthur included himself in the punishment too. I’m assuming it was to cover up the fact that he slammed the table laughing in reaction to the conversation. Molly definitely saw it though. She was just letting him off easy. Percy left the table the second he finished his plate. As he stomped up the stairs, Ginny heard him grumbling about how Fred and George would soon get a reality check. Soon after that, a nearby door slam shook the Burrow.

As the evening continued, members of the Weasley family dropped like flies. Ginny was the first to go to bed. Eventually, Fred and Harry followed. Molly and Arthur disappeared without a word. Ron sat with me by the fireplace for a while.

The familiar warmth of the Weasley fireplace was always comforting to me. I spent hours tutoring Ron and Harry on charms homework during cold winter nights by the fireplace. I experienced my first heartbreak here. 2nd year, after Clarence Hillbox broke up with me the day before the summer break. Molly sat with me all day, comforting me and telling me about Arthur’s first fight.

“He had shattered my father’s vase! He was meeting my family. He tried teaching my younger brother the wonders of muggle ‘baseball’. Somehow in the mix, a ball flew in the opposite direction straight through the den window! Completely shattered the family heirloom that had been in the family for over 800 years!”

I sniffled. “Did he make it up to you? Or your Dad?”

Molly’s familiar smile appeared on her round face. “Well, he tried. He took me to a muggle pottery barn to paint a new one. He paid for the costs, and let me do anything my heart desired. He was the one to pick it up from the barn and brought it to my Dad. Obviously, he was still hurt but he appreciated it.”

Ron and I sat in silence for a while, staring at the yellow and orange flames that danced on the charred logs. Then I felt the couch dip to my right.

“Hope I’m not interrupting something.” The loudest, and younger of the twins broke the silence.

Silently, Ron stood up and left the room. Not a ‘goodbye’ or a ‘goodnight’ left his mouth. His soft footsteps could be heard above my head, walking quickly to his room. Great. Now Weasley and I are left alone.

I clear my throat, “Not exactly. My scowl must’ve been present on my face, as his face dropped slightly once he looked at me. “I was just hanging out with your brother. Obviously, he had other plans. So now I’m left alone.” My hands were fidgeting with the hems of my sleep shorts. There were a few frayed strings that stuck out from the sides.

“But I’m here.”

“Take the hint, Weasley.” I groaned, pulling the sides of my shorts out in frustration. He chuckled softly, turning his head to look at the fire. However, his arm had other plans. It snaked its way behind the back of the plush couch. His pink knuckles sitting inches from my cheekbone. I turned my head slightly, to see exactly how he was sitting. As he obviously wasn’t getting up. His broad-shouldered form sat comfortably on the seat. His left ankle was balanced on his right though, legs forming a perfect 4. Due to his arms being raised, his shirt lifted a little. A small blue boxer line peeked out from under his pajama bottoms.

“I can’t stand you.” He said.

I frown. “Yet you can’t seem to leave me alone.

“Touche.”

And for the first time ever, I didn’t want to smack George Weasley across the face.

1K notes · View notes