#help. it's 4am and have to get up in six hours. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rafferty3207 · 2 years ago

Note

hi! could i request jamie x reader. neighbours. annoyance to lovers please?

I loved this idea and also got massively carried away as always, so this will have to be split in two parts!

warnings: two horny idiots as usual, swearing, artist fem!reader, nudity

Too Good to be True (part one)

You knew it was too good to be true.

When your mum’s quirky bohemian friend Sylvia told you that she needed someone to house sit over the summer, you never realised it would look like this. You had always known she was well-off, but it turns out Sylvia was rich rich. Her house was in a beautiful area of London you had never been before, full of tall semi terraced Georgian buildings with big ornate gardens. It was the sort of area almost exclusively frequented by yummy mummies and incognito celebrities.

As you walk around all the gorgeous rooms, tenderly stroking the furniture, you felt like you couldn’t have wished for a nicer place if you tried. After living in an awful house share with terrible roommates for the last six months, you were ready for some alone time.

This was not to be. On your first day in the house, after several hours exploring all the nooks and crannies, you eventually fall asleep in her massive bed around midnight; however, you are rudely awoken about four hours later by the sound of arguing outside. You try to ignore them but it only gets louder, until you are forced to put on one of Sylvia’s many(!) silk robes and investigate.

You march outside to see two men facing each other in the doorframe of the house attached to yours.

“Would you two mind shutting the fuck up? It’s 4am and some of us are trying to sleep?”

They both turned around. They are both incredibly handsome; one is dark and surly looking and standing outside with his arms crossed. The other has an incredible jawline and floppy boyband hair, and is still standing in the doorway. The boyband one looks you up and down and you feel your cheeks heat up. It’s times like these you regretted sleeping in the nude, as you huddle the way-too-thin robe tightly around you. He eventually folds his arms indignantly and opens his mouth.

“Love, you don’t understand, we’re -”

“I do not give a flying fuck who you are, just be quiet. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in months and I’m not about to have two bozos ruin it with their lover’s tiff.”

You huff, turning swiftly back indoors before a sharp night’s breeze could expose you.

The surly man who had remained quiet for this entire exchange turns to his friend.

“I like her.”

____

The next morning, you open the front door to find a small beautiful wrapped box.On the label it just says,

Hey Neighbour,

Sweet Dreams

Jamie xx

Jamie. That must have been the floppy haired one.

You tentatively open it to find a small pair of earplugs. The cheeky git.

However, that night when you climb into bed, you spot the box of earplugs. You don’t want to use them out of spite, but also you are shattered and couldn’t risk getting woken up again.

You were surprised to wake up a whole 12 hours later. It's the best you've felt in a long time. You look up the earplugs online and it turns out they are very expensive. He may be rude, but at least he wasn't cheap. You consider thanking him, especially as you start regularly seeing him stretching or working out in the garden, until one day he catches you looking. He waves at you with the smug grin of a prick who knows how good he looks, and you have to immediately walk away. At this point you decide never to talk to him again if you can help it. After all, it was just one summer - how much could you see him really?

It’s the next Sunday when you are walking home from your weekly shop in perhaps your grossest sweats, hair everywhere and glasses still on. To make matters worse, you're struggling as you always buy too much to fit into your bag.

It’s at this point when some dreadful orange sports car pulls up next to you and honks their horn, making you nearly jump out of your skin and drop half your stuff on the ground. You turn around just to see a familiar smug face as he waves at you before speeding off. No, he is a prick.

After you make it home, you decide to forget all about him. But these are old houses, and the walls are thinner than you’d like. More specifically, a week or so later, as you get into bed you think you can hear a voice. You think it may be a ghost, until you hear a distinct Mancunian twang and you realise that Jamie’s bedroom is directly connected to yours (or at least one of them was, who was to say how many bedrooms these sorts of houses had.) It’s when you hear another, softer voice that you realise that maybe Jamie has company.

But it’s fine. He’s allowed to have people over. You go back to your book until ten minutes later, when you start hearing very different noises. He definitely was not alone. And clearly whoever he was with was having a great time.

Your stomach tightens. This isn't just annoying at this point, it’s downright depressing. You can't remember the last time someone made you feel like that. As much of a patronising shit as he was, you had to admit that Jamie was very attractive. You try to keep reading, but you soon find your imagination straying into unwanted territory. Your entire body goes flush when you catch yourself, so you put your earplugs in and go to sleep. Eventually.

—-

It's a blisteringly hot day and you've made the mistake of buying yet another heavy shop. As you're walking home, you're covered in sweat. You're trying to get home as fast as you can before some of the food defrosts in this heat, but it's like wading through hot sticky mud.

You take one more step and suddenly feel a bit lightheaded. You stagger to a nearby wall and sit down, looking down at your feet. It's at this point that of course you see out of the corner of your eye, a familiar orange car pulling up in front of you. You wave a hand away.

"Not now Jamie."

"Are you alright?"

You look up and he's got a genuine look of concern on his face.

"Yeah, I just needed a breather. If you haven't noticed, it's very hot out here."

He pauses for a moment.

"Did you want a lift?"

"I'm good, thanks. It's not that far."

"Don't be daft, just get in the car."

"Jamie -"

"It's got really good air con."

You look at your bags. You really didn't want the food to go bad in this heat.

"Fine."

You drop your bags into the bag and slide into the seat next to him. You can't help but notice how gross and sweaty you were on his nice leather seats.

"Sorry, I'm very gross and sweaty." You immediately say without thinking.

He looks over and laughs.

"Trust me, this car has seen a lot worse."

You groan.

"Oh come on, I don't need to imagine that."

"I just meant after training, Jesus woman, get your head out of the gutter!"

"Training for what?"

He laughs again. "You're joking, right?"

You shake your head.

"You seriously don't know who I am?"

"Should I?"

He smiles as he looks back out to the road.

"Nah, I guess not."

You look around his car.

"All I need to know is that you've clearly got more money than sense."

"Oi, I'm doing you a favour here like a bloody gentleman!"

“I mean I don’t know if this is really a favour. You could be kidnapping me for all I know.”

“Love, I’ve got more than enough money. I do not need to kidnap some random bird for a ransom.”

“Who says you’re doing it for money?”

He sighs and shakes his head.

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Impossible, or just practical? Us ‘random birds’ have got to look out for ourselves.”

“Well then, Your Highness, we have arrived.” Jamie signals to your door as the car pulls to a stop. “You can get out now, I promise.”

You get out and go to get your bags,but Jamie quickly grabs them and is walking to your door. You run ahead, making sure you’ll be able to get in and clear any embarrassing debris before he can see it.

"You don't have to do that, you know."

He shrugs. "I used to help my mum carry her shopping all the time when it was just me and her. Now I just pay to get it delivered to her house."

You stop at the front door. The admission strikes you. You wondered for a moment what Jamie was like when he was younger. You wondered where his dad was. However, Jamie didn’t understand your silence.

“I’m not trying anything, I swear. I won’t come in and …” He looks around. “Steal your knickers or whatever.”

You scoff as you turn around.

“That’s a weird thing to say.”

He huffs in exasperation.

“Look, my arms are going to drop off, can you just open the bloody door already?”

“Alright, but if any one of my knickers are gone, you’re in serious trouble.”

“Aye aye captain.” He tries to salute, but wacks himself in the face with one of the bags. You stifle a laugh, before letting him in. He smiles at you for a moment, and you feel an unfamiliar warm feeling in your chest. Best to just ignore that and get back to the task at hand.

As you put everything away, he looks around. There are unfinished canvas and paint everywhere.

"Are you one of them fancy pants artists then?"

"Not yet. I'm one of those unpaid ones.” You suddenly feel very shy. “I'm just house-sitting for the summer, I'm not rich. Unlike you.”

“So no one is paying your ransom then?”

“No one would pay good money for me. In fact, they might actually pay you for taking me away.” You say it flippantly, but Jamie sees the slightly dejected look on your face.

“So maybe you should be the one kidnapping me, eh? I tell you, I’d go for a pretty penny.” He gently biffs your arm. You don’t look at him, continuing to pack away the shopping.

“Well if I ever have to turn to a life of crime, you’ll be the first to know.”

He stands around for a minute, as if he’s not sure what to do with himself, before going to leave.

“Thanks, by the way.” You call out.

He turns around and shrugs.

“Any time.”

“I wouldn’t say that if I were you. Next thing you know, you’ll be my personal Uber.”

He jogs down the front steps, without looking back.

“Only if you start tipping!”

___

A few days later, you're gardening when suddenly a ball crashes into the ground right near your hand. You scream, causing Jamie to pop his head over.

"Jesus Jamie, are you trying to kill me?"

You stand up and dust your knees. He's got that concerned look on his face yet again.

"Are you alright?"

You reassure him. "I'm fine, you just missed me.” You pinch your fingers almost together. “Just."

He looks sheepish.

"I'm sorry."

You fold your arms.

"You should be."

As you say this, two other men peer their head over the fence.

"Sorry miss. We're just playing a round of cricket." One replies in a soft Welsh accent. Behind them, you notice the surly man sitting in the back of the garden, who nods at you.

"Roy's taking a break if you want to join?" Jamie offers you the bat.

"Are you asking me to play with you Jamie?"

"Well, you're less likely to get hit in this garden."

"Hmmm." You think of all the empty canvas you were ignoring. "Fine, but let me get changed first."

As you start to walk into the house, one of the boys turns to Jamie.

"You didn't tell me your neighbour was fit."

"Isaac, don’t even think about it.” Jamie chides him. Something about this made your stomach feel squiggly, but you couldn’t put a name on it.

This squiggly feeling means it takes you a little longer than planned to get dressed, as you meticulously scrub the dirt from your hands and knees and maybe apply a tinted lipbalm or two. By the time you come back out, the men seem to have doubled and one of them has somehow set up a barbecue. The game of cricket seems long forgotten as they sit and drink around the fire pit. You pick up a beer bottle and wander around, trying to slip into one of the group conversations.

“When do you think Ted and Rebecca will get together?” A man with a strong french accent says.

“I dunno, I still think him and Trent have got something going on.” Colin muses thoughtfully. Isaac nods with him.

“Yeah man, there were vibes between them at Christmas.”

You decide to pipe up now before you have to figure out who Ted, Trent or Rebecca was.

"Sorry to interrupt, but how do you all know each other?".

The boys look at each other, then Jamie.

"We all play football together." Jamie finally breaks the silence.

"Oh that's cute!” You look around at this crew. They are all very handsome, but all looked very different, from all walks of life. “It's so hard to make friends as an adult I find, so it's good to have hobbies. Do you think I'll be allowed to come to one of your matches?"

They all look at each other again and start to laugh. You think you've missed something but you figure it's some inside joke.

One of the guys, who you think you heard referred to as Sam, leans forward. "So Miss, what do you do for a living?"

You take a swig from your bottle.

"I'm an art teacher. I teach at the local college, although it's mainly adult evening classes. You know the saying, ‘those who can't do, teach’. At least, that’s what my dad likes to say."

"But you can do though." Jamie pipes up from behind his beer. "I've seen all them canvas in your house."

"Ah, you are a painter. Are you more of a modernist or post modernist?" Jan, the tall Dutch one asks.

"I don’t know, I mean I've got a show at the end of the summer which I'm preparing for but I'm not very good-"

"If you've got a show you must be good. Or at least someone thinks so." Jamie folds his arms.

“I mean, I guess, the guy at the gallery did personally invite me-.”

“There you go.” Jamie nodded triumphantly.

“Can we see them? The paintings?” Sam asked.

“Not yet! They are nowhere near ready!” This was somewhat true. For the most part, you had barely started. You had been struggling for inspiration lately, but you weren’t going to tell this extremely attractive group of men that. “You’ll have to come to the art show. I’ve got some flyers in the house. I can get them if you like?”

The boys enthusiastically nod, and you make sure to hand them each one, with Jamie receiving the last flyer. Your fingers brush for a moment, and you find yourself staring at each other a bit too long until you are interrupted by a loud cough.

“The meat is ready, Jamie.” Roy loudly announced.

“Coming!”

The rest of the night goes quickly in a blur, as all the boys bombard you with questions and you find yourself chatting to all of them in depth. You’re pretty sure you know all their life stories by the end of it. Eventually, the night wears on and they all slope off one by one until it’s just you, Jamie and Roy left. Roy is sound asleep on Jamie’s couch, and the two of you quietly start cleaning up.

“You don’t have to help me, you know.” Jamie says. “I’m a big boy, I can clean up after meself.”

You drop a can into the recycling bag.

“I know. But a nice guy dropped me off when I was struggling to take my shopping home, so I thought I’d return the favour.”

Jamie stopped what he was doing.

“You don’t owe me anything.”

You looked at him confused.

“I know.”

The two of you go back to tidying in silence.

“So, Isaac thinks I’m fit, does he?”

Jamie drops the bottle he was holding. He frantically grabs a dustpan and brush and frantically starts brushing the broken glass. Roy stirs for a minute, then rolls back over. You gently took the dustpan off him and empty it into the bin.

“No! Er, I mean, he does, but he thinks anything with a pulse is fit.”

“So you’re saying he’s got low standards?”

“No, that’s not what I meant, it’s just- just-”

“I’m teasing. I obviously know that just means he has excellent taste.”

“And I thought I had a big head.”

“I mean, you do, but that’s beside the point.”

“Oi, I can say it, but you can’t!” At this point, Jamie puts down the bag and picks up the hose.

“What do you think you’re doing with that?” You ask.

“What do you think?” He says, before switching it on, chasing you with the spray. You run away, screaming.

“I’ll get you for this!”

“Oh yeah? What are you going to do to me?” He moves the hose to catch you again, but at the exact same time Roy walks outside and Jamie catches him in the face. You both freeze.

“Well I’ll see you tomorrow, Jamie!” You quickly leave, waving a goodbye as you start to hear the beginning of Roy’s bollocking.

Later, as you go up to your bedroom and dry your hair with a towel, you spot Jamie and Roy chatting in the garden. Jamie looks up at you and smiles. You smile and wave back, before pointing at your still soaking t-shirt.

“I hope you’re proud.” You mouth at him. He shrugs and you shake his head.

Roy turns to Jamie.

“When are you just going to fucking ask her out already?”

___

After the barbecue you start to see Jamie more often.

He almost always drops you home from your big shop, and sometimes drops you there too. He always says hello when you're in the garden and even starts asking for gardening advice.

One day, when it is too hot, you buy a child's paddling pool to sit in your bikini. Jamie, who has been trying and failing to do his workout in the sun, asks if he can join you and the two of you sit in it in silence until the sun goes down. Both of you are definitely not checking each other out behind your sunglasses when the other isn’t looking.

Then one night, you go out with some of your old university friends. What was meant to be just one drink turns into several bottles and you find yourself outside the front door at 3am trying to get the key to work.

After what feels like forever, you hear a door open.

"Oh, how the turn tables."

"Hello Jamie." You slur a little, swaying gently. "If you don't mind I could really do with focusing right now."

"Well it seems like you are doing just fine without me, so I'll leave you to it." He goes inside, sighing before coming straight back out again.

"Do you want to come in? Maybe have a cup of tea? Some toast?"

Your shoulders sag, "I would love that, yes. My feet are absolutely killing me." You follow him as enthusiastically as you can while he gently takes your arm and guides you in.

You flop down on the couch, quickly taking off your shoes and putting your feet up.

"Jamie, how long have you lived here?"

"About six months, why?"

"There's no decoration in here at all. This is the house of a killer, Jamie." He pops back around holding two mugs.

"I mean, I dunno. I'm not sure how to make it look good.

"It doesn't have to look good. It's your house. It just has to make you happy. What makes you happy Jamie?"

He takes a minute to think, screwing up his face in concentration.

“Bums?”

“I like what I like.”

“Hmmm. We can work with that. Perhaps a big tasteful nude somewhere around here.” You wave your hand towards the fireplace.

“Do you paint nudes?” Jamie pauses for a moment. “Nude is them pictures of naked people right?”

“Yeah they are and are you asking me to paint you a nude Jamie? Men usually slide into my DMS for that sort of thing.”

“Not like that. I just think your art is really cool. It reminds me of that guy…what’s his name? Frankie Bakeoff?”

“Francis Bacon?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“He’s actually one of my inspirations. You know, you've got a good eye Jamie.”

He sits down, placing the mugs on the table.

“Er, I’ve got two good eyes actually.” He remains completely deadpan and at this point, you let out a proper laugh.

“You know I never asked you what you do for a living. I mean, you’re obviously a comedian but you know, for money. Especially to live in a place like this.”

“I’m a footballer.”

“Haha, yeah, good one.”

“I don’t know why that’s so hard to believe. My name is Jamie Tartt and I play for AFC Richmond.”

You squint at him, before pulling out your phone. You type in “Jamie Tartt.” And suddenly there are thousands and thousands of articles and pictures with tiny Jamies staring back at you.

“Oh my god. And all those boys at the BBQ -”

“They are my teammates.”

“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” You cry out, putting your face in your hands. “I told all of them about my dad’s five a side! They must all think I’m a complete idiot!”

“Nah. They all thought it was pretty cute.”

“I’m glad someone finds my stupidity cute.”

“I dunno, I think a lot of stuff you do is cute.”

Your face goes red. He can’t have meant that. You look at him. He truly is beautiful, although he must know it. You remembered the woman in his room. He could get anyone and you know it.

“Have you ever done modelling Jamie?”

“I mean yeah. I’ve done shoots for stuff. Adidas, Nike and my own fragrance for men, Tarttbreaker.”

“What the hell does that even mean? You know what, never mind, I was just wondering..would you fancy posing? For a painting?” You look at your feet. “It’s just, I’m so sick of painting myself and oranges at this point.”

His eyes light up.

“Really? You want to paint me?”

“Don’t let it go to that massive head of yours Tartt.”

“I can’t promise anything.” He sits down next to you, placing the mugs on the table. The throbbing in your feet still hasn’t gone away, and without thinking you start rubbing your soles. Curse those beautiful shoes, you think to yourself.

“Here, I can help with that.” You didn’t realise Jamie was staring at your feet.

“What?”

“Trust me, I’m really good at foot rubs.”

“Is this some weird foot thing?”

“No, you perv. My physio showed me some really good tricks. You know the physio I have because I am a professional footballer, yeah?” You roll your eyes as he gently takes your foot.

“You’re never going to let me live that do-”

You can’t finish the sentence as you are distracted by just how good it feels. A small “fuck” slips out.

“Is that alright? I didn’t hurt ya, did I? I can stop.”

“No, no no no. No.”

You are surprised by your own enthusiasm. He slowly starts again, and you say nothing, until a small moan slips out. Jamie’s head suddenly whips up.

“I mean, I think my ankles are more sore than anything -” He moves his hands up, moving his thumbs in slow circles. You thought this would improve things, but it’s just making things worse. Your heart is racing.

“And what about your calves?”

You nod dumbly. “They’re pretty - pretty sore too.”

His hands hesitantly move up your leg, up to your knees. His face inches closer to yours, his hands about to move down your thigh, when your stomach very loudly rumbles. He jumps up and your legs close shut.

“I was going to make you toast.”

“Yes, yes you were.” He leaves the room and you lie back on the couch. Your head is spinning.. What is going on? You think as your eyes slowly start to close.

By the time Jamie finally returns to the room, two very distracted attempts at toast later, you are fast asleep on the couch. He picks up a blanket and covers you, before heading upstairs. He then lies down, closing his eyes for just a minute, until there is a soft knock on the door.

“Are you ready for training, fuckhead?”

“Shh.” He points to you, sound asleep and snoring.

Roy tilts his head. Jamie whispers. “I’ll explain later.”

______

You wake up with a pounding headache. It takes you a second to realise you are not in your bed. You are on someone’s couch. Jamie’s couch.

You look at your phone. 9:03am. You look around for any sign of him, but it seems like he’s gone already. YOu decide to wash up the mugs, before you spot it on his fridge. There is no decoration in any of his flat, except one flyer that is stuck on the fridge. Your flyer.

You smile, before finding a piece of paper and a pen.

That afternoon, you return to your flat. Looking at your big canvas you know what to do.

___

Jamie finally gets back to his flat and he is exhausted. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about last night, and as he suspected, you are long gone by the time he gets home.

However, as he walks through, he notices a little note stuck on the fridge in front of your flyer.

Thanks for the tea and the footrub.

You can wake me up any time.

PS. Let me know when you’re free, you poser.

With your number added to the bottom.

He can’t help but smile to himself, before wandering out into the garden.

He hopes to see you there, but you’re not. He looks back towards the house and stops dead in his tracks. He can see you in one of the rooms, in front of one of your canvas. But you are completely naked.

He looks away. He knows he shouldn’t. But maybe he just imagined it. He takes another quick look to confirm, you are definitely naked as the day you were born. You have your back to him, but it’s clear you are looking in some sort of mirror. He suddenly realises. You’re painting yourself. He walks quickly inside and decides it’s time to go to bed. He puts his earplugs in and goes to sleep. Eventually.

Thanks for reading! You can read chapter two here!

#ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader

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annievrse · 2 years ago

Text

like real people

megumi x reader —ᡣ𐭩 fic summary: love can still find you even in your darkest hour. w/c: 1.7k a/n: megumi and reader are in their early/mid-twenties. this is a little different from anything else i’ve written in terms of the language, but i think i'm happy with it. i'm a bit scared to post this. i hope it makes sense, and if it doesn't, tell me, please :) warnings: angst, idiots in love, both parties emotionally hurt by past relationships, insinuations of past relationship abuse (megumi), ooc megumi, it's 4am idk please let me know.

“Is it so wrong to wish to love and be loved in return?”

No words came before you. To say you weren’t expecting this conversation would be a lie — it was a long time coming. After the party, after you had blatantly brushed him off in front of his friends, Megumi couldn’t come up with a plausible explanation for why you did what you did. After months of dancing around each other, why couldn’t you commit to what you wanted when it was so very clear, Megumi?

“Megumi,” You weren’t oblivious to his lovelorn stare or his fingers fidgeting.

“Please,” He begged, stepping closer to you, his hands clasped before him.

You screwed your eyes shut at his vulnerable state. Was it easier to remain ignorant of your apparent and lengthy tension? Perhaps then you wouldn’t feel so guilty about the impulse to leave.

But, standing before a man who had a hard time sharing his emotions and choosing to ignore them rather than help? You wouldn't do such a thing.

“It’s not wrong, per se, Megs,” You started, eyes trained on the hardwood floor, never meeting his pleading ones. “Maybe naive.”

A sharp intake caused a shiver down your spine. “Naive?”

You chewed heavily on your bottom lip and couldn't keep your tears at bay. "I just learned you planned to get engaged when we met, Megumi. What was I meant to do? I didn't want your friends to think I was exploiting your emotions. How I never knew until now..."

Megumi sighed and looked away, shaking his head. He wanted to say that meeting you saved him. How you dug him out of the ground and breathed life into his delicate lungs brought him back to life. If you had never met, he would still be six feet in the dirt, a ghost of who he once was. Do people love others who have been damaged so severely that the idea of love itself is considered terrifying and not comforting in the slightest?

"You know they wouldn't think that of you. And I didn't tell you because I was embarrassed and afraid. I know that isn't a good enough excuse for you because you've been in my life for so long, but it was better to keep it quiet. I don't know!"

He tried to keep his voice steady, always one to hold back his true feelings until he was behind closed doors — and even then, he would force them back inside.

But, as he looked at you, Megumi believed the possibility of admitting he loved you was far closer than anticipated. However, the fear you wouldn’t reciprocate burned in his bones so profoundly he feared they would turn to ash inside him. All he wanted was to love and be loved without the devastating consequences he had suffered before — if love without pain existed.

Nonetheless, Megumi couldn't seem to shake the feeling of emptiness that had been plaguing him for weeks.

“Will we ever be normal? Will we ever kiss like real people do? Will I ever get to hold you without the looming fear that you’ll just pack up and leave?” He thought out loud.

A flight risk. You gave him a bitter smile and nodded.

“That’s all I am to you? Someone that you’re scared to be with because I’ve never ‘stuck around’ for anyone else? Do you ever wonder why I left them?” You raised your eyebrows in question. When Megumi didn’t answer, you finished. “Because they were assholes who just wanted someone to use, and I was at their disposal.”

Megumi grimaced at your choice of words but understood. It had taken him almost a year, but he finally understood your greatest anxieties. “I would never use you.”

You sniffled, tears rolling down your cheeks. “I know that, but I'm still paranoid. Leave before you get left, isn’t that what they say?”

The room was silent for a moment while you both collected yourselves. In contemplation, Megumi ran his hands over his dark hair, and you picked at your nails.

“I’m sorry,” Megumi mumbled, wiping at his cheeks where stray tears had left salty trails. “I’m sorry for offending you. I didn’t mean it like that. My anxiety is not on you at all; it’s not your fault, and I’ll apologise for the rest of my life if that will make up for my sheer ignorance.”

You shrugged half-heartedly, a smile tugging at your lips. “I’m sorry for calling you naive. It’s not true. Love is humanity’s greatest desire, and you are entirely valid for wanting such things, especially after your ex..." You narrowed your eyes at him softly.

Unspoken words hung in the air like smoke. His past relationship was calamitous, and her name was never spoken amongst his friends again after they found out what had happened. She was referred to as ‘she who must not be named’ in his friend group, but that was the only joke. Nothing she did to Megumi was laughable.

The kitchen light was flickering, you noticed. You'd have to change the bulb.

“I bet you regret meeting me,” He smiled fleetingly. You looked at him quizzically. “Anyone else wouldn’t be insulting you in your kitchen.”

“I'll never regret meeting you, Megumi,” You took his hand in yours. “And you didn’t insult me. Yes, it hurts, but it’s a harsh truth I have to swallow. I have to understand that not everyone is out to get me. It'll take some time, but I wish to get there someday.”

“And I'll help you believe that, okay? I won't leave you. Not now, not ever, because you are my favourite person, darling. And should I ever leave you, let me die the most painful death because you deserve a great deal of love — more than I could ever give you, but I will try my best, alright?”

You nodded, reeling with the weight of his words. He spoke with such comprehension it had you reeling — had he ever confessed his feelings for someone like this before? So thought out and with a pleading look in his eye that made your chest hurt?

Instead of wondering about him, you pulled Megumi closer by his jacket collar, which you realised he never took off when he got to your apartment. Pushing the jacket over his shoulders, you placed the garment on the kitchen counter. Your tear-stained cheeks were glossy under the yellowing ceiling light, and Megumi pulled you back to him, running his fingers over your face to wipe away the streams.

A switch flipped, and suddenly, it felt like the world would end if Megumi didn't tell you his deepest longings. He would lose you if he didn't express how much he had come to care for you. You couldn't take chances in a world full of Jujutsu, especially when the one you loved was tiptoeing the line of death every day.

“I don’t want to not be with you, and it was never my intention to insinuate that. I have a lot of love to give, but I’ve given it to the wrong people in the past who never acknowledged or appreciated it. But I’m ready to give it to you,” Megumi muttered. It required abundant courage to say it, but Megumi was glad he didn’t hold back once it was out — his father would be disgusted if he saw his son now.

The room's atmosphere had changed dramatically, and all hostility once felt in your stomach had dissipated. This was a time of reassuring each other that their greatest fears would not trouble them as long as they were together.

“I adore you,” Megumi whispered, his heart beating out of his chest. “And I’m not just saying that because of our argument. I’m telling you that I never meant for us to end; I was just getting started with you when I walked through that door tonight. Never mind if you brushed me off at some stupid party.”

Your face heated with shame at the memory. “I'm sorry, I panicked.”

Megumi nodded in understanding. “I know. And I’m here to tell you that there’s nothing to be afraid of. I’ll be on your side, always.”

Lifting your head from his chest and resting your finger on his lips, you shook your head. “My turn.”

Megumi’s eyebrows raised slightly, and he nodded.

“Enough consoling me, okay? You need to know that you’re the one for me, too, so you don’t spiral again and start doubting my love for you and your own for me,” Megumi flushed. “You are the most remarkable man I’ve ever met, and no amount of scepticism would deter me from you because you’re all I want. I love you, okay? I will live and die for the moments we share because I treasure them the most out of everything I do. You are love, and I want to drown myself in you for the rest of our lives if you let me.”

It was silent. Megumi’s heartbeat was so quick he almost couldn’t feel it. You love him.

You ignored his blank stare and continued. “You don’t have to say it yet, but I know you do. And if it turns out you don’t love me as much as I, you, I will live on my own for the remainder of time because I know that I had the most incredible love in the universe with you, and I would be content with that. Nobody else could make me feel the way you do.”

Megumi squeezed his eyes shut until he saw stars and then sighed. “You mean so much to me. I’m sorry I can’t find a way to tell you yet, but I will. I know it in my soul.”

“You already have,” You hugged him tighter, and Megumi rubbed his large hands up and down your back.

The kitchen light had stopped flickering.

“Why can’t we have a relationship like real people? Because I’m starting to think we’re living in some sort of hallucination together,” You mumbled, giggles slipping from your lips.

Megumi’s chest vibrated with low laughter, but the action rattled his bones. “We’ll figure it out. We're not like real people anyway.”

—

playlist: like real people do - hozier — this is me trying - taylor swift — labyrinth - taylor swift — snow on the beach - taylor swift (w lana del rey)

#megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro imagine #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #jjk #megumi x you #megumi angst #— ann writes!

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be-my-ally · 1 year ago

Text

Crash Landing

(aka Big Bunny 4)

Wheeew, only 6 months later than I intended! it's 4am and somehow, despite spending forever on this, I fear the grammar may be janky - so apologies for that. This follows directly from The Lisa-Marie, and the masterlist for the series is linked here!

This is the last of the planned ‘main’ chapters, but there are some time jumps in this and the last chapter, so if anyone has any requests for any bunny/elvis one shots pop them into my inbox and I’ll see what I can do. I have a few little plans to fill out some of the gaps, but no promises on when they might appear.

warnings: 18+, some mild sexism, p in v, oral (v receiving), afab!reader, skiing, allusions to poor health, Elvis is swearing like… a lot in this chapter. Make of that what you will. References to drug use. THIS ENDS IN JULY 1977 - AUGUST IS IMPLIED. wc: 14k I don’t know what to say - there was meant to be a brief skiing interlude and then all of a sudden I’m 10k in and they’re still in Colorado.

Early 1977

Linda is gone for good, finally some of the guys would say, and you couldn’t totally say that you disagreed. It had been stressful - the ups and downs of their relationship, being caught in the crossfires. You had enough experience to know it wasn’t really specific to her but nonetheless it had still been somewhat difficult to witness. It had been hard to face her on the jet, knowing what Elvis was saying behind her back; how adamant he was for them to be over. On the way between stops in the October tour he’d sat on the couch on the plane, glistening with the sweat from the show and still dressed in his white jumpsuit with red flames jumping up his chest, he’d tugged you over, uncaring of the others in the room. Telling you that you were the only girl he could trust to have his back, that he didn’t even know why he kept her around. He didn’t seem to remember, and you didn’t care to remind him that he’d told you the same thing back in June too. Every time she’d suddenly reappear - his desperation to be looked after superseding any desire he may have had to say goodbye to her. Why you couldn’t be enough for him you didn’t know.

Then, almost immediately after Linda’s gone - and, admittedly, briefly before she was too - you’re meeting this new girl, Ginger, albeit rarely. Elvis for some reason putting her on the Jetstar with her family more than with him. In some ways it helps - the fact that she’s not there all the time, in others it makes you feel awful — his rush fiancee and her family seemingly not even willing or wanting to travel with him. It’s mostly a slow season over the winter though and for some reason Georgia is getting more hours than you and so, you’re forced to say goodbye to your examination of the inner workings of his private life until after the New Year break. It ends up being early February before you get a call to come in for one of his vacation whims.

It feels like it’s been an age since you last saw Elvis even though it had barely been a six weeks, and you felt guilty that it had felt so nice to relax a little. It was hard when you spoke to your friends, and all their careers or mothering sounded so stressful all the time, they were all jealous of your ‘easy’ job, the extra benefits sounding all too impressive. Where else would you get a new wardrobe paid for? A shiny new car sat outside for you, or an apartment rented? But it was hard to explain without giving away too much, how it was impossible for you to ever really turn off; how you thought about him all the time, worried about him all the time, even when you were at home.

He hadn’t been difficult to manage the last couple of months of the year, at least, not as bad as the middle and start of the year, but his moods had turned almost overwhelmingly blue, and it had been tricky to level your tone and actions to appropriately comfort him. You’d started feeling on edge every flight, worried and insecure. So, the break had been nice. It had given you a chance to re-evaluate, take a breather and consider what was best for you to do.

Elvis himself called to wish you a Merry Christmas, he’d been sweet and kind and promised you a gift even as he made small talk that you knew he disliked, even if he was good at it in that southern way, and it had made you hate him just a little. Your chest aching with the feel that he was treating you like a total stranger. It hadn’t improved when you’d returned to your Memphis apartment from your parent’s house and discovered a card had been delivered in your absence. “Season's Greetings, Elvis and the Colonel and Friends.” You’d allowed yourself the briefest of cries staring at yourself in the mirror while the blotchiness crawled up your neck. You were still an ugly crier despite your best efforts. It’s the final straw, you thought to yourself as you stared at your wild eyes and messy hair where you’d tugged your hands through it. You’ll see it through the summer. Then you’re done. That’ll be just enough time to work out what to do next - maybe you’d go back to school. You dried your eyes, patting yourself on the cheeks. That’s it. Decision made. You refused to give it any more thought. Especially, about why you didn’t just quit immediately if you were planning on it later anyway, not willing to admit to yourself you wanted to give him another chance more than anything else. It was just altogether too much, being the girl on the side of the girl on the side, having to balance being his friend, employee and lover. But you’d had your moment, and you were using your trusty technique of just not. thinking. about. it. anymore.

You were nervous as you tied your little necktie and pulled at your hem from where you were sure your dress had shrunk over the past month, preparing to greet the men loading onto the plane. It was informal, as it normally was, and you looked back somewhat fondly to your days on Big Bunny, where everything was written and handbooked out with the proper procedure for every situation. Now it was just up to you to decide what to do for every eventuality. In this situation you made the brave decision to hide. So, you tuck yourself away in the galley on the other side of the little half wall, waiting until enough of them have boarded that you’ll be forced to peek out and say hello. There were more people loading on than during the last tour, and despite the extra numbers you knew you were handling this mostly alone - Georgia had been unable to come in under such short notice; something about a grandmother. So not only were your nerves shot worrying about when you should tell Elvis you were quitting and how it felt like you were harbouring some awful secret, you were also having to steel yourself to be overworked and run down by the time you were able to get off the plane. When you peek out around the partition you get the first glance of him and you’re a little embarrassed at how you can feel a flush start to rise just from that look.

He looks not dissimilar to how he did that first day on Big Bunny - open collared shirt and jogging jacket on - this time a navy blue with a baby blue stripe down the shoulder and arm. He looks good - like you could just burrow into him, and you’re relieved that the sudden demand for your appearance isn’t for something panic-inducing from the way he’s smiling and chatting - laughing with Charlie and Joe. You’d been a little concerned that the rapidity of the request was hiding a more sinister origin after a similar call had preceded a rush to the hospital last summer. But he was looking good, really good actually. Somehow his face had lost some of its puffiness it’d been holding onto and he was a far better colour than you’d gotten used to - perhaps a high from the success of his New Year’s concert as he’d been pleased with the reaction and reviews or maybe even just high off the excitement of his, apparently, serious relationship with Ginger. Although, evidently not altogether that serious since she wasn’t joining them; you’d already decided you’d keep your thoughts about that to yourself. You shyly watch him from across the plane where he’s already sat himself down, comfortable in his own space and leaning against the back - his legs spread wide, retelling some story you’ve already heard once before. You take a deep breath before heading around the little partition, fully intending on acting as if you had an important job to do by the door. You managed to keep the ruse up long enough to shut the door and let Ron know you were all set to go, long enough to hand out drinks and cigars and let them all settle in, but you couldn’t pass directly by him again without him noticing you, and his arm shoots out, grabbing your wrist as you go to walk past. You barely have a chance to notice his hold on you before he’s pulling you in, forcing you to bend over in order to accept a kiss on the cheek in greeting. You can’t explain why you’re so nervous, but you find your tummy flipping at the close proximity to him. With anxiety or excitement, you can’t quite tell. In some ways it’s slightly more forward than you’d expected from him for having not seen him in a month, but perhaps you had just gotten used to him ignoring you in the months prior.

“Good evening, Elvis.” It’s a fine line between polite and aloof, and you can already tell you’ll be reliving this interaction all night. His eyes are bright with amusement at your formality when he gazes back at you, his thumb still gently stroking over your wrist.

“Well, it is now.” He grins as you visibly cringe at his cheesiness, “Good evening to you too, honey.” He looks you over as he lets go of your hand, allowing you to stand back up, and eyeing your hemline, “‘re you ready for the cold?”

“Hopefully it’s not gonna be too cold on the plane,” You stumble over your words in nerves, “but I can always turn the heat up a little - “Elvis shakes his head,

“Nah, I’ll keep you toasty, hon, snug as a, as a bug.” You struggle to regain your composure as your mind flickers with images of just how he could be keeping you warm.

“Hmm, I suppose you’ll have to since someone makes me wear this. But I’m pretty well covered anyway.” You grin in response to his smirk when you gesture down at your stockinged legs.

“Well, that’s real good doll,” He runs a hand through his thick hair, letting a hint of the grey around his temples show as he pushes it back, and you find yourself missing the steadying warmth of his grip, “but you know - we’re stopping in Vail.”

You pause, unsure how to put it politely, “Mmhmm, that’s what Elwood tells me.” He frowns, leaning back and settling even further into the seat, arm spreading across the back rest and he shifts so his thighs are encasing you.

“Alright then miss know-it-all, tell me what I was gonna say next.” He stares at you, and it makes your insides twist even as you can feel heat pooling in your stomach.

“Uhhh,” You struggle, to try and think of what to say that will maintain the teasing playful tone, feeling like you’ve been called on daydreaming in the middle of class with everyone’s eyes on you and simultaneously totally distracted by the feel of his legs against yours. He smirks as you flounder, “Well, perhaps, that you uh,”

“You can say you don’t know.” He sing-songs it, “Silly little girl like you can’t know everything, huh?” He raises an eyebrow, and you can feel the frustration rise at his teasing,

“No. I suppose not.” He smiles crookedly, pleased he gets to tell you the next part, even as he explains it like you’re a little slow.

“I was goin’ to say that I hope you’ve got a coat somewhere…” He pauses for dramatic effect, “since you’re comin’ with us.” Your brain goes blank.

“Me?”

“Why not?” He straightens a leg, it, perhaps inadvertently, knocks against yours and you immediately feel your gaze pulled to it, the heat of his thigh against your knee making your head go fuzzy. “Been a while since we’ve been off this plane together.” He’s looking at you hopefully, eyes wide behind his shades and you can feel your insides fizzing with excitement - even as you feel the need to protest,

“Oh well that’s very kind but -”

“C’mooon, honey - it’ll be fun! Hot cocoa, and, and skis, and playin’ in the snow.” His leg moves again, the soft cotton blend of his jogging suit catching on your nylons, “Dashin’ through the snow…” Your mouth opens, about to make a Paul Anka joke but one look at his encouraging smile puts you off,

“Oh, well, like I said, that’s very kind - but I don’t, I don’t have any clothes or coats or boots or -” He cuts you off with a tut, rolling his eyes and shaking his head like you were being particularly stupid.

“I was only kidding before.” He sounds a little petulant at the suggestion, “You don’t needta worry ‘bout that - we’ll get you sorted out.” He nods, as if you’d already given him your agreement.

“That’s very generous Elvis, but I don’t know how to ski.”

“Don’t worry I’ll teach ya!” He seems overwhelmingly confident considering you and he both know he doesn’t know how to ski, “You can just be - hey!” He sits himself back upright in his excitement, knocking against you enough that you shift on your feet, “You can just be my little snow bunny, can’t ya?” He laughs as he says it, and his laughter is infectious - you find yourself giggling along with him,

“I suppose that would be fitting.”

“ ‘Sides what else were you gonna do while we were out?”

“Well…what I normally do - fly home or stay in whatever hotel I’ve had booked for me.” He looks curious for a second, “Sometimes I visit people if we’re close to someone I know.”

“Do I book ‘em?”

“Uh. Well. I think maybe your daddy does? Or, whoever’s organising everyone on your behalf yeah, sure.”

“Oh…” He looks contemplative, before with a frown, “Are they nice?”

“They’re fine El - it’s normally the same place the band is.” It’s sometimes a shithole but you’re not about to tell Elvis that.

“Would you - why… did you not wanna come with me?” He half-whispers it and your brain stutters to a halt,

“What? That’s not, that wasn’t ever an option Elvis.”

“Well. It is today. Come with us.” He holds out a hand, serious for the first time in the conversation and with his eyes looking at you like that even if you’d wanted to refuse you couldn’t. You nod in agreement, acquiescing to his demand.

“C’mere then.” He tugs you down against him and you wriggle into place on his lap, the fabric of his trousers catching on your nylons as you settle against his sturdy thighs. He rubs gently at your calf, his thumb and forefinger encircling your ankle and you feel yourself relax out of your self-consciousness to enjoy the closeness.

You laugh at a terrible joke at Joe’s expense and Elvis’ legs shake underneath you as you collapse against him in a fit of giggles. Your giggles taper off as you feel him twitch against your thigh. You school your face but can’t stop yourself turning to look at him in surprise, and more than a little excitement. His expression is unchanged, and you wiggle almost imperceptibly, come out, come out and play. It twitches again, and Elvis shifts as if in discomfort, you glance around but no one else seems to be paying you any attention - already distracted by something or someone else so you feel comfortable you’re not about to get caught as you try to wriggle your hand down to him. He immediately clamps an arm around your waist, holding you tight in place - your arm caught between you both. He looks down at you amused and you bite your lip - a pretty pitiful attempt at seduction,

“Shh.”

You indicate to the bedroom, more than a little disappointed when he shakes his head. “Later baby.”

He keeps you trapped on his lap, making it impossible for you to go and do anything, making the boys make their own drinks even when they try and ask you. Even when you try to whisper that you need to get up, he holds you there, gently soothing you back into compliance with a press of his lips, a whispered promise, a stroke of his fingers.

“Elvis I really hafta get up - we’ll be comin’ down soon and I’ve gotta make sure - “

“It’ll be fine baby, don’t worry ‘bout it.”

“Well, we can’t just sit here forever - at the very least I’ll have to go and open the doors.”

“Shit baby, Ron or Jim or God, I’m sure even fucking Elwood can manage that. No offense doll but I think they might even be more qualified at it than you. Besides I ain’t payin you to open doors.”

You push off his chest, turning to face him and interjecting before he can even continue that thought,

“You sure as hell aren’t paying me to keep you ‘company’ either.” He rolls his eyes,

“We’ve been through this, I don’t give a fuck about the plane or anything else. Your job is to care for me.” His eyes burn behind his shades, and the intensity of his frown takes you a little by surprise. You stroke the wrinkle on his brow,

“‘m sorry but look - I have a couple of things I have to do and anyway you’re gonna have to put a seatbelt on in a second, because it’ll get bumpy - and if you hit your head, I’m not being responsible for it.” You wag one of the heavy gold seatbelts at him and he sighs,

“Well, fine, but you’re mine soon as we land. No excuses then.” His hand strokes your thigh, and your tummy flips,

“No excuses. I’ll be yours as long as you want me.” There’s a hum, and you both suddenly realise Larry has come a lot closer than before, “Your hostess I mean.”

———————————

Ron patted your arm as you disembarked with the others. “Remember we’ll be there soon too,” He looks at you, “We’re staying at Betty’s aunt’s place, but I’m sure we’ll be invited round.” You nod, reading between the lines and you smile,

“I’ll bear that in mind.”

“You do that. Have fun.” He winks, disappearing back into the cockpit and you take a breath before rejoining the group dispersing into a collection of cars.

“What’s she doin’?” The whisper travels as you climb into the car, Larry and Joe start to reply but Elvis jumps in before either could get their words out too.

“Goddamnit,” He kicks the seat in front although it certainly wasn’t Joe who had piped up, “She’s coming too - so shut yer fuckin’ mouth before I shut it for you.” He shouts out the open door and slamming it shut. He slides across the bench seat to be pressed close against you, his hand curling over your thigh.

You smile shyly, pleased when Shirley turns around to smile at you, you weren’t her biggest fan - she’d never been overly friendly, but at least she was now acknowledging you.

A whirlwind shopping excursion ensued while Elvis sent the other car to scout out where he wanted to stay. You were a little taken aback, but not altogether surprised, that he’d demanded the trip on such a whim that he hadn’t even secured proper accommodation, but he did a fairly good job of explaining himself while you were being sent back and forth from different stores for the appropriate clothing.

“The thing is …” You kind of zone out while he talks, the story leading from one to another, before returning to the actual point he was trying to get to, but you appreciate the rumble of his voice and the gossipy tone that makes you feel a part of his exclusive little group. You manage to capture the gist though; that he was pretty sure they could stay at the same lodge as last time, because it was a friends but he hadn’t actually asked - since the decision to go away hadn’t been made until yesterday, and that he couldn’t see any reason why not - but if they had problem with it there was surely other, bigger better lodges to stay that would be overjoyed to host him.

You were tired by the time he decreed that you finally had a suitable wardrobe and he looked over the collection of bags with satisfaction, although - despite the three other coats he bought you, he still felt the need to lament that it was a;

“Damn near trav’sty, none of these backwater stores have white fur. Can’t be a proper little snow bunny,” He sighs, “Joe - make sure we order her one for next time.”

Your chest glows at the nonchalant way he says it - like he just expects you to be there again. Like it’s no big deal. The other car returns with good news, and they all filter up to the same lodge as the year before.

“I reckon Ron and Bob’ll regret being such fucking, well, they’ll regret it anyhow now - once they see this and know they could’ve been here too.” You don’t know what to say, so you stick with saying nothing and Elvis tuts and shakes his head, shifting to stare out of the window, although he doesn’t pull his hand away from where you’re making little circles on his palm.

It’s dark and late outside, and yet Elvis demands everyone get suited up to go and play in the snow, and everyone is in high enough spirits not to protest. You’ve not yet had a lesson though, and as you pull on your brand-new ski suit you playfully refuse to even entertain the prospect of heading anywhere on actual skis - Elvis doesn’t seem to be disappointed, grinning at you under his mask and gesturing for you to clamber onto the back of his snowmobile.

Despite his promises on the plane, things never did, that first night, progress past heavy petting in the bedroom - but it was something just to have his thick weight next to you in the bed, laughing and joking as he pressed kisses down your face and throat. His little huffs of laughter as you returned the favour tickling his chest made you feel the same pleasurable contentment as if he’d decided to fuck you for hours.

It was rare, recently, for him to be in such high spirits and still lucid - and you couldn’t help but wonder whether Dr Nick had managed to work out the exact right combination of drugs to keep him perfectly stable, or if he was contributing more placebos. Either way, you weren’t privy to their intimate conversations, nor allowed to witness his daily dosing. The most you saw was the little pills he put into his palm, twice as many as he tipped into yours, before bed and in the morning alongside the occasional couple that he nonchalantly explained them away simply as “Jus’ a little painkiller.” Shrugging his shoulders. But either he was being a lot sneakier - and you weren’t sure you should be viewing that as a good thing - or he was finally listening to concern and easing himself off a little.

It felt like it had in those first few weeks after you’d met him - carefree and fun. And somehow you felt yourself relaxing from the tense feeling you’d had since the start of last year. The worries falling off of your shoulders. You spent the first two days joined at the hip - not even really partaking in the snow sports on offer; snuggling up on the snowmobile and then taking yourselves off to curl up in the lodge instead.

The third day, or really night - since as always with Elvis you soon found your days and nights flipped around - he was ecstatic about the fresh, perfect snow and clear weather and you’d all been sent out to play.

It felt like a long night by the time Elvis was happy to let everyone return to the house. He hadn’t even joined you on the slopes properly, instead choosing to order everyone about from the comfort of his snowmobile.

“C’mon fellas - get into a line! Go on! I’ll chase ya!”

“For god’s sake Billy, move it along! You nearly made me take your whole damn leg off!” A pause, before raucous laughter ensued, “Again!”

Still, you hadn’t minded this turn of events since it meant you hadn’t had to try and remember your rushed and hurried lesson on the nursery slopes that afternoon. Instead, you’d given it one go accompanied by his shouts of laughter at your falling,

“How’d a dancer get to be so goddamn clumsy?”

“I wasn’t a dancer!” You’d protested from your position flat on your back in the snow.

“You danced real pretty for me though doll.” You rolled your eyes, scrambling back to your feet, trying not to pout as you brushed yourself off, he shook his head laughing once more before shouting back at you.

“Aw now darlin’, that ain’t a pretty sight. C’mon, better hop onto the back of here, it’ll be a bit safer for you.” He’d said it through giggles, and you felt the determination to get down by yourself rise up again,

“That won’t be necessary!” You attempted to take off again, and just as you were attempting to straighten your skis, about 12 feet from where you had last fallen, you were on your side again in the snow. Elvis didn’t give you a choice this time, angrily killing the engine completely and storming over as best he could through the thick snow, yanking you up by your arm and dusting you off himself.

“‘S not the time to be stubborn, C’mon now.” You can’t see his facial expression, obscured by his layers and the dark but you can hear that his annoyed words would be accompanied by tightly knitted eyebrows and a frown.

“I can do it.” You angrily pulled your arm out of his grasp, the momentum immediately making you start to lose your balance again, and Elvis catches you before you could fall for a third time.

“For heaven’s sake,” You can practically hear his eyes roll, accompanied by a sigh as he tries to change tact, “I’m sure you can, but it’s dark, and you’ve already tripped twice.” You frown, and he placates, a soothing hand rubbing down your arm, “I just, I just worry about you baby, c’mon, let me look after you - you’re liable to break - no no no, don’t look at me like that,” His hand comes up to cup your face, “I just care about you s’all, don’t want you to get hurt.” He says it so honestly and affectionately that you find yourself nodding in agreement, and truthfully, despite your obstinance, you couldn’t have agreed more - you probably would break a leg if he’d let you go on. He grins at you, “There we are, you know it makes sense, don’t you - there’s my good little bunny. C’mon then, hop to it,” He pats your ass encouragingly, although the padding makes the action redundant, and you slowly make your way over to the snowmobile.

You climbed onto the back slightly awkwardly, almost reluctant to be too close in front of all the guys, despite your cuddling the days before - they’d always been a little more distracted by their own activities to spend much time assessing yours. But Elvis yanked your arm around at the first possible chance, patting your hand where it lay against his padded stomach and tugging you to press yourself against him. You were getting a little bored, and nervous, of all the commotion so you found yourself totally content to curl against his body for warmth and tuck your chin into his shoulder. Despite your brand-new base layers, and soft down ski suit, there had still been enough of a chill in the night air, and from laying in the cold snow, that you were eager to be as close as possible. Elvis’ figure was more padded than you were used to feeling him, his coat also puffy and filled with down. You took immense pleasure in squeezing him tightly enough that you felt the padding compress, eager hands trying to find his body underneath. You found yourself considering, as one hand came to play with the little hairs escaping his mask and goggles at the base of his neck, that it was a damn shame you were both so covered up, since you couldn’t smell him. If you’d been less love-drunk on him you’d have been amazed at yourself; at thinking it was a damn shame, you were unable to smell an undoubtedly sweaty man.

You have no idea how long you spent on the back of the snowmobile, hands roving all over him; only that you quickly lost all sense of self-consciousness and instead felt a rising feeling of possession. A dangerous feeling if ever there was one, but enough that you felt your manicured hands staking their claim, rubbing over his arms and back. Elvis seemed to be enjoying it, shifting to be closer to you whenever you moved away, and patting at your arm.

When he finally, at speeds far too reckless for the early morning night sky, drove you back to the lodge he barely said a word to the rest of the group grabbing your hand and pulling you straight to the master bedroom. It was exciting and, whilst you were almost reluctant to get your hopes up too high, your thighs had been clenching of their own accord for the past hour and you could feel the dampness of your underwear against your warm delicate skin - it was impossible not to; you’d been on edge for hours.

He’s sweaty from his layers, his red face revealed when he pulls his ski mask and goggles off, there’s a hint of stubble coming through and his face looks alive, cheeks plump with his grin. You were happy to be back in the comfort of the wood-panelled bedroom, although its cozy feel belied the chill that seemed to remain in the air of the wintry cabin. Elvis doesn’t say anything as he concentrates on taking off layer after layer until he’s mostly down to his bare, pinkened skin. You smile when it’s revealed he hadn’t backed down from his childlike refusal to wear proper base layers, silk shirt coming into view but at least you can tell from the sweat patches and his damp skin that he’d certainly been warm enough. You feel like you’re melting from the inside out from the sheer fondness overtaking you until he tugs it over his head, an unusual lack of care shown to it. You meet his eyes in pleased surprise, and you’re further taken aback at how he manages to make his eyes twinkle so much, playfully glittering in the low light of the room. You can see his smirk growing as your eyes travel down his bare chest, an involuntary noise spilling out of your mouth. It’s been so long since you had the chance to stare at him like this. Elvis gestures at you, disrupting your intense focus, and you suddenly realise you’ve been standing still staring at him for almost too long, so you rapidly start to unboot yourself. You don’t get any further than kicking your shoes off before Elvis is suddenly in front of you. He brushes your hands off of yourself, fingering at your zipper himself. He twirls it between his fingers, ever so gently with one hand - the other coming to distract you from the anticipation by cupping your face, drawing you around to look into your eyes.

Elvis’ hair has always been long enough for you to run your fingers through, but it seems to have grown almost thicker, and you inch even closer to stroke his cheeks, pushing back his hair - frizzy from its woollen containment. Despite Larry’s accompaniment on the trip when you brush back the hair at his temples you can see the same hint of grey starting to show through as before, and you can’t resist stroking the strands there.

He smiles at you, pulling you into him to kiss you, making you breathless. As soon as you were distracted, he was unzipping the jacket of your snowsuit, shoving it off your shoulders and down to your waist. It falls to your feet by itself and you immediately pull off your under layers. It simultaneously feels frenzied but also slower than before; like both of you couldn’t wait even though you knew you had the chance to take your time. You lean back so he can tug your undershirt over your head, barely breaking contact with his lips. He pulls back, grinning, after fiddling with your bra clasp, the straps falling from your shoulders. Soon you’re practically nude, your naked chest pressed against his.

He feels solid against you; it’s been a long time since you both had the opportunity to take your time like this, and his body feels slightly different than before. He still had that uniquely Elvis feel but he was sturdier, and though you doubted it could possibly be true, it felt as if his soft carpet of chest and stomach hair had grown larger, trailing down into the swell of his stomach like a tantalising arrow. He’s surer of himself than he was the last time you found yourself naked with him, reminding you of how he was back on Big Bunny, his broad yet slender hands firmly spanning your sides. You couldn’t help but wonder if you were finding him so attractive because it had been a while, or if it really was just that he always looks good. Any thought was swept from your mind though when he recaptures your mouth, his lips soft and firm against yours, and his tongue insistently presses past yours in a way that could only be described as eager.

The movement of your chests against each other is enough for you to gasp against him - desperately moving to be closer, trying to practically become one with him. You can feel him smile at your desperate noises, before he moves a little. One of his hands slide down to rest at your waist, the other encircling your wrist. He holds it at your side, your other arm is trapped between you, and you whine at him between gasping breaths that it’s not fair, “C’mon El, that’s unfair, let me touch you,” He grins against your cheek, his spare hand moving to palm up at you.

Elvis presses a kiss against the side of your mouth, and as you start to voice your protests at his movement he mutters, “I just need - let me light the fire, hon.” against your skin, the vibration of his voice causing you to shiver. He pulls away with a final tug to your bottom lip, and you find yourself pouting at the loss of his heat. You fold your arms across your chest, a little self-conscious now he’s moved away and besides it was slightly chilly, but you couldn’t bear to let him leave you - besides weren’t you about to warm each other up? Although, maybe you were more ready than he was; as he was soft still, and the thought of him tending to the fire - the domesticity of the combination made your stomach clench perhaps more than if he’d been hard and ready to go. But still, you were reluctant to allow him to move away.

“I’m sure I’m hot enough,” He shakes his head, kissing your hand as he lets go of you entirely, “Honestly - we-we’ll be under the covers in a moment anyway, and I’m, I’m already burning babe.” But he’s already wandered over to the fireplace; thankfully it had been left pretty well set-up, and all that really has to be done is the physical lighting of the kindling already in place and you console yourself with the knowledge that it should only take a few seconds.

“Not gonna let my bitty baby bunny get cold, hims gotta take care of herses.” He mutters seemingly mostly to himself although he was more than loud enough for you to hear. It does the job he intended it to, and you can feel yourself start to melt in response. He glances back at you as he crouches by the fireplace.

“Hadta do this in the army baby,” You start to laugh at his tangent, “Yeah I did!” He ardently refutes your chuckle, “- with none of these fancy tools,” He’s holding up a box of firelighters, “No siree, just two sticks and a rock and I could light anything up.” You giggle, finding the situation all the more amusing when you notice he seems to be struggling to light it now. He keeps trying with the book of matches from the side, but for some reason they just won’t seem to take and he huffs, swearing, standing himself back up from his kneeling position to storm over to his jacket, fumbling in his pocket for one of his lighters. Your jaw drops as you watch him reach inside the fire to hold one of the crumbling firelighters in his hand, and he lights it to the accompaniments of your shrieks and admonishments;

“Elvis! Oh god put that down! You’ll set your - oh lord, you’ll set your chest on fire doing that!” He turns to grin at you, before swearing as the fire licks his fingers, throwing the flaming chunk into the fire, and finally - finally watching as the kindling starts to flicker.

“Told you, honey, no problem at all.” He shrugs his shoulders, but your heart rate hasn’t yet levelled back out and you can’t help but continue to scold him.

“Jesus, what would I have told everyone! I swear -” He stands up, away from the fire now crackling to life, holding his hands out placatingly,

“No, no, no,” He grins, “No sweat, baby, I knew what I was doin’.” He’s got that boyish glint in his eyes, happy as only a man who has achieved a stupidly primal action like lighting a fire or setting off a firework can be, and when you continue to scold him he suddenly rushes at you, knocking you off your feet and sending you tumbling together onto the bed. His broad arms come around you, holding you like a movie starlet swooning in his arms.

“Shhhh…. honey, bunny, I knew what I was doin’ ok? You see, I was just foolin’ around, pretendin’ I couldn’t light it - you know, just messin’ with you a little, just - just for fun.” You snort in disbelief, although you’re quickly distracted as he kisses the crook of your neck, following an invisible line down to your shoulder and back up to your neck, one of his hands coming to hold the back of your neck while the other traces circle on your stomach. You gasp, and you can feel his grin against you.

“El—vis, oh - god, you can, let me get these off - please,” and you wriggle out of your panties, shoving them to your knees and kicking them off, when you manage to flick them off of your ankle your legs return to the bed, slightly more parted than before, desperately inviting Elvis to do more.

“You believe me don’t you honey?” His fingertips dance over you,

“Wha-” He repeats the question,

“You believe me, right, bunny? Y’know I could’ve lit it in seconds?” his fingers trace below your belly button.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, of course - who needs firelighters! Not Elvis!” He grins at you, and the sight of it makes you tease further, “Boy, you could, you could,” You giggle breathlessly, “You could make it a part of your show, you know - what can’t Elvis set on fire?!” You do a jazz hands gesture for emphasis. Elvis throws his head back in laughter, his head hitting the pillows and you wriggle in pleased amusement next to him for a moment before he sits back up,

“Oh ho - you take that back, little girl,” His fingers prod into you, tickling your sides and you scrunch up as you giggle more,

“I take it - oh! I take it back! You did, you did an excellent job.” He nods in self-satisfaction,

“Now,” his hands soothe the pinkened skin from where he’d jabbed into you, “Let me make you feel good, baby.” Elvis leans up and over you, cupping your face to pull you into another, deep, kiss while his hand finally travels down past your navel, brushing over your inner thighs. Your hips jerk up, as if offering yourself up to him. You can feel his arousal growing against your thigh, twitching like the little bunny nose he claimed you had.

“Lord, bunny, you’re so soft, can barely feel ya, s’like silk down here I swear to god.” Your eyes slip closed, your back arching at the feel of his soft pads sliding through the silky wetness of your folds, and your legs opening a little wider of their own accord in invitation, begging him to go lower or higher or something. When all of a sudden you feel a chill at the loss of his presence as he moves away. Your eyes flutter back open to see him, bare ass on show, bent over and poking at the fire - adding an additional log that immediately crackles and spits, onto the top.

“El-Elvis.” The situation catches you by surprise; to be abandoned in favour of fiddling with a fire could be seen as a little offensive in some ways, but it tickles you and the giggles overcome you before you can ask what exactly he was playing at.

“Ah, sorry honey, I didn’t mean to leave you hanging’ there but it was in danger of goin’ out.” He runs his hand through his hair as he stands back up, his hands falling to just below his hips for a second while he surveys the fire - making doubly sure he’d gotten it set up. He stretches, and you admire the muscles in his back as they move with his arms for a moment. He turns and stalks back over to the bed - immediately jumping beside you, bouncing you up before he gathers you back into his arms. His hand reaching across you to cling you to him, arm over your waist, finger barely brushing a nipple.

“You should worry about me going out at this rate -” He laughs at you, rubbing his thick fingers down your sides.

“Ohh-ho, but baby, bunny, I thought you were burnin’ for me? “He does his famous lip movement, somewhat self-deprecatingly, “just a...” He moves his hips next to you, “burnin’ love. Uh-huh? Bunny love?” You bite your lip at him - it was funny, but more than anything you can feel the arousal growing again in the pit of your stomach. He smiles at you, not expecting a response before he shakes his head, leaning over to press a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth before flopping back to stretch out on his back. You roll with him, lazily kissing his chest. It’s the most relaxed you’ve felt with him in months, maybe even in the past year.

He slides his hand back down, one of his long, thicker but still fundamentally slender, fingers preceding the others. You’re more than ready for him, and while your hips move in response to him pressing it past your entrance it’s not enough for the desire burning inside you.

“’S no good - can I - are you, are you ready for me?” He looks at you a little surprised,

“Yeah, sure, just - how d’you want the pillows.” He makes as if to get up and move himself off of his back, but you stop him with a hand to his chest. Your fingertips tweak his nipple, just the tiniest bit and you take pleasure in his open-mouthed reaction; perhaps a little surprised at your initiative and he looks wide-eyed when you tell him,

“Well, maybe I could…uhh..y’know,” You gesture vaguely towards his cock, he blinks at you, “Climb on?” His mouth stays open for a moment before he seems to remember himself, remember that such an offer shouldn’t seem a surprise to him. If you had the brain power to think you would consider it a little sad; the confidence he’d had on Big Bunny in comparison to now. He shakes his head, even as he settles back against the headboard, seeming to recollect himself, smirking.

“Sure thing, honey, I just thought women didn’t like doin’ any of the work.” You roll your eyes, not bothering to mention that this wasn’t even the first time you’d ridden him, but still, you swing your leg over him and with a helping hand from him to position himself you settle down, your thighs straining over the breadth of his lap. You immediately regret your decision to face him when you realise it means he’s watching your face almost too closely, and you say a silent prayer of thanks that you had had enough experience with him that you weren’t overly intimidated. He holds himself steady, letting you sink yourself down onto the sturdy length of him. His own face screws up, falling back onto the pillow behind him at the feel of the warmth of your wet heat pressing down onto him. You struggle for balance for a second, before your hands find their way onto his shoulders for a moment while you adjust to him. It’s been a while, a fact Elvis points out as he gasps at you that,

“Oh - lord, Jesus, honey, you been waitin’ for me? Ain’t - God, takin’ me so goddamn perfectly; feels just right for little Elvie, such a good little bunny, all for me.” Your hands scramble down his chest to his, admittedly thicker and softer middle, to push back and hold yourself up.

“Elvis - you feel, oh, I, I’ve missed this,” You shudder around him,

“Can tell,” He huffs as you start to lift up on your knees, “Can tell you’ve been so good for me, huh baby,” He grips your hipbones, “just a itty bitty baby bun bein’ good for me, holdin’ on jus for me.” You moan at the feel of the different angle he hits inside of you from this position, and as you find your momentum rising up and rocking yourself back down you feel your confidence growing.

“Oh, uh-huuh, good girl, oh lord that’s sexy…” You moan in response as you lean backwards a little, encouraging him to come up to play with your breasts. It amuses you how he still tweaks and pulls like a teen in the back of his daddy’s car, yet somehow, he manages to get the pressure just right, grinning at you knowingly as he licks his fingertips before bringing them back to your nipples twisting them just enough that the combination sends a rush of wetness. It’s a distraction for a second, but mere moments later and your thighs are screaming at you. Unlike on Big Bunny though this time you’re determined to see it through, and you blink through half-closed eyes at him, his own sweaty face staring back at you, mouth-open. Your hands paw at his chest, struggling to find something to grip to get the leverage you need, fingertips scratching at his chest hair, and Elvis eventually puts his hands back to your waist, his own hips moving to help you bounce on him.

You can no longer bring yourself to care about how you look - entirely lost in the sensations - groaning a little in annoyance as your hair falls over your face and into your eyes. You struggle to try and brush it away while still keeping your balance and momentum but quickly you feel Elvis’ hands move from your waist, one large sweaty paw coming up to push your hair off your face, his thumb stroking down your cheek after it’s tucked back. You let him slip it past your mouth as you rock onto him, moaning against his soft skin. His mouth stays open watching you with heated eyes,

“C’mon now, mama, finish the job.” You nod rapidly, his thumb tumbling out of your mouth, and he trails the spit-soaked digit down to rub along your thigh, letting his hips jerk into you, rolling with the movement. His hand sinks down, and your hands come to his shoulders as he starts to roll his thumb against your clit, his hand resting on the joint of your thigh and his other coming to back down to clutch at your hipbone. You’re almost there when you feel his hand suddenly pause as his hips thrust up more aggressively than before - more like how he used to perform and you’re about to shriek in protest, tell him off for stopping you right at the precipice, until you see his face screwed up, perfect lips open.

“Oh - Oh, fuck, fu-fu-uck.” He stutters the word, relief palpable, as if releasing after an immeasurable time. His hand moves back to play with you, his thumb moving rapidly, rubbing exactly over the right spot and it’s almost too much, the overstimulation making you lose your words as he slips and slides it back and forth. You’re begging him for something, although you’re not sure what and he praises you as you grind against him.

“That’s it, that’s it,” Elvis is breathless still as he encourages you, “C’mon bunny, you can give it to me baby, c’mon baby, c’mon.” He’s growling in your ear and you fall forward, his softening cock rubbing wetly against your folds as you land against his chest. His voice is enough to tip you over the edge, and you find yourself rutting against him, gasping into his collarbone before going stiff, stomach muscles and thighs convulsing as you twitchingly hurtle through an orgasm. “Shit.” He swipes his thumb over you again and you flinch away, but he pulls it away himself, shushing you before he pats his other hand onto your back and you jolt at what amounted to a an unintentionally heavy thump, his thumb stroking and soothing you back to quiet. His lips press against your shoulder blade, I love you it feels like he whispers against your skin, and you shout it back to him in your mind.

The next day you think to get ahead of Elvis, sending him to go and play with the guys while you rush back into the house, claiming a headache and a desire for an early night. You’ve lit the fire by the time he gets in and while you’d debated waiting for him naked and ready, you’d grown too self-conscious in his absence, so you were tucked under the covers; supposedly reading his book he’d left on the nightstand although you’d done more listening out for their return than actual reading.

You can hear him shouting to the boys on his way through, no regard for the idea that you might be asleep. He comes bounding through the door, coming to an abrupt halt at the sight of you. The door falling closed behind him with a clunk.

“You waitin’ up for me, bunny?” You swallow, trying your best at seduction, shoving the covers off to unveil your lingerie clad body,

“Uh-huh,” You nod, “Waiting and waiting just for you.” He grins, unzipping his jacket and starting to stalk towards you. The fire crackles and he pauses, his head turning to look at it.

“Oh. You lit it without me?” Your mind runs in circles as you try to work out his tone,

“Um, yeah - it was cold, so…” He frowns, looking back at you, huffing as he shoves off his jacket entirely, you come to the realisation that he’s actually a little annoyed, “I, I, just thought it would save you a job - you know, it would all be done, and you could just…” You gesture down yourself. He doesn’t respond, finishing stripping himself off and collecting up his pyjamas to take them into the bathroom with him.

“Elvis? You’re not, don’t be mad at me - I really was just trying to be helpful.” He shakes his head,

“I’m not mad, baby.” Elvis disappears into the bathroom leaving you to squirm on the bed, your tummy in knots. You’ve put his book back on his nightstand and have tucked yourself back under the sheets, feeling too exposed to stay as you were, by the time he comes back out clearly ready for bed himself. He throws back the sheets, climbing in,

“I-I like doin’ it honey, honest -” He opens up his arms for you to curl into, “I know the place has proper heat and all, but it just feels more, uh, atmospheric, doesn’t it?”

“I know El, that’s, that’s why I lit it?” He hums against the top of your head,

“I know sweetheart, uh, thank you, but I like taking care of you.” You nod in understanding, trying not to be too disappointed that your attempt at doing something nice seemed to have derailed your night. “So, what did you think?” He nods towards his book,

“Oh, I- I barely got a chapter in, I didn’t wanna lose your place,” You settle against his chest,

“Oh no, honey, I’ve - I’ve read it over and over, not got a place to lose - you go right ahead.” You mumble a thank you, but make no attempt to move, “Or I could read it to you?” His hand strokes your back, and you nod your head against his chest,

“That would be nice - yes, thank you.”

“Did you like it?”

“Mmhmm…. what, what do you like about it?” He never picks the book back up and you happily drift off to the sounds of his deep voice rumbling on about his spiritual conclusions from the text.

———————————

The next morning you find yourself waking up much earlier than everyone else, and you end up unable to fall back to sleep. You eye the bottle of pills on Elvis’ nightstand, but you would be too nervous to take something without waking him up and he looks so peaceful, gently snuffling beside you. Instead, you end up pottering about in the kitchen, making yourself a drink and curling up onto the couch in the living room with his book. An hour or so later Billy stumbles across you on his own hunt for a cup of coffee, and it’s almost awkwardly silent for a second as he stares at you from across the room. You’re just about to ask if there was something he wanted you to do when he breaks the silence first,

“You know…he’s really going for Ginger.” He looks you up and down, “But, you could - well, what I mean to say is that the boys like you.” You’re taken aback, unsure what he even means by that, and you stumble over your response,

“Oh, I don’t - I don’t wanna step on anyone’s toes or anything, you know I’m just - I’ve never been skiing so Elvis asked and -” He cuts you off mid-sentence,

“Look I’m not saying you’ve gotta go around acting like you’re off the streets, but just you know. If you wanted,” He gestures in the general direction of the hallway and Elvis’ bedroom. “I’m sure… well I know I wouldn’t protest.” You swallow hard as you try to consider the correct response.

“That’s very kind of you to say. I appreciate it.” You’re a little nervous this is a test and while part of you wants to bombard him with questions about what the issue is with Ginger - and does he really think you have a chance with Elvis? Like his girlfriend? You’re not sure how much will get back to Elvis and you’d rather be painted as cold than desperately vying for Ginger’s spot. Part of you cringes at the implication that all the guys were out discussing his relationships; that they all thought they knew best, on the other hand the little you’d seen of Ginger did little to change your perception from the same as theirs. She seemed nice enough, but Elvis certainly seemed a lot more hot and heavy than her. Even if there hadn’t been a lot of hot and heavy lately - except, apparently with you.

Later, when everyone but Elvis was up and despite everyone else’s protestations (and Billy’s attempts) you stayed firm in your resolve not to let them light the fire in even the main room. If Elvis wanted to do it and liked doing it, you were going to be damn sure it was there for him to do. It was storming quite heavily outside, and while you waited for Elvis to wake up, you’d all decided it was best to hang around inside.

You settled down on the floor by the coffee table to set up some cards, pretending to be nonchalant about where you’d placed yourself even as you hoped your position would put you exactly by his legs, and the perfect distance for optimum warmth from the, soon to be lit, fire. Elvis chooses that moment to walk in from the bedroom, in yet another strange silk shirt and tracksuit combination.

“Hi doll,” He bends over to press a kiss the top of your head, and you lean up into it. He rubs his hands together in an exaggerated motion as if for warmth when he stands back up.

“Shit. It’s fucking freezing in here.” He looks around, “Why’d no-one light the fire?” They all turn to glare at you, and you start to explain, stumbling over your words.

“Yesterday! Yesterday - you, you were offended, when I - I just thought you’d enjoy it!” You protest, and Elvis stares at you, eyes narrowing as if you were the white witch putting the cabin into permanent winter.

“Offended! Lord, the whole goddamn world will be fuckin’ offended when I can’t sing for shit b’cause I’ve caught pneu-neu-monia and my throat’s scratched to all hell!”

“Oh, I didn’t - I mean, the main heat is on - I didn’t think…” He ignores you to plop himself down opposite to where you were sitting, miles away from where you’d been planning and anticipating for him to sit. Elvis angrily gestures towards the fire and both Ed and Dick rush towards it, making sure it was lit quickly. You can feel the other girls look at you sympathetically, even as you desperately try to avoid everyone else’s eye, annoyed and upset at being publicly scolded. It’s bad enough for Elvis to be pissed off with you in public, you didn’t need their pity too. It felt like you were being judged for not knowing how to deal with him like this, you can feel some of them - Joe and Shirley for sure - rolling their eyes at you, but you didn’t know better; every time he’d been annoyed in the past you could escape with the excuse of needing to get something from the galley or you were alone in the bedroom together - and you could use other methods to soothe him. But to be in this situation in public was completely unchartered territory, and though you knew everyone there had to be aware of your relationship and situation, it still made you uncomfortable to be having an argument out in the open. At the first opportunity you have you excuse yourself, claiming another headache and shaking your head at Dr Nick’s offers of painkillers you head off to the bedroom.

Elvis comes barging in an hour or so later, and you flinch at the bang of the door against the wall, already bracing yourself to be accused of sulking or some other continuation of the argument but you remain where you lay in bed, on your side facing away from the doorway and try to concentrate on the words on the page of his book again. He sighs, and just as loudly as he’d opened it he slams the door closed. He makes his way over to you, sitting on the other side of the bed and looking over at you.

“My little bunny isn’t mad at me is she?” His tone is almost contrite, and you immediately roll yourself over to look at him. He’s got a boyish look on his face and you can feel yourself starting to melt, but you’re not entirely ready to forgive him yet.

“I’m not mad at you Elvis.” He frowns, titling his head like a confused golden retriever. He lets his head flop into his shoulder as he peers at you.

“Come on baby, you know I didn’t mean it.” You hum back at him, trying hard not to be swayed by his expressive blue eyes. He clambers up onto the bed, to cuddle into the side of you, running a finger down your arm, “Oh you can’t be mad at me, bunny can’t be mad at him - not when he yuvs her so so much,” He curls his arm around you to tug you closer to him, and you struggle not to smile as he continues baby-talking you, “not his bitty bunny,” He presses a kiss into your arm, shifting himself to place several leading up the back of your neck, and then leaning over to press them against your shoulder, he murmurs against your skin, “she wouldn’t ever be mad at him, his bitty, baby, bunny who he yuvs…” Your heart clenches. You know he’s manipulating you, and you’re still embarrassed, but he sounds so sincere. Even if he’s only saying it so he doesn’t have to outright apologise Elvis suggesting he loves you in any way is enough to make you forgive him.

“I’m not mad at you, I promise.” You roll around to look at him, staring into his eyes, “I swear Elvis - I’m not. I’m sorry for trying to control the situation.”

“Nah, nah you were just, you were just tryin’ to take care of me - I see that, let me, let me make it up to you baby,” His fingers glide over your stomach and sides, toying with the waistband of the corduroy trousers you were wearing. He looks deep into your eyes, searching for something, and he smiles a moment later, “C’mon bunny, lemme make you feel good. Let hims make it up to hers.” His fingers wriggle under the waistband while the other pops the buttons and you lift your hips to allow him to take them off.

He presses his lips to yours, ever so briefly, and you try to chase him even as he pulls away, his palm holding you down while he moves his mouth down your neck. He sucks a bruise onto your collarbone, and you shift in his grip, rubbing your thighs together as he laps at the little maroon mark. He sits up, settling himself between your legs but keeps his hand on your stomach, its wide span pinning you against the bed. No rings this time to dig into your skin, just the intimate feel of his fingers flexing against your abdomen. He brings his other to pat your legs apart. You flop onto your back, unable to stay in a crunch staring at him, the look on his face as he stares at your pussy too much to take.

You’ve been tense waiting for him, and though you feel yourself automatically relax into his thick hands you still worry momentarily that it’s going to be hard to get you to finish. You don’t want to disappoint him, and you open your mouth to tell him as much when his rough tongue laps at your soft folds, twirling around your clit. His tongue has lost none of its finesse, and he has no difficulty, with the help of two of his fingers to bring you to the brink within a few minutes. He laps against you, sideburns tickling your inner thighs, for what feels like forever and you’re struggling to keep your legs open and not wrap your thighs around his head, contenting yourself with tangling your fingers into his hair, holding him into place with the little strength you could muster. He’s not quiet when he does this - Elvis never is, uttering his own pleased little hums that seem to harmonise with your own, much louder moans and curses, the vibrations rebounding around your core. It’s not long before he sits up, mouth glistening - clearly ever so pleased with himself while you pant away the white spots behind your eyes.

“There’s a good girl now.” He pats at you, “C’mon back out now - ‘s no good sulking in here.” And though you never were sulking you find yourself tiredly nodding at his instruction, more than willing to do whatever he asks of you, boneless and biddable.

———————————

It’s strange when you get back home - It felt like you’d been away for months, wrapped up in your little Elvis vacation bubble, and yet it had scarcely been two weeks. It’s absurd that it’s such a struggle to adjust again. You’d let yourself get so close during the trip that it was painful to have to force yourself to watch and listen as he calls Ginger before you take off on the way home, or to be totally ignored as they all clamber out of the plane when you hit the ground in Tennessee. The trouble with Elvis, you thought to yourself as you finally sunk back into your own bed, was that he was everything. More than everything - everything revolved around him, like planets orbiting the sun and it felt near impossible to escape his gravitational pull. You knew your mother would say, “Baby, finish on a high; keep the memories.” The issue with that is that now you’ve had a little you want more. There’s no way in hell you can quit now. Not before you’ve had just a little taste more, just one more fumble, one more heated look from him, one more whispered I love you into your neck. But you have no idea if the desire is reciprocal; it’s hard not to read too much into it when your presence is conspicuously absent in March. You didn’t even know they were going to Hawaii, or that they had gone until Georgia told you about it while mentioning their rushed return home. Did he think you’d have a problem flying him and Ginger somewhere? Or did he think you wouldn’t be able to be discrete; a laughable idea since you’d been proving yourself in that department for the past three years. Elvis doesn’t mention it to you, so you keep quiet too, and almost immediately after regular service seems to resume.

You weren’t pleased for long, when it became clear that while he hadn’t looked much worse for wear after the apparent ordeal in Hawaii, and his voice sounded as good as before - none of this was to last. The monotony of the road, the easy habits of most of a decade immediately flooding back to him.

Despite having spent as much, if not more, time with him than a girlfriend would have done in the past three or four years, the long days and nights spent together you can feel him drifting. You had been there when other girls were there, there when they weren’t - watched over him awake and asleep. But you weren’t. You weren’t his girl, you were, at your core, essentially an addition to his jet. An amenity. So, when you get the call that a couple of tour dates were cancelled and that your services weren’t needed, before an almost immediate redaction and urgent request for your services, to get him ostensibly home, and in reality, quickly to the comfort of a hospital. You were at once concerned - you weren’t allowed to be worried, that was for family and friends - for Ginger and Vernon to pace back and forth in a waiting room. Your job was to remain calm. Professional and calm, even if you knew that had he been more conscious he’d have demanded your presence. He’d said as much after Linda had left - that you were his first choice. Maybe not just an amenity after all. That you would have been the one with his head in your lap, dabbing at his forehead - rather than Ginger’s hesitant pats to his arm. But it’s not you, and you have to simply take a deep breath, hoping that you’d at least get an update.

There were, by May, so many signs that things are going wrong, even to your untrained eye. Maybe because you saw him less and less, the flights short between tour stops, the requests to see you at the hotels suddenly lacking, that it doesn’t feel like a gradual change in the way the men describe it to be. The paranoia, the fear, and the sheer absurdity of his behaviour all seem to hit you all the more because you were able to directly compare to when he was doing alright, to how, mere weeks ago, you’d been having a grand time in Vail together.

The guns. The guns had become a symbol of his sheer level of turbulence. He’d threatened you before, at a time where it had seemed so out of the blue it was laughable - now, if he’d done the same thing you’d be more worried - he wasn’t as careful as he had always been. You weren’t a pilot, you didn’t have the same responsibilities, but even so the guns at Binghampton had almost cost you your job and would have certainly cost you your reputation had it all gone south. Had Elvis not somehow, despite his state, been able to effectively charm the officer in charge into forgetting his apparent oversight; although how, considering the guns had tumbled out right in front of them, was anyone’s guess. The ramifications were awful though, you and Ron and Elwood stressed about the ‘cargo’ on the plane, while Elvis shouted to anyone who would listen that he could do what he goddamn liked, waving his narcotics badge at anyone who tried to tactfully protest. You hated it.

It’s a long flight, at the end of a long week. It’s been trying for all involved, although Elvis has spent a lot of the time that you’ve seen him in a half-asleep state, desperately trying to recover from the strains and stresses of the brutal tour schedule he’s been put on again. You’ve corralled him into the bedroom on the Lisa-Marie, it’s a six-hour flight - not nearly long enough for him to recuperate properly, but enough that you actually have a fighting chance for once. He’d been playful and handsy the day before, the way he was sometimes - likely having taken one too many uppers, but you could tell from the lines and bags under his make-up that, though it’s been ages - to try and tease or play with him now would be borderline cruel. Instead, you focus on making him comfortable, tucking him up with you under the soft covers of the large bed, petting him exactly as he likes it. He’s just starting to calm himself down and you continue to murmur to the top of his head when he suddenly starts talking,

“I don’t, don’t wanna marry-marry her.” His speech is slurring, and you can’t be sure if it’s from sleep, or the effects of the palmful of pills he’d taken an hour ago, or some combination of it all. Oh, so maybe that’s why he’s gone off the rails?

“You don’t, - you don’t have to El- if you don’t want to,” You murmur back to him, acknowledging internally that he must be both absolutely exhausted and feeling miserable if his immediate response wasn’t to tell you to mind your own goddamn business.

“I’ve gotta take care of it - get the boys to take care of it…. Daddy'll do it for me. He should.” He nods to himself, but his eyes stay closed.

“Elvis, sweetheart,” You whisper to him, “you can’t make your daddy do that for you, you’ve… gotta do it yourself.” You pat his back, and he burrows his head further into your lap, your fingers finding their way into his scalp, curling around and into the hairs at the nape of his neck as you gently stroke his head and back. “She’s, she’s a reasonable girl - I’m sure she’ll understand-”

“That’s…” There’s a long enough pause as his breathing evens out that you’re fairly sure he’s asleep, but then he mumbles back, “’S not her ‘m worried about…’s her, her folks.”

You try desperately to reassure him, muttering about how no-one could judge him for making a sensible decision, and better to cool it off now than later, but it’s too late, and the only response you get back is the sound of him snuffling in his sleep, his eyelids and forehead relaxing as he curls his legs into you, snuggling against your warm heat, tucked against the thick gold comforter.

You try to relax yourself, but your mind is whirring at a thousand thoughts a minute; all too many of which were imagining poor Vernon being gifted with the unfortunate task of breaking up with his son’s girlfriend.

You feel sorry for him, you never believe when the husbands of your friends make jokes about how they’ve been ‘trapped’ - it’s a man’s world, and it seems absurd to suggest that someone’s womanly wiles were solely the root of their relationship crisis and yet, his description of his relationship is starting to sound less like young fun and more like a calculated entrapment. For perhaps not the first time in his life. You sigh again, and jump when Elvis pats your arm,

“Shhh, s’ok, s’ok baby, I got you,” He’s fast asleep, eyes twitching being their lids — but still, his hands swipe over your side as he clumsily pats at you, shushing you while he does. The notion makes your eyes fill with tears, how could he still be so utterly sweet and dependent?

The next morning he made no reference to the night before, or his whispered confession and you dressed and continued on as normal. Your mind though kept floating back to the words Billy had said to you back in early February. Should you attempt to make a move? Or at least, make sure Elvis knew you were totally available? Before you have the chance to act on any of these impulses though there’s a rumour spreading across the group - that Elvis wasn’t coping, that he needed a break, that the tour was going to have to be cancelled. You’d pushed it out of your head, hopeful he’d just need a decent rest that would be enough to rejuvenate him to get through the tour. But tragically, the rumour had turned out to be true and you’d delivered him home to Memphis amidst cancelled shows and runs to the hospital. He’d looked terrible when you’d left him, looking back at you at the top of the plane steps. You want to turn up, check he’s ok, check that he’s sure about Ginger, that if he’s not going to end things then that she knows how to take care of him. That she’s doing the best she can.

It had been radio silence since that last flight and perhaps you should be assuming that no news is good news, but you find yourself thinking about him most days. Worrying and waiting. You wonder if he would let you in if you went to Graceland to see him, or if that was altogether too presumptuous, hell you’d heard all about how he hated girls that were too forward. But he loved to be taken care of - you supposed it all came down to control, and though you were desperate that he be well looked after, and you wished you could supervise that yourself, you were otherwise happy to let him take the lead – it was just altogether too scary to do anything else.

———————————

Finally, in the middle of the third week of July you get a call reminding you of the upcoming tour, and then, almost immediately after you agree, an unusual call from Elvis himself. The phone ringing insistently less than 5 minutes after you’d agreed to the tour details.

“How’re you doing baby?” He’s talking in that slow drawl he does when he’s sleepy, worn out from the day - from rehearsals maybe, or just life in general. “My bitty baby doin’ ok, huh?”

“I’m just fine,” You’re impossibly hungry for details, but reluctant to sound too eager,

“My yittle bun-bun lookin’ after herself?” You’d basically already told him this, but the wording makes you blush, and you don’t mind repeating yourself for him, “Of course. I’m ‘cited to see you.”

“That’s good, well, that’s reeeall good honey, because, uh, you see,” His voice takes on the explanatory tone he so enjoys, both didactic and gossiping, “I don’t know if you’ve heard… or I suppose you wouldn’t have yet, but uh, Ginger’s not, she’s not coming on this tour with me, we’re, uh, we’re well…” He trails off, and there’s little breathy noises down the phone to you, which lets you picture the way he would have just taken off his glasses, rubbing his fingers along the bridge of his nose.

“Oh,” What else is there to say? ‘Oh Elvis, I’m glad you’ve ditched your fiancee?’ Hardly.

“She was just, just a lil too young, jus’ a baby, not, she just - it wouldn’t be right to make her settle down with me right now. Not, not when I don’t know if she really…well you know.” You don’t know what to say, and Elvis waits only for a brief second before filling the silence himself,

“The thing is - I wasn’t sure, I don’t know if you’d heard, I’ve uh, I’ve been, well, I’ve been real sick to tell you the truth. Weren’t sure I were gonna make it out to this tour and we thought for sure we were gonna have to cancel but well, here we are.”

“You’re not… you’re feeling better?”

“Yes ma’am.” At least that sounds confident, “Got myself a new doctor, and ‘m, uh, on some new, uh, treatments and uh stuff.” He pauses, “Playin’ a lot of racquetball.” He sounds slightly sheepish, and while you’re endlessly curious you don’t press the point.

“Were you just ringing to confirm I’d be around?”

“Well, here’s the thing, the thing is, honey, the thing is - I know you’ve already had a call, but you see, I was sorta hoping maybe you’d be happy to cancel them plans?”

“Oh. You don’t want me on the plane?” There’s a moment of silence before he swears to himself, muttering down the phone that he’d learn to have some balls one of these days.

“No, No, you misunnerstand - I want you on the plane, and off the plane - I just want you to come with me.”

“Oh.”

“If you can’t, well, I understand.” He sounds resigned, and your heart breaks a little, “But, I want company baby, and I want yours.” You twist the phone cord around your fingers, breathless in your excited agreement,

“I want yours too! I’ve been - Billy said, well I’ve been hopin’ for months El, I miss you so much when we’re at home, and oh, I’d love to.” Somehow you can hear him shaking his head through the phone,

“That meddlin’ shit.” You giggle back at him, and he laughs in response before he keeps talking, “So - pack your bags, honey, and I’ll send a car to get you at the usual time?”

“So, am I - like working?” He huffs at you,

“No - no, not workin’ for me no more - just being there for me. Want you to be my girl baby - be good just for me - not chasing down the other guys to make ‘em drinks.” You shake your head, brain skipping over the important part of the statement to the last part for a moment.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever ‘chased’ the other guys,” He huffs down the phone,

“Well lemme tell you they’ve been chasin’ you, wolves chasin’ their lil bunny,”

“Hmm, there’s only one wolf I want to eat me though Elvis.”

“S’that right?”

“That’s right.”

“Well then, I’ll have it all ready for you, s’probably easier, y’know this late notice and all,” You read between the lines that Ginger’s still at Graceland, “that I’ll uh, you’ll be waitin’ for me on the Lisa-Marie?” You cringe, but he does sound more like himself than he has in weeks, and hopefully - unlike with Linda and Ginger he’ll keep to his promise and actually get rid of her before you get on board.

“Mmhmm, that should be fine.” You hear him move away from the phone for a second, talking to someone else for a moment,

“Right, honey, I’ve - I’ve, I’m bein’ told I’ve gotta go now - got a meeting in a minute, but don’t be afraid to call - anytime, you’re to be put straight through to me, y’hear?”

“Yep, Elvis, I hear,”

“Alright then, I’ll see you in a couple of weeks, then - you take care of yourself baby,”

“You too El,” You’re about to say something stupid, like I love you, but with one last,

“Ok - buh-bye.” The line’s gone dead.

———————————

TAGLIST:

i’m just gonna tag anyone that’s specifically msged me about it and/or anyone who commented/reblogged the last three chapters -

@lookingforrainbows @ooihcnoiwlerh @ellie-24, @whositmcwhatsit, @thatbanditqueen, @vintageshanny, @doll-elvis @18lkpeters @prompted-wordsmith @richardslady121 @meetmeatyourworst @marriedtopresley @steph-speaks @a-literal-no-name @elvisabutler @precious-little-scoundrel @eliseinmemphis @iloveelvis @literally-just-elvis-fics @livelaughlove-talia @angelborn1 @amydarcimarie @peskybedtime @shakerattlescroll @i-r-i-n-a-a @saintomie @literally-just-elvis-fics

#fic rec!!#elvis fanfic #elvis smut #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis x reader #elvis fanfiction #be-my-ally #big bunny #big daddy elvis #elvis x you #1976 elvis #1977 elvis #elvis presley fanfic

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butchdiaz · 1 year ago

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ok its 4am on saturday but i was just possessed by a demon who forced a fic idea into the crevices of my brain and made me start writing before i could sleep so in the true spirit of fuck it, here's my fuck it friday ! thank u for the tags <3 @eddiebabygirldiaz @jeeyuns @try-set-me-on-fire

(again, its 4am and this is straight from my notes app. if there are mistakes, well, fork in the kitchen)

it's been three days since maddie and chimney exchanged their life-altering vows under flourescent hospital lights.

bobby and athena's backyard is lit up with fairy lights and lanterns, littered with wildflower-stuffed mason jars and leftover confetti. buck thought the original wedding venue was beautiful, sure, but it's got nothing on this.

maybe that's because, this time, it's just their little family -- buck's parents already flew home with a half-baked excuse -- and there's no pressure to get it right after getting it so, so wrong. athena helped maddie hem her dress where it got ripped down the middle of the train (much to josh's dismay) so it sits just above her ankles. and buck -- begrudgingly helped by chris -- bedazzled chim's boot with the eclectic selection of rhinestones that were available at the dollar store this morning.

chim's a little unsteady on his feet as he sways with maddie on the dew-soaked spring grass, etta james crooning from a speaker somewhere, but if buck could hear his heartbeat, he knows it would be beating sure and steady, in tandem with maddie's. they both have tears in the eyes and eyes for nobody but each other and buck's heart is just about fit to burst.

it's absolutely perfect.

an hour ago, bobby had pulled him into the bathroom to fix buck's tie and tell him that he was proud of him. fifty-six minutes ago, buck had walked maddie through the glass doors onto the patio while jee waddled ahead, flowers petals spilling in clumps from her tiny hands in an attempt to throw them. maddie had forgone the charade and swooped chimney in for a kiss right away, cradling his neck when she dipped him, just a little, a pink blush flooding his cheeks. tommy didn't come in a helicopter this time, but he still swooped in with that impeccable timing to open the car door for buck, like a goddamn high schooler at prom. an hour and a half ago, he held buck's hand as they entered the house and buck tried not to think too much about how sweaty his palms were getting. twenty one minutes ago, he placed a fresh beer in buck's hands before buck had even realized he'd finished his last one. twenty minutes ago, buck had kissed him on the cheek in thanks, easy as anything, and snaked an arm around his waist. and now? now he's dancing with tommy -- beautiful, sweet, charming tommy -- at his sisters wedding, and it's absolutely fucking perfect.

except buck can't even look at his best friend.

again its not friday anymore + i have no idea who's done this so i'm just gonna tag the besties! consider this a share anything u want/seven sentence sunday/i love u tag!

@usereddie @chronicowboy @shitouttabuck @911onabc @ilostyou @goldenbcnes @exhuastedpigeon @canonbibuck @diazly @evankinard @buckttommy

#ig this counts as spec but not really i just had a VISION #when i say possessed i literally mean i was abt to fall asleep and this started playing like a movie in my head and then i was wide awake #abby is making #writing

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whentherewerebicycles · 1 year ago

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gonna do some reflective journaling about the rest of my BIRTH EXPERIENCE under the cut

i had a really good birth experience in retrospect. the induction part where we were trying to get my body to actually go into labor was super hard and weirdly demoralizing. obviously no one could give me any clear indication of how long it would take and it was really hard to manage my own expectations and mentally prepare for it to take anywhere from 12-48 hours or longer to get my body into labor. i think all the normal big feelings around birth itself were exacerbated by being so sleep deprived going into it & in so much pain from my hands… like it was just hard to be like i've felt so bad for so long and i am afraid i'm about to be in a lot more pain that will compound the existing pain and also i have no clear timeframe for when either pain will end. also i think i was still a little traumatized by the foley balloon experience lol. like i think that if the promised dilation had happened over 12-24 hours like they expected maybe it would've felt less abrupt and violent, but instead it took less than 2 hours and was SUPER painful at the end, which then terrified me because i was like wow if birth is even worse than this how am i going to handle it. i had a total meltdown around 9pm the first night (sunday night) just being like I'LL HURT FOREVER AND I DON'T EVEN FEEL EXCITED ABOUT THE BABY ANYMORE BECAUSE I'M SO FOCUSED ON THE FACT THAT I'LL HURT FOREVER. but my mom and sister were SO good through the whole process and so loving and i felt a lot better after having a big cathartic cry about it.

the other hard part of the induction was that the pitocin contractions really were kind of a lot to handle. i was intellectually prepared for that after reading about it but physically it is hard to prepare for pain you have not yet experienced! i also have no experience of natural contractions to compare them to but it felt like they just got REALLY intense really fast and were so close together that it felt like there wasn't a lot of time to rest/recover after each one. from about 11pm to 4am when i got the epidural i was just in a lot of pain. my sister was sooo good through this part. she got up around midnight and we just hung out and she did counter-pressure for me on every contraction from maybe 2-4am when they got really intense and close together and also she helped me wash my hair which was for some reason extremely important to me.

the other part that i found hard about the contractions-with-no-pain-management part was that the night nurse was not all that helpful or sympathetic and mostly seemed kind of annoyed that i was asking for the epidural so early (i was a little over 5cm dilated at the time). and that made me feel embarrassed because i felt like a wimp!looking back on it i feel like i could've endured longer but also i was just SO tired from being awake and in escalating pain/discomfort for 24 hours and i was really overwhelmed by the idea of spending like six more hours of doing this on no sleep. but also looking back on it: who cares about what some nurse thinks of me!! i was the one in my body and i was feeling overwhelmed and it was ok of me to not want to be in pain anymore. anyway the epidural was incredible, i loved it, i want to marry my anesthesiologist, etc etc. i still think if i have another baby and am able to have a non-induce birth i would be interested in trying an unmedicated birth or at least seeing if contractions without pitocin allowed me to get further. it was an interesting physical experience and i think if i hadn't been so tired and in so much hand pain i might have found it more intriguing to keep going & to see what else that experience had in store for me. but as it was: i am fine with how it went down! and i was Ready to not be in pain.

anyway: got the epidural around 4am or so on monday and immediately crashed SO hard. like i was falling asleep sitting up at the table after they injected the pain meds. the anesthesiologist said that was normal lol i guess you don't realize how much adrenaline is coursing through your body bc of the pain until the pain is abruptly & totally removed and then your body is like PHEW!!! TIME TO COLLAPSE. i did indeed collapse. i slept three hours, just like the deepest and most uninterrupted slumber i've slept since literally late march, and woke up feeling like a new human. at that point they did a cervix check and i was i think at 6ish cm? so they let me sleep another three blissful hours and then i woke up and they were like whoa you're at 9.5cm it's almost go time. then we had a frantic 45 min or so of getting ready (i was like i NEED to BRUSH my TEETH!!!!!! i cannot BIRTH this BABY without BRUSHING MY TEETH but of course i could not walk so my sister had to bring me all the things aha). and then it was go time!!!!

pushing was hilariously fast ahaha this was by far the easiest part of my labor. everyone was in a great mood and the vibes were good and i felt like i had newly acquired superpowers after sleeping for SIX WHOLE HOURS. i spent so much time getting myself emotionally ready for it to take hours and be really hard, and then i think i pushed for like, five sets of three 10-second pushes, and he was there. it took 27 min total and would've been even faster except that they made me stop and wait for five-ish min while his head was RIGHT there in the birth canal (i saw it in the mirror!!!!!! it was insane!!!!!) because someone had to RUN and grab the OB. then i pushed for one more set and he was out!!!!! it was crazy!!!!! his cord was so short they ended up clamping and cutting it right away so they could put him on my chest. when they first threw him on me it was kind of terrifying because he was SO still and silent, and also a very dark purple/blue color, and i was like oh my god. he's dead. he's dead. i made it this far and he died. it was so scary gahhh i'm crying just thinking about it!! but then they started massaging him and patting his back and he coughed a bunch and started crying. they made him cry a LOT and checked his lungs a bunch the first 15 min or so because they were full of gunk/didn't sound so great, but he cleared it all by crying up a storm and then he was fine!!! and not so purple!!! and he was all mine he was my healthy baby boy!!!! he cried so much because it's scary to be born but we did it!!!!

wahhhh it was so good i want to remember it forever i am bawling again thinking about it. my guy!!!! he was so little and squashed and such a funny color and he opened his eyes and looked at me!!! and now he's just mine he's my baby!!!!! he had big dark eyes and big hands with long long fingers and long narrow feet with long delicate-looking toes and perfect little orecchiette ears and a truly majestic conehead from coming out of the birth canal ahaha. a perfect baby!!!! he weighed 7 lbs 14 oz at birth and was 21 inches long, and everyone kept saying phew if he'd had three more weeks to cook in there he would've been a BIG boy!!! i love him so much he is so perfect. oh also they gave me a 'placenta tour' which was very fun and also kind of horrifying like ouch that ripped off the side of my uterus?? also i had a small tear they had to stitch up but nothing too bad. idk the main event was obviously the BABY and he was perfect and everything was perfect and it was worth it to go through the shitty parts of induction to get him early. my kiddo!!!!! i love him!!!!

#pregnancy tag #baby tag #:))))

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bangtanhoneys · 2 years ago

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Bangtan Baby: So Many Uncles

A simple text message arrived in the group chat at around 10am, startling some out of their sleep and startling some who hadn’t bothered to go to bed yet.

Kim Bora.

Arrived at 4am this morning, April 27th.

You have an hour to get here.

It prompted a sometimes slow-moving BTS to throw clothes on, brush their teeth, quickly drink coffee, grab what gifts they had organised and high-tailed it over to Asan Medical Center. It took twenty minutes from HYBE to get to the hospital, security guards already stationed at the back entrance that was normally used by celebrities.

While they were respectful of where they were and they tried to be completely quiet, Seokjin couldn’t help but grin at the noise of footsteps coming down the hallway towards their private room. He hadn’t expected them to come so quickly but then the uncles of baby Bangtan had been on tenterhooks the moment the first message to the group chat was sent:

Action stations! Baby Bangtan has started its descent.

Typical of Seokjin.

The baby in question was fast asleep in her mother’s arms, completely unaware of the chaos outside her room. She had just been bathed, fed, nappy changed and out for the count. And while Seokjin changed his daughter with deft hands, Grace had taken a shower with the help of a nurse and her mother.

Now they were ready for the boys.

Namjoon was through the door first, as expected of the leader. Yoongi next, then Hobi and finally the maknae line. All loud at first but soon shut up by a glare from the new father. “Awww,” Jimin cooed as he finally spotted the baby in the arms of their female member.

Grace grinned, taking a quick glance at her daughter before she slipped her into the waiting arms of Yoongi. He was the third eldest, so he got first dibs on the new baby.

“Waa noona, she looks like you,” Taehyung stared at the baby from the shoulder of his hyung who looked absolutely besotted with the tiny thing in his embrace.

“She looks like hyung as well, I think she’s got his lips,” Jungkook added as he took a quick glance but made his way straight to Grace. As much as he wanted to see his new baby sister, his substitute mother was his main priority.

“Her eyes are her grandmother’s though,” Seokjin added as he helped Hobi put all the gifts on the table and gratefully took the takeaway cup of coffee.

Bora was passed to Namjoon then, who protested but soon melted when he got a good sniff at the new baby smell. “She’s going to have so many songs written about her,” the leader muttered, taking another quick sniff at the new baby smell then passed her onto Hobi.

She chose this moment to open her eyes causing Hobi to react with a loud gasp, causing said eyes to stare at him. “She does have her grandmother’s eyes. Oh, but they look like Jungkook’s when he was young. Come look at this.”

It was interesting to watch six men fight for prime position to look at the new baby, who stared at them in the most deadpan way a few hours old baby could. Seokjin quickly pulled out his phone, tapping on the camera app.

“Hey uncles,” he called out and grinned when all six heads popped up causing Grace to laugh from her bed. “Cheese.”

#bts 8th member #bts additional member #bts eighth member #bts female member #bts fic #bangtanbaby

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coolbeanzeaglbones · 9 months ago

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It's 4am, here's a fanfic chapter I had to finish or else I would've forgotten

Ian was still shy around everyone, but was warming up to Ricky, of all people. It was probably because Ricky had been trying so so so very hard to bring a sort of optimism to the place, “Hey, maybe he'll just let us go.” He would say, playfully shoving anyone in vicinity of shoving.

Christian sensed that he was trying to be more optimistic for Ian's sake.

It was on one night when Ricky called a team meeting, “Okay, I want everyone to talk about themselves. Get to really know the team. I'll go first,” he went and stood in the middle of their makeshift meeting, “My name is Ricky Falomir, I used to live in Connecticut before my mom left, then me and my dad moved to Orange County when I was six and I've lived with him ever since.” he finished with a little clap of his hands before sitting back down.

There was a silence before Christian sighed and walked to the middle of the meeting. He began to imitate Ricky's peppy tone, “Hi, my name is Christian Jacobs, I was born and raised in Orange County and then I frickin stolen from the waterpark. See how fun this is? See how much fun I'm having?” Jimmy was trying to suppress laughter, but Ian was full on laughing, “Yes, I do see how much fun you're having, now go on.” Ricky said, his face threatening to break into laughter.

Christian cleared his throat before continuing in a more of his tone of voice, “I have an older sister and three younger brothers. I miss them.” His voice cracked on the last word and he went to sit back down.

Again, silence. Jimmy looked over to Ian, “Do you want to go first?” Ian shook his head, so Jimmy went up. He took the middle ground and began to speak, “Well, I was created by my father as farming equipment…” he was cut off by Ian raising his hand, “Yes?”

“A-are you a r-robot?” Jimmy was genuinely confused by that, “Yeah? What? How…did you not know?”

“Well, I t-thought you w-were hu-human.” He said, “No, I'm not, anyway, I was created by my father as farming equipment, but I grew to be their son and on the day of the farmers market, someone turned me off and took me here.” he went back to his spot and slapped his knees, “You're up kid.” He said.

Ian did not look like he wanted to talk, but, being polite, stood and walked into the middle, “Hi, m-my n-name is Ian F-fowles and I ha-have an o-older brother…”

“Are you okay? You're stuttering a lot.” It was something he had been doing recently. It had gotten to a really bad point when he was trying to talk about himself.

He eventually just gave up and sat back to where he was before, staring at his hands, “So why do you wear knee braces?” Ricky asked, trying to invite him back into the conversation, “and wrist braces?”

“Oh, um, I-i don't really re-remember the s-story, but I th-think my d-dad’s side of the f-family w-was cursed a w-while back and…” he was cut off by the unit door opening.

Everyone scrambled to get far away from the door, onto the opposite side of the unit.

It might be just me, Ian thought to himself, but that guy looks definitely bigger.

Chad looked like he had grown a foot taller in just the few hours that they hadn't seen him.

Apparently, it wasn't just him. Ricky had audibly gasped when he came into the unit. Christian flattened both of his arms to his friend's chests to keep them held back. Jimmy's eyes were wide, the slight canary blue that always came from them seemed to be exacerbated by the tense atmosphere.

Chad just sat down, didn't even bother closing the door. He put his head in his knees and just sat there, shaking.

Christian exchanged a glance with Jimmy, before grabbing Ian by the hand and motioning with his head to the door. He seemed to understand, as did Ricky, and they all cautiously moved towards the door.

They were going to all run for it as soon as they got out, screaming for help and hopefully waking up the entire neighborhood.

Christian looked to his younger friends, gave the nod and began to sprint, yelling at the top of his lungs.

A giant arm came out to stop them, hitting Christian and Jimmy in the stomach and hitting Ian in the face. Ricky had managed to duck under the arm and was still screaming, but Chad pulled him right back in, shutting the door.

The kids backed up as a unit against the wall, Ian's nose was bleeding heavily, but he was, surprisingly, not crying.

Ricky let out a whimpering noise and grabbed Ian around the shoulders, pulling him close. Jimmy held Christian's arm as his back hit the padding of the wall.

The only thing going on in Christian's mind was, oh crap, I screwed up and now all of us are going to die.

Chad came closer, his massive form a huge blackout in the darkness. He didn't say anything, he just grabbed Ian and Ricky by their wrists and dragged them to the far corner of the unit.

They both tried to kick at him, Ian was now kind of sobbing and Ricky was cussing Chad out. But it was no use.

Christian knew he had to put his leadership to work. He charged at Chad with a battle yell, jumping and grabbing his shoulders. He tried to put him in a sleeper hold. Chad paid no attention.

There was an odd rack in each corner of the unit and Chad grabbed the filthy red rag from the ground and tied Ricky and Ian up to it by their wrists.

For anyone asking what Jimmy was doing, he was panicking. Like, full blown human panic attack. He was experiencing all of these emotions at once and it was overwhelming.

He crouched down, his head covered by his arms and began to rock back and forth like a crazy person. He was crying, like real tears. They were oil or something, but it was acting like tears.

After Chad was done tying the two up, he grabbed Christian from his neck and held him by his scruff like a little kitten.

He was silent. Christian wanted him to say something, anything! Heck, he wouldn't mind being yelled at! Anything but silence. But Chad just walked over, grabbed Jimmy by his arm and led him over to the other rack, where, as he held them both down with his leg, he tore a piece of his sleeve.

He tied them to the wrack and left. It was silent except for the sounds of everyone trying and failing so hard not to cry.

Christian allowed himself to join in the crying. He didn't know how much longer they all had left to live.

#the aquabats #the aquabats super show #fanfic #aquabats #dark fic #jimmy the robot #crash mclarson #eaglebones falconhawk #ricky fitness #the mcbc

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omegaremix · 1 year ago

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Record Store Victory Tour, 2018.

Having three shoulder operations to beat cancer has been the ultimate life victory thus far. It was the most amazing and largest outpouring of support ever. Friends, family, allies, co-workers in good-standing, and even names whom I haven’t seen or heard from in years came to congratulate me and wish me onto a speedy recovery. I don’t know if nine months is what you call “speedy”. Nine months of shoulder replacements, ten weeks of in-home nurse visits, a MRSA infection, six weeks of in-home intravenous antibiotics, and missing two label showcases were balanced out with staying up until 4AM every morning finding endless music (Negril, Robert Ashley, and Steve Khan to name a few), daily postings, heavy amounts of sleep, and Dad’s daily deliveries of free food full of steak, sushi, pizza, chicken, egg rolls, and pasta. With a nine-month blackout period of not leaving the house ever, you had to make the best of it. I knew that after this I would never ever answer to any random nobody about my shoulder. And looking back at it, I say to myself as to why I even let it go so far.

Working for a great company and playing your cards right, you could sit and collect benefits while staying at home doing almost next to nothing. I now had more money in the bank when I last left work. So I promised myself that after I fully recover, I’d treat myself like I never had before. I decided that I would go on a record-store victory tour. I would hit up each and every independent record place, go crazy, and buy up everything I can. After nine months of being bed-ridden and staying home, I needed to treat myself with retail therapy. I needed to get out there and be myself again. Of all I been through and endured, I deserved it.

I didn’t immediately do it, however. It took me a few months to earn back the $2,000 I lost in savings when the benefits ended. While that happened, I enjoyed hot August days walking from my house to the veteran’s park and back, witnessed my ex- Yenny get married, attended Hospital Productions’ 20th Anniversary showcase (a day I will never forget), had a night out in my neighborhood Dave & Busters with my co-workers, and started getting in touch with a Brooklyn witch. I made two label orders with Italians Do It Better and RRRecords which help things get started. As you see, it only got better.

February came and we got a surprise $1,000 from our company. Tax refunds and a third paycheck of the month sealed the deal and all systems go. My first stop was at Patchogue’s Record Stop, their new location since moving from their Shirley warehouse, and thumbed through whatever old-school hip-hop, 12” singles, and other small easy victories I could find. It wasn’t until places like West Sayville’s Vinyl Paradise was when spending three hours minimum searching in stores and $200.00 a visit on music was normal. I can also count West Babylon’s Looney Tunes, Mineola’s Mr. Cheapo’s, and Amityville’s High Fidelity who could’ve matched the totals I had from that store. It’s all about finding the most for less. Whether it’s Seventies’ jazz / fusion on vinyl, discount 12” singles, used CDs, dollar hardcore / punk 45’s, or other long-awaited finds, amassing history and style points is the most self-serving and exciting hunt I take part of. Other stores such as Northport’s Record Reserve, Massapequa’s Infinity Records, Riverhead’s Sunday Records, and Rosie’s Vintage (the smallest of them all) allowed for tidier spaces and friendlier prices for me to walk out with, with smaller receipts ranging from a mere $30.00 to $100.00.

Of course, with many victories come disappointments. Plainview just opened a new store called Vinyl Bay 777. It’s one of the cleanest and shiniest stores on the island, but also the most expensive. With a penchant for ambition and grading, their selections are anywhere from three to five times the price of what you’d find in others store. It was the only experience of the tour that I left feeling poor and let down. The other disappointment? Innersleeve Records all the way at the East End / Amangansett. Why? I’m disappointed that I wasn’t able to go.

And almost every store have their own legacy. Record Stop’s been around since 1974 starting in Ronkonkoma, then shuffling to a warehouse in Shirley before finally settling in Patchogue. The family-owned and highly-awarded Looney Tunes had survived a summer fire and took them 90 days to rebuild. This year they’ll celebrate their 50th anniversary. Mr Cheapo’s has two locations, the only store on the island to do so. High Fidelity moved to larger and cleaner digs which solved their storage issues. Record Reserve just moved again; their fourth time in ten years of operation. Infinity Records was the only store on the ropes during the pandemic relying on crowd-funding to make up for the rent. Rosie’s Vintage isn’t owned by Rosie. In fact, Rosie doesn’t exist. It’s a rockabilly wife named Thea who owns an antique store. And you can’t get any literal than Sunday Records, which is only open on Sundays. It’s the only store I know who classified their records not on genre but radio stations and chart positions.

The entire experience was great and I looked to do it again the year after. Unfortunately, I had lots of traffic tickets, fees, and violations to pay. With a vehicle in disrepair and an expired inspection, driving out in daylight without the police spotting me was not ideal. Then I looked to do it last year, and we all know what happened. The pandemic paralyzed and killed businesses left and right. With immediate closures and stop of life, everyone stayed home for their lives.

Next time, it’s going down.

Essential money was saved all throughout the pandemic. Two stimulus checks later, a third on the way, tax refunds, a third bi-weekly check in April, and a bank transfer means I’m ready to do it all over again. In fact, it’s already started! Rough Trade announced it’s relocating from its’ Williamsburg spot. With 25% off books, merchandise, and CDs, it was an incentive to get to it. With me waiting forever to go, now was the chance. I found the perfect March Wednesday to do it and I finally made it happen. What you’ll read later on became the most expensive purchase I ever made at a record store, and also the greatest.

Most locations (except Vinyl Bay 777, replaced by any given one New York City store) are on the list for the next record-store tour. I healed mostly from last summer’s depression and I had a trouble-free winter. With a day out at Williamsburg’s Rough Trade, the spring euphoria and hope came back like it did the first time around. With money in the bank, vaccines, and everything coming back into play, it’s time to have fun again like I want to.

For those who can’t be harassed by looking up our series and reading our visits one-by-one, here’s the final results of 2018’s tour:

Record Stop:

Sugarhill Gang “The Lover In You” 12”

Grover Washington Jr. Mister Magic

Carmen McRae In Person

U.T.F.O. “Roxanne, Roxanne” 12”

Ahmad “Back In The Day” 12”

DJ Yella “4 Tha E” 12”

L.A. Style “James Brown Is Dead” 12”

Knucklehedz “Hed Rush” 12”

Flatlinerz “Live Evil” 12”

Blondie “Rapture” 7”

Chemical Brothers Come With Us

Royal Trux Thank You

Delerium ft. Sarah McLachlan & DJ Tiesto “Silence”

Prime Minister Pete Nice & Daddy Rich “Rap Prime Minister & Daddy Rich (Rat Bastard)” 12”

Vinyl Paradise:

Laura Nyro Christmas And The Beads Of Sweat

Genesis Invisible Touch

Clash, The Black Market Clash 10″

Delegation The Promise Of Love

Herbie Hancock “Rockit”

B-52’s, The Wild Planet

Blondie Parallel Lines

Spyro Gyra Catching The Sun

Brecker Bros. self-titled

Herb Alpert Rise

Heart Dreamboat Annie

Tom Scott Blow It Out

Pat Metheny American Garage

Martha Velez Escape From Babylon

Stanley Turrentine Have You Ever Seen The Rain?

Bob James & Earl Klugh One On One

Sister Sledge All-American Girls

Black Moon “Who Got The Props?” b/w “Fuck It Up”

Rob Base & DJ E-Z Rock “It Takes Two”

Shannon Let The Music Play

Jellybean “Wotupski?”

Fu-Schnickens “Sum Dum Monkey” b/w “Visions (20/20)”

Tortoise & Autechre “Adverse Camber” b/w “To Day Retrieval”

Shirts, The Inner Sleeve

Freedom U.S.A. Hardcore

Coke Bust Confined

Ressurection I Am Not: The Discography

Spit It Out self-titled

Vice Flawed

Terror The Walls Will Fall

This Is Hell Bastards Still Remain

Subterfuge Fight Back

Bikini Kill self-titled single red 7″

Hangman A Vile Decree

Dead Kennedys “Nazi Punks Fuck Off!” (with lyric bag and armbands)

Until Your Heart Stops We Are Not Coming Down

Corrective Measure self-titled

Soft Cell “Tainted Love”

Kraftwerk “Pocket Calculator” b/w “Dentaku” clear yellow 7”

Six Weeks label America In Decline CD

Tear It Up The December 2000 Sessions CD

Dee Cracks “Be My Valentine” red heart-shaped flexi

This Means War “Use It Up” flexi

Broadcaster b/w Aspiga (Secret Audio Club Wax Pack)

Marathon b/w Fire When Ready(Secret Audio Club Wax Pack)

Looney Tunes:

Up In Arms / Eternal Youth split 7”

Defiant Trespass / Cold Like December split 7”

Make Or Break Down For Life! 7”

Arcadius / 7654 Stories split 7”

Pissed Jeans demo 7”

Search Bloc Life, By The Code 7”

Proud Youth Nothing’s Changed 7”

UN Bodies Unremarkably Mortal 7”

Force Of Change The Bond We Share 7”

Self Defense Family “Indoor Wind Chimes” b/w “Cottaging”

Tolerate self-titled 7”

Joe South & The Believers “Walk A Mile In My Shoes” b/w “Trespass”

Bread And Water / Reason Of Insanity split 7”

Stigmata There Is No Mercy Here 7”

Degenerats, The 7”

Monster X 1993 demo 7”

Last Dead Word 7”

Let It Burn From Jersey With Love 7”

Slak Another Disaster 7”

Eurythmics “Sweet Dreams Are Made Of These” 7”

Toni Basil “Mickey” 7”

Squeeze “853-5937″ 7”

Nena “99 Luftballons” 12”

Staple Singers City In The Sky

Unsung Heroes “What Would You Do?” 12”

White Mystery self-titled

D.S. 13 Vad Vet Vi Om Kriget?

Killing Joke Brighter Than A Thousand Suns

Marc Hurtado & Vomir 2011 / Sang+

Razed In Black Shrieks, Laments, And Anguished Cries

No Future Plan Of Attack

Die Krupps & Front Line Assembly Remix Wars

Maldoror She

Self Defense Family Heaven Is Earth cassette

Unholy Archangel The Wrath Of Kosmostistis cassette

Tod Hate Campiagn, Hymn To The Death cassette

Krieg Blue Miasma cassette

Hekseri The Atrocity (Early Demos) cassette

Crebain Under Black Wigs Of Night cassette

Riddle Of Meander End Of All Life And Creation cassette

Black Flame Torment And Glory cassette

Xasthur self-titled cassette

Krieg Songs For Resistance cassette

Striborg A Procession Of Lost Souls cassette

Tod Black Metal Manifesto cassette

Cheapo's (Commack):

Blackbyrds, The Action

Deodato 2

Jon Lucien The Best Of…

Bob James 2

Hubert LawsRomeo & Juliet

Deodato Love Island

Rolling Stones Undercover (stickered)

Bob James 3

Deodato Whirlwinds

George Benson White Rabbit

Bob James 4

Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth Mecca & The Soul Brother

Jedi Mind Tricks Legacy Of Blood

Naughty By Nature self-titled

M.I.A. Arular

P.O.S. Never Better special edition disc

Unseen, The Explode

Richard Hell & The Voidoids Blank Generation

M.I.A. Kala

All Dogs 7”

Last Shop Standing DVD

Katt Williams The Pimp Chronicles Vol. 1 DVD

Jerky Boys, The Stop Staring At Me cassette

Paula AbdulForever Your Girl cassette

Record Reserve:

Cars, The Shake It Up

Rolling Stones, The Some Girls (cut-out)

Peter Gabriel Melt

Weather Report Heavy Weather

A Clockwork Orange motion picture soundtrack

Genesis Abacab

Laura Nyro self-titled

Stranglers, The IV

Samantha Fox I Wanna Have Some Fun

Spyro Gyra self-titled

Cars, The Candy-O

Peter Gabriel Scratch

Debbie Gibson Out Of The Blue

Spent Idols “Chinese Suicide” b/w “Gacy’s Gone” 7″

Out Cider D.C. label Raise The Flag: DC Hardcore Vol. 1 7″

High Fidelity:

Prurient & Kevin Drumm All Are Guests In The House Of The Lord

KMD Mr. Hood

Sonic Youth Evol

Algiers self-titled

ESG A South Bronx Story deluxe disc

No Age Nouns

Greymachine Disconnected

Killing Joke Hosannas From The Basements Of Hell

Television Marquee Moon expanded disc

Esther Phillips Capricorn Princess

Severed Heads Cuisine With Piscatorial

Elastica self-titled

Sonic Youth & Mats Gustavsson & Merzbow SYR8

Killing Joke Pandemonium

Eric Gale Multiplication

Front Line Assembly Echoes

Wavves King Of The Beach

Strawberry Switchblade Since Yesterday 12”

Bjork Telegraph

Public Image Ltd. Second Edition

Esther Phillips Performance

Hatebreed The Rise Of Brutality

Killing Joke Night Time

Wilbert Longmire Champagne

Grover Washington, Jr. A Secret Place

Young Black Teenagers “Tap The Bottle” 12”

Sagat “Funk Dat” 12”

Crash Crew “Breaking Bells (Take Me To The Mardi Gras)” 12”

Prurient Pleasure Ground

Victory Records Victory Style II

Esther Phillips & Joe Beck For All We Know

Sonic Youth Confusion Is Sex + Kill Your Idols

Swell Maps A Trip To Marineville

Severed Heads Rotund For Success

Whodini Escape

Killing Joke Revelations

Stop The Violence Movement, The “Self-Destruction” 12”

Eric Gale Part Of You

Professionals, The “The Magnificent” 7”

Guyana Punch Line self-titled 7”

Heart self-titled cassette

Infinity Records:

Self Defense Family “Self Immolation Family” b/w “World Virgins” 7”

Peter Gabriel Security

Mantronix The Album

Eric Gale Forecast

Arsonists As The World Burns

Beat Street motion picture soundtrack

Kool & The GangLight Of Worlds

Dire Straits Making Movies

Shirts, The Street Light Shine

Belinda Carlisle Belinda

Makers, The Rock Star God

Bug, The Infected

Peter Gabriel Car

Filter Short Bus

Warzone Fight for Justice

Mood Doom

Jane’s Addiction Nothing’s Shocking

Depeche Mode Ultra

Curve Cuckoo

Rosie's Vintage:

Genesis Abacab

Nice & Wild “Diamond Girl” 12″

Shabba Ranks “Mr. Loverman” 12″

Dire Straits self-titled

Mad Skillz “Nod Factor” 12“

Boogiemonsters “Recognized Thresholds Of Negative Stress 12″

Blahzay Blahzay “Danger!” 12″

Harold Faltermeyer “Axel F” 12“

Spyro Gyra self-titled

Malcomb McLaren & The World Famous Supreme Team “Buffalo Gals” 12″

Sunday Records:

Cabaret Voltaire The Arm Of The Lord

Nitzer Ebb As Is

Strawberry Switchblade Who Knows What Love Is?

Steve Jones Mercy

Patti Smith Easter

Ramsey Lewis Tequila Mockingbird

Doors, The Greatest Hits

Cabaret Voltaire Drinking Gasoline

Utah Saints “Something Good”

Image In Vogue self-titled EP

Steely Dan Pretzel Logic

No Age Losing Feeling

Dead Or Alive “Brand New Lover”

Cabaret Voltaire The Drain Train

Public Image Ltd. “Home”

Gary Numan “Cars” / “Metal”

Malcomb McLaren “Soweto” b/w “Zulu’s On A Time Bomb”

J. Geils Band “Centerfold” b/w “Rage In The Cage”

Fad Gadget “One Man’s Meat” b/w “Sleep”

Tony Basil “Mickey” b/w “Hangin’ Around”

Stray Cats “(She’s) Sexy + 17” b/w “Lookin’ Better Every Beer”

Madness “Our House” b/w “Cardiac Arrest”

Todd Rundgren “Hello It’s Me” b/w “Cold Morning Light”

No Age Eraser 7”

Suzanne Vega “Luca” b/w “Night Vision”

Siouxsie Sioux & The Banshees “Hong Kong Garden” b/w “Night Vision”

Mr. Cheapo’s (Mineola):

Mic Geronimo “Masta I.C.”

Jemini The Gifted One “Funk Soul Sensation”

Hi-Tek “Hi Teknology”

Schoolly D “Livin’ In The Jungle” b/w “Gucci Again”

Richie Cole New York Afternoon

Dott & Night School Carousel split e.p.

Joe Beck self-titled

Chick Corea Return To Forever

Hank Crawford Hank Crawford’s Back

Steve Khan Tightrope

Tappan Zee label Best Of…

Shabba Ranks “Ram Dancehall” b/w “Original Woman”

D&D All-Stars “1, 2 Pass It”

Rayvon “No Guns, No Murder”

Doug E. Fresh & Beenie Man “Hands In The Air”

Black Moon “Black Smif-N-Wesson” b/w Smif-N-Wesson “Headz Ain’t Redee”

Goats, The “Burn The Flag” b/w “Typical American”

Little Shawn “Don Perignon”

Specials, The More Specials

Lee Ritenour The Best Of…

Steve Khan Arrows

Genesis Invisible Touch

Vacancies, The Tantrum

Nobodys, The Generation XXX

Easy Action Friends Of Rock & Roll

New Bomb Turks Scared Straight

Roots, The Do You Want More?!!!??!

Eric B & Rakim Don’t Sweat The Technique

Boogie Down Productions Edutainment

X Clan Xodus

Lords Of The Underground Here Come The Lords

Buckshot LeFonque self-titled

Channel Live Station Identification

Funkdoobiest Brothas Doobie

Method Man & Mary J. Blige “I’ll Be There For You” / “You’re All I Need”

GZA / Genius Liquid Swords

Milk Never Dated

Naughty By Nature19 Naughty III

Das EFX Straight Up Sewaside

Grand Puba 2000

Naughty By Nature Poverty’s Paradise

Ol’ Dirty Bastard Return To The 36 Chambers (dirty version)

George Michael Faith

Vinyl Bay 777:

(No purchases.)

#omega #music #playlists #mixtapes #personal #Long Island #vinyl #records #Cd #tapes #cassettes #wow #unbelievable #winning #holy shit #amazing

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kaiserkisser · 4 months ago

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HII LIA IM HERE TO TELL YOU ABOUT COMPETITION

first of all. context. im a subcoach for winter guard despite being. a color guard captain myself i just coach during the offseason and everyone in there already knows me. so i woke up at 3am to drive over to my friends house (situationship? idk he kissed me!) cause he lives way closer to the school than i do. picked up coffee, got ready, and then i left around 4:30?? perchance. i just know i got there at 5am

rehearsed for 2 hours, i got to watch the sun rise which was nice, and then i drove for like 3 hours up to COLUMBINE?!!?!!?!?!?!,?,! idc about location sharing cause i dont live anywhere close to columbine but i thought it was hilarious and my younger kiddos that are like ~14 couldnt stop saying we were gonna get shot up💀 but it was fun! got there around noon, i led stretches and took them to their warmup area and i got to watch them perform! i actually have some pics to share cause its pirate themed and they all looked super cool. point is i had to help ANOTHER guard get set up so we went out for dinner and then rushed back and i literally had to lug. 200 pounds worth of equipment out for them

and then came the tears.

bro there were so many tears.

one kid was crying because we got 7th place out of FIFTY SIX GUARDS??? she wasnt proud at all and that was. mildly frustrating. another girl was crying because she fell and a boy was crying because he wanted to go home, ANOTHER girl was absolutely sobbing because she thought we left her behind?? i felt like a dad bro. i was even DRESSED like one. they couldnt stop crying and we had hours to go because we still had to watch 16 professional guards so i drove to get everyone ice cream and bought $100 worth with my own paycheck💔💔 BUT it was worth it they cheered up and we got home at 4am safe and warm

anyway. im sore. my apple watch says i ran 13 miles doing stuff on saturday. i lifted so many weights and carried so many shoes and ate so much greasy food i am EXHAUSTED. but here are pictures for you + i actually have a picture of my nighttime glasses! with my tiny prescription

glasses + dad fit pic and my captain that i technically supervise but hes my best friend (and he has a tumblr……so he might see this) and this FATTY i saw when i got home. i dont remember my cat being this gigantic. anyway love you lia!!!!!!!!’

HIHI NOAHIEEE OMG ITS BEEN AGES!!!!!!

oh WOW rooting (maybe? should i?) for that situationship lmaoo

help omg i will never understand u early morning wakers- my brain does NOT function before 6 am minimum- 💀😭 and KIDDOS LMFAO

bro????? fym 200 pounds omfg did no one help u- 💀💀i would prolly die doing that ajdjshssj

DAD NOAH ERA ‼️‼️‼️oof how do u deal with crying kinds 😭😭 thankfully i havent rly had to deal with any till now omfg i have NO idea if id be able to calm them down (i like to think i would lmao) KUDOS TO U THO FOR CHEERING THEM UP OMG and omg did you like. even rest throughout the day. at all.

OMG UR EYES N SPECS R SO PRETTY HEHE yeah no DEF a dad i can see it /silly 💀💀 UR CATS SOSOSOSO ADORABLE OMGGG :33333 love u more noah!!!!!!!! >:333333

#[💌] letters from: noah <3 #[🧋] noah <3

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clanoffelidae · 1 year ago

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I’m always scared of jinxing myself by opening my mouth and saying I’m ‘not physically disabled anymore’ or that ‘my cyclic vomiting is gone’; because there’s no cure and we don’t know why it sometimes just… stops. There’s not even really any medication to manage it you just kind of… try to work through it and manage symptoms and side effects as best you can. Namely, the dehydration due to excessive vomiting being the main concern. (Have had abdominal spasms due to becoming dehydrated from it before. Took me 5-6 minutes to army crawl six feet to the shower, wiggle out of my clothes, and stretch up to turn on the hot water to try and soothe the muscles I was in so much pain. It was also like 4am and I was at a homestay in another country so fuck me I guess lol. Fortunately my homestay actually spoke English; which worked out because I speak Spanish decently well so I was making an active effort to converse with her and practice before I got sick, she was extremely helpful because I mainly needed help with specific vocabulary/phrases and she could help me translate them, and then when I got sick and was so exhausted I could barely communicate in English anymore I was able to drop the Spanish and still be understood and given help. That’s a tangent tho lol sorry)

And that’s true of a lot of physical disabilities, sadly, so I’m sure many of you can understand why I’m scared of it. Because I’m one of the lucky ones, even when my condition was at it’s worst I had more good days than bad. One of the defining characteristics of CVS is that in between episodes you would never know something is wrong with us.

And sometimes people just… ‘grow out of it’, so to speak. It most commonly affects children, even being thought of as a pediatric disease, and then just goes away when they get older. I was a weird case, I had two sporadic episodes in high school and then it hit me hard basically as soon as I got to college; it only ever happened when I was an adolescent/adult.

During the worst of it I would have episodes as little as 3 weeks apart; I’d be in severe agony and vomiting profusely for around 24 hours, take several days for the pain to go away (the episode was over but I was sore after the vomiting), and about a week for the brain fog and lethargy to clear up. I knew my stomach was empty, I knew I had nothing in it, but it felt so swollen and I was convinced it was about to tear open like an overfilled balloon. The condition is believed to be related to migraine headaches and I believe it - my severe migraines are the throbbing kind where it feels like my head is about to explode, and that is the exact same kind of pain I was feeling in my stomach. Those same, unique qualities that differentiate the pain of a migraine from another headache were exactly what I felt in my abdomen. I was also light and sound sensitive, seeking darkness and solitude; although it didn’t cause literal pain to be exposed to light and sound like with a migraine headache, it stressed me out for ‘seemingly no reason’, overwhelming me and increasing my pain as a result of the stress and desire for the stimulus to go away.

My last episode was in 2019. I only even had frequent episodes for a little over 2 years.

And I’m still deathly afraid of every new medication I try because I don’t know why it stopped. Nothing about my lifestyle changed, nothing about my habits. I was never able to identify any triggers like with my headaches, it just sort of ‘happened’ as far as I could tell.

I have no idea why it started and no idea why it stopped.

And I’m constantly fucking terrified that I’ll fuck something up and it’ll come back, that this time of peace and ‘health’ is temporary. I’m so fucking scared because it hurts so fucking much and I don’t want to be in pain again.

I don’t want to be in pain again.

And I don’t know why I’m bringing this up or what I’m trying to say really. I guess I just want to get my fears written down because they’re circling in my head again.

And I guess I also want to say that I’m sorry. I’m sorry to everyone who suffers with a ‘hidden’ condition that no one believes you about, I’m sorry for everyone who is barely dragging themselves through it day by day; in pain, exhausted, and with the people around them burnt out on offering help because ‘why can’t you just get better already’.

I’m lucky, I’m so very, very lucky that for whatever reason my episodes just… stopped. They just stopped. And even still I live aware of the sword dangling over my head, never believing that the dragon is actually dead and is only just sleeping, still there to be reawakened if I mess up (when I don’t have the slightest idea what or where that invisible line I must never cross is), and I never dare to say that I’m ‘cured’ because I don’t believe in miracles like that. It’s a miracle that they stopped, and I’m grateful for it, but I will never dare to believe that they couldn’t come roaring right back any day.

Disability can happen to anyone, and I’m vividly aware that my old pain could be stumbled into at any minute, along with any number of other things, and I’m so sorry to everyone who still lives with their pain that is a constant companion. Mine is sleeping, but I remember it well for how it burned like the sun, to the point that I was able to identify sporadic episodes years after the fact that I had thought only stomach bugs because they were so horrible.

Pain is good, but not like this.

Pain is meant to be a teacher, a protector. A warning system of ‘hey! Don’t do that! We could get hurt!’ Your body’s way of keeping you safe and alive; don’t touch the fire because it hurts, don’t touch the fire because it could kill you. Pain is life’s way of steering you away from death, of keeping you safe and alive; letting you know there’s damage so you know to keep that part safe while it heals and use it less. Because when you’re about to walk into the flames your body doesn’t have the time to sit down and explain it to you gently, it has to alert you ‘NOW. PULL BACK NOW!’

Pain is meant to be a good thing; it’s meant to keep you alive and to protect you, to teach you about danger so you know how to be safe, and go let you know when you’ve been damaged so that you can make sure to give the damage time to heal.

But it’s not meant to be there all the time; it’s not meant to be constantly flashing the alarms when there’s nothing to be done, your body trying to help and let you know that something’s wrong when there’s nothing you can do. It’s not meant to linger until it breaks you, to weigh on your shoulders until you struggle to see the good past it. But just like with any good thing, so often does it become ill.

Pain is a constant companion for too many of us, and I’m so, so sorry for that.

You shouldn’t have to be strong.

I’m sorry.

I just wanted to let you all know that.

#vomiting #cyclic vomiting syndrome #actually disabled #disability #chronic pain #recurrent pain #i hate how pain is such a beautiful thing #your body’s alert system and life’s way of making sure you stay alive #protecting you - teaching you - keeping you safe and helping you to heal #letting you know what you need to #and it just gets twisted into something horrible #becoming chronic and never leaving and breaking you down #being used intentionally by others for cruel devices #and i just. i don’t know.#it upsets me is all #i’m sorry to everyone who has to be strong #you shouldn’t have to be #i’m sorry #life’s hard and survival’s not easy #that’s not the way the world works #i get that and i accept that #but this is more than that #and it’s not fair #and i’m sorry for that #i get that life is a constant battle for survival #but you shouldn’t be having to fight with yourself

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kwisatzworld · 2 years ago

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Vale's First Year in 250cc - 1998

Japanese GP, Suzuka “Maybe the perfect thing about 250 is I can get out of bed later! I used to get up around 7am every day for 125 practice, and that’s too early, a big problem for me. Now life is very much better because 250 practice later so I can stay in bed until 9am. I keep strange hours – at home I never go to bed before one or two in the morning, and I never get up before 11am if I can help it.” “I like Suzuka very much because it’s fun and Japan is a paradise for me because I love computer games. The track is great and I love all the shops and amusement arcades in the circuit complex – it’s like a big amusement park. Suzuka has to be the most expensive GP for me! This year I spent so much money on new games for my PlayStation and on souvenir F1 models of Hakkinen and Senna. I also bought a very trick radio-controlled Tamiya Subaru, with all the special parts that are impossible to buy in Italy.” “I think I will ask Beggio - he’s the Aprilia boss - to fix it for me to meet the Spice Girls. They are now promoting Aprilia scooters, and I’m a big fan. It would be fantastic to meet Scary Spice. Maybe I should join the band – I’d be Fast Spice!” “It’s good to be racing again after such a long winter and so much testing. I only had one real holiday – I went snowboarding for the first time. I crashed so many times. Now I’m a racer I’m more careful on skis than when I was a boy, but not too careful!”

Malaysian GP, Johor “Johor was another expensive grand prix for me – very expensive! On Sunday I lost the prize money for first place and earlier in the week I lost one million lira in a bet with Loris Capirossi. We stayed at the same hotel and I bet him that he couldn’t jump off a first-floor hotel walkway into the swimming pool. It was a pretty risky jump because he had to jump away from the walkway and there was a four metres drop to the pool, and no room for a run up! He nearly chickened out, but I’ll never pay him. Well, I’ll see if he forgets first.”

Spanish GP, Jerez “I didn’t miss the discos either, because I had a lot of late nights in clubs before I went to Malaysia. Maybe you know, but there’s a big fight in Italy at the moment to make clubs shut earlier. They close at 4am on Saturday night, but some people want them to close at two, because a lot of the kids have accidents when they drive home. But it’s crazy, if they shut the clubs at two, for sure there’s no way I’ll go home. I’ll go to another bar or to a party with my friends. I always stay up until six or seven on Sunday morning! Okay, maybe some of the kids drink too much or take drugs, but you don’t only get drink and drugs in clubs.” “It’s great to be back in Europe after the first two races. I have my camper which makes life very comfortable, the camper only holds two people, but that’s okay. I don’t like my dad to sleep with me, because when it gets to ten o’clock he starts saying: ‘Vale, Vale, go to bed!’, but I can’t go to sleep before one or two. We did share a motorhome in ‘96 and it made life very, very difficult for me. Dad didn’t make it to Japan or Malaysia and it’s good to have him around again. He knows what it’s like to be a GP rider, so he keeps in the background, maybe watches a bit out on the track, and lets me get on with it.” “Next race of course is Mugello, which is fantastic – lots of Italian fans. But I hope it doesn’t get too crazy for me in the paddock. Someone told me I should hire some security gorillas to look after me, but the organisers of the Milan motorcycle show did that for me, and they pushed the fans around. I didn’t like that, so maybe I’ll do what I did at the Bologna motorcycle show last autumn – dress up with dark shades, a wig like Ruud Gullit [the Dutch football star] and a baseball cap. I looked just like a fan and didn’t get hassled once all day. Or maybe I will dress up as a Spice Girl!”

Italian GP, Mugello “The noise at Mugello is mad – the fans on the hills rev up engines all day and all night. Some people bring big, old car motors in the back of vans, with big, open megaphone exhausts. They just rev them on the rev- limiter until the engines blow: pa-pa-pa-pa-pa... boom! It’s very funny! It’s fun to go up on the hill on Saturday evening. Two years ago I wasn’t so well known and I went up there and blew up someone’s CBR engine. Ooops! Last year was very dangerous for me – everyone shouting ‘Rossi! Rossi!’ and jumping on me. There was this big wall of people and only one way out – through the showerblock, so I rode my scooter through the showerblock. If I hadn’t, I’d probably still be up there.” “Mugello is always a lot of pressure for me, but maybe this year isn’t so bad as last year when I was on top of the points in 125s, so I had to win. This time as usual I spent so much time signing autographs, taking photographs with fans and talking to journalists and TV people. It’s okay, but it’s a little problem, because I need so much time to set up the 250. It’s not easy like the 125. You must think a lot and speak to your technicians all the time about your engine, your gearbox, your suspension, your chassis. Busy! Busy!” “The other thing that takes a lot of time is the girls! There are always a lot of girls at every Grand Prix, but a lot of really young girl fans come to see me in Italy, 12 and 13-year-olds. I prefer older girls who are real fans of me as a racer – not teeny-boppers.” “I wasn’t so confident before Mugello because while I was at home I played football and lost, I played tennis and lost, I rode motocross and lost. The only thing I won was minicars – I am the champion! We got beaten in a five-a-side soccer match, six-one, then a friend beat me at tennis, six-one, then Marco [Melandri] beat me at motocross. I’m always fighting with Marco on motocross but he’s faster than me. I’m getting better though – at the start of the year he’d beat me by five or six seconds, now it’s only one or two. I have much fear when I ride motocross because I’m not good at flying. We don’t go crazy; it would be stupid to get hurt doing that. Motocross is great for my muscle power though. I don’t go the gym much in the summer because I want to be outside, so motocross is perfect.”

French GP, Circuit Paul Ricard “Of course I’m looking forward to the World Cup. I love football and you get a great atmosphere for the World Cup. For sure I will see all of Italy’s matches on TV with my friends. I may also go to Paris for one of our matches to work with Italian TV. I hope it’s the final! But I think it will be difficult for Italy. For me, Brazil are the favourites, maybe also France; they have some good players.”

Madrid GP, Jarama “The Saturday before Jarama I went to a crazy disco in Riccione – a lot of people were out of their minds, really high! It’s incredible what the young do for enjoyment! I nearly got into a fight in the club too. This guy came up to me and asked for a cigarette. I told him I don’t smoke. So he asked me again, and I said I don’t smoke. He said ‘You don’t want to give me a cigarette because you’re Valentino Rossi’ and he wanted to fight me! Luckily a friend of mine – a big friend – arrived just in time. That’s another reason why I must get bigger muscles!”

Dutch TT, Assen “I love Assen – it’s a fun track – so it was great to win my first 250 GP there, especially after I won there on the 125 last year. The only thing I hate about Assen is the weather, but it didn’t rain until the 500 went out. God must like 250 racing!” “Maybe my new hair style gave me good luck. I dyed it orange before I left home for Holland, but only when I got to Assen did I realise that orange is the country’s national colour. So far I’ve been blue, blonde and orange, which leaves so many more colours to choose from. I think silver will be next.” “The weekend before Assen I went to the Misano World Superbike round. The track is only 10km from where I live, so I rode there on a scooter with some friends. It was like being a kid again! We watched from the side of the track, not from the paddock. We just laid down in the grass, sunbathed and cheered like crazy when Aaron Slight won both races. I’m a big Slight fan, so it was another perfect day. Aaron’s a really nice guy, but I’m also a big fan of Haga. He didn’t have such a great day – he crashed in both races – but that didn’t stop him having a big party on Sunday night. I went out to dinner with him and the Yamaha team that evening. I had already met him at the Suzuka GP and although he doesn’t speak Italian or English we had a very good Japanese/Italian interpreter. He’s incredible – he drank so much beer! He’s a good guy and very funny.” “The Superbike paddock is great, very different from GPs. Everyone is so serious in GPs – they have to be because the racing is so competitive. In Superbike it’s not like that, the whole Yamaha team was drinking on Sunday night: chief mechanics, mechanics, riders and even the number one guys of Yamaha Japan and Yamaha Italy. I think it’s better like that, but the scene in GPs is too intense for that kind of thing.” “A few days before Misano I went to Paris to be a studio guest on Rae TV for the Italy v Cameroon game. Three-nil! It was fun, but I didn’t get to talk much and I never met the Italian team, because I was in Paris and they were playing in Montpelier!”

British GP, Donington Park “It was a bad end to a bad week for me. We watched the Italy v France World Cup game on Friday night in the Aprilia hospitality unit – there were a lot of Italians and a lot of French making a lot of noise, so it was very funny. Of course I was sad to see Italy get beaten, especially on penalties. For sure if they’d won the cup there would have been a really huge party all over Italy. I was looking forward to that. Now I want Brazil to win. I was glad to see Germany go out on Saturday because I didn’t want them to win. Sorry, Germany!” “The guy who really impressed me during the World Cup was Michael Owen, the English striker, he’s only 18 or something and he scored an amazing goal against Argentina. Maybe he’s the Valentino Rossi of football!” “We had our own paddock World Cup at Donington on Thursday, which was really shit, because we played three games and lost three games. I played in the Italian team with Melandri, Boscoscuro, Scalvini, Locatelli, Borsoi and Carpani. First we played the Suzuki 500 team and lost, then we played Team Rainey and lost, and finally we played Dorna, and lost. Dorna were all Spanish and very good. But the games weren’t so much fun because the pitch was tiny and really bumpy. Last year we had the paddock World Cup at Imola on a full-size pitch, and I scored twice. Nice!” “I have to say I don’t like leaving home to go racing at this time of year - there are too many beautiful girls around where I live, and they don’t wear so many clothes during the summer. Before I left home for Donington we played this really fun game of football in Riccione, on a soft rubber pitch, covered with soap and water, so you slide all over the place! It’s very difficult even to touch the ball, and you spend most of the time crashing into each other. We were laughing so much we were crying.” “I’ve got a new PlayStation car racing game at home: Grand Turismo. It’s fantastic and I’ve been spending a lot of time playing it. You start off with a not-so-good car, and then win prize money to get trick tuning gear for the engine and chassis. Now I have a Subaru with 350bhp. It’s so fast! I’ve heard there are also some good bike racing games coming out soon – a World Superbike game from Virgin, and the Aoki brothers are working on a GP racing game with Namco. Maybe if they’re really good, I’ll just give up racing and stay home with my PlayStation. It doesn’t hurt so much when you crash.”

German GP, Sachsenring “Now we have a four-week holiday before Brno, but I’m going to spend most of my time on the beach near my home – it’s sunny and the girls are nice, that’s all I need! But I am going away for one week – a racers’ holiday with Loris Reggiani, Roberto Locatelli and Melandri. We’re going to Tunisia to mess about with jet skis and fast boats. Should be a lot of fun!” “People ask me why I don’t have a really flash car, but I like the Impreza. And anyway I live in a town with small streets – not so great with a supercar. Maybe next year I will buy a Porsche S4. At the moment I think I am maybe too young for a Porsche. I guess I can afford one but I don’t want to have everything I want too soon. I’m still young and have plenty of time ahead of me for doing things.” “Perugini has a Ferrari, but I think a Porsche has more class. Capirossi has a Lamborghini Diablo with 500bhp, like an F1 car. They’re great cars but they’re like a Fiat 128 inside! Also you can lend your Porsche to your mother so she can go and do the shopping. Try doing that with a Lamborghini – Iimpossible! For me, Porsche is number one, for sure.”

Imola GP, Imola “It’s nice to win again – especiallly at home. Maybe my Italian hairdo worked, which makes me think, because I won in Holland, when I had my hair orange, which is their national colour. So maybe I’ll dye my hair like the Catalan flag for Barcelona – red and yellow. Only problem – I’ll look like an oil flag!” “I could hardly move for girls outside my pit at Imola. Too many girls. Also some very nice girls, but I don’t have time! Maybe they like my new hairstyle. Imola was a tough race for me. Not because of the girls, but because it’s a very technical track with many slow chicanes, so we had trouble finding the right settings for my Aprilia.” “I’ve decided I prefer 125 riders to 250 riders – they’re much more fun and much more honest. It’s better. If you do something bad on the track, the other 125 riders come and tell you to your face. If you do something bad in 250, they just smile and say hello, and then say bad things about you behind your back.” “A lot of the 250 riders aren’t as friendly or as well behaved as 125 riders. 125 racing is like a family – everyone is friends, it’s not like that in 250, and I guess it’s probably the same in 500.” “Back at the start of the season, Ukawa got in my way on purpose when I was on a fast qualifying lap, to try and slow me down. He said he didn’t see me, but for sure he did see me. The same has happened other times. No one ever got in my way on purpose when I was racing 125 GPs in ‘96 and ‘97. In 250, the other riders seem to get angry if you’re fast, they like you more if you’re slow.” “Everyone knows that 125 battles are often very close and very crazy, but we still manage to stay friends. I don’t like the way some 250 riders behave. Before I came into 250 a lot of the riders were my heroes, but not any more. I hope I don’t become like one of them – if I do, I hope you will tell me.”

Catanlan GP, Catalunya “I don’t think the GP bosses liked my friend the chicken at Catalunya. The rules say you’re not allowed to give people pillion rides, but the rules don’t say anything about chickens. Maybe I’ll get into trouble, maybe they’ll put me in jail, but I won the race, so I don’t care. As long they let me out in time for Australia. Why a chicken? Simple, a friend of mine runs a chicken farm, and he’s one of my sponsors.” “We had a big party after I won at Imola – a lot of people, but I didn’t have a hangover the next morning, because I don’t drink alcohol. Maybe the occasional beer, for fun. But I’m only 19, plenty of time for drinking later!”

Australian GP, Phillip Island “I got to Australia on Wednesday and left on Sunday night after the race, so I had no time to see anything, apart from some koalas, kangaroos and possums at a nature reserve on the island. I spent some time in Sydney in ‘96 and I think Australia is my favourite country, outside Italy. I love the people and they’re very passionate about bike racing. They were all behind Mick [Doohan] over the weekend and I saw there were some shops at the track selling black flags with a number six on them. Very funny! [The flags were taking the mickey out of number six 500 rider Max Biaggi who had been black-flagged at the Catalan GP.]” “Since they cancelled Rio I lost all chance of winning the world title. But I’m happy we’re not going there because the track is shit. So the last race is Argentina. I’ve never been there before, so I’m looking forward to it, especially since some people tell me the girls there are the most beautiful in the world.”

Argentine GP, Buenos Aires “It's great to win again - my fifth win of the year - hooray! But I lost the championship by just three points, so, shit!” “It's been a long season, but I could still do another few races no problem. Which we' 11 have to do next year because we have 16 or 17 grands prix in 1999. In fact I' m still not finished - I have a rally at the end of November and next season I' m doing a big event at Misano, racing against lot of other bike racers, doing motocross, karting, rally cars and Formula Renault. It should be a lot of fun - I think I' Il be racing with [Kevin] Schwantz, Reggiani, Mamola, Harada, Melandri, Haru and Nobu Aoki, [Luca] Cadalora, [Roberto] Locatelli and Criville. I' not too worried about winning, I just want to have a laugh.” “On Saturday he took a short cut. round the back of the circuit, and was going through this corner at about 20kph when I arrived on a very fast lap. It was really frightening, so I paid him back by kicking him as we returned to the pits. That was my first trip to Argentina, but Buenos Aires is good: nice place, nice girls!”

#valentino rossi #motogp #250cc #the valentino rossi files: everything i've ever written about vr #by mat oxley #reading

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