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thatbanditqueen · 11 months

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George's Garage

An Elvis Presley one-shot response to the prompt: How are we going to solve this problem?

Summary: Elvis and the Memphis Mafia are driving back to Hollywood from Memphis to shoot Kissin' Cousins, when the car breaks down on Route 66. Luckily they are not too far from George's garage and her skilled, lady mechanic fingers.

Warnings: 18+ DNI, E to L (ish), fellatio, swearing, implied drug use. Also some minor historical inaccuracies. ALL THE TYPOS. Written in haste under pressure. Sort of.

Word Count: Yeah, this one got away from me.... 7.5 K

Saturday, October 5, 1963

They were an hour away from Needles, and the crisp, hot midday air blew over Billy’s face as as he steadied his arm on the white convertible. He turned his eyes to the burnt desert, taking in the cacti and shrubbery below a clear, powder blue sky. The Yucca trees stood tall, like hunched warriors in the distance, bent over and ready to descend on Elvis’ caravan racing along the highway. The radio fizzled and Billy turned to watch Elvis roll the dial knob between his fingers until he got reception and began singing along to Bobby Vinton’s latest hit, “Blue Velvet,” in an offkey high voice, laughing at himself. Billy forced a smile and twisted awkwardly in his seat, the blue leather creaked under him, and he wished he was back in Memphis eating dinner with Jo. He’d been riding shotgun the last four days ago. His butt ached and he was struggling to stay on the same mental frequency as his cousin, who had started the trip with the same high enthusiasm he usually had for the road. However, the closer they got to Hollywood, the more erratic Elvis’ mood had become. He had ranged from being introspective and engaging, talking softly and seriously about plans to expand Graceland, to despondent rants about how nice it was to be with the guys away from women. Billy assumed this specifically referred to one woman in particular and her persistent requests to come to Los Angeles with them. Then there had been the violent tantrums about "that embarrassin,' sorry-ass excuse for a” movie they were driving to LA to shoot, every time Joe brought up the fact that they were supposed to be in LA already. Elvis began halting their progress even more after the fight with Joe. There were now impromptu football games on the side of the road several times a day, meals had become long, leisurely affairs and each stop along the way involved intense pranks. Billy had rings of black shoe shine around his eyes for the better part of yesterday after looking though a pair of Elvis’ binoculars. Though he'd had been glad to see Elvis smile, even if it was at his expense.

The Buick drove on, and Billy watched Elvis adjust the black yachting hat on his head.

“Man oh man, Joe says we’re ‘posed to film all the Great Smoky scenes in Big Bear. Big Bear! Can ya believe it? Ain’t no one gonna believe those scraggly ass sorry California ant hills are the Blue Ridge mountains. I can tell you that, man. I can tell you that.”

Billy tightened his smile and contemplated the right thing to say.

“I said, can ya believe that?” Elvis jabbed Billy expectantly. “With me, ME, of all people, goddammit. Those Hollywood jackasses ain’t ever even been to Tennessee and they want me to go round chasin’ after my cousin’s coochie like some inbred hillbilly pretendin’ Big Bear is goddamn Cades Cove.”

“You know ain’t no one looking at the background EP, specially not with you bein’ all handsome, uh, up der on the screen. Singing the way you do. With all those beautiful girls. Shouldn't worry so much, everything is gonna be good.”

Elvis looked ahead, grunting, while Billy turned his head around to look back and nod at Alan driving the motor home behind them, seemingly laughing and smoking a cigar with Red, Sonny and Joe. Alan tipped his head with a wink, and Billy rolled his eyes, jarred from his backwards view by the slap of Elvis’ hand.

“Hey, man, hey, hand me my toiletries, huh Billum?”

Billy nodded with a “Sure,” and reached his hand back along the floor of the back seat. Not finding it through touch, Billy flipped around and began to panic, because Billy was an observant man. He knew what Elvis’ black travel case full of pills looked like. And as he stared down at the blue carpeted floor beneath him he did not see it there. He also knew that when he reported this to Elvis he was going to regret coming on this trip more than he already did. So he squirmed, letting the expensice, custom blue leather squeak under him as he shifted from side-to-side, hesitating to meet Elvis’ eyes in the rear view mirror. Ten minutes later, Billy was leaning against the side of the RV smoking in Sonny’s shadow and staring silently at Joe and Red while Elvis stomped up and down the motor home screeching at Alan.

“Whatcha mean you ain’t seen it? Ya hog-eared fat, useless sonabitch. I - I -I.” They heard the sound of trampling feet stop. “Goddamit, I ‘member vividly handin’ it to you, and telling you ta put in the back seat of the car.”

They could hear Alan’s pitiful words stammer out through the walls. “I musta - musta put it down in the bathroom at that rest stop.”

“I musta put it down in the bathroom in that rest stop!” Elvis high vibrato mimicking Alan reverberated through the metal, and Billy saw Red shoot Sonny a knowing look as they listened. “Well you’re the one whose gonna ‘splain ta Billy why he and I are turnin’ around and going back.”

The mood in the car was decidedly different three hours later as the Buick sped over the same stretch of pavement flying through the Yucca Valley and past Needles. Billy was still in the convertible, trying to think of any reasonable excuse why he needed to be in the RV with the others. Now he sat quietly, nodding occasionally as Elvis muttered angrily to himself, his black toiletry case neatly tucked next to Billy’s feet in the car cabin. Billy started planning out how he would explain why Joe should be driving with Elvis to go over the upcoming filming schedule, and he planned to suggest this when they eventually caught up to the others. He wondered if the guys were already at the motel in Barstow, but did not have long to contemplate his escape from these close quarters with Elvis before a milky white cloud of smoke exploded out of the engine in front of them and he found himself clutching the seat for dear life as Elvis guided the sputtering Buick to the side of the road.

Billy was once again leaning against a car smoking. He was not exactly sure where they were, somewhere between between Needles and Barstow, he figured. However, the desire to know precisely where they were was secondary to his innate desire to not be there at all. Where ever here actually was. Billy watched a lizard crawl over the warm road, then scamper off at the sound of Elvis shrill high pitched screams. Billy had never wished more fervently that he was a lizard, or anything else at all, actually, then in that moment as he looked at the reptile slither off the road away from the sound of Elvis kicking the front tire, his voice ringing out through the stillness of the Mojave desert at sunset.

“GODDDAMMIT! God fucking dammit. GOD. DAMN. IT.”

Billy wiped the sweat off his forehead and squinting at what looked like a cluster of buildings further along on the horizon.

************************************************************************

The office counter fan pushed cool air on George and blew her dark brown curls into her face. She tucked them back behind her ear as she stared down at her crossword puzzle and bobbed a pencil against her lip in contemplation, sucking it momentarily.

“Five letter word for neckwear. Hmmm.”

Frustrated, she moved on to the next across word clue, pausing as her eyes roamed over the stack of paperwork she was supposed to be working on.

“Ugh, c’mon, just knock out these orders and then you can close up. It’s almost 6.”

Nodding to the sound of her own voice, George had just resolved to set aside the crossword puzzle when the front door bell startled her and she looked up to see two men stagger into the office, panting and laughing.

The one in front had on a black yachting hat, and his head was down as he tucked his shirt in. There across his neck was a jaunty, white decorative scarf held by a golden cravat.

“Ascot!” Georgie exclaimed, grabbing her pencil and excitedly filling in 5 Across. But her smile quickly faded as she looked up to see the quizzical face of Elvis Presley looking back.

“Huh, yeah, uh huh.” He pushed his gold cravat up his very short, very shiny, very expensive white silk ascot tie.

Elvis’ face went from confused to confident as he steadied himself, placing his thumbs in his belt loops, and sauntering up to the counter to lay his hand down. He moved it over George’s hand in an instantly familiar and somewhat intensely intimate manner. George was not prepared for the sweaty, pit stained lanky mass of charisma now rubbing his thumb along side the pinky of her left hand.

“Like that, huh, darlin?” Elvis winked, and tugged at the edge of the ascot as he purred. “Listen, is your boss around?”

George looked down at her hand, Elvis’ forwardness had shocked her and she recoiled into herself for a moment before pulling her hand away. She glanced at the short, skinny guy behind him who was avoiding her gaze and suddenly taking an intense interest in the photos hanging on the office wall.

It had been almost ten years since he first began performing, yet, watching women's awestruck expressions still gave Elvis a warm rush and made him feel special. Elvis winked at George, and decided to try and make her feel comfortable.

He smiled shyly and looked down, grasping her hand back up between his.

“Shhh, s’ok , honey, it's ok, now."

He sucked in a deep breath, chuckling.

"I, uh, I really would rather ya treated me like a normal person. No need to get flustered.”

He turned his blue eyes back up to her and waggled his eyebrows.

“So, uh, now, c’mon honey, can you grab ya boss, hmmm? We’re in need of help somethin' awful.”

“Well, honey,” George collected her self, and pulled her hand back. Again. She looked Elvis in the eyes, glancing back at his ascot for a moment. What a pointless, ridiculous, pompous accessory. “I assure you I am not flustered.”

“Well, uh, good, then. I reckon that ya can hop to it, woman, go get ya boss.” He waggled his eyebrows playfully, tilting his head to the side door that led to the garage. “We need ta get back on tha - “

Billy squinted and looked closer at one of the photos, and turned to interrupt his cousin.

“Hey, EP, I th-th-th —”

“Shhh, Billy, just a second.”

George pursed her lips and then smiled tightly.

“Why don’t you tell me what brings you guys in tonight?”

Elvis grinned at her, the length of his chin extended as the right side of his mouth crooked up in another smile and exposed his teeth. He patted the top of her hand. Again. George flinched back. Again.

“Hmm, I’d love to spend all night talking cars with ya sugar.”

Elvis looked back at Billy, who immediately chuckled nervously.

“But,uh, well, we got an urgent situation. Now, be a good girl and go run an get the mechanic.”

Billy stepped closer to try whisper in Elvis’ ear, but he shushed him as George narrowed her eyes, straightening her body so she sat taller above the counter, almost even with Elvis’ gaze. This did not seem to deter Elvis’ from leaning closer into her personal space, his face now just inches above hers.

Lips quirking into a tight, polite exaggerated smile, George shook her head as she reclaimed her hand. Again. How did he do it? She hadn’t even noticed it was on her.

“I’m sorry boys.” She put on an exaggerated pout. “The boss decided not take anymore jobs today. We close in five minutes anyway —”

“Now, now, now, wait just a goddamn minute. What do you expect us to do?”

Elvis’s nostrils flared out, and he clenched his fists, his voice rising into a growl. All that charm was now replaced by disbelief as he stepped back and crossed his arms.

“Nah, uh uh, we ain’t leavin’ til you take your sweet little behind and go find who ever, ever, who ever runs this place.” He slammed his fist on the counter to show that he meant business.

For the twentieth time today, Billy looked down into the ground and wished he was in Memphis.

Nonplussed, George pulled her mouth into an even wider smile.

“Listen, Barstow’s an hour away, by car. Not sure how long it would take you to walk.”

She strolled around toward the swinging door that led to the garage.

“We open at 8 a.m. tomorrow.”

She turned to go back to the workshop, pausing at the whine in Elvis’ voice.

“Now, now, uh uh. We ain’t leavin’ til we talk to your boss.”

Georgie raised her eyebrow and tilted her head.

“Suit yourself.”

She went into the shop and began pulling down the service bay doors that opened up to parking lot.

After the door swung shut, Billy pulled on Elvis’ shirt.

“Did you get a load of that chick, huh, Bill? Who pissed in her coffee this morinin’, that’s what I wanna know. Was it me, now, or did she go from gobsmacked fan to cool bitch in under two minutes. Weren’t asking for any special treatment. You heard me, I asked to be treated like, like, like any regular, normal customer. Right?”

Elvis threw his yachting cap on the counter in a huff, and stomped his foot. Billy watched as Elvis adjusted his little gold cravat and leaned back on the raised heel of his Italian black leather boots. Yup, just a regular guy...

“She wouldn’t even go get her boss —”

Billy coughed. “Oh, I think she got the boss alright.”

Elvis raised his eyebrows, and Billy pointed to the photos on the wall of a female in dirty coveralls working on cars, in some she was standing next to an older women who was also in coveralls.

“Huh, well I’ll be. A lady grease monkey. So that’s why she’s got her panties in a twist.”

Billy grinned. “Well, I reckon if anyone can untwist a girl’s panties, it’s you.”

Elvis shoved his cousin’s shoulder and winked as he walked backwards through the swinging door into the auto shop. George turned from rolling down the last bay door and crossed her arms, glaring, as Elvis walked toward her. His hat was gone and his arms hung back under his chest, the sleeves of his blue, silk shirt were rolled up and his left hand was notched at his waist. The way his long fingers stretched out over his hip gave his stance an air of purpose. She met his blue eyes and they twinkled with amusement.

“Here now, I - I- I think we got off on the wrong foot out there, bossman.”

Georgie wiped her hands on her jeans, realizing just how much taller he was as he strode toward her. “Hmmm, there’s no need for that, George is fine.”

“George?”

“Georgina if you wanna be more formal, George, Georgie, G, I answer to ‘em all.”

“Alright Georgie George. Can we start again?”

Georgie crossed her arms and pursed her lips, but nodded, moving Elvis’ hand from her waist as she jutted her chin up to look at him. He instantly moved his left hand to her shoulder, once again his thumb was immediate and intimate as it rubbed her collar bone.

“Look, pretty girl like you? How were we sposed to know —”

George lifted his hand from her shoulder, smoothing out her blouse.

“You can lay off the charm. Trust me, you are not the first schmuck to walk in here thinking I’m the secretary.”

Elvis lifted his hands up in defeat.

“OK, ok, now, no charm, I got it. Just brass tacks, jack. George, I mean.”

He winked. Again. A stifled laugh rippled under his cheeks, and George found his smug manner both infuriating and magnetic. She also felt an inexplicable desire to slap his face.

“So, my car’s broke down back on the highway. How are we going to solve this problem, huh?”

George looked at the clock on the wall above her work bench. 6:15. Maude would just be finishing up supper over at the motel, and her stomach had started to growl in anticipation. She looked at Elvis then back at the floor.

“Technically, WE are done working for the day.”

She sighed, somehow his hand was back at her waist and George felt her resolve fading.

“BUT, I hate to think of what I’m guessing is a very fancy, expensive car out there on the highway over night.”

Elvis smirked and adjusted his silk ascot. “Now, wait a minute here, what makes you think I’d own a fancy car?”

“Oh, let’s just call it female intuition. Handier than you’d think in this line of work.”

George removed Elvis hand from her waist, and looked towards the corner of her shop, as she found it increasingly difficult to maintain her brusk, professional demeanor when staring directly into his face.

“Look, I am due for supper, but after, I can drive out with my tow truck and bring your vehicle back here to look over in the morning. How bout that?”

“Sss - sounds good, sounds real good. We can definitely go after we eat, cuz I’m starving. What’s for dinner?”

************************************************************************

It was dark when they returned to the garage and George led the way around the back to her tow truck. Billy’s small, short body sat on the passenger side of the cab, and George’s small, short figure sat in the driver’s seat. In between them sat the large, wide, body of Elvis Presley, his arms extended over the back of the seat in both directions, mirrored by the wide berth of his spread legs as he made himself comfortable. He stroked his chin as he looked at himself in the rearview mirror, running his hand through his hair, then pulling out a comb to fix it. George rolled her eyes.

“Trust me, no one is gonna see you out here. In the desert. At 8 o’clock at night.” She motioned to the murky, black expanse of the highway ahead of them.

“Just feel more comfortable to have it all neat and tidy and in the right place. You know how it is, Georgie George, with ya do-hickey here holding this mess a curls back.”

Elvis tugged on George’s pony tail, and she swatted his hand away with an annoyed sigh, then decided to push her knee back against him and reclaim some of her leg room. George’s smile at her triumph was short lived, for, while Elvis held his knees closer together, now his hand slid down along her thigh to envelope her knee cap, squeezing absentmindedly while Billy talked at length about nothing at all. George pushed his hand off her knee, only to find it around her shoulders a moment later, and she gave up, actually pressing into him harder when she saw the white car and turned her steering wheel to parallel park the back of the tow truck at the trunk of the Buick.

Elvis started to reach up for the hook and George hit his hand away from her equipment.

“Stop. I need to line them up a little better. If you want to be helpful, stand there.” She pointed to the edge of the car’s trunk. “And guide me back so the tires are straight from each other, can you handle that?”

“Yes bossman, you just go right ahead, me an Billum are standing by for your orders.” He smirked as he gave George a salute. Billy smiled apologetically

George ignored them, jumping out again when she was content that the tires were lined up and quietly asked if someone would put the car in neutral. Elvis threw Billy the keys, and stood watching as George bent down with her flashlight and pushed herself over the dirt so she was under the back of the Buick. Elvis whistled.

“Hmm, really get down in there, don’t ya?”

“Hmmpf. I’m not afraid of dirt, Mr. Presley.”

George called up to him, as she pulled the lift bar out under the Buick, hitching it to the car, then pulling her up and grabbing a wrench to jack the back of the car until the two back tires were now held completely off the ground. Elvis’ bottom lip hung down as he watched George jump up on the back of the tow truck, and swing down with the hook hangingcoff the boom to secure it to the Buick. When she was satisfied it would hold, George called to Billy to turn the Buick’s lights on, and jumped on the ground, moving towards the driver’s seat as she wiped her hands.

“Hold on, now.”

Elvis whispered, holding George by her shoulders and licking his thumb.

“Not afraid of grease, neither, huh?”

He rolled his wet thumb slowly over the long black streak on her cheek, back and forth until it was gone. His eyes roamed over her face, taking in the way the bottom of her front teeth appeared just slightly under her top lip as she looked up at him and trembled ever so slightly from his touch. He chuckled when she grimaced and pushed his hand away, replacing it with a bandana that she furnished from her coveralls to wipe her face herself .

Elvis brushed dirt off her chest, and moved her around, ignoring the way her hands tried to push him off, as he wiped the dirt off her back and bottom.

“Hush now, I know ya ain’t scared of dirt, doesn’t mean ya wanna be covered in it.”

He brushed his hands off and held her at her waist.

“Moon’s out tonight. Kinda pretty out here in the quiet of the desert.”

Neither of them looked at the moon. Or the desert. They didn't move until the sound of Billy’s footsteps in the gravel broke the spell and they remembered where they were and what was happening. George jolted back, smoothing her hair, as she nodded and walked over to get in the car.

George was silent on the drive back, turning the radio up to let the voices of Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons tell her, Billy and Elvis how to walk like a man. Billy droned on about how he never got used to looking out at the desert, and wondered what tumbleweeds really were and where they came from. She was glad for all the noise, it helped her focus her mind on the road ahead and the tasks she needed to do to when they got back, and led her attention away from the strong, warm thigh pressing against her own. George softened into making requests instead of barking commands back at the shop, though she avoided looking directly at Elvis as she said goodnight. Instead, she nodded into Billy’s eyes as she told them to come back in the morning.

************************************************************************

Morning was approximately 11:17 a.m. At least it was for the occupants of room 217. It was 11:45 when they rambled into the motel office and Elvis sweet talked George’s older sister, Maude, into making breakfast, showing her how to burn her bacon the way he liked it as she laughed and answered his random questions about their family and life on Route 66. It was well past noon when Elvis finished the last of his black coffee, and made Maude blush when he crept up behind her at the kitchen sink to kiss her cheek with a “Thanks for breakfast, honey.” Then he gave Billy very detailed instructions to keep calling the house back in LA, find out where the RV was, and get Joe up to speed on what had happened.

“He needs to get out here and bring money, cause I don’t know how long this whole thing is gonna take.”

Billy looked over at his cousin. “Gonna have him drive you back tonight?”

“Hell no, I ain’t leaving my car here. Where’d ya get that idea?”

“Joe ain’t gonna be happy with me, EP, tomorrow is Monday, aintcha ‘sposed to go in to record them songs for Kissin——”

“You can tell ol Diamond Joe, from me, that he’s just gonna have to put ‘em off. This car is a custom, one-of-a-kind Buick Skylark with leather seats, a gold plated dash board and a car phone. If he thinks I’m leaving without overseeing its repair, he’s off his goddamn rocker.”

Billy gulped with an uneasy smile. He loved his cousin, but couldn’t help wishing it was a year ago and they were setting off to Hawaii to do exterior shots for Girls, Girls, Girls, when the mood was lighter and Marty and Lamar were still around.

Ignoring Billy’s puppy dog eyes, Elvis set off across the highway to George’s garage. He smiled at the sight of her legs sticking out from under his car, and he stood for a while admiring them before he whistled flirtatiously and watched her grease streaked face emerge rolling out.

“Never thought I’d like the look of canvas coveralls so much.” Elvis’ cheeks hollowed out as he grinned in boyish glee at George’s disdainful look, then willfully ignored it, walking closer to her and leaning on his car. “What’s the word, bossman?”

“Hmmm. Well, all it needs is an oil change.”

“Oh? That all? ”

“Oh yeah, that’s all. Just make it a month ago. That pan is bone dry, and you’ve blown the head gasket, which explains the white smoke you described. And your engine is starting to warp.”

Elvis smiled as he watched her talk.

“Mr. Presley, I hardly think this is something to smile about, this car - well, normally I’d recommend—"

“Elvis.” He stepped closer.

George looked at him confused, realizing her head was at eye level with the front pocket of his dark blue polka dotted satin shirt.

“What?”

“Elvis, baby, how many times I gotta tell ya to call me Elvis?”

He rubbed her waist. And George lifted his hand off her body, ignoring the tingling feeling she felt as she patted his chest deliberately to push him back.

“Um, huh.”

She breathed.

“Right, ok, Mr. Presley. I mean Elvis. As I was saying, um, usually, in these circumstances I recommend getting a new car, because the cost of a new engine is about the same as a new Buick. But you have a lot of.”

She paused to lift his hand from her shoulder, unsure how it got there, but instinctively stepping back when she saw Elvis take a step closer to her, his hand rolling over the white metal of the Skylark’s rim.

“Um - uh. A lot of expensive-looking modifications that make this vehicle, erm, um, valuable.”

George tripped over her sliding roller and Elvis caught her in his arms, grinning as she looked up into his eyes.

“Hmmm, yeah, I know all ‘bout those modifications, Georgie Girl. Oversaw the custi-a-mi-zation of this baby myself, ev’ry inch.”

He smirked at way George trembled and then pushed him off, steadying herself as she stumbled back.

“Hmm, well, for someone so involved you seem to have little regard for your car’s well being.”

Elvis frowned, and shook his head.

“What now?”

“I said, for someone who throws so much money into cars, you don’t seem to care much or know much about them. That car needed an oil change weeks ago, and now I’ll be lucky if I can salvage it. It’s gonna take me days to undo the damage you’ve caused driving it across the country on sludge.”

Elvis rolled back onto the heels of his expensive, Italian boots. He suddenly wished he’d worn an ascot today, it would have been nice to have something there to pull on for comfort. Instead, he braced himself at his hips, his stomach jutting up as he looked at George and frowned. She was pretty, smart, and the her utter obliviousness to how good looking she was, along with the way she seemed to try very hard to resist his advances, aroused him even more. But now she was criticizing how he took care of his cars and seemed to be questioning his very understanding of how motor vehicles. Which, to be fair to George, was an entirely accurate estimation of Elvis. His main question getting into one of his cars was: “Where is the key?” Though, in his defense, this was the only question usually necessary, because Lamar had been taking care of everything, until the ungrateful bastard had run off to work in Nashville and left the car maintenance to the other guys. Who had promptly forgot about it.

“Now, wait just a goddamn minute, honey, I don’t much appreciate the way y-y- y.”

Elvis clenched his fist and breathed deeply.

“If you are insinuating I don’t know how to take care of my cars, well, you must be outta your goddamn mind. Do you know how many cars I own? What my work schedule is like? I’ll have you know that I have so many cars, I just go out and jump into one, and usually everything is fine, cuz my guys keep em all lubed up real good. It’s just that, well, my car guy just quit, and this one musta fallen by the wayside before he left.”

“Hmmm.” George crossed her arms. “I can’t imagine why someone would want to leave your employment.”

“What’s that ‘sposed to mean?”

“It means that you are difficult and you are spoiled. And full of your self. Think you can go where ever you want, do whatever you please. Got my sister as your short order cook now too. You know, it is just the two of us running the motel and garage out here. She was supposed to be overseeing check out this morning, but no, she’s cooking for you, and so the maids were running to me for direction while she serves you breakfast.”

Elvis stepped forward, hovering over George’s face.

“Jealous, baby? Sounds a lot like you wished it were you a - puttin’ somethin’ in my mouth.”

George slapped him, her eyes on fire.

“Get out of my garage. You’re lucky I’m still willing to - to - work on your - your - stupid, absurdly customized, ridiculous car.”

Elvis rubbed his smarting cheek, with a smirk, then shook his head.

“Ok, ok. I’m leaving. I just came over to see what the diagnosis was, crazy woman.”

George turned around and went to grab a wrench.

“It’s going to be two more days, at the soonest. And I charge double for today, on account that it’s Sunday. Looking at that gold plated dashboard, I figure you can afford my hourly rate.”

“Mhmmm. Uh huh. Don’t you worry, honey, I’m used to paying women double for their hourly rate. Long as I get what I pay for.”

“Get. Out. Before I change my mind.”

George stared ahead at the tools hanging in front her, waiting for the sound of his footsteps to dissipate before she turned around and screamed into the counter below her. She hated Elvis Presley, she hated the ostentatious way he had poured money into superficial aspects of a car that do not make a difference to its performance, and she hated the way his smug face smirked down at her when he talked. But most of all, she hated, hated, hated the way he seemed to always be touching her, it wasn’t even necessarily sexual, just a reflex, like breathing.

“Like his stupid, heavy opened mouth breathing. Ugh. The sooner you get this car fixed, the sooner you an get him out of your hair and back on the road.”

George threw herself into fixing the Buick like a woman possessed.

************************************************************************

George did not join them for dinner, and Elvis politely asked Maude for a second helping of her chili con carne while Billy regaled her with tales from previous road trips. The sanitized versions, of course, with a promise that they would never pull any of the pranks he described at her motel.

“I reckon we ain’t never stayed here no how, cuz it’s so close to LA, usually try to get to Winslow the first night out to Memphis. Same on the way back, lessen we cut over to Sin City.”

He looked at Elvis, whose eyes were gazing at the lit window above the garage, his mind lost in thought remembering the fiery look in George’s hazel eyes, and the shapely contour of her bottom underneath his hands as he’d wiped the dirt off her the night before.

“Right, EP?” Billy repeated himself, and Elvis looked up in a daze, and stood.

“Hmmm, sorry y’all. This is very good chili, ma’am, very good. I like that you don’t put onions in yours, no, no, it’s just right. Just how I like it.”

He brought his bowl to the sink, and looked at Billy’s quizzical face, as he excused himself.

“I, uh, I. Well, I think I need to go apologize to your sister. I have a bad temper, I know it, boy do I know it. Mighty Mouth ova there knows it.”

Billy nodded, slowly, waiting to see where this was going.

”I ,uh, well, I reckon I need to go straighten things out with George, so she ain’t liable to pour sugar in my gas tank or nothin.”

George was on her third beer when she opened the door of her apartment to find Elvis’ dark front hair flop dangling down toward her. She sipped from the bottle as she started to ask him what he wanted, only to watch him push through her outstretched arm, the she was using to block his entry to her flat, and proceed to pace around the living room.

“Look, I came over because, uh, well.”

He ran his right hand through his hair, his left hand hitched at his belt. The sound of Patsy Cline singing wafted through the room as he turned.

“Well, I didn’t like how we left things earlier.”

“Mhmmm.”

George grunted, taking another swig of beer and holding the door open with the back of her bare foot. The strap of her her brown, A-line dress fell over her shoulder and she pulled it back up, fixing the loose bust that covered her small, modest bosom.

“Ok, apology accepted, you can go.”

Elvis raised his eyebrow and strode toward her.

“See, now that, that right there, is the problem. I come over to patch things up and you get all nasty. Like I was tha only one, uh, the only one spoutin’ vinegar earlier.”

His hands found their way to her hips, and rolled over them. George shivered at the warm murmur of his voice.

“Why is it so hard for you to just be nice to me? To just be a nice girl?”

George felt the cool of her beer bottle as it hung heavy in her right hand, her eyes flittered up to Elvis’ where he hovered over her, pushing her against the open, apartment door she had been so hasty to send him out of thirty seconds ago.

“But I’m not a nice girl, Mr. Presley.”

She lowered her yes, turning to the right.

“Why even pretend.” She whispered.

Elvis leaned forward.

“Hmmm."

His thumbs rolled up and down the sides of her belly like slow, small window wipers clearing away the doubt and hesitancy that tightened her stomach. His lips wavered over hers as he muttered into her cheek.

“How many times I gotta tell you to call me Elvis?”

He leaned in closer, lips just above her skin as she closed her eyes and a moan escaped her mouth. Elvis tightened his grip at her waist.

“Mr. Presley is my daddy.”

He laid his lips softly over her, as he smooshed into them awkwardly, tenderly, taking several clumsy tackles until they settled over hers and then gently crushed into her. All George could hear were the sloppy clicks of air echoing between their lips as she closed her eyes and felt his mouth press onto hers. His hands traced further down her sides and his tongue gently teased the entrance of her mouth.

George pulled back, panting, and pushed Elvis into the apartment, setting her beer on top of the bookcase by the door. He wiped his mouth, an apologetic expression forming as he started to talk.

“Oh man, I’m sorry, I , uh, I didn’—”

George put her finger to his mouth and pulled himto her. Elvis’ eyes lit up as he opened his lips over it and George pushed her finger inside his mouth, tingling with electricity as it grazed against Elvis’ teeth. She saddled closer, tilting her chest into his, lifting her self closer to his face. He inhaled with a shudder, hands stroking her waist, eyes closed, his lips more forceful now and she groaned as she met his tongue with hers. Elvis caught George as she tripped backwards and cupped her bottom cheeks, carrying her to the couch. Her arms wound around his neck and she peppered his face with sweet, light kisses.

He plopped down laughing as she straddled over his lap, exploring his neck with her mouth while her fingers grasped at the back of his head, hair, shoulders. Elvis hands roamed over the top of George’s brown cotton dress, slowly pulling it up as his thumbs trailed over the white panties he found there, roving over her thighs and around to caresses her buttucks. The way she looked down and blushed made Elvis’ cock twitch and she bit her lip when she felt it. Looking into his eye’s with devilish intent, George arched her eyebrow and slide down to the carpet to nestle herself between Elvis’ legs. His reached down to stop her eager hands, eyes narrowing as he shook his head.

“Uh uhhhhhh, you’re a nice girl, nice girls don, uh, well, nice girls don do that. Ain’t gonna let ya do something you gonna regret tomorrow morning.”

Elvis took her hand up, and kissed the bottom of her palm as George surged up taller on her haunches to kiss him back, her fingers caressed his neck as she moaned a whiny please into his mouth.

“Pleasseeee. This. This is my favorite thing.”

She kissed him, freeing her right hand from his grasp, and then dipping down to nuzzle against his hardened length.

“C’mon….uh…goddammit honey… fuck.”

He breathed in, opening his eyes to still her with a grip to her chin.

“You really wanna… wanna see ‘im, huh?”

George nodded, and bit her lip. A crooked grin spread over Elvis’ face as he shook his head again, and undid his belt, lifting up as he unzipped and pulled his pants down, his smile widening as George smiled coyly, waggling her eye brows and then leaning in to lightly kiss his foreskin. Elvis tilted his head back at the sensation, and thrust his hips closer to George’s face as she pressed her lips over the head, slowly gliding down as Elvis’ tip emerged from his foreskin.

He groaned out, and she giggled into the pink head of his penis. He opened his eyes and looked down, hand moving down to run his fingers through the side of her hair.

“What’s so funny, huh, lil girl?”

George savored the way his quizzical expression changed from amused to almost terrified pleasure as her lips popped off.

“You. The noises you make. I find them—” she dove back down, plunging farther as she finished her sentence with a mouth full of Elvis. “He-war-ee-ousss.”

Her response didn’t really register with him, as he sunk back into the couch cushions at the charged, blissful surge of George’s mouth up his cock, his fingers threading through the left side of her hair. Elvis bucked into her mouth as her lips met his base, and he hit the back of her throat. She smiled inward because she could tell he was trying to hold his hips still so as not to press to far in and gag her. His fingers were soft, and his mouth ushered forth a mantra of sweet “oh gawds,” as George sucked back and forth, her tongue darting to swirl around the edge, then she pulled off to catch her breath, looking up into Elvis’ sweet, grateful dopey smile. George beamed back, maintaining eye contact as she plunged down again with a fervent thirst, her cheeks hollowing with determination as she flattened her tongue beneath his cock, swallowing it in long, slow strokes, sinking down over him and relishing the needy, almost shocked look in his eyes as she throbbed up and down, his hand lightly following in her hair. His moans became louder, and George quickened her pace, thrusting her chest forward to delve further, harder, softer with each successive delicious movement downward. Elvis gripped her hair, looking down.

“Hey baby, heyyy, Immaa - Immma ‘bout to explode, hmmmm? ahhhhh”

George nodded, and groaned as her mouth worked its way down faster, sucking in with heightened, electric anticipation until she heard him cry out and felt the spasm of Elvis’ pulsating into her mouth. She swallowing, sloppily, as she rotated up and down, holding him at his waist for balance until he stilled, his hand caressing her cheek up and down. She settled back and leaned into his thigh, looking up at a goofy, crooked smile under eyes half lidded in contentment.

************************************************************************

It was 11 a.m. when Elvis awoke to Billy’s hand on his shoulder, bewildered and uncertain where he was. He made eye contact with his cousin, taking in how the furnishings of George’s bedroom looked in the morning (technically it was still morning).

Elvis blinked, unlike Billy, he didn't know what time it was, or why his cousin was there, or where the occupant of the apartment was.

“Heh, uh, hey there, Bill, what’s - uh - what’s the idea?”

Billy gulped, this was not the most embarrassing situation he had ever been in. Not by far. So he smiled, and looked around, beginning to gather up Elvis pants, socks and shoes, which were carefully folded and stacked on the cedar chest at the end of the bed.

“Uh, hey, man, uh Joe’s here. Sonny and Alan too. We’re, uh, all paid up, ready to head out? I brought ya some coffee.”

Elvis sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

“Uh, wait, what, uh, what about the car?”

Billy looked back out to the living room as Elvis stood and put his pants on.

“Um, its ready, actually.”

Elvis looked up from where he was rolling his sock over his foot.

“What?”

“Uh, yeah, Maude, um, Miss Morgenstern, that is, well, um, she said her sister must have gotten up and been working on it from four or five this morning ‘fore she lit out for Carson City.”

Elvis started buttoning up his shirt.

“Carson City?”

Billy coughed and straightened his own shirt.

“Uh, yeah, Miss George, um. Well, guess she had to go pick up some auto supplies or sumpthin’ like that. Gosh, huh, girl mechanic, can’t believe it, right? Maybe those little hands give ‘em an advantage?”

He gulped again as he met Elvis’ disappointed stare.

“Yeah, erm, um. Anyhow, she’s not fixing to be back til late tonight.”

They were twenty minutes outside of Los Angeles when Joe and Sonny watched the white Buick Skylark pull over in front of them. Jumping out of the black, Lincoln Contintential they were driving behind Billy and Elvis, Sonny walked up the passenger side of the car and leaned over the rail.

“Sup boss?”

Elvis gripped the steering wheel, then lifted his right hand to fix his yachting hat.

“Goddamit, what do ya think Son, Billy left my goddamn toiletry bag back at that goddamn motel in the middle of goddamn nowhere. Gonna have to go back.”

Billy started to interject, saying, “I double, triple checked and we didn—” but was met with a swift elbow to the ribs.

Sonny clenched his fists as he walked back to Joe, asked for all the money in Joe’s wallet, and handed it over to Elvis, before watching the Skylark make a three point turn and head back along the road into the powder blue sky behind them.

************************************************************

Many thanks to my fellow players @missmaywemeetagain @be-my-ally @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @from-memphis-with-love @whositmcwhatsit

#elvis presley #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis x oc #elvis smut #writing prompt game #thatbanditqueen #georgesgarage

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rock-and-roll-hell · 4 months

Text

I wish it was Christmas Christmas every day We could just let it snow forever And live on holiday There would be presents every mornin' Under every tree Oh Santa Claus, if I could have my way (whoa) I wish it was Christmas every day

Kissin' under mistletoe 52 weeks in a row Now you got me shouting out with glee No more wars and no more fights Peace on earth comes every night What a wonderful world this could be

#eric singer #kiss moodboard #kissmas #kiss #kiss band #kiss army #christmas moodboard #aesthetic #the catman #song: Christmas Every Day by Simple Plan

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p3rryy · 3 months

Text

Feel like Lightman when you lie to me (lie to me)

Can't trust a soul, I'm dealin' silently, silently

We fall out like leaves on Autumn trees (Autumn trees)

Wish I could be what I ought to be, ought to be

I don't wanna focus on the problems

I swear to God, I'm over moving trash and living toxic

I'ma be the only one to finish what he started

A living legend see into your brain like I'm a doctor

Hold up wait, I been inside the game you gotta watch how I start it

Original my plays, it always sharpens my wallet

Kissin' on my neck, I got her lost in my conscious

Gripping on her waist, she wanna cum for an artist

God, please save me

It's been so hard lately

It's just on and on

It's driving me crazy

Just get picked apart

It's hard being lazy

Like you would know

Feel like Lightman when you lie to me (when you lie)

Can't trust a soul, I'm dealing silently, silently

We fall out like leaves on autumn trees (but it's falling down)

Wish I could be what I ought to be, ought to be

Wanna be myself

I don't wanna fuck around, just wanna be myself

You should probably settle down, a warning to your health

Focused on my freedom like I'm locked inside a cell

See it to believe it while believing in a spell

Dreaming only deepened all my feelings in the well

Keeping all my secrets, never speaking on the hell

Left me here in pieces, they retreaed when I fell, oh-yeah

God, please save me

It's been so hard lately

It's just on and on

It's driving me crazy

Just get picked apart

It's hard being lazy

Like you would know

Feel like Lightman when you lie to me (when you lie)

Can't trust a soul, I'm dealing silently, silently

We fall out like leaves on Autumn trees (but it's falling down)

Wish I could be what I ought to be, ought to be

Talk like you know me

'Cause I fuck you and only

Prefer being lonely

I've been trapped with success

Like you would know

Feel like Lightman when you lie to me (when you lie)

Can't trust a soul, I'm dealing silently, silently

We fall out like leaves on autumn trees (but it's falling down)

Wish I could be what I ought to be, ought to be

Feel like Lightman when you lie to me

Can't trust a soul, I'm dealing silently, silently

We fall out like leaves on Autumn trees (Autumn trees)

Wish I could be what I ought to be, ought to be

#Spotify

0 notes

llimerrence · 4 months

Text

youtube

Think I only want you under my mistletoe I might change your contact to "Has a Huge North Pole" You said you like my stockings better on the floor Boy, I've been a bad girl, I guess I'm gettin' coal, no

I'm talkin' deckin' all the halls I'm talkin' spikin' eggnog I'm talkin' opposite of small I'm talkin' big snowballs You got a new toy for me I'm out here trimmin' the tree I caught that holiday glee My true love gave it to me

Let me come warm you up, you been out in the snow Baby, my tongue goes numb, sounds like, "Ho, ho, ho" And I don't want Santa's elves underneath this ol' tree Here's a lil' carol I wrote, it's about you and me

You're my wish list Lookin' at you got me thinkin' Christmas Snowflakes in my stomach when we're kissin' And when you're comin' down the chimney Oh, it feels so good

I need that Charles Dickens You'll be Santa Claus and I'll be Mrs. I'll take you for a ride, I'll be your Vixen I don't even know, I'm talkin' Christmas I'm talkin', I'm talkin', I'm talkin'

I'm talkin', I'm talkin', I'm talkin' Ah-ah, ah-ah, ah I'm talkin' chestnuts I'm talkin', I'm talkin'

Look at all those presents, that's a big sack Boy, that package is too big to gift wrap Woke up this morning, thought I'd write a Christ-smash How quickly can you build a snowman? Think fast

#playlist; || clarke;#tw suggestive #tw nsft #18+ post;

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saccharinemeat · 4 months

Note

D , K , L , S , T , W , Z . good monin .... looks at you respectfully kissin ... hi ..... hello . hey

Answerin' this so latey but still! myah myah

D - A pairing you wish you liked but just can’t.

Depends on fandom,but from iii, clover/nickel and candle/silver spoon. which i know you do like but i just cant help but be annoyed by em sometimes. particularly the latter cuz yknow. f/o.

non object and unrelated to shared fandoms, definitely Jonmartin. I know they're canon i know wah wah the dinghy I DONT FUCKING CARE. martin is a little bitch to Jon during the eyepocalypse and idk. idk he gets on my nerves. JonMichael forever actually. (And i like martin with peter lukas. toxic gilf win.)

K - What character has your favorite development arc/the best development arc?

Depends on the fandom, object wise i wanna say Balloon (especially in iii), and while i also love Flowers arc i feel she got a bit watered down at the end of bfb. Quite curious to know where Robot Flower's is going though. Non object fandom, I wanna say Riko from made in abyss has some amazing development,and in general the arc around Vueroeruko and Irumyuu was fucking insane. Sobbing immediately and violently.

L - Say something genuinely nice about a character who isn’t one of your faves.

Ugh. Candle is not a bitch and im mostly just uncomfortable with how close she is with silver and her chill attitude is Annoying to a certain degree. Cabby is Fine in the very late episodes and her friendship with yinyang is Nice. Non object related, uhh. uhhhh. idk i dont have any MAJOR hatred i think. or if i do it's so bad i Deleted them from my brain lmao.

S - Show us an example of your personal headcanon

Oh there's so many, I'll try to stay away from my super edgy ones You Know,but let's see. object specific, here's a handful,will just do objects here cuz easier:

test tube is a coffee nerd. She loves all the borderline sciencey work to pull a single shot of espresso. and she WILL get annoying about it if not stopped

Baseball and Cheesy both have braces

Knife is a big fan of kawaii shit and loves the color pink. After the dora incident he's less shy about having one or two little keychains or plushies.

Tree likes to smoke and is in his late 30s. I will Not elaborate,i just know I'm Correct.

T - Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending?

some headcanons ill die defending are mostly darker ones,honestly. but i guess heres some misc. ones from multiple fandoms

- Julian (The Arcana) has BPD and i will never back off from that

- Kenny (south park) sometimes is cis and sometimes isn't,depending how his body regenerated after the latest death

- Yin and Yang (inanimate insanity) have an extremely codependent fucked up relationship

- Rick (Rick & Morty) is bilingual and can speak spanish perfectly. Yes i know this is basically canon but goddamn if the show NEVER brings it up. Im salty about this.

W - A trope which you are virtually certain to hate in any fandom.

Any fucking barista/florist/whatever the fuck AU. you people are boring,jesus. And poorly done Enemies to Lovers (ENEMIES ARE EQUALS) or Bully/Victim ships portrayed as good (toxic dynamics can stay tho)

Z - Just ramble about something fan-related, go go go!

Bro I'm tired,, but i wanna talk about fandom in general and how fucking annoying it is that people are always going for wholesome and pure and fluffy and like. yes that's fine and all but i miss when fandom was owned by the freaks. I feel like even the concept of fandom has gone far FAR too mainstream and it's annoying as all hell. It's difficult to not want to just live in a little corner. Also people treat writers and artists like fucking. content machines and it sucks so much. people used to establish friendships over this but now even requests are BARELY polite. Bleh. Also bring the kinkmeme livejournals back

#vi tag #long post //#ooo boy #ask game

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inbtswethrrust · 2 years

Text

oh i wish i was a kissin' tree by misspamela

pairing: minjoon rated: t length: 8.6k

There was a guy coming down the aisle. Tall, kind of commanding looking, with a mulish set to his mouth. Hot, Jimin noticed, but honestly, hot wasn’t enough when he was being interrupted in the middle of a minor breakdown. “Yes?” he said, as politely as he could muster.

This seemed to throw the guy, because he stopped short, frowning. “Um,” he said. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Listen, I know it was just some hookup to you or something.”

Jimin blinked. He probably -- no, definitely would have remembered hooking up with Mr. Tall and Dimpled here. Was he hallucinating? Dreaming? This whole conversation was starting to feel surreal.

admin's note: i love this one, its just so funny but also very cute and also i love awkward namjoon in any setting, ALSO catfish au? sign me in - basically someone used jimins pictures to catfish namjoon and thats the story, read it to find out what happend wink wink

#oh i wish i was a kissin' tree #misspamela #minjoon #namjoon #rm #jimin #bts fic rec #bts #catfish au #strangers to lovers #texting #crack #fluff #awkward namjoon #musician namjoon #musician au #dancer jimin #dancer au

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ohhmydyosfics · 4 years

Text

(Minjoon) oh i wish i was a kissin' tree

This seemed to throw the guy, because he stopped short, frowning. “Um,” he said. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Listen, I know it was just some hookup to you or something.”

Jimin blinked. He probably -- no, definitely would have remembered hooking up with Mr. Tall and Dimpled here. Was he hallucinating? Dreaming? This whole conversation was starting to feel surreal.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16090121#main

#oh i wish i was a kissin' tree #Minjoon #Jimin #Namjoon #RM #BTS #fanfic #oneshot #cute #fluffy #catfishing

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biaswreckmepls · 5 years

Text

oh i wish i was a kissin' tree

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16090121

Author: misspamela

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationships: Kim Namjoon/Park Jimin

Status: Completed

Chapters: 1/1 (8601 words)

Tags: Dating App AU, Catfishing AU

Summary:

This seemed to throw the guy, because he stopped short, frowning. “Um,” he said. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Listen, I know it was just some hookup to you or something.”

Jimin blinked. He probably -- no, definitely would have remembered hooking up with Mr. Tall and Dimpled here. Was he hallucinating? Dreaming? This whole conversation was starting to feel surreal.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16090121

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reidgraygubler · 3 years

Text

I’m Dreaming Of A White Christmas (spencer reid/reader)

Title: i’m dreaming of a white christmas

Request: no

Couple: spencer reid/baker!gen-neutral!reader

Category: fluff

Content Warning: literally nothing, unless there’s swearing (but I don’t think there is this time)

Word Count: 2414

Summary: Spencer is away for a work trip and might not make it home in time for Christmas, leaving the reader alone for the holidays. Until Spencer comes home with a surprise

A/N: i literally re-wrote this and made it work for spencer. it was written from when i hardcore stanned queen (written for roger taylor) o.o so please bear with me. Also, who said it was too early for christmas/holiday one-shots… anyways, thank you everyone for the love and support! check out my masterlist!

{***}{***}{***}

“I’m dreaming of a white… Christmas,” I whispered to myself, mixing in chocolate chips to the plain dough, “Just like the ones I used to know,” I cocked my head to the side before sticking my pinkie into the dough to eat some. I’m sure if Spencer were here, he’d tell me that raw egg can get you incredibly sick. But, he wasn’t here, so who’s to stop me from doing it?

“Where the treetops glisten and children listen,” Bing Crosby continued as I began humming and scooping the dough onto a cookie pan. “To hear sleigh bells in the snow,”

“The Snow,” I whispered before turning to look at the oven. I slid the pan into the oven before making a mug of hot chocolate. The only thing that would make hot chocolate better would mini marshmallows and a God-Awful cheesy Christmas movie (or keeping the Chistmas Music on instead because I’m lazy).

With my mug in hand, I walked back to the living room… Where a small pile of gifts sat on the ground beside the coffee table, waiting to be wrapped by yours truly. In all honesty, I hated wrapping presents… For anyone even. I just can’t wait to see the look on Spencer’s face when he opens his present.

My present wasn’t anything special… Jennifer had taken a candid photo of Spencer and I at one of Rossi’s infamous get togethers at his place. I was sitting on his lap, with his arms wrapped around my waist. We were both laughing, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it was at something Penlope said, or Luke said. It was one of my favorite photos. Thrown into a nice photo frame, it should be his favorite present.

“I should get on that… Before Spencer gets home… if he gets home in time for Christmas.” I whispered, sitting on the ground behind the coffee table. I set the coffee mug on the coffee table before grabbing the first gift.

“I saw mommy kissin’ Santa Claus,” Michael Jackson's, of the Jackson 5, high pitched voice played through radio. “Underneath the mistletoe last night…”

I picked up my mug and the wrapped photo before standing up. I placed the gift under the small tree and smiled softly, looking at the perfectness of my life. The tree, the perfect tree that I had to fight Spencer to let me put up, was lit up with white lights and decorated with perfect ornaments. The pile of gifts that sat under the tree was slowly expanding, from one gift to eight.

“More hot chocolate,” I sighed deeply, dumping out the chunky, no longer hot, hot chocolate into the sink and turned the tap on to rinse out the dirty mug.

“Something something something, Christmas,” I smirked and shut the water off before dumping the nasty water into the sink and making another glass. The timer on the oven behind me started ringing, causing me to turn around and pull the cookies from the oven.

“Christmas Cookies, for the gift-bringer,” I looked at each cookie before scooping one on to a napkin and returning back into the living room, continuing to wrap the stupid gifts. One for Jennifer, one for Emily, one for Matt, one for Luke, one for David, one for Tara, and two more for Spencer. I returned to my spot on the ground behind the coffee table before taking a bite of my cookie and sipping my hot chocolate. I picked up a small box that contained a present for Luke.

“I'll have a blue… Christmas without you,” Elvis Prestley's voice came smoothly across the radio. My smile slowly turned into a frown and I could feel a certain sorrow grow in my stomach.

“And I'll be so blue… just thinking about you.” I softly sang along before pushing the box to the tree. I sighed and let the music continue on it’s own. The mess, paired with the pile, just kept growing. And I still had a mess to clean in the kitchen from the cookies. I lulled my head back so it was resting on the couch, and I closed my eyes.

“You've always had a pretty singing voice,” A voice came from behind me. I jumped lightly at the voice, because I wasn’t expecting anyone other than me in the house. I opened my eyes before turning around to see who was in my home. I should have just know who it was, because the only person who has ever heard me sing was Spencer.

And, I was right, Spencer was standing in the doorway, holding a red and white bag in one hand and a smaller, wooden box in the other. His hair was pushed under a Santa hat, loose strands of hair were hanging in front of his face. His face was turning a light, rosy pink color because of how cold it was outside. And it honestly took everything in me not to laugh at him.

“You’re home!” I exclaimed as I struggled to stand. Spencer laughed at me once I finally stumbled to my feet.

“You know they won't care if their presents are wrapped or not,” he spoke as he looked at the pile around me. I ignored his comment before running up to him. I threw my arms around his neck and laughed into the nape of his neck. He laughed as he shoved his hands into his pockets,

before wrapping his arms around my back. He looked at me and smiled.

“What are you doing home?” I asked, placing my hands on his cheeks. The palms of my hands were hot as the pressed against his very cold cheeks. He looked down at me with a joyful glimmer in his eye and a smile on his lips. “When did you get in? Penelope was supposed to text me! She was supposed to let me know so I could… So I could clean!” I gestured behind me to the mess in the living room, ignoring the mess in the kitchen.

“We just got in a little while ago, I told Penelope not to tell you,” Spencer smiled at me before pressing his lips to mine. I hummed against his lips and smiled. “Figured I'd surprise you for Christmas,” he pulled away from me and whispered.

“Well, you're just in time. I made cookies,” I stated, going to step away from him but failing when he held onto me tighter. I looked at him and placed my hands on the center of his chest. He looked down at me with a small smile.

“Oh, I missed your baking,” Spencer whispered, bringing a hand to stroke a strand of hair away from my face. I smiled and cocked my head to the side. “But I missed you the most,” he poked my nose. I wrinkled it before sticking my tongue out.

“I missed you too. You were gone for 3 weeks!” I scoffed, reaching for his hand and pulling him into our apartment. Spencer stumbled over the threshold as he followed inside me. I could just hear him mocking me for how well decorated our home was for the holidays. I smiled to myself.

“Emily kept telling me you guys weren't going to be home till well after Christmas,” I pointed out as I reached to grab the two presents I just wrapped. I sat on the couch, the two gifts still in hand, and looked at him. Spencer smiled at me as he placed the bag and box on the coffee table. He sat down beside me and looked right at me. Where as I eyed up the small box on the table for half a second.

“I may or may not have instructed her to tell you that we weren't going to be home till then. I wanted to surprise you,” he smiled at me. I felt butterflies grow in the pit of my stomach. That feeling never went away and I love every moment I have them because when I have them, I’m with Spencer. He’s honestly the only person who can do that to me too.

“Well, if I had known you were coming home early, I would’ve made dinner! We’ll just have to have cookies to eat!” I exclaimed, looking around at the slight mess in the living room from my wrapping of presents. Spencer laughed as he looked around.

“If the mess doesn’t bother you, then it doesn’t bother me,” he whispered once he looked back at me. Part of me knew that was a lie… Okay, all of me knew that was a lie.

“Everyone got you something. I just barely had time to get you something,” he stated as he struggled to get his jacket off. He threw it over the back of the couch.

I smiled as I watched him stick his hand into the bag and pulled out a large box and placed it on the table in front of the wooden one. He then pulled out a stuffed unicorn with an assortment of colored things and placed it on the couch between us, “Well, this one’s from Penelope,”

“I wish she got me something useful,” I laughed as I picked up the gift.

“This is from Matt and Kristy, he said Kristy picked it out so he doesn’t even know what it is,” he pulled out a box. I raised an eyebrow before pulling the lid off. A mug with a blend of tea was sitting wrapped in some tissue paper.

I don’t really know why everyone on the team got me something. It really wasn’t necessary. I suppose I am giving them gifts, so it’s only fair. Along with the mug and tea, and the unicorn, I got a small bottle of whisky from Tara, a fancy cookbook from Emily, as well as a not as fancy cookbook from Jennifer, and the only really practical gift was from Luke, which was a knife and can of pepper spray.

“What about Dave?” I asked as I placed the pointy knife down on the coffee table.

“Uh, well, this is from Dave and Krystall,” He pointed at the box on the coffee table. I furrowed my eyebrows before picking up the box. I pulled the wrapping paper off and tossing it to the ground with the rest of the mess. A brand new kitchen aid mixer.

“He’s out of his goddamn mind, I’ll tell you that.” I rolled my eyes as I looked at the box. I was happy for the new stand mixer, but I wasn’t expecting to get one from a close friend.

“He was buying stuff for Krystall and Joy and asked me if you needed a new one. I was too busy thinking about what I was going to get you… So he didn’t get a real answer,” Spencer cringed as he looked up at me. I smiled and laughed.

“Well, its appreciated either way.” I chuckled as I looked back at the box. I honestly couldn’t wait to use it to make something from one of the two cookbooks I got. “I can’t wait to use it,” I chuckled to myself. Roger laughed.

“I’m not entirely sure why he went so… out there with gifts for you. I told him something simple would have worked,” Spencer looked at me with a smile.

“Probably because I’m his favorite baker,” I looked at Spencer and smiled. He laughed and shook his head. “Well, my present to you is probably better than what you got me,” I smirked before handing over the two gifts to Spencer.

“I seriously doubt that,” he snickered. I looked at him and raised an eyebrow. He’s always been secretive, and I’ve always hated it. But he always knew how to surprise me.

“I have something else, but this one’s more important,” I waved of the box with his name that was under the tree. Spencer smiled before looking at the brown paper package.

“Are you sure?” He asked, picking at the seams. I smiled and nodded, getting impatient with him playing with the paper instead of ripping the thing open. “Alright,” he smiled at me, nodding lightly before pulling the paper off the box. He gently wiggled the lid off and picked up the photo.

“Jennifer sent it to me, it’s one of my favorites,” I smiled as he looked at the photo. He smiled as he ran his finger over the photo. His fingers lingered over my face for a moment before he looked up at me.

“It was right after a case. You guys were gone for forever! Rossi invited everyone, significant others and kids included, over for dinner and relaxation,” I looked down at the photo and smiled, “Someone had just said a really stupid joke, so we were just laughing at it. But, we literally couldn’t leave each other alone,” I looked at him and smiled. Spencer smiled back at me before pressing his lips to mine. “It’s my favorite picture,” I whispered against his lips.

“If it’s your favorite picture, then it’s also mine,” He smiled at me, setting the photo up on the coffee table. He grabbed the box and looked at it a few times before looking back at me. “I love you,” he smiled at me, keeping his eyes on me and his voice a soft whisper. Clicking from the lid of the box caught my attention, causing me to look down, but not for very long.

“Wha-what is it?” I asked with a small smile on my lips. He looked at the box and let out a sigh. “I love you too, Spencer, but you’re killing me with this anonymity,” I laughed as I wrapped my arms around his neck. I pulled him closer to me before kissing him again. Spencer laughed before pulling away from me.

“Marry me,” he flipped the box open and lifting it to show me what sat inside. A perfect ring sat in the middle of it. A small diamond was embedded in the center with a pearl on either side. I blinked at him, my mouth opened slightly. I slowly brought my hand to my mouth, nodding slowly. He smiled before sliding the ring on my finger.

“Of course I’ll marry you,” I whispered as I looked down at the ring before looking back up at him. He smiled before pressing his lips back to mine. “Is it even a question?”

“I just had to make sure,”

taglist: @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto

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damienthepious · 3 years

Text

tuesday vibes are Cuddle Sleepily

To Be Inside Your Arms

[ao3]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Sir Damien, Lord Arum, Rilla

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Post-Episode: s02e36-41 Second Citadel - The Battle at World's End, (literally directly post. so like. yeah), Early Relationship, Sleepy Cuddles, Awkwardness, (they're trying), Literal Sleeping Together

Summary: They went somewhere to talk, but that talk is honestly going to have to wait until they aren't so completely drained.

Notes: I've had this idea for a while, to the point where I tried to start it like... five different times. I literally have like Five different half-paragraph openings for this exact pseudo-conversation, and this one FINALLY stuck. They're all... very new at this. Also? Yes, I know we just finished s3 and here I am writing DIRECTLY post s2 content, but consider: I Want To.Title from the song Parallels by Big Thief.

Lord Arum brings them somewhere safe, after their duel, after their song. It is a small structure, nearly impossible to distinguish from the plants surrounding it until Arum points it out, pressing on one particular knot in the wall of thick, woven-together vines and prompting a hidden door to swing open for them and reveal a small, cozy sort of space.

Rilla helps Damien out of his armor after they close the door of the little bark-walled hut behind them, and they clean off the worst of the grime, the tears, the mud, the blood. Rilla sets Damien's arm properly, and the lizard pretends not to keep a concerned eye on them as he starts a fire in the clay hearth, putting water to boil for tea. Rilla splints her poor ankle as well, batting Damien's hands away when he tries to help, and when she finishes she sighs with such weariness that it cuts through to Damien's heart.

Arum frowns, then, watching Rilla's face, the purpling shadows beneath her eyes, the slump of her shoulders, and then the monster extinguishes the fire before the water comes to a proper boil.

There is a pause before Rilla notices, which is even more damning evidence of her exhaustion than anything else.

"What, change your mind?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"I did, in fact," Arum rumbles, looking away. "We won't be needing the tea to accompany our conversation. There is no productive conversation to be had while the both of you are in such sorry states."

"S-sorry?" Damien manages, his voice going high, and the monster's frown deepens, the frill at his neck raising just slightly, in anger or whatever else Damien does not know.

"You are both injured, and you are both clearly well past exhausted. I would rather hold a conversation with creatures more lucid than the both of you will currently be."

Damien blinks, entirely uncertain what Arum's sharp, uncomfortable tone and his deeply deliberate avoidance of eye contact indicate, but Rilla folds her arms over her chest with something like a smile ghosting across her lips.

"If that's your way of saying that you're worried about us, that's very sweet of you."

Arum growls, still looking away as he pokes at the hearth to ensure that the logs aren't going to reignite. "Don't be absurd," he says quickly, and something in Damien's chest skips at the transparency of the denial.

"Okay," Rilla says soothingly, smiling a little wider. "Right. Entirely selfish reasons, then."

"Entirely," the monster says, still looking away.

"I imagine that you are rather exhausted yourself, Lord Arum," Damien offers.

"Yes, well," Arum straightens, huffing in a way that reminds Damien of a bird ruffling its feathers. "Any day during which one nearly dies or averts an extinction event is bound to be somewhat draining, and each of us have experienced at least one of those two since the sun rose today."

Rilla snorts a laugh, and then- another expression crosses her face, far more serious.

"Thank you, by the way," she says, and Arum immediately winces. "I don't… I don't know that we would've made it out of there, if you didn't tell me... just, thank you." He turns towards her with a rising snarl, but Rilla's smile is awkward and uncertain, and the sight of it makes the angry rattle in Arum's throat stutter off.

He swallows, and then looks away again, his tail flicking. "Don't... don't thank me for- for giving you a chance to clean up the mess that I made, Amaryllis," he mutters, and then he shakes his head as she opens her mouth to retort. "And this is- precisely what I meant. We can argue over culpability and injury and morality in the morning, if you have not changed your minds by then, takatakataka."

Rilla scowls more deeply as Damien considers Arum's phrasing, noting that the lizard only suggested that they might change their minds. Apparently, Arum does not imagine that his own feelings are in danger of any such shift.

"Fine," Rilla relents, "fine, fine. Okay. Sleep, then. Is there a bedroom tucked in here or are we just gonna pile up on the floor?"

Arum turns with a grumble, presses a hand against a wide leaf that Damien assumed was simply part of the wall, and the flora swings aside, showing another smaller room.

Rilla grabs Damien's uninjured arm as she passes him, pulling them both along together to follow the lizard.

"Okay?" she murmurs, her eyes cautious, and Damien's heart aches again with fondness, with appreciation, and he squeezes her hand in return.

Arum pretends not to hear them, reaching to light a small lantern with a flick of the wrist (Damien is unsure, precisely, if the monster is using some magic, or if he is simply deft with some small tool Damien cannot see) and then turning to frown in the vague direction of their clasped hands.

"I suppose this will have to do, for the moment," he says, and Damien struggles to bury a smile.

The bed is- not exactly a bed. It appears to be as much grown as the rest of the structure, low to the ground, woven from soft living leaves, with a silk sheet puddled unceremoniously across the bottom half. Damien sags at the sight regardless, his body preemptively relieved at the mere idea of rest, and beside him Rilla exhales an entire lungful of exhaustion herself.

Arum's lip twitches, almost a smile, and then he gestures towards the bed. "I suppose I should... leave you to it, then." He pauses, flicks his tongue in the air as two of his hands brush at his cape and the other two fold stiffly behind his back. "Sleep... sleep well."

Damien's heart twists, sinks, and when Arum glances back towards him again he realizes that he must have made some small, unhappy noise. Rilla squeezes his hand again, more gently.

"Unless you would prefer I stay," the monster says quickly, and then he glances away. "This part of the swamp is not particularly dangerous, but of course I would understand if you should require a- a show of good faith, or-"

"I'd just rather have you here," Rilla says, and the monster snaps his mouth shut.

"I... yes," Damien agrees, his voice feeling small. "I know it has been rather too full a day to finish with a... a negotiation of our positions, together, but- but at the very least, I think, we have agreed that we- we would like to try. To try to- to be, together. If it would not trouble you to-"

"I did not wish to press past your own comfort." Arum winces, makes a rumbling noise in his chest with his frill fluttering, and then he takes another step closer. "That's all. If this... if you do not mind my presence-"

"Oh for Saints' sake," Rilla mutters, and then she simply turns and tips herself over like a falling tree, bouncing to land on the bed with a heavy sigh. "C'mon, already," she says, her eyes already closed as she scrabbles with a hand to snatch the sheet and pull it closer. "Whole point is that we're fucking exhausted, and I'm too tired to pretend that I don't want the both of you where I can reach you, even if we haven't put words on it yet."

Damien's heart swells, Rilla's breathy, lazy, slipping-towards-sleep voice so familiar and safe, even in such a strange place. Arum takes another step closer with a small laugh, his frill settling and his own eyes full of something that Damien recognizes after a moment as fondness. Damien bites his lip, as if that will do anything at all to stifle the size of his emotions, and then he reaches a hand out to help Rilla untangle the sheet.

She grabs his wrist and pulls, though, and Damien doesn't have the presence of mind (or the inclination, truly) to resist, and he stumbles sideways to collapse beside Rilla, yelping as he goes. Rilla mutters wordlessly, tugging Damien closer with one hand and pressing her head into his shoulder, and Damien could not suppress his smile for the whole of the world as he curls his arms around her, settling helplessly against the softness of the bed.

He glances up, over Rilla's shoulder, and Arum-

The amount of desire in Arum's vivid, violet eyes knocks the breath from Damien's lungs. He stares down at them, his hands still fisted tight in the fabric of his cape, his frame held so carefully still, and then as Damien catches his gaze he exhales a breath, his tongue flicking in the air.

Rilla makes another grumbling noise, stretching her other arm - the one not clinging to Damien's back - out across the bed, in the vague direction of Lord Arum, though her eyes do not open again. Damien laughs lightly, and then he meets Arum's eyes again.

Arum hesitates, frill fluttering again, but then Rilla makes another, slightly angrier noise, and Damien draws his hands soothingly down her back with another breath of laughter.

"I very much doubt she will let either of us rest, Lord Arum, unless you come join us," he says, keeping his tone teasing and light, and Arum laughs as well.

"She is... rather stubborn," the monster mutters, fond again, and Rilla finally cracks an eye open to glare at him. "Alright," he shakes his head, "alright."

He follows the grasping direction of Rilla's other hand, slipping onto the bed on the side opposite Damien and letting her draw her palm down his bicep, down his forearm before she grips his scaled hand and squeezes with a contented sigh, finally settling against the softness beneath them.

"Better?" Damien murmurs, his lips close beside Rilla's temple, and she sighs again, nodding slightly.

"Stubborn," Arum murmurs again, draping himself out on the bed beside Rilla, but when he leaves a careful degree of space between them, Rilla rolls closer. She presses her cheek against his shoulder, then tugs his hand to settle over her heart with an impatient huff. "Amaryllis-"

"Shush. We're sleeping. Want you closer. Manage feelings in the morning."

Arum glances over her head with a raised eyebrow, and Damien smiles helplessly, and then he- he decides that Rilla is right. He shifts closer as well, folding himself along Rilla's back and wrapping an arm around her so he may do as he wishes, and curl his hand around Rilla and Arum's own, clasped by her collarbone.

Arum exhales, shaky with a hint of a rattle at the back of his throat. "Ridiculous," he mutters unconvincingly, and then with his free hand he reaches and tugs up the sheet, arranging it to rest properly over all three of them before he settles.

It feels... easy, Damien realizes with some surprise. The complication, the tangled web woven between all of them, the friction and lack of understanding and the fear (or worry, at the very least); it will all return with the morning, Damien suspects.

Right now, though. Right now, in this moment, in the haze of exhaustion but with the assurance that they are all three of them together, whole, and safe, finally safe- that they are willing to look each other in the eye and speak their hearts, that they may rest upon each other, may tangle their hands between them-

It feels easy, to brush his thumb across Rilla and Arum's knuckles, twined together. It feels easy to let the weariness carry him deeper, closer to slumber, tucked warm beside his forever-flower and Lord Arum.

With time, Damien thinks, and with patience, perhaps they might make all of the troubles between them feel easy, as well.

#elle's fanfic #the penumbra podcast #second citadel #rad bouquet #lizard kissin' tuesday #sir damien #lord arum #amaryllis of exile #i'm [scream] all the time basically #rebageles appreciatem

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ofmermaidsandmarauders · 3 years

Text

stolen dreams took our childish days chapter 4

Read on AO3 or FFN

March 2020

Fergus was playing in the yard when he heard the yelling. He was allowed to play outside when Jamie was home and cooking dinner because the man could watch him from the kitchen windows. He had seen Claire’s car pull up a few minutes ago and was surprised by the noise inside. His body tensed when he heard the smashing of glass. It was only then that Fergus realized it wasn’t the excited kind of yelling that the couple usually did. No, this was angry. He sank to the ground, clutching his knees to his chest. He just knew that at one point they would crack.

____________________________________________________

“You can’t just make these decisions without me, Jamie Fraser! I am your wife. That means your partner!” “Aye, I ken fine well what ye are, Sassenach. And I am entitled to purchasing what I damn well please wi’ my salary. You canna tell me what I can and canna buy!” Jamie knew that his argument was weak, but he was refusing to back down as he had just been trying to do something nice.

In hindsight, Jamie should have consulted with Claire before renting a beach house for an upcoming weekend. He knew that she would likely have it off work and thought it would be a fun way for them to celebrate the upcoming holiday. It would be the last one before Fergus had to finish out the school year with no breaks. He thought the lad would enjoy the open air and sand beneath his toes. He also thought Claire would enjoy the break, but he was apparently wrong.

“You better be fucking joking! I know you don’t truly believe that you don’t have to consult me on this type of spending! We have bills to pay, Fergus is going to need summer clothes, your car is up for inspection soon! Jesus Christ, sometimes I think you truly are daft!” Claire’s words spat out at him, dripping with vitriol.

“Daft? Daft? I’m just trying to make sure the lad has some good memories! Excuse me for tryin’ tae give him some fun! You’re always fecking workin’! I thought it would be a nice time for us to bond but I guess no’!” Jamie froze as the accusation came out of his mouth. Claire worked hard and that was something he had never pushed her on. In fact, Jamie wanted Claire to work. She was a skilled surgeon, and he knew that it was her passion. She was made to heal others. It was the reason he agreed to take on fewer responsibilities at work; he wanted Claire to have the career and family she dreamed of. “Sassenach, ye ken I didna mean what I said.”

“No, just… No.” Claire held up her hand, stopping him from apologizing. She left the kitchen without another word, shutting and locking the bedroom door. Taking some space from Jamie would be good. They had both said harsh things that they didn’t mean, but it didn’t make the words hurt any less. In fact, it hurt more knowing it was said with that exact intention in mind.

____________________________________________________

Jamie looked around the kitchen trying to figure out what exactly had just happened. One minute he was surprising Claire with a relaxing long weekend away with their foster son, the next they were screaming at one another and she was storming out.

He knew he needed to find a way to apologize. He would respect her request for space and then deal with things later. For now, he had a child to feed. Jamie checked on the chicken that was roasting in the oven before grabbing the glass he had been drinking from. He peered around the kitchen before sneaking over to the liquor cabinet, refilling his tumbler. As he went to shut and lock it once again, the glass slipped from his hand and shattered against the white tile.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed, the shards flying everywhere. Glancing at his arm, Jamie felt a sting and recognized that one of them must have pierced his skin, the whiskey causing it to burn more than it should have. He set about cleaning up the mess before taking a peek out of the window to see Fergus pressing his curled body against the trunk of the tree. Finding it odd, Jamie excused the behavior as the oven’s timer dinged. He could ask questions later.

Calling the young boy in for dinner, Jamie went to the bedroom and let Claire know their food was ready. He gathered a plate for himself and Fergus, allowing Claire to prepare her own if she chose to join them.

____________________________________________________

Fergus appeared timid as he climbed into his seat, looking between Jamie and the hallway. When Claire came out a short time later, her face clean and hair washed from a recent shower, Fergus noted that her eyes were glassy. He had seen that with his own mother on plenty of occasions. A fresh shower to hide her tears and remove any traces of scratches or odd marks.

His eyes slowly raked over Claire’s body, inspecting her for any cuts or abrasions. He didn’t see any, but she had put on a sweater and some pajama shorts. She could be hiding them beneath her sleeves.

The couple was silent as they ate, directing any questions at Fergus. He answered them easily, though it felt like he was on edge the entire time he ate. His stomach was twisted into knots and he was afraid that he was going to throw up if he forced himself to consume much more.

After a few minutes of tension, Jamie’s face lit up as if he had suddenly remembered something.

“I saw ye outside earlier, by the tree? Was everythin’ alright?” Fergus was trying to remember the moment that Jamie was talking about, but it quickly dawned on him that it was when Claire and Jamie had been arguing, and he had gripped onto the nearest thing. It was something one of the counselors taught him to do when he felt his body start to get nervous: lean against the nearest wall or door, close his eyes, and focus on his breathing. He wished that they gave him ideas that actually helped.

“Oh, I was just playing a game,” Fergus answered lamely, not sure that Jamie would believe the lie. Jamie studied his face for a moment, but didn’t push him on the excuse.

“Fergus, what’s the matter, lad? You gobbled up yer afternoon snack, I expected ye to devour yer meal,” Jamie commented with an arched eyebrow. Fergus peered down at his plate for a moment before spearing a piece of chicken onto his fork.

“I guess I’m just not that hungry. Sorry, Jamie,” he apologized, forcing himself to chew and swallow the small piece on his utensil.

“No need to apologize, lad. Jus’ finish what ye can and we can wrap up the rest.” Dinner was silent after that, Fergus’ ability to eat diminishing with each moment that Jamie and Claire ignored one another. He slunk away from the table toward his bedroom once he was finished, pausing in the hallway to eavesdrop on the adults. He couldn’t hear their exact words, but he knew they were arguing back and forth again. He lost track of how long he was standing in the hallway, their voices muffled by the walls and their movements. It got suddenly silent and he froze. Fergus could feel his pulse throbbing in his ears, heart pounding. He wasn’t sure how to make himself calm down. His breathing came faster as he heard a clattering and bolted toward the kitchen once more. Fergus knew that sound; it was a common occurrence when Adam launched something at his mother.

“Don’t touch her!” he screamed, launching himself at Jamie, his tiny fists curled up and pounding into Jamie’s back before he even knew what was happening.

____________________________________________________

“Are we going to discuss the issue at hand?” Claire asked Jamie coldly, her arms crossed over her chest.

“You ken fine well what ye’re doing, Sassenach. Crossing yer arms over yer chest in that way!” he accused, jabbing his index finger in her direction. She gave a glance down at her chest, a smirk appearing on her lips as she stepped closer to him.

“And what about it? Afraid I’ll convince you to cancel your major rental with my womanly ways?”

“Aye, and I damn well willna be canceling the rental! ‘Tis two months away and that is plenty of time tae get everything in order tae go on a trip!” Jamie was becoming flustered and took a deep breath before placing both of his hands on her upper arms. The only way this was going to get better was if he took the opportunity to apologize. “I hope ye know how verra sorry I am, mo chridhe. I wanted to do something kind. I apologize for what I said earlier. I was sore, ye ken?”

“Aye,” Claire teased as she leaned her forehead into his neck. “I’m sorry, too, Jamie. I didn’t mean what I said. I know you just wanted to give us a nice surprise. It’s a very sweet gesture.”

“Next time I’ll be sure to discuss it wi’ ye before making any grand gestures.” Jamie wrapped his arms around Claire’s waist, lifting her onto the table. Her foot caught around one of the legs of the chair and knocked it to the ground as he leaned forward to give her a kiss. Her lips moved in time with his own, hands settling against his large shoulder blades. Jamie suddenly stopped kissing her, confusion on his features.

“Wh-?” Claire’s question trailed off as she watched Fergus burst into the room. His cheeks were splotchy and his eyes were welled up as he began to punch his fists into Jamie’s thigh and back.

“Whoa!” Jamie exclaimed, grabbing Fergus’ arms to get him to stop hitting him. “What in the devil?!”

“Don’t you dare hit Claire!” Fergus screamed, trying to wrench his body away from Jamie’s. Claire sat on the table, stunned by his outburst. Jamie let out a soft chuckle at first, then let go of Fergus when the boy finally stopped jerking himself around.

“Did ye think I was hurting Claire? Och, no. Only kissin’ my wife,” Jamie explained, letting Fergus look at Claire for confirmation, at which she nodded.

“I knocked over the chair with my foot, that’s all. Jamie would never hurt me.” Claire hopped off of the table to right the chair before taking a seat in it, pulling Fergus close to her. She let him gather his thoughts before lifting him into her lap. “We did fight, yes, but we would never lay a hand on one another other than out of kindness and love. I need you to understand that, Fergus.”

He nodded solemnly, resting one hand on Claire’s arm, the other holding onto her hand. Jamie squatted so that he would be level with Fergus, his knees creaking as he bent.

“I hope ye ken I wouldna ever lay a hand on Claire out of anger or pain. Nor would I lay a hand on ye, lad. ‘Tis important that ye ken I care for ye as my own and wouldna want to see ye in pain.” His words were soft and he lifted a large hand to smooth back Fergus’ curls from his face. The boy looked calmer now and gulped before allowing himself to speak.

“C-can I have a glass of water?” he asked quietly, now feeling silly for his reaction. Jamie noted his expression but nodded, getting him the water as requested.

“I hope ye feel safe here, Fergus. I canna imagine how scared ye were and what ye have seen before,” Jamie spoke soothingly, letting his hands rest on Fergus’ skinny legs. “Claire and I just want to see ye safe and happy.”

“Oh,” Fergus exhaled, his eyes welling up with tears again. “Adam used to… he would fight with my mama and I would hear yelling and banging. I could never stop him.” His shoulders shook as he began to weep, leaning against Claire for comfort.

She looked at Jamie frantically, though her arms automatically wound around his small frame. She had no experience with children and was only hoping that she was doing this right.

“It’s alright, hush now. You have no need to be scared of us. We’re going to keep you safe,” she whispered before remembering she was not supposed to make promises she couldn’t keep. For a moment she felt guilty before another thought popped into her head. Fuck that. Holding Fergus in her arms, his body shaking with fear and tears, Claire knew she would go to the ends of the Earth to protect this small boy from any person or thing that threatened to harm him.

Her own eyelids brimmed with tears as she felt a fierce need to keep him safe and see his tears end. Giving a quick look at Jamie, Claire saw that he had a wide grin on his face. It was the same look he had worn when she graduated with her medical degree and could begin practicing medicine at the hospital. That was his “proud” smile, he had told her later that night when she commented on it. She couldn’t help but smile back at him for a brief moment when she realized that he was smiling like that because he was proud of her maternal instincts.

“It will all be alright. He canna hurt ye anymore,” Jamie whispered before pressing a kiss to both Fergus’ and Claire’s hair. He knew how Claire felt because he felt it as well. He would do anything to protect this little family they had built together.

#outlander fic #ol fic #jamie x claire #foster care fic #my writing

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lesbianlotties · 4 years

Text

Andromaquynh’s Story - songs

(an incomplete list of my personal favorite songs/lyrics that make me think of the immortal wives. they come with sort of very specific context for each one.)

One night, one death. Hundreds of nights, thousands of dreams. Neither of them knows, at the beginning, what the dreams mean. Soon enough though, the dreams turn into hope, into a firm belief in each other’s existence. The dreams turn into love before they even look at each other’s eyes. The dreams are everything, and the best part is that they offer the possibility of something more. aka a hundred years of yearning:

When you sleep - mary lambert

I could make you happy / I could make you love me / I could disappear completely / I could be your love song / I could be long gone / I could be a ghost in your eardrum / When you sleep, will it be with me?

I swore I saw you in a dream / All dressed in white and wide smile

How did I miss you, when I didn't know you? / How did I miss you, when I didn't know you? / How did I miss you, when I didn't know you?

Quynh had giving up. She had given up entirely and she was determined not to walk out of that desert alive. Then... Andromache. The dreams were real, the dreams were standing right in front of her in the shape of the most strikingly beautiful warrior. Suddenly nothing else mattered but their future together. Their future was sweet, like Andy’s favorite pastries that Quynh adoringly watched her enjoy. The future was endless. Because as long as they had each other to come back to, death wasn’t strong enough to take them:

Work song - hozier

And I was burning up a fever / I didn't care much how long I lived / But I swear, I thought I dreamed her / She never asked me once about the wrong I did

There's nothin' sweeter than my baby / I'd never want once from the cherry tree / 'Cause my baby's sweet as can be / She give me toothaches just from kissin' me

When, my, time comes around / Lay me gently in the cold dark earth / No grave can hold my body down / I'll crawl home to her

Then there’s Andy. Thousands of years of solitude turn to nothing the second that Quynh’s eyes meet hers. For the first time Andy allows herself to feel hope, to love and be loved without the fear of loss. In Quynh’s smile she finds purpose, joy, and everything she could ever need for eternity:

The last of the real ones - fall out boy

I was just an only child of the universe / And then I found you, and then I found you / You are the sun and I am just the planets / Spinning around you

I will shield you from the waves if they find you / I will protect you, I will protect you

I'm here, at the beginning of the end / Oh, the end of infinity with you

I'm done with having dreams, the thing that I believe / You drain the fear from me

Fear the future - st. vincent

When the Earth split in two / I was I, you were you / I run for you, run for me, too / When the wall rose and fell / And the oceans all swell / I run for you, run for me, too

Cosmonauts - fiona apple

When I met you, I was fine with my nothing / I grew with you and now I've changed / What I've become is something I can't be without your loving / Be good to me, it isn't a game

Now let me see, it's you and me, forgive, good God / How do you suppose that we'll survive?

When you resist me, hon', I cease to exist / Because I only like the way I look when looking through your eyes

There was a time when she was worshipped as a God. And, afterward, there was no way Andy believed in the gods that humans make up every now and then. That is, until the first day she gets to hold Quynh in her arms. The eyes that can render her helpless and down to her knees. The smile that makes her feel alive yet the only thing that could kill her. The skin that’s soft, that’s on fire, that’s the only truly holy place where Andy has found herself lost in. aka homoerotic religious imagery for the immortal wives:

Take me to church - hozier

She tells me "Worship in the bedroom" / The only Heaven I'll be sent to / Is when I'm alone with you

If I'm a pagan of the good times / My lover's the sunlight / To keep the goddess on my side / She demands a sacrifice / Drain the whole sea

Holy - zolita

Worship your body as you walk my way / You're the only one who can make me pray / I fall at your feet, your breath's divine / And underneath my skin's an intrinsic shrine

I'll give my soul, sacrifice me / Cause your love is holy

I'd rather drown in your ocean / Than wither on the shore / Undying devotion, feel you in my core / Veneration, this faith's got me high / Nothing without you, live for you till I die

Church - fall out boy

Time capsule for the future / Trust me, that's what I will be / Oh, the things that you do in the / Name of what you love / You are doomed but just enough

If you were church, I'd get on my knees / Confess my love, I'd know where to be / My sanctuary, you're holy to me

The witches trials. Is there anything more to say? They go in feeling invincible. Partially for their immortality, mostly because they are together. They face death while holding hands and with smiles on their faces as they’ve always had. How could they have predicted what came next?:

Which witch - florence and the machine

And it's my own heart / While tried and tested, it's mine / And it's my own heart / Trying to reach it out / And it's my own heart / Burned but not buried this time / I'm on trial, waiting 'til the beat comes out / I'm on trial, waiting 'til the beat comes out

The bottom of the ocean is cold, it is dark, the pressure is unbearable and the pain unending. If Quynh has any time to think, before dying again, it might spent blaming Andy, missing Andy, hating Andy, loving Andy, with just enough time to curse the ocean around her. aka Quynh making the most of the water/drowning theme:

What the water gave me - florence and the machine

Time it took us / To where the water was / That’s what the water gave me / And time goes quicker / Between the two of us / But oh, my love, don’t forsake me / Take what the water gave me

Hold my breath until I die - tegan and sara

Late at night, when your words are eating me alive / Does it make you sad to leave me here like that? / In my dreams, the blood runs from my eyes / If I fall, will you catch me in your arms?

If I hold my breath until I die, I’ll be alright

Pool - paramore

I’m underwater / No air in my lungs / My eyes are open / I’m done giving up / You are the wave / I could never tame / If I survive / I’ll dive back in

Dying over and over again, Quynh comes out of the ocean with a certain... clarity. Hubris, she says is their sin. They’ve never claimed to be angels, but they’ve refused to be devils, which she says they are. She may or may not believe that their real purpose is to make humans suffer. If Andromache won’t listen, she’ll have to show her what it all means. aka Quynh coming out of the ocean to shame mankind, or just Andy:

Just one yesterday - fall out boy ft. foxes

I know I’m bad news / I saved it all for you

If I spilled my guts / The world would never look at you the same way / And now I’m here to give you all of my love / So I can watch your face as I take it all away.

Five hundred years ago, Andy lost the love of her life. But she meant it when she said she lost a soldier. She was a leader, she should have been the one to face Quynh’s fate. The least she could have done was find her soon, and she failed there too. Now, if Quynh has come back full of rage, furious and thirsty for revenge, Andy is willing to accept it with open arms. She believes she deserves it:

I don’t smoke - mitski

Being with you / makes the flame burn good

So if you need to be mean / be mean to me. / I can take it and put it inside of me. / If you’re hands need to break / more than trinkets in your room / you can lean on my arm / as you break my heart.

Quynh, having escaped her underwater prison, is completely overcome with conflicting emotions. She finds Andy broken, guilty, still wearing her necklace and crying for her. But wasn’t she the one that broke their promise, stopped looking for her, gave up? Quynh, dealing with an unmeasurable and overwhelming mixture of hurt, heartbreak, love, rage, love... love and all the pain that comes with it, and how it all might lead them to a final fight with each other from which both of them can’t come out alive:

My tears ricochet - taylor swift

Even on my worst day, did I deserve, babe / All the hell you gave me? / 'Cause I loved you, I swear I loved you / 'Til my dying day

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace / And you're the hero flying around, saving face / And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake / Cursing my name, wishing I stayed / Look at how my tears ricochet

You know I didn't want to have to haunt you / But what a ghostly scene / You wear the same jewels that I gave you / As you bury me

And you can aim for my heart, go for blood / But you would still miss me in your bones

You had to kill me, but it killed you just the same

You turned into your worst fears / And you're tossing out blame, drunk on this pain / Crossing out the good years

Then, of course, there’s Andy’s side of the story. Andy, did she ever really give up? Didn’t she pray to all the gods she’s outlived? Didn’t she protect that necklace more than her own life, even now that she’s mortal? She’d be ready to offer Quynh anything, everything she wanted for a little forgiveness, for a small moment just to love each other. In the end, will it all depend on the strength of their eternal love for each other?:

Old wounds - pvris

They say don't open old wounds / But you're still brand new

I've got nothing left to lose besides you / I've already lost you once, what more could you do?

I think I could love you 'til the day that you die / If you let me love you when the timing is right / And if they said I had to, I swear I'd wait my whole life / I think I could love you 'til the day that you die

#basically i made this for myself but i need to share it or i'll die so hello !! please validate me #the old guard #andy x quynh #andromaquynh #immortal wives #andromache the scythian #quynh #tog andy #tog quynh #tog #the old guard meta #is it? i never know #the old guard movie #andy and quynh #my post #andromaquynh songs #yes one of this was just to include the title of one of my fics

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amwritesitall · 4 years

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Sarah Paulson AHS Characters as Hozier Songs

Masterlist

The gif is from the From Eden video

And yes you read the title correctly. This is a shit post because I’ve been listening to A LOT of Hozier as I write this week. I’m posting this as a second post for the day because I thought a lot of people wouldn’t like this so...

If I was feeling particularly inspired some characters got multiple songs. Not favoritism just my brain grooving. I vibed so hard with this post, but some of my reasoning is most likely very off because I’m definitely writing this from 1 am to 3:45 am. Probably will do another one similar to this with another artist though

Billie Dean Howard

“Work Song”

There's nothin' sweeter than my baby I'd never want once from the cherry tree 'Cause my baby's sweet as can be She give me toothaches just from kissin' me

When, my, time comes around Lay me gently in the cold dark earth No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her

Lady killer Billie Dean. This makes me think of how Billie would be in a relationship, loving intensely. You know no grave could keep Billie Dean from her lover.

“Talk”

I won't deny I've got in my mind now All the things I would do So I try to talk refined for fear that you find out How I'm imaginin' you

I'd be the last shred of truth In the lost myth of true love I'd be the sweet feeling of release Mankind now dreams of

I might be crazy, but this song feels sexual with the “I won’t deny I’ve got in my mind now all the things I would do.” Billie is a lady killer. She’s got many of these thoughts going through her head. I don’t know. This song just gave me Billie vibes.

Lana Winters

“Take Me to Church”

My church offers no absolutes She tells me "Worship in the bedroom" The only Heaven I'll be sent to Is when I'm alone with you I was born sick, but I love it Command me to be well

Probably a cliche, but if the shoe fits. I stand by my decision. This also fits perfectly into the setting of the season. Prime repressed homosexuality in the 60s. Lana Winters grew up in with an environment, inside and outside of the church, that told her the love she felt was wrong. No wonder the woman isn’t religious.

“No Plan”

My heart is thrilled by the still of your hand It's how I know now that you understand

There's no plan, there's no race to be run The harder the rain, honey, the sweeter the sun There's no plan, there's no kingdom to come I'll be your man if you got love to get done Sit in and watch the sunlight fade Honey, enjoy, it's gettin' late There's no plan, there's no hand on the rein As Mack explained, there will be darkness again

My reasoning for “Take Me to Church” applies to this song as well. Lana isn’t a religious person. She probably doesn’t believe in any sort of after life, so she would want to make the most out of the love she has now. She will love hard while she can.

Cordelia Goode

“From Eden”

Babe There's something tragic about you Something so magic about you Don't you agree?

Honey, you're familiar, like my mirror years ago Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on his sword Innocence died screaming; honey, ask me, I should know I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door

I feel like this song represents Coven Cordelia. This is Cordelia before she’s found her confidence. She’s struggling with finding herself, but she’s still drawing whoever the significant other in. Cordelia is an alluring, complex woman.

“NFWMB”

If I was born as a blackthorn tree I'd wanna be felled by you Held by you Fuel the pyre of your enemies

Nothing fucks with my baby Nothing can get a look in on my baby Nothing fucks with my baby

This has mad Apocalypse Cordelia vibes. I will fight anyone who disagrees. Cordelia is a bad ass bitch. The narrator would be the one describing Cordelia. Apocalypse Cordelia is intense as hell. No one can fuck with her. I wish I had a more in depth analysis for you, but it’s hard for me to explain it.

Bette and Dot Tattler

“Like Real People Do”

I will not ask you where you came from I will not ask and neither should you Honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips We should just kiss like real people do

These gals just want a love “like real people.” They have been outcasts their whole life, so they want a love one day that is just like the love everyone else has.

Sally McKenna

“Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene”

Freshly disowned in some frozen devotion No more alone or myself could I be Lurched like a stray to the arms that were open No shortage of sordid, no protest from me

With her sweetened breath, and her tongue so mean She's the angel of small death and the codeine scene

This could also be seen as a stereotype, but there’s a deeper meaning to this selection. Sally herself at times can be addictive like the drugs she was addicted to. She draws people in.

“Sedated”

Any way To distract and sedate Adding shadows To the walls of the cave

You and I, nursing on a Poison that never stung Our teeth and lungs are lined With the scum of it

Another cliche pick since this one also involves drugs. However, I can elaborate further. Sally is dead. Sally wants to feel something and distract from her monotonous life in the Cortez. Drugs were an outlet before she was dead and before she got into social media, it was still an outlet even when she was dead.

“It Will Come Back”

Don't let it in with no intention to keep it Jesus Christ, don't be kind to it Honey, don't feed it, it will come back You know better, babe, you know better, babe Than to smile at me, smile at me like that You know better babe, you know better babe Than to hold me just, hold me just like that I know who I am when I'm alone I'm something else when I see you You don't understand, you should never know How easy you are to need

This one isn’t about drugs! To me, this song seems to describe how Sally loves. Once Sally loves you, you better not try to pull away. We’ve seen how she can be a possessive and intense and this song portrays that.

Audrey Tindall

“Would That I”

True that I saw her hair like the branch of a tree A willow dancing on air before covering me Under cotton and calicoes Over canopy dappled long ago True that love in withdrawal was the weepin' of me

With the roar of the fire, my heart rose to its feet Like the ashes of ash, I saw rise in the heat Settled soft and as pure as snow I fell in love with the fire long ago

For some reason this song just makes me think of Audrey? It was hard to find songs to fit her, but this one felt like it fit her vibe. I also feel like Audrey hasn’t always had smooth sailing with her love life. No matter how intense the love has been, it seems that it doesn’t stick.

“Shrike”

I'd no idea on what ground I was founded All of that goodness is going with you now Then when I met you, my virtues uncounted All of my goodness is going with you now

This song fits the reason why I picked the other song for Audrey. It’s about love that wasn’t fully appreciated until it was gone. This could definitely fit with her losing Rory so soon into their marriage and like I said earlier, I feel like Audrey has had a troublesome love life that has left her self conscious of herself in relationships, especially when it comes to her age.

Ally Mayfair-Richards

“To Be Alone”

Never feel too good in crowds With folks around, when they're playing The anthems of rape culture loud Crude and proud, creatures baying All I've ever done is hide From our times, when you're near me Honey, when you kill the lights and kiss my eyes I feel like a person for a moment of my life

This gives me big post-Ivy vibes for Ally. Like end of the season baddie Ally. This is Ally once she has found someone to love again, shown in the last four lines. She’s changed to a more confident woman, but it’s helpful to have someone there to support her. She is finally loved fully. I also feel like the first four lines fit her personality and beliefs as well.

Wilhemina Venable

“Wasteland, Baby!”

Wasteland, baby I'm in love, I'm in love with you And I love too, that love soon might end Be known in its aching Shown in the shaking Lately of my wasteland, baby Be still, my indelible friend, you are unbreaking Though quaking, though crazy That's just wasteland, baby

I’m not picking this one solely because it’s about a wasteland like the setting of season eight. I also feels like this could describe Mina’s insecurity with love as well and how she’s worried her significant other would leave. Love is scary for her and in my head this kind of describes it.

“Cherry Wine”

Her fight and fury is fiery Oh, but she loves Like sleep to the freezing Sweet and right and merciful, I'm all but washed In the tide of her breathing

The way she shows me I'm hers and she is mine Open hand or closed fist would be fine The blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine

I feel like this song describes Mina’s tough exterior, but the intensity of her love. I think she would be a bit hot and cold with a lover at first and I feel that this song captures that. At first I pictured this song for Billie Dean until I read the lyrics and they screamed Venable.

You might like: Sarah Paulson AHS Characters as Rex Orange County Songs or Sarah Paulson AHS Characters as Khalid Songs

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phoenixkaptain · 3 years

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Love, Lights, Hanukkah Hallmark Movie Complaint Time

1. Of fucking course the single, Italian woman who just wanted to have kids but just couldn’t, adopted the Italian child. The Italian mother who owns a restaurant because the movie is rascist and is determined to tell us all about how “Italians-a are obsessed-a with-a the food!”

2. The main character who doesn’t know her heritage only listens to Italian opera or Christmas songs

3. “I’m fifty percent Jewish according to this DNA test-“ FUCK you Hallmark that isn’t how dna tests worked i literally googled it fuck you that isn’t how it fucking works

4. The Jewish family owns a Jewish restaurant because of course they do

5. The Jewish mother collects dreidels becuas eof course she does

6. “I can’t pronounce or understand these Hebrew dishes even though I speak Italian!”

7. The fucking French-Chinese restaurant with fucking fortune cookies that actually tell the future

8. “Why aren’t you married yet? You should be married. Why aren’t you married?”

9. “I’ve had two moms but if only I had a dad, it’s so sucky that I don’t have a dad, I love my mom but I wish I knew my dad.”

10. The main character is literally obsessed with Christmas. Why does our main character have to be obsessed with Christmas? Why does this Hanukkah movie have to have all the Christmas celebrating fuckers so defensive over their celebrations? As someone who celebrates Christmas, I am telling you outright that this woman has an obsession and a problem and has too many Christmas decorations. She bought four wreaths in the first scene we meet her in, she has a problem

11. Expanding on the above, the romantic interest is like “this is sure a lot of Christmas decorations” without any judgement or inflection or anything negative in his voice and the response is “Do YoU hAvE a PrObLeM wItH tHaT?” like bitch, he was pointing out a fact

12. The Italian food being “predictable” so he keeps giving her menu suggestions because he’s a dick

13. “I don’t think right now is the right time or place to talk about this big important revelation.” Love interest: “WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHAT’S NOT THE RIGHT TIME OR PLACE TO TALK ABOUT?”

14. Just realized, of course the Jewish love interest is named David

15. Why is David such a bitch about this woman liking Christmas? Like I’m upset too, Bitch, but I’m not going to fight her in the streets about it

16. This romance is boring and predictable

17. She has a palm tree in her kitchen decorated with Christmas lights, I changed my mind, fight me in the street, woman

18. They keep talking about menorahs and what they mean over and over, which would be fine if they said something different instead of the same thing twenty different times!

19. All these Jewish people eat is latkes and bagels and lox fight me bitchmark

20. Licorice for a snowman’s smile? What the fuck? Licorice?? ???

21. The snowman is so fake

22. “I met you five days ago but now we’re family as though we’ve known each other forever, the magic of being from a mother’s womb, I suppose”

23. Her restaurant is literally just pine and ornaments she needs help

24. Of course they still put in a Hallmark style Christmas tree lighting ceremony even though they’re all Jewish

25. WHY ARE YOU LIGHTING SO MANY CANDLES YOUR RESTAURANT IS COVERED IN PINE AND RIBBON FIRE HAZARD FIRE HAZARD

26. They explain every Hanukkah thing ten billion times but don’t translate the fucking Italian

27. OH MY GOD MORE FUCKING LATKES

28. The fucking Italian dad is named Giorgio because he’s fucking Italian I guess

29. Don’t want to be rude but why do all the actors have big noses, Hallmark? Why do they all look like that, Hallmark?

30. OF COURSE GIORGIO IS ALSO A FUCKING CHEF FUCK YOU HALLMARK I’M NOT SUPPOSED TO BE UPSET BY THE RASCISM I WAS PREPARED TO BE UPSET ABOUT ANTI SEMITISM BUT FUCKING RASCISM???

31. “I’m a bilingual Italian man and when I am shocked I resort to my mother tongue becuase that’s definitely how it works”

32. Of course the Italian mother was obsessed with angels do you know how much I hear that stereotype this is infuriating

33. The cabbage display is so upsetting why is the cabbage on ice

34. “Look at all this food!” There are five dishes that each might feed four people that you expect to feed ten fight me

35. Another DREIDEL

36. I was enjoying this for five seconds and then the fucking mom said Giorgio was “very Italian” and I’m fucking pissed I am so incensed I am furious I am shaking with anger wait to make this beautiful moment fucking useless, Hallmark. The Italian man is Italian? I’m shocked. I’m amazed. I’m so stunned that the Italian man who speaks Italian, is in the Italian army, and lives in Italy is Italian I am going to fight Hallmark in the street

37. Hallmark pretending long-distance relationships are the most impossible things in the world

38. The Christmas celebrating main character is named fucking CHRISTINA I hate everything

39. They met each other less than a month ago and she’s already “the one?” That’s not how it works

40. This movie is not about Hanukkah. Every other scene is about Christmas. Why is Hanukkah in the title when it’s about Christmas more than Hanukkah?

41. This woman has fifteen Christmas trees and three menorahs please calm down

42. Kissin in front of the Christmas tree and three menorahs, like ya do

43. Giorgio has been waiting at his counter for the phone call from his surprise daughter for days now

44. The bitch is COOKING in a DRESS SUIT. PUT ON AN APRON

45. The butchering of language really was the perfect end to this fucking mess

Conclusion: Hallmark, please set aside the Christmas and rascism and anti semitism for five fucking minutes and make a halfway decent movie

#hallmark #christmas #hanukkah #movie rant #0/10 i’m furious at everything except for the pretty colours

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feistypaants-archived · 4 years

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I Saw Mommy Kissin’ Santa Claus [Chapter 25]

Rating: T Words: 668 Pairing: Kristanna Summary: Can Santa grant Christmas Wishes? Is Santa living among us? Is it the weird guy on the hill with lots of reindeer? Single mother Anna is about to learn all about the Magic of Santa Claus with the help of her son, Eli.

[Chapter Index]

Where To Read: [AO3] | [FFN]

Notes: That’s a wrap! I hope y’all enjoyed :^) it was super fun to write :’)))

Enjoy!

Anna woke with a snort, rubbing at her eyes and looking around the room. It wasn’t uncommon for Kristoff to wake up before her, but she had kind of hoped that after he crawled into the bed so late last night, she would have been able to wake him up on Christmas morning. After a moment, she recognized the quiet echo of music thrumming from the kitchen, and could smell bacon and pancakes cooking, and scrambled out of bed as quickly as possible.

Tying her dressing robe overtop of her t-shirt, Anna padded down the hallway, poking her head into Eli’s room on her way down. He wasn’t asleep either, and Anna started to wonder just how late the boys had let her sleep. She pressed her hands against her wild mass of bed-head before stepping into the kitchen, and a bright smile stretched from eye to eye when Kristoff looked up at her, the Santa hat on his head moving with the motion, and winked playfully.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” he grinned, sliding the spatula under the pancake cooking on the stove. “Merry Christmas.”

Anna gasped as she looked up, finally noticing all the garland and tinsel that was hung from every edge. The whole kitchen looked like a sparkling forest, and Anna ran forward to wrap her arms around Kristoff’s waist. “What is all this?”

“Go look at the den,” Kristoff said, an even bigger smile playing at his lips.

She bit her bottom lip in excitement, letting go of him and running forward to see what he had set out for her. Eyes wide in admiration, she stepped over the threshold and felt herself about to cry. Lights hung from the ceiling, soft, fake frost was glistening from the mantle and the tree branches, ornaments were hung with care, and the whole place felt like a dream. “Kristoff…”

Eli came running at her, giggling like a maniac. “Good morning mama!”

“Oh!” She caught him, lifting him up off the ground and holding him close to her chest. “Good morning, baby! Did you know about this?”

Eli nodded, kissing her cheek. “Yep! Kristoff let me help!”

“Oh…” she sang, rubbing her nose against his. “So you got to stay up way past your bedtime, huh.”

Eli giggled before wriggling free from her grasp, and went over to the fireplace. “Look! Stockings! And they’re full!”

Kristoff smiled to himself as he flipped another pancake. He may have snuck some extras into the house after he finally had put Eli to bed. “All right, breakfast is ready,” he hollered, splitting the food amongst three plates. “Don’t want it getting cold, right?”

Eli ran to the table, whole body shaking with anticipation. It had been so long since they had a Christmas like this, and Anna felt tears prickling at her lower lash line.

Before he could sit, Anna walked up to Kristoff, wrapped her arms around his waist, and planted a deep, heartfelt kiss to his lips. He responded in earnest, his hands holding the back of her head, pulling her closer. They didn’t pull apart until they heard a little hemming coming from the table. “Excuse me!”

They both blushed, stepping a little further apart, but Anna still reached up to stroke his cheek. “This is amazing. Thank you.” She kissed him once more, gently this time, and smiled. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.” Kristoff’s whole face was warm, lighting up the entire room.

They sat with Eli, and Anna reached over to pinch his cheek. “And thank you, baby. I can’t believe you guys did all this for me.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, mouth already stuffed with pancakes. “It’s because Santa really likes you.” He winked at Kristoff, who simply laughed in return.

Anna felt confusion cross her features as she looked between the boys, feeling like there was something she wasn’t quite understanding, but she melted immediately when Kristoff tapped the hat on his head with a wink in her direction.

“He sure does, buddy. He sure does.”

#ismkscfic #feistypantswrites

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babbushka · 5 years

Text

Ain’t No Such Thing

Clyde Logan x Reader

Word count: ~1600

---------------

“You ready?” One of the guards had asked, handing him his shit.

He hadn’t come into the prison with much; just his clothes, his keys, his wallet.

Mellie had his hand back at the house, had taken it from him right in the courtroom, right as they were getting ready to handcuff him.

He’d never forget your face, how angry you were, when they handcuffed him.

He ain’t some violent criminal! You had shouted, with Mellie holding you back, You don’t gotta do that to him!

He liked how much of a spitfire temper you had, how you always had the words to say what you felt.

Your words bounced around his quiet brain, when he was in there.

Some days, it felt like nothing at all. Like ninety days had zipped by in a flash, like he hadn’t been moppin’ floors and workin’ in the nurse’s office every day. Some days, it felt like Clyde had gone to take a real long nap, and now he was wakin’ up. Didn’t feel like three whole months, didn’t feel that long.

Other days, he felt it. He felt it in the way folks stared at his missin’ hand, at the way he quietly lumbered around. He felt it in the prison fights he’d get into, he’d break up. He felt it in the way the food didn’t hold a candle to your cookin’, not even in the same ballpark. Those days, when he was stuck in his cage of a cell, he felt it.

Havin’ Joe there made things a little easier, a friendly face to talk to.

Havin’ you visit made it even more so.

He wished you coulda visited more, but then again no he didn’t.

This wasn’t the place for soft skinned sweet lipped angels like yerself, this was a prison. Clyde was a prisoner.

He didn’t want you nowhere near there, despite how full his heart felt every time you came.

He made sure to stay on his extra best behavior, because the better he was, the more times he got to see you, the longer they’d let you stay. You were always a ray of sunshine, greeting the guards and officers, trying to make a good impression. You wanted them to take care of your Clyde, you wanted to make this as easy for him as you could.

You hadn’t been in a while, too busy takin’ care of things back home. You called, he spent every single one of his allotted minutes calling. You wired money for the commissary, for both Clyde and Joe. Joe got to eat all the boiled eggs he wanted, with his special salt.

You gave Clyde a list of things to buy from the commissary, a list of things you knew would help.

Small radio, better shoes, nicer hygiene products. Clyde took such good care of his hair, you had always said to everyone, you didn’t want prison makin’ it go lank and limp or nothing like that.

Clyde got them all, and you were right, it did help.

But nothin’ beat hearing your voice, seein’ your smile.

You knew all about the heist, of course. It was the only stipulation for Clyde’s participatin’ in the cauliflower plan; he wasn’t going to lie to you. You had helped, because o’course you helped. O’course. You were one of the people responsible for moving the money around, makin’ sure that nothing was too suspicious. You were real friendly with so many people, people at the bank and the bars and the little places where things could be stashed without any question.

Clyde had spent his ninety days thinking about you, about that money. About what he’d do with it once he was out.

There had been lots of ideas: buy a small house and move you into a neighborhood you deserved, one with a white picket fence and a green lawn Clyde could mow in the mornings. Going to school to study English, that was an idea. Clyde never went to college, but everyone kept sayin’ that it was never too late. He liked to read anyway, read a ton of books in his ninety days.

They were just ideas though. He’d be happy enough just to get you back in his arms again.

Which was shapin’ up to be soon, he realized, in all his day dreaming. Like, in about five minutes kind of soon.

He hadn’t seen you for a while, like you had said, you were keepin’ busy. You were in charge of running the bar while he was gone, that was a challenge all on its own.

“Yep,” Clyde replied to the guard finally, “I’m ready.”

The woman just nodded, and let him out the door.

It was about a five minute walk from the door to the gate, where you’d be standing on the other side, leaning against his car.

In another life, maybe you’d drive for NASCAR, your speedin’ rivaled that of Mellie’s – and that was sayin’ something.

In another life, maybe you’d be doing that right now, instead of picking up your convict boyfriend. He winced at the thought, at the word. Boyfriend. He hoped he’d be proposin’ to you right about now.

He’d be lucky if you still wanted anything to do with him.

Lucky Logan.

Right.

His steps crunched the gravel underneath his feet, there was a slight breeze in the air. He couldn’t help but breathe, take in big breaths, lungfuls of the fresh air. There wasn’t nothin’ like the fresh air of a free man, Clyde thought.

And then his thought process was cut off completely, because there you were, running to him.

Running, at top speed, with your arms outstretched and the biggest fucking smile on your face, until you collided with him and jumped into his arms, jumped up onto him like he was some big tree, wrapped your legs around him.

He couldn’t help but spin you, couldn’t help but crush you to him, ninety days without holding you, ninety days without kissing you, all gone in an instant as he locked an arm around your neck and tugged you down for a kiss like he’d never kissed before.

“Clyde!” You grinned, face flushed from running, hair sticking to the sweat on your forehead because o’course it was damn near a hundred degrees.

You were the most beautiful fucking thing he’d ever seen, the most beautiful. Even with your mascara smudging and your blue jeans and your t-shirt that was definitely his, you were beautiful.

“Hey darlin’.” He said, and something about that made you burst into tears, made you cry and cry and cry.

“Oh Clyde I missed you so much, I thought – well I thought they’d keep you in there forever, it felt like forever.” You were makin’ a whole mess of yourself, but you didn’t care, and neither did Clyde, not when you were kissin’ him like that.

“I’m alright, I’m out now. Just smile, I really need to see you smile right ‘bout now.” He replied, prying your face from his neck where you had buried it, all splotchy faced and racoon-eyed.

You gave him a watery smile, and he kissed you again.

“I’m gonna put ya down now, okay?” He said, hand on your cheek, other arm supporting your ass.

He tried moving his arm away, but you only clung to him harder, grip around his shoulders tightening.

“No! Not okay, you can’t put me down ever.” You shook your head, and for the first time in ninety days, Clyde laughed.

“But I can’t drive with a spider-monkey hangin’ off of me, darlin’.” He tried.

“Sure ya can.” You were having none of it, looking up at him with those big wet eyes of yours, “I bet it’s real easy, why don’t ya try?”

He grinned, shook his head at you.

He opened the door for you, sat you down on the seat inside the truck. You had brought Jimmy’s truck for some reason, wondered where his car was.

“It’s at the house,” You answered his unasked question when he was starin’ at the driver’s seat for too long, “Earl’s been working on fixing it up real good for you while you’ve been away. He wanted it to be a surprise for when you came home, but well. I know you ain’t a big fan of surprises.”

“You’re a surprise, and I’m a real big fan of you.” Clyde said, unable to help a big smile on his face.

“You are?” You asked, a smile of your own.

“Yeah, I am.” He said, before making you shuffle across the bench seat of Jimmy’s truck, climbing on in and starting the engine up.

“Well good, because I’ll have you know I’m mighty in love with ya, and don’t plan on leaving you alone any time soon.” You pressed yourself right against him, laid your head on his shoulder, kissed at his handsome blue button down shirt.

“I love you too much, you know that?” Clyde whispered, leaning down for a smooch, making you laugh.

“Ain’t no such thing.” You said back, big grin on your face.

And as Clyde pulled away from the prison, as those gates disappeared way back into the distance as you rested your hand on his thigh as he pulled away from the prison, he realized you were right.

Nintey days away meant nothin’, when there was no such thing as lovin’ you too much.

taglist: @adamsnackdriver @dreamboatdriver @kyloxfem @kylo-renne @plomblooms (im sorry i know im forgetting a bunch of people im just very tired and cant think straight lol)

#reader insert #clyde logan x reader #clyde x reader #logan lucky #my writing

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