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letsquestjess · 1 year ago

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My Symphony - Part 1 (Tech x GN!Reader)

Summary: After Tech hears you playing music, he can't help but listen, slowly falling for the musician tugging on his heartstrings.

Word count: 2.7K

Warnings: Putting an 18+ / MDNI on this one since there is a slightly heated bit in the middle. Mentions of injury and death. Set pre-order 66.

A/N: This one has been quite long in the making but I finally got it finished. Enjoy!

Part 2

-- -- -- -- --

Mumbling quietly to himself as he reviewed his daily schedule, Tech made his way down the blinding white corridor, scratching absently at the itch on his chin. His brothers had already fallen behind on their duties, so he reorganised the items to accommodate any contingencies.

Wrecker usually spends an extra twenty minutes in the mess hall around this time of week, he contemplated, analysing the pattern of delays from previous weeks. And Crosshair and Hunter are still occupied by their disagreement over the bunk situation. Deep ridges settled between his brows and he clicked his tongue.

The end room emitted a delicate melody, tender notes muffled by the room’s sound insulation. He paused by the partially open door and stole a glimpse of what was inside. Rooms in this section of the city were mostly abandoned, but a staff member sat at the Pantoran spinet, pressing at the instrument and mollifying a lullaby in a tempered arrangement of tones and pitches.

Music ebbed and flowed in perfect rhythm, and Tech lowered his datapad. As you focused your attention on creating that blissful sound, your eyes danced from key to key, and a serene smile formed on your lips. Mellow harmonies merged to create a soothing theme that eased his worries and allayed his brilliant, yet always racing, mind.

A set of footsteps approached, and springing into motion, he darted away from the soft sounds and headed for the simulation centre to wait for his brothers.

But the harmony never left him. In the weeks that followed, he still felt the vibrations in his chest and often found himself humming your tune as he tinkered with his latest project. Your music had built a home in his mind, haunting him in the most welcomed way possible, and he purposely began taking the same route to linger outside whenever you played. At first, he wondered if the instrument’s frequency had hypnotic qualities, but after conducting some thorough research into the matter, he concluded that it simply had a pacifying effect on him.

Finding some free time after lunch, he made his usual trek to the training facility and slowed at the euphoric vibration filling the vacant corridor. Rather than checking through the door as he normally did, he opted to sit on the floor outside and let the music wash over him, eyes fluttering shut as he tilted his head against the wall. Every shift and lull caressed him, whispering sweet words and-

“Tech?”

He bolted upright as soon as he saw Hunter looming over him with folded arms and a lifted eyebrow.

“What are you doing?” his brother asked, amused.

“I was… I was merely…” Tech prepared to fire his excuses, but the rich melody behind him continued to play, continued to turn every rational thought to mush. As it stopped and the door slid open, he was saved from one embarrassing situation and launched into another, whirling round and coming face to face with the musician he’d been admiring for weeks. He shoved his goggles up to the bridge of his nose and cleared his throat.

You smiled apologetically at the two clones and scanned the deserted corridor outside. “I wasn’t playing too loud, was I? Didn’t think many people came this way.”

“No, of course not, we were…” Seeking to ignore the knowing smirk his brother aimed at him, Tech stood up straight. “I overheard you several weeks ago. You are exceptionally skilled.”

A breath snagged at the compliment, and ignoring the flush of heat rising, you stepped aside, inviting them into the hushed hum. “If you have some time, you’re both more than welcome to come in and listen.”

“I have places to be,” Hunter stated, “but I’m sure Tech would love to take you up on that offer.”

The clone in question nodded, his jaw clenching against the urge to reprimand his brother for his behaviour. He made a mental note to have a stern conversation with him about it later.

As Hunter strolled away with a tickled grin plastered on his face, you prompted Tech into the room and encouraged him towards the array of chairs. Introducing yourself, you slid onto the cushioned bench behind the spinet. “I didn’t realise anybody came here anymore,” you said. “I thought this part of the city was mostly used for storage.”

“It is, but I discovered a route that gets me to the training facility three minutes quicker,” Tech replied.

“And it leads you right past here?”

“Precisely.” He chose the seat closest to you and scanned over the assortment of badges on your left sleeve. “You work in the data department.”

“Mostly archives,” you sighed, arranging the sheet music and selecting one from the middle. “It can get pretty boring in there but occasionally something interesting shows up.”

With a slight shrug, you began to play, hands floating up and down, and back again to inspire the instrument to sing. The song started peacefully, affectionately, like a friendly explorer coaxing a frightened animal out of hiding. An impassioned lilt of treble notes soared and Tech hung onto every alteration in sound, eyebrows lifting of their own volition as though to follow the stirring rise.

You suppressed a grin at the reverie in his gaze. It had been a while since you’d had an audience, and never one as enraptured as this.

* * *

After your initial meeting, Tech became a regular visitor, often finding reasons to stop by and listen while you played. He conducted his research while in your melodious company, and you quickly found a sense of ease in his presence, admiring his directness and his curiosity.

“Would you like to sit with me?” you asked one rainy afternoon, the elements battering on the ceiling. His eyes flicked up from his datapad and the amber speckles glistened at the proposition.

“I assumed you would need adequate space in order to play comfortably,” he said.

“There’s plenty of room for you, me and the music,” you jested, tapping the vacant spot next to you on the bench.

He approached with a hint of hesitation, but seeing that you could still perform unhindered by his closeness, he relaxed and observed in fascination. Up close, he distinguished each keystroke and the length of the notes as you held them in place, assisting them to shine just a little longer. He was accustomed to the cacophony of war, to blaster fire and the shrieks of the fleeing and dying, but your music sounded like pure starlight and the notion warmed him.

“If you want, I can teach you a few basics,” you said, pausing your pleasing tune. He responded with a keen nod, and you helped him position his gloved digits over the lower level of keys, encouraging him to apply a gentle pressure. “Now, go up a set. That’s it. And up again.” Step by step, you instructed him from one end of the spinet to the other in a series of precise scales and the odd false note. “Okay, keep that going.”

A graceful composition sparked from your fingertips as they glided effortlessly across the top level to harmonise with his rhythm. Concentration occupied his expression, but you picked up on the hint of a grin at your united effort.

As you finished your song on the lower set of keys, his thumb grazed yours, light and controlled. No longer focused on the music, his reverent gaze fixed onto you.

Instinct drove his movements, shaky hands abandoning the musical instrument to find the curve of your waist and cradle your cheek. Seconds ticked by endlessly in a palpable silence. As though a switch had flipped, he abruptly retreated. Alarmed, his demeanour coiled in on itself and his leg bounced.

“I apologise, I am not sure what came over me,” he said, embarrassment blossoming pink on the tips of his ears.

“It’s okay, Tech.” You guided him to your waist and your cheek again, and he melted into your touch. “I’ve been thinking the same. Wanting the same.” His guard slowly eased, but you sensed the vulnerability in his movement. “You can tell me what you want.” Noting him struggling to form a sound, you leaned a little closer to whisper in his ear, “Or you could show me if that’s easier.”

An endearing furrow scrunched at his eyebrows, and you almost saw the thoughts circulating, calculating his next step. He gradually raised his eyes and held them steady, determined not to look away this time. The scent of standard issue shampoo welcomed you into his space and you set a tender kiss on his cheek, letting him adapt to the experience. Like a tightly wound coil snapping, he was on you.

Hesitancy vanished as he surrendered wholeheartedly to his desire to feel you. Eyes squeezed shut, he studied every fluctuation of your lips as though it was his only purpose, to chart the gradual developments, the tender, the passionate, the clambering, urgent need to be part of each other.

The datapad on the sheet music stand beeped and Tech detangled himself from your comforting embrace with a grumble, shooting the infernal device a cursory glance. “A briefing has been called.”

From the way he pursed his lips, you gathered he wasn’t thrilled about going, but you didn’t want to risk him getting into trouble. Certainly not on your behalf. “Go,” you told him. “I will meet you here after dinner. Might even play you some more songs, if you’re lucky.”

“Already am lucky,” he said in his love-drunk haze, squeezing you close to him and only releasing his grip once you insisted he get going. Gathering his belongings, he gave you one last kiss and headed out into the silent corridor.

Tech didn’t meet you after dinner. You paced between the instruments and listened to the persistent click of your steps until exhaustion finally led you to your quarters. After sending him a quick message, you tried to settle down for the night, but the quiet was deafening and sleep only came when you were too drained to do anything but rest.

You woke with a start to the sound of your shrieking alarm, and your heart raced as you fumbled for your datapad, searching for any messages. Inbox empty, you got yourself up and prepared for the day ahead.

The weeks seemed to blend together in a monotonous blur of loneliness and worry until you received news of Clone Force 99’s disappearance during a covert mission. Upon discovering the reports, you made a beeline for the music room and settled at the spinet in silence. Unable to touch a single key, to hear a note without your fear boiling over, you clamped a hand over your mouth and bawled. Your tears dribbled through your fingers and onto the old instrument, salty droplets mixing with the dust on the peeling redwood.

After a while, it all became a distant memory, and you stopped visiting altogether. The kiss was vivid in your mind, and you couldn’t help but think about what might have been if you had asked him to stay with you. But wondering about it now would accomplish nothing. What was done was done, and all you could do was wait.

Bleary-eyed and still half-asleep after another restless night, you traipsed towards the archives and passed a group of clones congregated outside the mess hall, deep in discussion.

“Yeah, it was definitely Clone Force 99,” a clone said to his brothers. “By the sounds of it, they almost got caught by Seppies. Nasty stuff. Couple were brought back on stretchers. Don’t think they’ll be out of the med bay soon.”

Your thumping heart drowned out the rest. Everything you had endured over the past month shattered, crashed, burned, hurt more than you could handle, and you hurried along inconspicuously.

It couldn’t be true. Tipoca city was always abuzz with rumours, and this was merely another. But in the recesses of your mind, in the house of all your dread, you saw Tech lying lifeless on a stretcher, transported home through blankets of rain and howling winds.

You took a diligent breath and straightened your clothes, forcing yourself to slow your flurried steps as you made your way to the medical facility. Beyond the doors, the clone on duty signalled for you to retreat.

“We have active surgeries going on here,” he said. “Unless you’re hurt or there is an emergency, I can’t help.”

“No, I…” You could tell he wasn’t going to let you see Tech, and you glimpsed the badges on your sleeve reflecting in the mirror behind his desk. “I work with data management,” you told the medic. “There were some reports about Clone Force 99, but they were scrambled. I was sent to talk to one of them to clarify a few things.”

“Afraid not,” the clone replied. “Two are in surgery and the other two are getting checked over. I’ll send someone to your department as soon as I can.”

You refrained from asking for more information about who was in the operating theatre. Instead, you nodded your thanks and departed to the one place you knew held some solace. Darkness hid the instruments and the benches until you switched the lights on. It seemed odd returning after weeks of avoiding it.

The spinet, untouched since you’d last played it, beckoned you, promised sanctuary and shelter from your pain. As you wriggled to get relaxed on the bench, the smooth discoloured keys tickled your fingertips, cold and forgotten.

You ran through the practice scales and drove headstrong into the melody that had been haunting you: the tune you’d played almost six months ago when you had found Tech in the hallway and invited him in. Fateful notes mounted and swelled like a gushing river, tearing out of you to expand in the current of song placed earnestly by your hands. Every atom of your soul poured into the music as you rocked forward and your fingers ached from the obstinate pressure.

“If you keep pressing the keys in that manner, it will wear them down considerably.”

Abruptly halting mid-press, the reverberations deteriorated, and you shot from your seat. Tech’s weary eyes met yours as he braced himself on the door frame. The blotchy red and violet smudges beneath his lower lashes crinkled, and he grappled to keep himself upright.

Without a word, you offered him your arms to lean on and he stumbled into you. You noted the bruises and cuts, the bandage wrapped around his bicep, and the way he limped and leaned to the left.

In measured movements, you eased him onto the bench and let out a surprised yelp when he tugged you down. “You had me worried,” you said, mindful of his injuries as you nestled into his lap. “I thought… I didn’t know if…”

Nose nuzzling your neck and arms caging you closer, he gave you a murmured, “I’m sorry.”

Those whispered words wrenched at your heart and you shook your head at him. “Don’t apologise. It wasn’t your fault, and I am just glad you’re okay.” His usually bright eyes stared at you sluggishly and you traced your thumbs along his unscathed jawline. “Are your brothers all right? When I went to the med bay, the medic told me two were in surgery.”

“Hunter sustained multiple shots to the chest and Wrecker got caught in an explosion,” Tech explained. “I have been assured that they will both recover, but it is going to be a slow process.”

“And Crosshair?”

“Minor injuries like mine.”

You wanted to ask more, but all you could think about was his body close to yours, alive and warm. The two of you were together, and that was all that mattered. “You should have gone to your barracks and got some rest.”

“I did not know what to do,” he said, so small and fragile, and unlike him it plucked at your composure. “The medics would not let me stay once they were certain I would be all right, so I came here.” The corners of his lips rose gingerly in a tired but determined smile to be brave for you. “I came here to my symphony.”

As you shifted cautiously and sat down next to him on the bench, you gently guided him to lie down and rest his head in your lap. He adjusted his position until he found a comfortable spot and his breathing evened out.

“Perhaps this will help,” you said, playing a slow lullaby. Sweet notes drifting between you both, you stroked your hand through his hair to soothe him with your touch and the music you hoped would bring him some peace.

TAGLIST (Message if you’d like to be added, 18+ only)

@freesia-writes @the-hexfiles @theeyesofasoldier @savebytheodoresnonjosestuff @skellymom

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rookie-lou · 3 months ago

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Lightning and Sally

It's probably the thousandth photo on their Route 66 road trip.

500 of them are couple photos (Sally loves them all), 200 just with Sally, 200 Lightning-selfies with rocks or bushes or cacti (because the next cactus is "absolutely bigger than the one before and l have to show it to Mater when we’re back home."), and the rest with Lightning posing or spontaneously made because Sally says “I want something to look at when you're away at your races.”

#lightning mcqueen #sally carrera #cars fandom #pixar cars #cars pixar #disney cars #humanized cars #lightning mcqueen fanart #artists on tumblr #digital art #salqueen

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kaderp · 4 months ago

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Hey guys! Thought I'd let you guys decide which comic I scan this weekend!

RS collections are cute little day to day comics about the RS folk

Boom: RS are the origin stories of the RS folk

Struck by lightning and storm chasing are self explanatory, Lightning and Jackson's origins

Charity race: I already scanned this one under 'Chick Hates Disabled Kids', but I would rescan it since I have an actual scanner now

Route 66 Dash: Cannonball run to Detroit with all of RS, Bubba & Chick, Mack and Gray, and the DRH

Adventures of Tow Mater: Red gets framed and Bubba is trying to kick Mater out of town again. Chick is also there lol

I didn't include the absolute monster of an 800 page comic collection cause I have no idea how to scan that yet. Same with the Art of Cars 3.

But yeah! If you guys could vote and reblog I would appreciate it!

#cars fandom #pixar cars #lightning mcqueen #cars 3 #sally carrera #jackson storm #cars 2 #disney cars #mater #tow mater #chick hicks

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planerot · 1 year ago

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Radiator Spring residents ranked on how trustworthy they are in the kitchen

(All these are intended to be humanized headcanons, but can be interpreted however you like. Also, quick content warning for food and a brief allusion to mold)

Flo - She literally owns a diner, (I did some googling and turns out, even though it's called Flo's V8 café, it's a diner. The disneyland website describes the IRL version in car's land as a 'Route 66-inspired diner' ) she makes the best food in town no questions asked. She's the one who makes everyone in Radiator Springs their birthday cakes and dinners each year, and has their favorite flavors and foods memorized by heart. If she catches wind that someone in town in feeling under the weather, that person will have a big pot of soup delivered to their doorstep before the end of the day. She is also very good about keeping her workspaces extremely clean due to the health and safety standards that come with running a diner. 10/10, she is the best by a very large margin.

Doc Hudson - During Doc's earlier years, back when he was still racing, he was a very mediocre cooking. He made stuff that was incredibly bland, boring, stupid easy, or a combination of all three. After his accident and moving to Radiator Spring, he was kind of forced to learn to make more interesting meals after eating nothing but mac and cheese, sandwiches, breakfast foods and other such things for a month straight and growing positively sick of it (because we all know his self isolating ass would NOT want to accept any invites to eat or, god forbid, risk accidentally socializing while at Flo's when he was fresh off a life changing crash). He, overtime, forced himself to learn how to actually cook and thus accidentally became one of the most talented cooks in Radiator Springs, second only to Flo.

Guido - He spent a lot of time in a tightknit, small Italian village, living with Mama Topolino, I feel it's very likely he picked up some tips, tricks and recipes during his time there. The vast majority of what he knows how to make is Italian food, but so long as he has a recipe, I think he could make anything.

Luigi - Basically the same as Guido. Only reason I put him below Guido is because he doesn't have the basically super human reflexes and motor control Guido has, thus making him more prone to spills and mess in the kitchen.

Red - The issue with writing any headcanons for Red is that he's more a gag then an actual character. I did a bunch of digging on his wiki page and all of it can be summed up to 'He likes flowers, is a firefigher and incredibly sensitive'...so I worked with that best I could. I think he'd be pretty decent at cooking since firefighters usually take turns cooking for their team, so anyone in that career usually has to learn to cook something actually edible. Red likely learnt how to cook during his very early days of firefighting before he moved to Radiator Springs. His dishes are definitely simpler, but that doesn't mean he can't make some very tasty, filling dishes. He takes enjoyment in serving his food to others and absolutely will burst into tears if someone insults his cooking.

Lizzie - Lizzie is the stereotypical baker grandma. A lot of the recipes she makes are pretty old, but that doesn't make them damn tasty. Her memory issues make baking a bit harder, but she still manages just fine. Baking helps keep her up and moving, even if it's only in her kitchen

Sally - She's never really had a knack for cooking and does her best from what people have taught her through the years. She can make a lot of really good pasta dishes, but other then that she doesn't really excel at anything.

Sheriff - Incredibly average. He's more the type to get food from Flo's or buy prepacked stuff then he is the type to actually make himself anything. When he does actually bother, all the stuff he makes is pretty good but absolutely nothing to write home about. He's more the type of person someone asks to pick up groceries for a meal then actually make the meal.

Fillmore - 100% more a baker then a cook. He first picked up baking to make weed brownies and ended up really enjoying the whole process. His recipes are very hit or miss though since he likes trying to make his desserts more healthy in some way. Sometimes this means they just taste a little off, and sometimes this means they taste like he just tossed sugar and cocoa powder in a bowl with some dried hay and baked it. He is also a hazard in a kitchen since he sometimes he gets munchies while high and will completely forget stuff in the oven, thus leading to multiple fire alarm scares.

Ramone - God bless his heart, but this man can barely cook. Flo has tried to teach him, but he just cannot seem to quite get it, often burning things, adding to much seasoning or accidentally forgetting ingredients. He loves spending time with Flo in the kitchen, so he gets relegated to vegetable peeling or pot stirring, which he very happily does because it means he gets to hang out with his amazing wife. The one thing he does excellent at is decorating. It took him a couple tries to get the technique down, but he is an amazing cake decorator, his years of painting cars meaning he has a scarily steady hand and very keen artistic eye. Flo always lets him decorate the cupcakes/cakes when she makes them for people's birthdays and they always turn out gorgeous.

Sarge - The issue with Sarge is that he refuses to toss anything out. He isn't good at cooking at all. That man does not give a shit how black his scrambled eggs are or how his chicken wings could probably be used as bricks, he will eat them. Whenever someone asks why he eats obviously terrible food, he just says something about how this is nothing compared to how terrible food was in the military. He's grown an iron stomach and hates wasting food even when it would probably be better for his health just to toss out the suspiciously fuzzy loaf of bread.

Lightning - He has mostly lived his adult life living off of fast food, microwave dinners, canned soup and whatever he can eat when people invite him over for dinner. He could probably be a very competent chef if he was taught how to, but he is a bit to embarrassed to admit it to someone else.

Mater - Do not let him near a kitchen he WILL burn it down. For the love of god he is clumsy as fuck and will somehow seriously injure himself or anyone if left to his own devices. He likes the idea of cooking for himself and his friends, but in practice it usually ends with either a fire, a hospital visit, or some horrid combination of both.

#god this is such a long post sorry about any typos #it's a bit hard to proofread a post this large #flo #doc hudson #guido #luigi #red #lizzie #sally carrera #sheriff #fillmore #sarge #lightning mcqueen #mater #pixar cars #cars fandom

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thatbanditqueen · 1 year ago

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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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gumballavocadoharry · 1 year ago

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How Jack met Alice: Jack Chambers:

*This is not a part of 'don't worry darling'! This is just a random scenario of how Jack and Alice first met each other! Also time rewind as because if Susan and Roger were born in the 50's, then Jack and Alice had met around the 40's.*

Jack had just shot out from the pervaded streets of New York City and into the more rural, sleepy city of Sacramento. He had unloaded boxes from the back of his ocean Buick and took in the brown cube shapes one by one into the pristine bachelor pad he rented for himself. Jack could all picture it: the couch would be neighbors to the kitchen, the dining table would be only sideways into the living room and the bedroom would be decorated in posters of cars and....maybe a small Lauren Bacall picture hanging somewhere.

Jack wanted a fresh outlook from the usual hometown streets of his New York City neighborhood. His old townhouse apartment supported him while he majored his studies in technology. Jack wanted to be an engineer and worked hard at his different odd jobs as a mechanic, a bartender, a supermarket attendant and most recently, a piano player at a jazz club.

Despite finishing his studies, Jack became excited at the idea of being a 'musician' in the public eye. He didn't hop into a position at as an engineer just yet, but he didn't abrade that from his list. Jack had settled down by now; the strong passions and desires of his youthful roaring 20's had worn itself out by now. He traveled a lot, smoked, drank, did some sordid things with friends, grappled the seams of independence from his parents, whom he still left in the suburbs of Buffalo.

"Oh Jack, that's so far away!" His mother exclaimed, "Even with route 66, it'll still take a week to get there!" Jack knew breaking the news to his parents would be very arduous. But he couldn't blindside them with no explanation to where he was going. "This is something that's going to be good for me. And besides, California's not so bad."

Jack glanced over to his father, who was sitting in his usual chair. His eyes were widened, a bit glossy like his eyes had been sprayed with clear coating. Jack lowered his head and shot back to his mother. He notched a crooked smile with pity eyes, shoving his piercing dimples in their faces.

That innocent smile that he's gotten from his mother and those mystifying, scheming eyes he inherited from his father, except with more character...kindness, a gentleness like a fuzzy wool teddy bear with button eyes. They were the softest green eyes that would make you run to him, arms wide with whatever was on your mind, yet they still struck a measure of uncomplicated meekness and scrutiny.

His mother threw her arms around his tall lanky neck and buried her face into his shirt. "We'll miss you." She said, quiet with unsureness. Was this really a decision she had to accept from her child? Jack's father uprooted himself from the chair and for the rarest occasion, he hugged Jack from behind. Jack's mind raced, almost in a solace he created from emotionally distancing himself from the hug for a temporary moment.

His heart pitter pattered as this was just as much as the nerve racking step he had taken upon telling his parents he was moving out for the first time. Jack could still remember the look on his mother's face. Granted she knew- just like any other mother- that he child's desire to leave the nest would only be a normal cry of growing up; the tears still didn't dry themselves. In fact, she grieved like she had lost her child in an accident, when he had only moved a couple miles away into the city.

Jack wasn't too aware of the nature to her despair, but he would only come to harbor it once he himself became a father to two children.

Jack's father had only given him a pat on the back; suckling in his despondency for the sake and pride of masculinity. But it was actually Jack who had no tears in the regards.

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

He looked at the picture of himself, a younger version with his friends after a trip to the cabins. Even the innocence of his eyes were shaded differently than who he was now. Jack sighed to himself with sentiment before unsettling the rest of his belongings.

The picture glass window that was a glassed in cavity to the baby blue sky of the evening that was sun dusted in orange. Despite all the moving and unpacking Jack had done earlier in the day, he still didn't hesitate to put on his dressy black slacks, a clean navy blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He took one last glance at the apartment before grabbing his jacket and departing.

"Jack!" He shot his head up to see Mr. Granderson, the landlord and next door neighbor to Jack. "How are liking the place so far?" Jack couldn't help but unwind a convivial grin. "It's very nice. I'm especially fond of the bay window in the living room." Mr. Granderson showed a toothy grin. "That's one of my favorite features too! I had it specially installed because it really gave class to the place."

Even Jack had to give a nod for how well put together and clean his new home really was. He scanned his watch, trying to cordially end the conversation. "Aw gee, I gotta go, but it was really nice talking to you Mr. Granderson," The middle aged man smiled warmly, "Please, call me Charlie."

Jack lifted his smile higher and winked before running off.

There it was.....The Demally. One of Sacramento's finest clubs in the city. Jack walked in, hung his jacket on the workers coat rack and took his position at the piano. His fingers pattered over the keys with such nuance and grace like he had played this machine all his life. But nope....he had only tempted the skill a few weeks before applying for the job.

The place immediately had the vibe of classiness; like it had become one of elegance in the break of New York City; headlights flashing its glow onto the club, gathering all people from everywhere into this newfound worldly scenery. But the coasts and sunsets of Cali were just fine for Jack. The owner couldn't ignore the panache poise style Jack had mastered in his piano skills. The thick aroma of smoke; smell of cigarettes would sometimes bug Jack's eyes, but he lowered his head to focus mostly on his playing.

The following week, Jack received his first paycheck from his new job that was double than what he expected. "Oh gosh, thank you!" He wanted to hug Benny, his boss, from pure happiness, but decided a firm handshake would seal in his gratitude. The weeks went on and on; Jack would play his soulful melodies and people everywhere would ask who 'the man on the piano was?'.

Jack's ego was built on compliments and praise for his skills on the piano, but still kept his humble point of view of matters. And then....a blonde lady walked in with her friends.

Jack's eyes skipped between her and the piano keys. He was pleased when the ladies were enthralled by the feisty sounds of the club music. "Alice, why don't we get drinks?" Her redhead friend suggested. Cigarette in between fingers and perilous tassel black dress, Jack knew this girl's type. Alice, the shy but observant blonde wore a red curve hugging dress with her hair twisted into a ponytail. Jack couldn't take his eyes off her sweet face.

Even from the piano, she wore a vibrant smile and sophisticated sense. Her red fingernails wrapped around the martini with such elegance. Even when her red lips latched onto the cup, she still drank it with delicate manner. Slowly biting the olive sticking out of it-

Bonk!

Jack's eyes widened when he realized he hit a wrong key; souring the note. His cheeks blushed a hot red, sending a drunk smile and mouthing an apology before correcting the musical pattern. He was so focused on the music, that he became taken aback seeing another guy stand over Alice as she was sitting alone, making her visibly uncomfortable. "Come on baby, come with me tonight," He grabbed her arm, which she struggled to wrestle out of. "No! I'm not that type of girl!"

She tried signaling for her friend, Mary, who was still in the bathroom powdering her nose. Jack watched to grueling scene, seeing Alice try fighting off the guy. "Leave me alone!" Jack found himself shooting up from the bench and grabbing the guy's shirt collar.

"She said 'leave her alone!'" His teeth were gritted, still having a furious grip on to the man's shirt making eyes boggle in their direction. "What are you gonna do about it?" He gave Jack a hard shove. Jack lifted his fist to throw the first punch, but was stopped upon seeing the crowd and remembering Benny; he would be fired instantly for disrupting his place of business.

Instead, Jack motioned for Benny to come over. "This guy making trouble?" Jack and Alice nodded, before the man was escorted off the premises. "Are you alright?" Alice nodded, but still looked down at her feet. "Thank you." She snatched her purse from the table and stormed into the bathroom.

Jack went back to the piano, continuing his song. A bunch of chatter came from the women's restroom before he saw Alice storm out and leave the club. A couple later, Mary, Alice's friend, went over to Jack. "Have you seen my friend? She's the one you saved from that drunk guy?"

Jack's cheeks blushed, "Uh, I think she left." Mary nodded and sent a him a smile. "Thank you. Alice is kinda of your independent type girl...doesn't want a superman." She joked. Jack smiled, "I saw someone in trouble.....I was afraid of what would've happened."

Mary nodded with a smile, "Thank you again." Jack watched Mary walk away to fetch her friend while he stayed at the piano.

The morning was fresh. The birds sung their daily tune, the sun rose to its platform and the radiance of the sky spotlighted everything from the greeny trees to the black streets and tan sidewalks of the city.

Jack awoke in his messy bed head, stomach grumbling from the scamper of a dinner he had the night before he left for work. But the only thing that stood vivid in his brain was Alice. The woman he had saved; her beautiful smile, the one she had when she was dancing with Mary. It broke Jack's heart more than it should've when her smile dropped and turned into a look of humiliation from the wondering eyes around the trio.

The man traveled into his kitchen for a simple meal of toast with cereal. He had a big day ahead of him. Jack hadn't forgotten about his engineering credentials from college. He sent in several copies of his resumes to different companies who would accept him. Today he had an interview with Marshall institutes. He out on one his best suits and hopped out the door, heart pounding louder than his stomach.

The car ride was just clamor of cars shooting back and forth on the freeway, Jack's being one of them. Sweat beads dripped a little from his head; mostly from the blamed humidity of the morning and the unspoken fraught steaming inside of Jack's chest. If he could bite his nails now, they'd be nubs.

Jack's nerves didn't exactly ease when he pulled into a parking space. Out of anything, they worsened. Jack could count the amount of gulps that jumped down his throat. He cleared his throat, did tongue exercises and straightened his tie before walking into the office with superficial confidence.

He stopped at the receptionist's desk ready to alert Mr. Mackenzie of his arrival. "Hello, are you here on an appointment?" A friendly voice asked. A recognizable voice....Jack furrowed his eyebrows before looking into the green eyes of Alice. The girl at the club.

Her hair, perfectly pitched into a bun, her cherry red lips complimented the cat eye she did in her liner. Her forgery eyelashes that hooded her kitty cat eyes seemed to show a similar glance of realization in them. "Uh-" She stuttered over her words a little. Jack was no better as he allowed the awkward silence of the sounds of his dry mouth to echo through the aperture.

"H-Hi, I'm Jack....Jack Chambers, I'm here on a interview with Mr. Mason Mackenzie?" Jack breaking the silence made a flabbergasted Alice shake her head and immediately searched his name. "Oh yes, Mr. Chambers....he's right in his office." Alice telephoned her boss who had sent a green light for Jack's entry.

"Thank you." Jack smiled his best professional one before carefully stepping into the elevators. The hallway seemed long and empty; only the sounds of telephones ringing off the hook and meeting chatter were the only sounds that bounced off the walls. But compared to Jack's mouse steps, they clobbered him in professional dominance. Even with all the tumult circling around, the isolation of Jack alone in this protracted hallway rang louder.

"Mr. Mackenzie?" Jack knocked on the door. "Oh come Mr. Chambers!" The man seemed nice enough. He greeted Jack with a polite smile and approving looks seeing the young man came prepared with his suitcase and formal suit of dress. Jack sat anxiously in the chair, crossing his legs and tapping his foot so lightly as not to disturb the interview.

"I see you graduated from Columbia University?" Jack nodded, "Yes, I majored in technology and engineering." Mr. Mackenzie looked through Jack's resume. "Tell me, why do you think you'd be a good fit at Marshall Institute?"

"Well, I know I have the skills to fulfill the type of position that's needed. I had training before in those areas and have been working with them at several jobs before. Plus I feel like this would be a good opportunity for me to gain more skills and challenge myself in providing the best service possible."

Jack wanted to face palm himself. To him, he sounded like a pamphlet they hand you for a vacation. His heartbeat sped up when he realized he sounded external. Or maybe not....at least not Mr. Mackenzie.

Jack was saving those words for his cover letter, but apparently that was all Mr. Mackenzie needed to hear. "I really like that about you Mr. Chambers. You have such a positive work ethic. Well," The man stood up and reached for Jack's hand. "You are definitely on my recommendation list. I'll give you a call if anything changes."

He shook Jack's hand and handed him back his portfolio. "You have a nice day." Jack smiled, "Thank you, you too." Jack put his portfolio in his briefcase before heading out. The long hallway didn't seem so long anymore. He trailed through it before reaching the elevators. Inside, Jack realized he would see Alice again. His heart sped to maximum speed and his breaths sounded like a panting dog whose eyes were fastened onto a bone that they so desperately wanted to fetch.

The doors opened and Jack hustled out of there, eyes expediting towards the front desk. Alice wasn't at her desk, but much less coming back to it. Jack got a clear view of her white top that was cover in a grey open sweater and a black office pencil skirt with matching heels. Her silver watch that was smaller wrapped around her wrist compared to Jack's bulky black one around his, made all the more contrast.

"Mr. Chambers?" Jack's head looked to Alice's direction. She walked over with a shy girl like stance. "I just wanted to give a proper thank you for helping me last night at the club..." Her cheeks went red, "I was just embarrassed, so I ran out of there. Mary sure got an earful." Alice's eyes went to the floor again. Jack chuckled. "She asked for you when you left. She came up to my piano and I told her you went outside." Alice beamed. She licked her lips and blushed again. "You can play the piano really pretty...it had such a classy, sophisticated tune to it." Jack blushed and shrugged.

"Thanks....I'm glad you're okay by the way," He looked down again, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause a scene....you know.....I was gonna punch that guy, but I knew how my boss would feel about that. He likes to keep the place upscale......That's something I've always had to work on," Jack looked embarrassed upon saying it.

Alice's eyes widened, "Yeah....respectfully but....you've got quite the temper." She giggled. Jack laughed, "It's a Chambers men trait...I guess... I don't know.....I just...panicked." Alice's heart beat louder than desired. There was something about Jack's protective awe that excited her. His broad shoulders, and slight rasp to his voice swirled Alice into a fantasy land of her own.

"I'm Jack, by the way," He held his hand out. Alice blinked, snapping her from her thoughts, "I'm Alice." She shook his hand. "I know you probably already know....because, wel....my name was on the list." Jack's eyes motioned towards the desk. Alice giggled.

"I knew your name already too...I heard your friend Mary call you 'Alice'." Alice blushed, "You got me," She pointed a finger, joking. She looked down at her feet again, "Well, I better get back to work,"

"Me too.....will I see you tonight at the Demally?" Alice's breath became slightly heavy. "Maybe...." She threw off a flirtatious look. But deep down, the effects of last night still played like a record in her mind. Jack could sense it. "Don't worry....if anyone tries to hurt you...I'll have em thrown out." Jack said with a protective arrogance.

"I don't need superman," Alice smirked; going back to her desk. "Your friend said the same thing to me too." Jack licked his lips, "But the way I see it, everyone needs a hero from time to time.....I know how things are right now but......" Jack came closer to her desk, "I find a lady in red to be quite my style."

Alice shot her head up but Jack snatched her a wink and a smile before walking out, leaving Alice without a breath.

The sun lit sidewalk, illuminated Jack's careful steps through as he was marking a way to his car. A thud had bounced off shoulders; upon looking down to see a bright red rubber ball. He picked it up, scanning it to see where it came from. "Sorry about that mister," Jack turned to see a group of kids. "We were playing and it accidentally rolled over here." One of the boys piped up. Jack waved a friendly smile to them.

"Oh, it's quite alright," He handed them back the ball. "I'm a bit of a kickball player myself." He chuckled. That convinced the kids to smile. "Thank you!" Jack gave them back the ball and they all ran off like puppy dogs, waiting for the toy to thrown for them to fetch. Jack smiled to himself. The thought of having kids mitigated into to him like it was his natural purpose. Hearing the laughter from his children playing in the yard, the giggles before bedtime and the sounds of their snoring noses from a long a day in the sun.

The picture made Jack's heart flutter. Usually it was the mother who would daydream about changing diapers or going on long walks with the baby carriage, but it was something that was no surprise or aloof for Jack. "In my day, a father couldn't raise children without a wife....they'd just ship em to an orphanage or with a grandparent or other relative...that is if they'd want them."

Those words came from the sour mouth of Jack's father. In his mind, a father was meant to work grueling hours rather than be at home with his children. He was meant to doll out harsh discipline whenever his children stepped out of line, and affection: kisses, cuddles, lullabies were meant for the mother.

Jack rolled his eyes at his father's illiterateness of human nature. He valued social merit rather than reasoning with himself of the makeup of a man and a woman. But nonetheless, Jack shook off the thought and marched to his car, keeping his mind sharp on his job. Of course, a well deserved coffee break was needed.

Jack parked in lot, scanning over important documents from his portfolio while sipping his coffee and munching on a muffin. His mind became swirled into this loop of Alice, Mr. Mackenzie and the Demally and Benny. Alice spun the loudest. Her song like voice still echoed in Jack's head of her "not needing superman." Oh, and how could he forget that black seemed to also be her color.

His stomach knotted itself once his mind ran over the Demally. He hoped she'd be there....alone, without Mary.....but just her....and him...and her laying on top of the piano as he played a sweet sexy tune...

Jack snapped his thoughts from anything else. He swallowed the rest of his coffee and shoved away his portfolio. Jack managed to return to his apartment and unlock the front door, only to plop down on the couch, completely exhausted. His eyes scanned the clock that only read 11:23. Marked with the auspicious daylight, Jack realized that it was late morning. You think downing that coffee would make me jump awake? Jack thought. He rubbed his eyes and decided a good lunch would be a wake up call for him.

Jack made a turkey sandwich with a bottle of pepsi before sitting down in front of his TV, turning on a detective show. The casual lunch put his mind at ease for a little while at least. The morning newspaper had been read. Then 8:00 struck.

The man found himself scrambling to put on his best suit for Alice- The Demally. Jack donned a grey suit jacket with a white dress shirt, black slacks and black dress shoes. He grabbed his car keys, his house keys and his wallet before scampering out the door in a discreet fashion.

The Demally was already packed. Jack managed to find the piano and sat down to play a twinkle of jazz notes for his arrival. The crowd actually cheered and clapped when Jack's fingers had hit the gauzy polished white keys of the instrument. Jack's glances went back and forth to the piano and the crowd....searching for Alice. And sure enough....there she was. All dressed in this black and red dress, black dangling earrings and black heels with maroon nails came marching into the scene.....alone.

Jack licked his lips like a hungry wolf; pupils huge because of admiring something that snatched his ripened attention. Coming closer, Alice was wearing a black head band, the same from work with those distinguishable cherry lips and kitty cat eyes. Alice had glanced to Jack, only to turn away with teenage girl crush like feelings. Her infatuation made her cheeks sting the color of her dress, but Jack's alluring eyes and boyish smile didn't seem to fade.

"Could you play me a song please pretty boy?" This curvaceous, olive skinned and black haired lady asked, making sure to shove her melons in Jack's face practically. "Of course, what's your request?" She whispered something in his ear, leaving a gap wide enough for Alice to see the stunning lady tickling Jack's ear with her dark maroon colored lips. But Jackhad his eyebrows pinched the whole time. "That song....it's not a piano melody?"

The woman nodded with a smirk. "Leave that to the band then, and come join me." She kissed his cheek, making Alice storm out in humiliation. Jack, brokenhearted whispered to the band who started to tune, but rushed out to catch Alice.

"Alice?" She was standing there, trying to hail a cab and refusing to look at Jack. He was too tongue tied to say anything, but that didn't stop the man from trying. "You look absolutely beautiful," Alice turned to Jack before turning back, "So was she....you still have her on your cheeks by the way." She hissed a little. Jack ushered his fingers to his cheek, wiping off the lipstick mark. "Yes she was.....but I wasn't looking at her...she shoved herself in my face...but....I noticed you. That's why I ran out here because.....I just couldn't pass up the chance to dance with the most beautiful lady I have ever seen.....well...besides my mother," Jack joked.

"You know how they can have satellite hearing." Alice snorted a little, but still looked down. Jack stepped closer and carefully touched her shoulder. "Please Alice....I told you I like a lady in red.....that woman was wearing black." Jack's eyes held a sneaky, but lovey dovey look. He couldn't deny his smitten for the woman in this moment.

"May I have this dance?" Alice's crush feeling overcame her again and grabbed Jack's hand and wrapped one arm around his shoulder and the other on his back. "Shouldn't we be inside?" She asked, eyelashes twinkling. "I like it here without all the riff raff. Plus....I get to see you in the most beautiful form." Jack leaned in and pressed his nose to Alice's, tips of each other's smooshing. And then......they kissed.

Right there in the moonlight.

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

A couple weeks down the line, Jack had been introduced to the Victory Project, where he became one of the technical engineers. His boss, Frank, was very impressed by the credits Jack had and didn't hesitate to hire him on the spot with an abundant salary.

Of course, that would suit him well once a couple years down the line Jack and Alice had married and settled in San diego, in their new home. Life was indeed perfect for the Chambers couple.

Jack was sitting in one of his favorite chairs, reading the sunday paper. Alice following in with two cups of coffee and a morning kiss. "Jack, I feel so much better than I did last week. I took you advice and went to the doctor," Jack's eyes moved from the paper to meet his wife's green orbs.

"What they say?" Alice chuckled. "I'm expecting."

Jack spat out his coffee and looked to his wife with bewilderment and astonishment. He felt himself falling back in his chair and gleaming happily.

"Yes," He mouthed to himself, "Finally....I'm gonna be a dad."

#jack chambers son #jack chambers #jack chambers daughter #jack chambers imagine #alice chambers #roger chambers #susan chambers #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles dwd #dont worry darling

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bookgeekgrrl · 1 month ago

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My media this week (29 Sep-5 Oct 2024)

📚 STUFF I READ 📚

😍 i never did believe in miracles (but i've a feeling it's time to try) (cuoredimuschio) - 215K, steddie - a slow burn, perfectly angsted, absolutely hilariously written getting together fic. like, so funny, y'all.

😊 Three Men Out (Nero Wolfe #23) (Rex Stout)

🥰 bittersweet in the sunlight (2bestfriends) - 65K, vampire/werewolf AU, reread, stucky book club pick - what's supposed to be a 'quick & dirty fuck' leads to breaking down centuries of bucky's isolation - a very enjoyable fic

😊 Mystery Magnet (The Last Picks #1) (Gregory Ashe, author; Andrew Gibson, narrator) - entertaining cozy mystery. Wasn't so compelling that I couldn't dip out of it to listen to podcasts but definitely fun enough to finish. And I'll probably read the next one in the series.

💖💖 +56K of shorter fic so shout out to these I really loved 💖💖

Wide Open Spaces (emchant3d) - MCU: stucky, 2K - short & 🔥🔥🔥 skinny!steve/beefy!bucky

📺 STUFF I WATCHED 📺

In Deep: Life at the Bottom of the Ocean With Dr. Sarah McAnulty - Session 3

Dr. Odyssey - s1, e2

Elementary - s2, e1-8

Handsome - Rachel Dratch asks about hometowns

Handsome - Pretty Little Episode #7

The Sam Sanders Show - Joel Kim Booster on Sex, Wealth, and the Comedy Grind

D20: Misfits & Magic 2 - "A Meeting of Misfits" (s23, e1)

D20: Adventuring Party - "A Synecdoche, Like That Ass" (s18, e1)

D20: Misfits & Magic 2 - "Magma and Mingle" (s23, e2)

D20: Adventuring Party - "Dream Small" (s18, e2)

🎧 PODCASTS 🎧

⭐ Who Killed the Video Star: The Story of MTV - ep 4-8

Consider This - Author Robert Caro on the history of power

Re: Dracula - September 30: Let Me Be Your Friend

Code Switch - Ask Code Switch: Is picky eating about taste or race?

The Sporkful - Preserving Jewish Food And Pushing It Forward, With Joan Nathan And Jeremy Salamon

Pop Culture Happy Hour - Nobody Wants This

Short Wave - If Fungi Win, Will We Be Ready?

NPR's Book of the Day - Ta-Nehisi Coates returns to political writing in his new book 'The Message'

All Songs Considered - 'How Women Made Music'

Switched on Pop - Fall Out Boy and the worst earworm ever

Re: Dracula - October 1: Not My Own Master In The Matter

Welcome to Night Vale #255 - The John Peters Imaginary Corn Maze Experience

The Fandom Show - Jurassic Park

Vibe Check - Justice for Pluto!

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - The Diefenbunker

⭐ 99% Invisible - The Infernal Machine

It's Been a Minute - The SMACKDOWN: Rihanna's greatest hits vs. Black Wall Street vs. Route 66

Shedunnit Book Club - The Poisoned Chocolates Case (Green Penguin Book Club 5)

Off Menu - Ep 265: Rick Astley

⭐ Meat + Three - The Bittersweet History of Pralines

Re: Dracula - October 3: The Holiest Love

Signal Cleveland: On Air - From flush to fresh water: a trip through wastewater treatment at NEORSD

Re: Dracula - October 4: It Is Like Death

What Next: TBD - Helene Proves Nowhere is Safe

Short Wave - What Lightning And Black Holes Have In Common

⭐ Strong Songs - Rediscovering Stevie Wonder, with Wesley Morris and Josh Gwynn

⭐ Today, Explained - Puberty hits different now

Morning Edition - FX-Hulu series 'English Teacher' finds comedy in a Texas high school's culture wars

Morning Edition - A dad and his 2 teenage sons loved heavy metal so much they started a band: Narbona

Morning Edition - Batman’s nemesis Joker returns to theaters — this time he’s got a song in his heart

Re: Dracula - October 5: Baptism of Blood

🎶 MUSIC 🎶

Rock Radio • 1980s

Presenting Crosby, Stills & Nash

Charli XCX & Troye Sivan Sweat Setlist

'00s Pop Divas

personal 'Liked Music' playlist

Rock Radio • Pump-up

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magicxc · 1 year ago

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Hills and Valleys

Synopsis: Legend has it that Halloween is strictly for the scares. With ghouls and goblins, vampires and werewolves, witches and broomsticks, who could disagree?

However, all this friend group wanted was a little trick or treat. Sprinkle in a few party favors, loud music, and a cabin in the woods, the myth was bound to come true.

Lurking around the corner is danger like never before, eager to bring this night to a bloody finish.

So join these friends as they fight to make it through a Halloween they’ll never forget, proving that "the scare" is more than just a fantasy.

Word Count: 3845

Warnings: Talks of Killings, Implied Murder, Nothing Too Graphic for This Chapter

Chapter 1 - Emery's POV

Series Masterlist

10 years later

Good morning Santa Monica, this is Sienna Ramirez coming to you live from Brentwood. It’s Friday October 31st as the time reads 8:32 a.m. and behind me here, is believed to be the most recent murder scene of The Resident Reaper; named after their ability to seamlessly integrate into communities, where heinous crimes are sure to follow.

Fingernails clamped between chattering teeth is the latest bad habit I’ve picked up. It isn’t until my teeth chew through the nail that I manage to force my hand away from my mouth and atop my bouncing knee, while the other reaches for the remote; fingers tracing over the buttons until the volume increases.

Authorities are unsure of whether today's latest casualty is that of The Resident Reaper but can confirm that it matches their murder method of death by strangulation. Just a few months ago, The Reaper’s seventh victim was found at a rest stop near the border of Arizona where the body was discovered some hours later. For the past 4 years, homicide cases have popped up in states lining the historical route 66 where authorities believe California may just be their last stop. Given that the prior victims didn’t fit a particular profile, ranging from men and women of all ages and ethnicities, law officials state that it’s difficult to tell who’s most at risk, but better yet the gender of the person behind these strings of monstrosities.

The remote being snatched out of my hand scares me shitless and a shriek bursts into the quiet air, hands clutching my chest until I slowly remembered that Lynn slept over the night before.

“Enough of this Em,” she pleaded, muting the tv. “You’ll send yourself crazy watching this shit.”

“It’s the news.”

“Oh you know what I mean,” she huffed.

“Lynn,” I croaked. “Every time I close my eyes, my mind races with a thousand thoughts of how it could’ve been ME at that fucking rest stop.”

“But it wasn’t.”

“I can barely sleep most nights and the thought of being alone in this house makes my chest tight,” I sobbed. “Gum isn’t the same for me anymore and the once peaceful patter of raindrops fills me with dread.”

Eyes crinkled in confusion, Lynn carefully sits next to me on the bed, a protective arm cradled around my shoulder as she rubs it soothingly asking, “what's wrong with chewing gum?”

“I had just wrapped up my trip to New Mexico, opting to drive back home for a more scenic view to clear my head.”

“You don’t have to,” Lynn mumbled.

“I need to,” I insisted, shoulders slouched as I stared at nothing in particular.

“I was four hours into my drive with enough pent up energy to push through the last three. It was nightfall and pouring rain, which was rather soothing, but I was on the verge of pissing myself.”

Silent tears streaming down my cheeks has me furiously wiping at them, inhaling deep breaths before continuing my story.

“Just when I thought I couldn’t hold it any longer, I passed a rest stop sign letting me know it’d be a quarter of a mile out. So I finally get there and there’s two other cars parked outside, which was a little too empty for my liking.”

Tilting my head toward her, I blurted “do you ever get the gut feeling that something is off? Lynn I swear the rain hammered down even harder as I sat there, with lightning spooking me silly. It was almost as if it were a warning.”

Fiddling with her fingers, Lynn proposes that sometimes our bodies know when something is wrong before our mind has the time to catch up.

Nodding in agreement, I go on to get this shit off my chest once and for all.

“Before I have time to decide anything, my legs are hurling toward the entrance and into the stall. The bathroom is surprisingly clean and puts me to a slight ease as I'm finally able to relieve myself. I wash up and use my hands as a makeshift umbrella while I sprint back to the car. As I’m running, I see this hooded figure strolling toward the bathroom. That's weird right? It's raining cats and dogs and they’re just taking their sweet ole time getting to shelter?”

“Maybe getting wet isn’t a problem for some people,” she suggests.

“Ehh”

“Still a little off putting tho,” she voiced carefully.

Clicking my tongue, I continued “the whole thing was odd, and to top it all off, I saw a brown bubble and heard the unmistakable sound of gum popping just as I ran past them.

“Finally making it to my car, I cranked the engine and peeled the fuck out of there, my nerves settling the further away I got; but to be honest with you, I just chucked it up to late night jitters. It wasn’t until I heard the news the next day that I felt sick to my stomach,” I whimpered. “I looked death in the eye that night and walked away unscathed, but for how long until it finally catches up to me huh? I feel so paranoid somedays, I wish it would’ve been me.”

“HEY, NO,” Lynn shouts. “Don’t you ever, Em don’t you ever dream of saying some shit like that again.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean it,” I broke. “But who knows if that deranged motherfucker thinks I can identify them? I swear it feels like I'm just counting down the days til the inevitable.”

Embracing me she chided, “I swear on my life I’ll never let that happen. We’ll hire every sketch artist in town if it means plastering that bitches face on every tv network available.” Pulling away, Lynn continued, “I know in the moment there’s so much going on that it’s easy to confuse the details. But usually once enough time has passed after a traumatic event, we can begin to piece everything together. So, after all this time, do you think you could make them out?”

“No,” I sighed. “It was dark, rainy, and I sprinted right past them, just barely glimpsing their face.”

“Could you at least tell if it were a man or woman?”

“No Lynn, my story hasn’t changed and neither has my memory. They were wearing a hoodie, were tall, slender, and of fair skin. That’s all I got.”

“Hmm, so that narrows it down to about 60% of Cali.”

“Pftt, who you telling?”

“Listen, I’m down for you healing in whichever way you feel necessary, shit I’m practically moved in, but I cannot watch you self-destruct like this,” she says waving the remote in the air. “Unless they’re telling us exactly who to look for, no more binge watching this assholes' increasing kill streak, ok?”

“Ok, but can I at least finish the rest of the news?”

“Emmmm,” she groans.

Snatching the remote from her hand, I press the button to unmute the tv, quickly grabbing the batteries from the back and tossing them in different corners of the room to buy me more time.

Her annoyed screech has me fighting back laughter as she climbs off the bed in search of the batteries. I know she means well, but being that close to the Resident Reaper has had me on edge for months. And who knows, somehow by me watching the news, I feel like something might come to me. Maybe they’ll get sloppy enough to leave a clue behind and it’ll be something that I overlooked that night. Just anything to put me at ease and that peasant behind bars.

Police Captain Van Gogh and her troops are working tirelessly to bring this homicidal maniac to justice, however as we roll into the late hours of the holiday night, authorities are urging everyone to stay vigilant, drink responsibly, and party earlier. My name is Sienna Ramirez, signing off for the night and until next time, Happy Halloween.

“I missed it.”

“Good,” Lynn screams from under the bed.

In a huff of frustration, she gets up and unplugs the tv from the wall; as I plop onto the sheets, eyes glued to the ceiling.

“What’s so odd about brown gum?” she inquires. “There’s tons of flavors out there, why did the brown one throw you off?”

Leaning up on my elbows, I ask “when have you seen a brown gum ever? Is that really the first pack you’re reaching for? A shit flavored chewing gum?”

“Points were made,” she conceded. “But hey, enough of this boogey bitch. Lorenzo’s hosting tonight’s Halloween party up at his parents lake house and I think it’ll serve as a great distraction for the next few hours.”

“Didn’t you hear Sienna,” I retorted, “she said to party earlier and it’s already noon.”

“Emery, this party is gonna be chocked full of people we know,” she deadpans. “And besides, the Resident Reaper can’t catch us all, can they?”

“Points were made.”

“Exactly,” she chuckles. “And if it’ll make you feel any better, we can triple up on the buddy system, so rather than two people, we can do groups of three and make it a real challenge for that motherfucker.”

“God, I love you,” I breathe out.

“I love you too. Now get up and get dressed because I have a few last minute things I need to get for my costume.”

“You’re going as Daphne, what else could you possibly need other than a purple dress and scarf.”

“I’m going to accessorize,” she sighed. “God, sometimes it’s tough being the only fashion forward one. And plus I need to pick up a few things for Jason, he’s going as Fred.

Rolling my eyes, “ahh so we’re finally worthy enough to meet your boy toy huh?”

“Em he’s not like the rest, I really like this one,” she gushed. “Now, get your ass in the shower.”

“Aye aye captain,” I said dryly, giving a salute.

|~~

I’m who every nigga wife fear, thick-thighed nightmare, I’m the boogie bitch ho I’m every nigga type yeah.

Unbuckling my seatbelt, it’s clear that Lorenzo’s party is in full effect and as I glance down at my costume, groaning in annoyance that I’ve let them talk me into this.

“Don't even think about it,” Lynn protested. “Besides, it’s too late to change.”

“Girl, whose dumbass idea was this anyway?”

“C’mon now, I thought it was cute and everyone else agreed.”

“I mean we could’ve chosen literally anyone else,” I insisted. “The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles was right there. You know green is my color.”

“Turn this on,” she hissed, pointing to her head. “There’s five of us in total.”

“Rude.”

“Slow! Besides, a turtle? Girl be for fucking real and glad as hell that you didn’t have to be Scooby.”

“Be gLaD yOu DiDn’T hAvE tO bE sCoObY,” I mimicked. “Bitch where the fuck ya nigga at?”

As if on cue a hand slams against the window of the car, startling us and giving me a mini freaking heart attack.

Breath fogging against the windows, the only thing I can make out is an upturned smile on the other side as my hand quickly pushes on the lock button. A light chuckle from beside me has my head twisting until I finally put two and two together, wet palms rubbing down my skirt to alleviate some of the sweat.

“Ahh, so this must be Jason,” I asked, thumb pointing in the direction of the glass.

A giddied yelp as she exits the car and jumps into his arms is all the answer I need, eyes rolling as I watch them swap dna. Stepping out of the car, I cleared my throat eager to meet the man whose had my friend dickmatized for the past couple of weeks.

“Ohh sorry Em,” Lynn giggles, swiping at his mouth to remove any lingering lipstick. “This is Jason, Jason Emery,” she gestures toward the both of us.

“Nice to meet you, sugars told me a lot about you Emery.”

“Sugar?”

“Yes, sugar,” he repeats. “I like to call her that cause she’s so sweet.”

The sound that slips from Lynns lips has me holding back my own laughter, shocked that such a noise could come from her. And it’s then that I realised that my girl is whipped. But they must still be in the honeymoon phase cause just like that I don’t exist anymore and they’re back to sucking each other's face off.

Another clearing of the throat seems to bring them back and we all finally agree to head inside.

Stepping through the threshold, I see bodies everywhere and I must give credit to some of these amazing costumes. The bass from the music has my heart thumping and for the first time in a long time I feel the shackles of fear loosen up, my body at ease as I eye all the familiar faces. Making my way over to Shaggy, I scream the lyrics to the rest of the song, feeling every bit of turnt in this atmosphere.

Say my name like candyman and bitch you know I'm there, these hoes wished they saw me when they looking in the mirror.

Red bottoms on my feet, bloody mary on my toes, every time I pop out it get scary for you hoes.

At some point throughout, I found myself throwing ass to the green goblin and as the song wraps up, it seems the mystery gang's all here.

“Ayeee, and to think you didn’t even wanna be Velma,” Steph screams in my ear. “Meanwhile you wear her so well. Of course I would've done it better.”

“Well woof woof bitch, I see you rock Scooby just as good,” I countered. “Pick a longer straw next time and you wouldn’t be in this predicament.”

“Hey, hey, hey, all my bitches bad,” Lorenzo yelled. “No need to get spicy.”

“I must say, your pick was spot on Lenny,” Steph hooted. “Cause much like Shaggy, your ass stays high.”

“Well life often imitates art.”

“I don't think that’s how it goes.”

“Everyone shut the fuck up and meet my heart in human form,” Lynn screams over our conversation, wrapped in Jasons arms, his face buried between her neck.

“Ahh so this is the infamous Jason, run while you still can,” Lorenzo jokes, dapping him up.

Staring daggers through him, Lynn goes through introductions, handshakes get thrown in the mix, and Julez interrupts our greetings, oddly enough dressed as Scrappy Doo. She goes on to call us shit friends for leaving her out of the equation, but adds how she “managed to find something last minute anyway.”

Julez is what I’d call a floater. She drifts from friend group to friend group and while we’ve always been cool, she’s never really been as close with us as we are with each other. She’s always had her own thing going on and I can respect that. Come to think of it, she wasn’t invited because she was supposedly in Atlanta on a business trip. Whatever! Apologies get thrown around and we focus back on the conversation at hand.

“So where did y’all meet?” Lorenzo asks.

“In the coffee shop,” Lynn gushed.

“Go on,” Julez urged.

“I ordered my usual as I do everyday, and like most days I was running a little late for work except I had a presentation that morning so I couldn’t just stroll in at my usual time” she continued. “So I’m hightailing it out of there and I bump into this brick wall smelling fresh out of heaven.”

“Ohh what cologne were you wearing?” Steph interrupts. “I don't think my brother will appreciate another tie set this Christmas.”

“Well it became coffee scented real quick,” Jason chuckled.

A sea of groans sounded with everyone wincing at the idea, while Lynn nodded in faux concern.

“So lemme get this straight,” I blurted out. “Lynn spills coffee all over you at like 9 in the morning and the first thing you think to do is exchange numbers?”

“No no no Em, so get this,” Lynn explains. “I ran to get some napkins and started apologizing profusely until he grabbed both my hands, pleaded for me to relax, and suggested that I make it up to him with a lunch date.”

“Her treat of course, I mean it was only right” he jokes.

“Ahh boy, you’ve got a funny one.”

“No need for sarcasm Julez, that was actually cute,” Steph pointed out.

“Well gang, it was nice to meet you all,” Jason waved to us. “But I think it's about time we split up.”

And with that they left, hand in hand. I’d be lying if I said I weren’t a little jealous. I think it’s always bittersweet when one of your close friends gets into a relationship and you no longer have the same access to them as you once did. But green-eyed monster aside there’s something about him that seems a little off, though I can’t quite put my finger on it just yet.

“What’s going on up there?” Julez questioned, tapping my temple.

“Nothing really, I’m just meeting him the same as you are.”

“Well he seems pretty cool, though only time will tell huh?”

“That right there Lenny, and he’s fine, I’ll give her that,” Steph adds.

“Can we also add sweet talking to that list,” I butt in. “So get this, ole lover boy calls her ‘sugar’.”

A round of laughter cuts through the music, each of us dying at the thought but even I can admit that shits kinda cute.

“That’s military men for you, mark my words they’ll be married by Christmas,” Julez assured us.

“Military? How the hell did you find that out?”

“I googled his ass Lorenzo, how else?!”

“We just met the motherfucker, what do you mean?”

“Lenny, we’ve been knowing his name though,” Julez retorts. “You’d be amazed what you can find out with the google search engine, like the fact that he’s served two tours in Iran.”

“Jinkies, what are you, the FBI?” I asked, fully intrigued. “But what else did you find out?”

“Yeah, and why didn’t you tell us?”

“Oh Steph, not you too?” Lenny cried. “You know what I don’t even wanna know. I’m off to find that sexy ass bunny I saw earlier.”

“Aye ladies, let's do this later yeah? I came here for a good time not a long time,” Julez raved.

“Alright fine, but tomorrow I want full deets bitch,” Steph warned.

“I got you, but as of now I need another drink like four drinks ago. And speaking of, y’all should try the Jekyll and Gin next to the punch bowl; shit they need to call it puppy power cause my ass hasn’t stopped moving yet.”

“Yeah or talking,” Steph muttered.

“And then there were two,” I noted.

“Uhh more like one, I have to flag down that fine ass Captain America I saw earlier.”

These bitches really left me, and to think I - ohhh, damn even in real life Spiderman can’t commit to shielding his identity. Not that Im complaining cause that boy is fine as fuck. Shit maybe tonight instead of shooting webs, he can shoot his cum down my throat.

“Ayo Miles Morales, come here boy.”

|~~

“Oh my gosh, how the hell did we manage to get roped into helping you cleannnnnn,” Lynn complained.

“Guys we’ve been doing this since highschool, why are y’all acting brand new?”

“Dammit Lenny, I should’ve left while I had the chance.”

“Steph you’ve been drinking all night, how the hell were you planning on getting home without driving?” Lorenzo countered.

“And as ritual would have it, I assume we’re all sleeping here then?” I asked.

“See, Em gets it and I got the guest room all set up for you guys.”

“Two rooms, five people. That gives us about 2-3 persons to each room,” Jason proposed. “Sugar and I are more than willing to squeeze one more in.”

“No, the hell we’re not,” she whispered.

“Woah woah woah, what do you mean five people? Where the fuck is Julez?” Steph barked.

“That sneaky bitch, she’s probably halfway back to the A right now,” Lynn suggests.

“I mean the guest room is big enough right Steph, why don’t we let those three have it while you and I catch up for old times sake?” Lorenzo recalled.

“NIGGA THAT WAS ONE TIME.”

“Well I, for one, am not sleeping on the couch again so Lenny and Steph, no funny business please,” I stressed.

For a while I really thought Steph and Lenny would be endgame; that the constant flirting and bickering was just their way of expressing feelings. But in a weird way, I'm glad that it didn’t work out, shit the group is at peace because of it really; well as peaceful as peaceful can get. Those stubborn sons of bitches would surely find a way to make things awkward with us if things ever went sour between them.

Dragging the trash bag across the floor, I chuck it in the corner and take a seat on the window sill; retiring from my duty as trash collector for the night.

“Lenny, you know I'm down to help clean, but I'm pretty sure we can do this tomorrow,” I yawned.

“Yeah man, I’m no lightweight but even I can barely keep my eyes open.”

“J’s right Lenny, we can finish this off tomorrow.”

“No we can’t Lynn, my parents are gonna be back here first thing in the morning and I need this place in pristine fucking condition,” Lorenzo snarled.

“Well why would your dumbass host it here at the lake house then,” Steph screeched.

Leaning my head against the window pane, their bickering becomes a distant noise that fades into the background, eye lashes steadily fluttering against my face; sleep begging me to surrender.

The waves in the lake bring such serenity, the way they gently crash against one another, gracefully creating ripple after ripple. My eyes drift across the water that’s become my own personal lullaby, but it’s interrupted by floating debris. Frustration rears its ugly head at the disturbance, eyes squinting in confusion at the silhouette I see.

Sitting up further, my hands hastily reach for the glass, firmly pressed against it; brows snapped together in confusion as realisation flashes across my face. Denial grasps me in its clutches, fingernails painfully scratching against the window until the debris floats closer, revealing a face that brings my worst fear to life.

Hands balled into fists, they beat against the window. Angry, hot tears cloud my vision as they stream down my cheeks all the while strong arms grab at my fists to stop their assault. It isn’t until I hear the choir of concerned gasps and shhh’s that it dawns on me that the piercing scream is indeed coming from me. I fight against their clutches, arms swinging at whoever is in sight until I find myself pinned to the ground, my friends begging me to tell them what’s wrong.

“Julez,” I hiccup as I point to the window. “It’s fucking Julez. They’ve found me.”

#Emmy Writes #Emmy Tries #SpookySzn #Halloween Kills #Halloween Series #Halloween #Shit Just Got Real #Walk With Me #Hills and Valleys #Horror

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astra-galaxie · 1 year ago

Text

"A pleasure to meet you! Anders has told me a lot about you! It's an honour to meet some of the Bureau’s finest agents!" - Terrance Zimmerman

Biographical information

Full Name: Terrance Zimmerman

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Heteosexual

Status: Deceased

Age: 66 (season 3)

Birth: 1950

Race: Human

Cause of Death: Strangled

Nationality: German

Origin: Berlin, Germany

Residence: Berlin, Germany

Profession(s): Earth Ambassador

Family: Otto Schmetterling (half-brother) (incarcerated)

Affiliation(s): GIA

Profile

Height: 5’7”

Age: 66 (season 3)

Weight: 193lbs

Eyes: blue

Blood: O+

Zimmerman was a man of average height and was a little chubby with pale, wrinkled skin, blue eyes, short, combed-over white hair, and a small white mustache. In his first appearance in Star of Death, he wore a dark brown tweed suit with a black turtleneck, dark gray pocket square, and shiny black dress shoes. He also had wire-rimmed glasses and a gold pocket watch attached to his suit jacket.

In his second appearance in Out of This World Murder, he switched his clothes for a light gray suit with a blue tie and a gold Earth lapel pin on the left side of his chest.

Synopsis

Zimmerman was Earth’s Ambassador who appeared first as a minor character in Star of Death before becoming the victim in Out of This World Murder.

As an Ambassador, Zimmerman represented Earth at intergalactic events such as the Intergalactic Summit, a conference that happens every five years. He enjoyed his job and the celebrity-level status that came with it, but he hated the long list of responsibilities. It was a constant cycle of meetings, press conferences, galas with other galactic dignitaries and, of course, the never-ending paperwork. Zimmerman tried to pawn his work onto other people, including his Assistant Ambassador and subordinates, but he still had little free time.

(Of course, if Zimmerman had learned how to manage his time and workload, he would have had an abundance of free time. Alas, he chose the lazy route and thus, his work just kept piling up.)

Outside his Ambassador job, Zimmerman wasn’t a very interesting man. He didn’t have any friends, most of his family was dead, and those who weren't he wasn’t close with, and he never socialized unless his job required it. Therefore, whenever he did have free time, there was nothing for him to do except sulk around his house in Berlin. He never had the chance to perfect any hobbies, so his days were spent reading or visiting the local art galleries.

Leading up to his death, he spent his days planning his speech for the Intergalactic Summit. Or rather, he spent his days hounding his Assistant Ambassador to finish his speech. Zimmerman wasn’t the best at creating speeches, but the Hybrid had a way with words. The only downside to their partnership was that Zimmerman had to work with not only a Hybrid but the genderfluid Hybrid child of two gay men.

(Bisexual in Aslan's case, but Zimmerman couldn't be bothered to learn the correct terminology.)

But Zimmerman kept his mouth shut; he was nearing retirement, and all he had to do was finish his work, and then he could relax in a life of luxury. So, when the day of the Summit arrived, he put on his finest suit and departed for the Intergalactic Courthouse. He invited his younger half-brother, Otto, along as his plus one for the event. Otto was the only living relative Zimmerman had that he was still close with, and while his brother was hurt by his secrecy regarding his job, the two were working on rebuilding their relationship.

While waiting for the Summit to start, Zimmerman spent most of his time in the Ambassador Lounge and Earth’s office. However, while he was supposed to be using his time to prepare for his presentation, he spent most of it causing trouble. The first was Anders, whom he had harassed for weeks about ensuring the speech was perfect. And since he was such a “lovely” man, Zimmerman expressed his “gratitude” by verbally insulting his Assistant and claiming their fathers only kept them out of pity for the Hybrid.

Zimmerman later belittled Saturn’s Assistant Ambassador after she had tried to offer Earth help with their presentation. Astrid was hurt and angry that he mocked her for trying to help Earth become accepted into Universal society. She had spent a long time on Earth getting to know its people because she wanted to see the planet become one with the universe. But if Zimmerman was going to refuse help from other planetary Ambassadors, Astrid feared that Earth might not succeed at this summit.

The next person to fall victim to Zimmerman was RaN-D-O'lf. The small alien wished to help his Earth friends win the Summit. He wanted to see them happy and be able to visit his human friends whenever he wanted to. He also wanted to be able to eat Pretty PIeces again since they were an Earth-exclusive candy. He offered to speak as a witness on Earth’s behalf, but Zimmerman accused RaN-D-O'lf of trying to sabotage Earth’s chances due to the alien being imprisoned by humans for decades. Zimmerman attacked RaN-D-O'lf, breaking his jetpack. But RaN-D-O'lf kept quiet about the attack, not wanting to ruin his friends’ chance at success.

Not long after attacking RaN-D-O'lf, Zimmerman encountered Magnus as he and Otto waited to use the teleporter. The Asgardian was gnawing at his chew necklace to cope with the stress the Summit had caused. Zimmerman thought it was unprofessional for an ex-Prince and now G.I.A to be chewing on jewelry while on duty, so he ripped the necklace off Magnus’s neck to confiscate it. Magnus tried to get it back, but Zimmerman threatened to report him for insubordination if he didn’t do as the Ambassador said.

Lastly, not even Otto was spared from Zimmerman’s anger. Zimmerman discovered that his brother had somehow been contacted by The Curator, the universe’s most wanted criminal. He knew Otto had been researching how to develop a trade route between Earth and other planets for after winning the Summit, but he had no idea how The Curator got wind of his brother’s plans. He tried to convince Otto not to go through with the deal, but the younger man wouldn't listen. The argument quickly grew heated, and when Zimmerman threatened to use his Ambassador authority to stop his brother’s plans, Otto attacked him.

Otto strangled the Ambassador until he felt Zimmerman take his last breath. He may have loved his older brother, but he also loved money; he just never imagined that he would be forced to choose between the two. Otto had hoped he and Zimmerman could have become business partners, but sadly, Zimmerman’s choice not to tell Otto the truth about The Curator helped lead to his demise. If Otto had known The Curator was a criminal, he would have withdrawn from the alliance.

Unfortunately, neither brother got what they wanted in the end. Zimmerman was dead, and Otto would spend the rest of his life in prison. But on the bright side, Earth won the Summit, with Anders and Michelle representing the planet as Ambassador and Assistant Ambassador, respectively. Even if Zimmerman didn’t care much about Earth’s integration into Universal society, others did, and they weren't going to lose this time. Now, the Earth branch of the GIA will begin integrating Earth and humans into their rightful place in the universe, thus finally making it whole.

Organization(s)

G.I.A.

Rank: Ambassador

Story Information

First appeared: Star of Death

Trivia

His name is actually canon in the game. It was in the list featured on the Save The World case Crash and Burn. Katrinahood63 suggested in the comments on Wattpad that the names could be used for OCs since the only person we met from the list was Lavinia De Brills, so I decided to borrow one of the names for this character! Thanks for the suggestion, Katrina!

I made him German because Zimmerman is a German surname

I considered making him SOMBRA but decided I had done that enough with my original victims and killers, so I just made him a homophobic, transphobic asshole instead! I enjoy killing those types of characters; it's strangely therapeutic!

He was one of the oldest Earth Ambassadors to date

He loved his brother despite them being half-siblings, but the two drifted apart when they became adults, and their relationship weakened

Disclaimer: Character design was created using Rinmarugames Mega Anime Avatar Creator! I have only made minor edits to the design! Background courtesy of CriminalArtist5

Links to my stories:

The Case of the Criminal (Ao3/Wattpad) Killer Bay (Ao3/Wattpad) Where in the World are the Killers? (Ao3/Wattpad)

#criminal case #astra's ocs #my ocs #criminal case save the world

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