ONLY BARELY CONTAINED @elenafitz - Tumblr Blog

⟨ R. DUNSMORE ⟩.

☆

rhys has only just pulled out a stool to take a seat at the bar when , from across the counter , fitz is already tossing a question in his direction before he’s even got his ass in the chair . and rhys isn’t surprised or , oddly enough , bothered by it in the least . she’s only been slinging drinks here a few months , just a drop of water in comparison to the fucking buckets of time he’s dumped into the place , but rhys will admit he’s taking a liking to the younger woman . in a way , she almost reminds him of his sister , or at very least , someone he could’ve seen her runnin’ around with when she was younger ; they’re about the same age , anyhow , and from what he can tell , she’s just as much of a spit - fire . kinds hearts though , the both of them , and as a result , she’s formed a soft spot on his . her inquiry garners a chuckle as he scoots into the bar , reaches for a second to take off his hat out of muscle memory more than anything before he remembers he’s not wearing one , and settles for folding his arms across the bar top instead .

( anywhere else and he wouldn’t dare , but stevie keeps her place clean , and rhys trusts the staff on duty at the phoenix . it’s not sticky . in fact , it’s damn near the unstickiest bar he’s ever seen , for as dive-y as the place feels . )

❝ matter of fact , i do recall that , yes , ❞ rhys says , and he’s not sure whether he should be grinning or not , because as much as he remembers presenting her the challenge fondly , knowing full well it’d be some time before he heard anything else on it and knowing she’d drive herself up the wall trying to come up with something good , he gets the distinct feeling he’s not going to be drinking his usual whiskey neat tonight . ❝ you gone and mixed us up a winner , then ? ❞ curious eyes try to catch a glimpse of what she’s doing with the glass , but he’s picked the worst seat for a good angle , and he has to wait until she’s bringing the drink over to even get a half - decent look at it . and is it something rhys would ever order for himself ? no , probably not , but it’s a good - looking drink ; he thinks it’d be the kind of cocktail they’d have on the menu out at one of the fancier distilleries in denver , like the place he’d seen with whiskey made with colorado snowmelt , charge twenty bucks and have hundreds of young kids snappin’ pictures of it on their phones .

he lets out a low whistle at the name of the drink and shakes his head , but continues to listen without interrupting ― not that he thinks he could if he wanted to ― as she describes the drink to him . a fond smile finds his lips as she shares that she’d made the honey syrup herself , endeared by her enthusiasm , but it’s quickly lost to a snort as she describes the sticker she’d adorned it with . ❝ first of all , tequila ? you got me out here drinkin’ tequila on a tuesday night ? you know i gotta work tomorrow ? ❞ he doesn’t comment on the honey syrup , at least not yet ; he hasn’t tried the drink yet , too busy fiddling with the lemon - peel cutouts lining the glass . rhys plucks one from the drink , holds it up to the lights hanging over the bar to better inspect it when she presses him . ❝ well , fuck , ❞ he heaves a sigh to look at her , still holding up the peel , and pauses for a few seconds before , ❝ if that ain’t some of the cutest goddamn shit i ever seen . ‘course you can tell it’s a bee ! you did that ? ❞ reaching for a napkin from a stack just beyond the counter , rhys drops the bee onto it ( he’s gotta show dylan , of course ) before reaching for the glass . enough stalling . ❝ made it yourself ? it’s safe for human consumption , right ? ❞

of course he’d never have ordered it himself, but elena had taken to sliding one too many drinks his way that weren’t his usual dark liquor. he’d taken to at least one of them so far, but she was nothing if not determined to keep inching him out of his comfort zone, one drink at a time. and though he argued against the tequila in the drink, she knew he’d try it regardless of what was in it as long as she’d served it to him; rhys was loyal like that.

“tell your boss to come see me if they have an issue with your performance at work tomorrow, i’ll serve 'em one of these and they’ll thank me for it. i’ll even carve more of those little lemon bees for it, free of charge,” her voice lowered to as much of a whisper as the loud music would allow for the last bit, as if it was any sort of bargain in the first place. when he questioned her hand in making them, there was great pride in her nod that followed.

“i’m a talented little bartender, i am. i’m expecting a twenty percent tip just for that, by the way,” elena teased, motioning to the bee he’d set down onto the napkin.

“oh, there’s no telling,” was her automatic response at his question, but she felt the need to clarify, “not that i poisoned it or anything, i’d never do that to my..” elena paused to hold up three fingers and tapped the index finger of each one until the third, wide grin around the words that came next, “third favorite dunsmore.” rhys was undoubtedly her favorite, but that’d never stop her from joking against it, even if the positively darling reaction he had to the lemon peel bees almost made her hesitate saying it. compliments were the quickest way to a girls heart, after all.

“well.. i haven’t exactly taste tested it. you were gonna be my little guinea pig, so depending on whether you drop to the ground or not will determine if i’m gonna be serving this to other customers,” and she was only mostly joking. of course she’d taste tested the syrup, but the drink itself? she’d reserved that right for him first, seeing as he’d been the mastermind behind this little adventure––was downright giddy to see what he would think of his own honey sweetening some little tequila drink she found online. it showed on her features, glint in her eyes shining brighter than the neon lights brightening the space, tips of her glittered nails tapping melodiously ( impatiently ) against the countertop.

#PLS I TRIED #I.#INTERACTIONS ⟨ R. DUNSMORE ⟩.

⟨ S. CANNON ⟩.

“ well if i had enough money fer a bribe i wouldn’t be needin’ your help gettin’ a song outta this thing , “ striker countered , his palm — not far short of the size of a tennis racket — swiping for the quarter and falling short . a please would have likely gone a long way ; for a man who had existed thirty years without a mother even the slightest of manners evaded him . “ means y’ get to hear me serenadin’ you with cash , hank , willie and wayon if you’re lucky . just gotta figure out how t’ work his damn thing , “ a ranch was all he’d ever known . the rolling , cascading hills of the prairies and the boondocks had always been his home , and so all this new-fangled technology was wasted on such an outdated mind . the phone in his back pocket , glass screen spiderwebbed and smashed beyond repair , was an old nokia 3310 , a burner he had picked up when the boys fled tennessee and had never sought to upgrade .

arms threaded to cross across his chest . with their close proximity , it was likely elena could catch on their inhalation the scent of whiskey , straw , stale cigarette smoke and the back end of a cow . “ how’s about you get t’ pick one of the songs ?? anythin’ you want , an’ i ain’t allowed to say nothin’ bad about it . scout’s honour , “

there was an instant roll of her eyes at the mention of money, ‘cause he had to have known elena was never the kind to demand or expect monetary compensation for anything. she was a giver, not a taker––it was what made both of her occupations so fun, writing with no expectation of receiving any recognition for it and making whatever drinks her lovely customers wanted to savor that day. when others were content, elena was happier for it. she didn’t even respond to such a thing, assuming he couldn’t have possibly been serious thinking she wanted him to pay her back a measly quarter.

“you know, now that you mention it.. i do kinda wanna hear you serenade me,” a wicked sort of grin spread across her lips as she held out her open palm, quarter smack dab in the middle of it. “put on ‘ man! i feel like a woman ’ by shania twain. you’ve gotta know that one, right? i think it’s, like, number 13 on there.. unless you’re not a scout after all.”

#I.#INTERACTIONS ⟨ S. CANNON ⟩.

⟨ S. CANNON ⟩.

the phoenix ! ( open for — all ! )

with the glass-ringed bar top and gaudy neon it was no surprise that bradford springs’ dive bar seemed to encourage the same sorts of clientele . the ruffians , the nomads , the drunkards — if the bartenders began to recognise you and knew your name in a single glance , you were in trouble . by that point in his life , striker cannon was shrouded in infamy whenever his tattered converse graced the beer-slicked ground of the public house ; with hardly a dollar to his name , he had a system — one that he would patent , if only he had the means — of ‘ borrowing ‘ abandoned drinks to create a cocktail . whether it stung the roof of his mouth or left him , curled up , in the gutter out back , such a potion got the job done . if he wasn’t slurring by the time the clock struck twelve , he was doing something wrong .

and so that night , clutching a pale orange mixture of beer , wine and spirits , he sauntered to the jukebox , ramming his palm above the coin slot again , and again , and again .. it was a technique that worked in his youth , one passed down to his two brothers , and yet the jukebox only spluttered in response , barely coughing out a single note nor melody in reply to the eldest cannon’s rough hand . “ hey , you — “ a gesture to the first figure at his side , “ — you got me a coin i could borrow ?? “

it was a good day when fitz’s favorite nuisance was flitting about the place and clearing out all of the glasses that they left out just a tad longer than usual, generally swiping them to rinse behind the bar quicker any other night. but there were some liberties they could grant, especially when striker seemed to somehow enjoy these dangerous concoctions of mixed beers and liquors enough for none of the bartenders to care if he didn’t actually purchase anything. with the demand of their job, they were busy enough to not pay too much attention to striker until cleaning off one of the tables near the jukebox landed elena a ‘hey, you’ that stopped them in their tracks.

“you get a coin and a song? hardly seems fair,” fitz argued, nose turned up haughtily, though there was a lighthearted amusement to their tone when they spoke. teasing striker had easily taken quite a high slot on the list of their favorite things to do, so they couldn’t pass up such an opportunity when it was presented to them. a quarter was slipped out of elena’s back pocket, and it was twirled between their fingers as honey eyes narrowed in his direction. “what exactly am i getting in exchange for giving up this coin? i accept pretty much all forms of payment— including bribes, by the way.”

#I.#INTERACTIONS ⟨ S. CANNON ⟩.#hehe

oliviacookes-deactivated2023110

Olivia Cooke for Rag & Bone S/S 2020 Campaign

#ELENA FITZGERALD.#oh yeah this is their everyday lewk

status: closed, for @rhysles location: the phoenix

“so. remember when you gave me that honey, and you told me to make a drink with it?” the absolute shit, rhys was, for giving her such a challenge knowing that she could never turn something like that down. but he knew that fitz had the time of her life trying out all kinds of drink concoctions, no matter how they ended up tasting. not for the first time, they would be trying out a new drink together, but this one would have the labors of rhys’ hard work in it. that made it doubly special, right? it called for special attention paid to the drink as she’d made it, which came in the form of the garnishing lemon peel lovingly cut into what she thought looked like bees. they were definitely bees, from one or two different angles– just not all of them, maybe.

setting the tall glass down in front of rhys at the bar, a satisfied grin brightened her features in the neon-lit bar and she set off in her spiel describing the drink to him. “so it’s called a tequila honey bee, and i made the honey syrup for it all by myself! i brought it with me, but it has a huge sticker that says ‘do not touch unless your name is fitz, you fuckers’ on it.” elena was quite proud of that one, she was. “and the little lemon peels, i tried cutting into little bees.” a pause, and then the raise of a brow was paired with the slightly more demanding lilt to her voice, “tell me they look like bees.”

#I.#INTERACTIONS ⟨ R. DUNSMORE ⟩.#yeah i'm diving right into it

status: closed, for @willhansen location: aspen ridge farm

there was more land than she knew what to do with in her name, far more used to her cozy seattle apartment than a house bordered by ranches and farms. elena had barely begun exploring the expanse of her backyard, froyo in tow with leash in hand, when he’d spotted movement not too far ahead. to her horror, he leapt ahead with a speed her loose grip couldn’t sustain hold of, and ran forward without a care in the world for his owner. out in open land, there was no telling how far he could chase whatever he’d set his sights on, and she’d kept up running after him with shouts of his name until the hurdle of her neighbor’s land came into play.

she almost didn’t jump the wooden fencing clearly meant to keep in animals and keep out trespassers, but.. the farther froyo got from her, panic outweighed the possibility of being stoned to death for entering private property (or whatever it was they did out in colorado — she didn’t exactly skim over any of the state laws before moving). expletives came one after the other as she threw a leg over the fence to straddle it before jumping over to the other side, letting out a groan of exhaustion before running off after froyo again.

when he’d come back into view, it was in the company of another as he ran circles around the poor gentleman. there was a sigh from her as she slowed, relieved that he’d been stopped by a person and not some terrifying animal, like a cow or a mountain lion. in approaching the man who’d caught froyo’s attention, embarrassment was obvious in her features, and elena could only hope that she didn’t look terribly disheveled.

“god, i’m so sorry,” tumbled out from her lips laced with laughter, breathless from the exertion of running after froyo for what’d seemed like twenty minutes. “seems even a leash couldn’t keep him from running after a prairie dog.”

#I.#INTERACTIONS ⟨ W. HANSEN ⟩.

indecisiverps

olivia cooke as lea

naked singularity, 2021. dir. chase palmer.

#ELENA FITZGERALD.

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

ONLY BARELY CONTAINED