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landosjpg · 3 months

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fall back together | ln

the one where your ex-boyfriend invites you to spend a few days with him, but you two still have feelings for each other.

lando norris x fem!reader

word count: ~2.5k

warnings: pining, the tiniest bit of fluff i believe, language, smut, oral (f recieving), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), cockwarming

note: ehhh i don't really know how to feel about this but i wanted to post something, once again not proofread! also i have a looooong flight later this week so pls send in some requests so i can entertain myself during it! <3

you and lando had dated for a little over two years when you decided to call it quits. it wasn't messy; you two had mutually decided to stay as friends. and for the few months that you had been just that, it had worked well so far.

that's why lando had decided to invite you over for the monaco grand prix, insisting that you should spend a few days prior with him so you two could catch up and spend some time together.

as friends, of course.

it took him a few days to convince you, but you finally agreed. and that's why you found yourself walking down the corridor that led to his apartment, suitcase in hand. you could hear his giggles already from the other side of the hall, the sound bringing a smile to your face.

as you opened the door with the keys that he had insisted you should keep after breaking up, for emergencies (even when you lived in a total different country), you heard him talking.

"hey, chat!" you heard him say. you should've guessed he would use his days at home to stream like he used to. "guess who's here!"

you smiled as you walked to the room he was in. the fans had always loved you; you saw the edits they made of your relationship, how everyone used to lose their minds over the way you two looked at each other when you decided to make an appearance on one of his streams.

utterly in love.

and of course, you saw how everyone couldn't believe it when he had announced the end of your relationship.

it's not like any of you had expected it either, but you knew it was for the best or the relationship would consume one of you. but you were happy you had managed to make a friendship work, not really wanting to lose lando. and of course, his fans were excited to see you again.

he turned his chair around as you entered the room, his smile widening as soon as he saw you. you walked his way, happily waving at the camera. normally, he would grab your waist and pull you into his lap.

but this time he didn't.

so you stood there, right next to his chair. and as much as you knew that was how things were, it didn't fell completely right to you.

"i think i'm gonna head to bed," you interrupted after a few minutes in which you talked with him and with the viewers, answering a few questions just like you used to do before everything went down.

but after a long flight and a taxi ride to his house, you felt exhausted and all you wanted was to lie down and call it a day.

lando reached to mute his mic before he could answer you, turning to look at your face as he spoke.

"take my bed, i'll sleep in the spare room," he said. you were certain that the fans would try to decipher what you were saying later, but you didn't really care.

you thought about what he was proposing. it would feel weird, sleeping in his bed without him, so you weren't really convinced about it. and he must had seen it in your face, because before you could say anything, he added:

"come on, y/n". you're tired and the spare bed isn't even made," he looked at you with soft, pleading eyes.

you knew he still wanted the best for you, so you sighed in defeat and accepted his offer with a nod of your head.

after saying goodbye to the chat, you left the room to get ready for bed. as you went through your daily night routine in the bathroom, you noticed how everything you had left there behore the break-up was still in its place.

it looked like you had never left.

you tried not to think too much about it, there could be multiple reasons why he had decided to keep all your stuff. he definitely had moved on, right? it had been months since you two ended things.

you brushed it off, not really wanting it to get to your head and then walked to his room. everything was just like you remembered. damn, he even kept some pictures of you on his wall.

with your pajamas on, you climbed into his bed and covered your body with the soft sheets, the smell of him quickly washing all over you.

you rolled around with a sigh, the bed feeling way too big now that he wasn't next to you to wrap hismself around you. you were unable to sleep as your mind filled with all the nights spent in that exact same mattress between laughs, kisses and endless conversations.

you missed the feeling of his arms around your waist, the sound of his snores and the warmth of his body enveloping you every night.

with your mind racing with all the memories that wouldn't leave your brain, you realized it had been hours since you got in bed when you checked the time on your phone. the house was completely silent by that moment, so you figured lando was already asleep.

you sighed and got up, wandering to the kitchen silentely to not wake him up, with the intention of making yourself a tea that would hopefully help you sleep.

୨୧

sat on the counter, you contemplated the city lights with a warm mug of tea in your hands. the only light that illuminated the kitchen was te one that came out of your room. lando's room.

you were lost in your own thoughts, so you didn't notice his figure walking towards you.

"is that seat taken?" his voice made you jump a little in surprise, swearing under your breath as you turned to look at him, simply shaking your head in response. "sorry, didn't mean to startle you," he added with a chuckle, sitting on the stool right next to you.

you didn't really know what to say, so silence fell between you two while you just stared at each other. despite of it being dark, you could appreciate his messy curls, the spark on his eyes and the sly smile that beautifully decorated his lips.

"can't slep?" his voice was low and tender as he brokw the silence.

"bed feels too big."

at your answer, he just nodded. he kept quiet for a few seconds, pensive, and you could see that he was wondering wheter what he was about to say was appropriate or not.

"you know, as much as it hurts... i'm happy that you're moving on," he finally broke the silence, his words hitting you like a truck.

"i'm not... what do you mean?" you asked in confussion, but your mind was more focused on the fact that the possibility of you moving on hurt him.

"i've seen the pictures."

despite of the sadness that his whisper hid, you knew he wasn't mad at you. he had always said that he wanted you to be happy, whether it was with or without him.

silly of him to think that anyone else could ever make you as happy as he once did.

"just a friend," you mumbled, knowing that he was talking about the guy in your latest posts. but he was nothing more than a friend to you, not even close. "not really my type," you joked, earning a little smile from his lips.

once again, the silence felt deafening as he didn't give you an answer. your nerves were starting to kick in and so, in an attempt to try and make it feel less awkward between you two, you gazed back to the window.

"do you ever miss me?" he whispered again seconds later, the simple question making you freeze.

the answer was easy: yes, like crazy. but you couldn't just say that.

as he waited for you to reply, you felt his eyes on you, curious about what you would answer. and you swore he could hear your heart racing in your chest.

"sometimes, yeah," you finally decided to give him the truth.

or part of it, because confessing that it hadn't been a day in which he didn't cross your mind at least twice a day made you feel too exposed and vulnerable.

you halted when you felt his hand creeping up your legs slowly, stopping when he reached your thigh.

"i miss you, too," his murmur sent you a shiver down your spine, and he was looking up at you from where he was sitting, with puppy eyes.

you knew damn well what those words meant, and you felt your heart breaking at your own answer.

" i don't think it's a good idea, lan," you murmured, not able to hold his gaze for long.

"i know", he uttered, and you felt him sigh, but his hand stayed in your leg. "i'm sorry."

when you heard his simple apology, you closed yout eyes and tried to keep your tears from falling down your cheeks, but you failed miserably.

you knew he was apologizing for not being his best self during the last weeks of your relationship. at first, you had tried to convince yourself it only was a rough patch, but it was burning you down.

and, when you asked him for some time, he agreed. he knew he hadn't been the best boyfriend to you during that time, and he hated seeing you suffer because of him. so he ultimately decided to set you free.

"i'll never take you for granted again," he whispered, his hands cupping your cheeks and wiping the tears that fell down your face.

you hadn't noticed that he had stoop up from the stool and positioned himself between your legs, but having him so close again made your heart feel warm. and you looked down, knowing that if your eyes met his green orbits you'd throw yourself back right into his arms.

"lan..."

"i swear, y/n," he interrupted you; you could see his eyes were also watery, tears threatening to come out as well, but he held them back as he kept talking. "i know i fucked up, but it won't happen again."

closing your eyes, you sighed. your fingers softly wrapped around his wrist as you kept silently crying.

"please," his whisper made you sob, wanting nothing more than to go back in time and never let go of him. "i promise."

as you took in his words, your hand slid to his neck and he rested his forehead against yours. your breaths were mixing together and you nodded your head slightly, giving him your final answer with that small gesture.

before you could think about it, his lips were on yours. soft, just as you remembered, and you could taste both your tears on his lips. he kissed you slowly, tenderly, as if he didn't want you to slip out of his fingers again.

and you knew he didn't.

"i've missed this," he sighed in between kisses, pulling you a little closer, his arms now wrapped around your waist. "i've missed you, baby."

at the sweet pet name that you never thought you'd be hearing from his lips again, you exhaled with a smile.

"want to join me in bed?" you asked in a whisper, your fingers softly brushing against the skin of his neck. you wanted nothing more than to sleep next to him again, so close that one would think you two were literally attached at the hip.

"you're inviting me to my bed?" he chuckled as his arms went lower on your body, pulling you closer and picking you up from the counter.

"our bed," you corrected him with a giggle of your own.

he planted a soft kiss on your lips and walked you back to his room, wrapped in his arms. he lied you down on the mattress gently, keeping his body over yours. your gazes locked for a few seconds before his lips attacked yours hungrily, the tenderness of the previous interactions now long gone.

your hands roamed all over each other's bodies, clothes soon flying everywhere as both your breaths got heavier.

he started trailing small, wet kisses down your breasts and torso, his hands carefully pulling your underwear down your legs. he spread your open for him and positioned himself between your thighs, looking up at you from the edge of the bed.

you slightly nodded, giving him permission to go on. a long sigh left your lips as soon as you felt his lips pressing a soft kiss on your sensitive bud, and your fingers instinctively got lost in his curls, urging him closer.

"you're so gorgeous, baby," he mumbled, his hot breath against your slick making you moan softly.

you felt his tongue flatten against you and he started licking your cunt as if he was starving. a smug expression plastered on his face when your back arched as his lips found your clit again and he sucked, fingers tugging on his hair.

"fuck, lando..." you stuttered, your legs closing around his head as you felt the knot on your lower stomach about to snap. a small groan escaped his lips, his hands gripping around your thighs, surely leaving small bruises on your smooth skin.

soon, the warmth of his tongue on your pussy felt too overwhelming and your orgasm didn't take long to wash over you, leaving you a moaning mess under his touch.

as you came down from your climax, he got rid of his boxers and hovered over you again, his lips finding yours once more. as you tasted yourself on his tongue, you hummed contently into the kiss, your fingers finding their wait to his curls again.

"you alright, love?" he gently asked, taking a minute to look into your eyes.

"need you inside of me," you panted, your legs hooking at each side of his body as you pulled him closer.

he locked his lips with yours as he teased your folds with his cock, both of you moaning into the other's mouth at the friction. he positioned himself at your entrance and slowly pushed inside of you, letting you adjust to his size.

"so fucking tight for me, baby," his voice sounded breathless as he started thrusting into you without a hurry.

he took it slow, his movements almost lazy but deep.

and god, did it feel good.

you held each other tightly as he kept that slow pace that you two seemed to be enjoying. he reveled in the way your sweet moans filled the room and your nails drew crescent moons on his shoulders, your face contorting in pleasure as he stretched you out deliciously.

feeling your second orgasm starting to build up, your pussy clamped down on him, drawing him even deeper inside of you; which resulted in a low grunt from his lips.

"baby, i'm gonna... fuck..." you whimpered, unable to even form a proper sentence as the pressure in your lower stomach increased again.

"look at me, love," he groaned, and you did as he had asked.

with your gazes locked in each other's, it only took the two of you a few strokes to come undone, your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you felt him cumming inside of you and leaving you weak under his body.

he collapsed on top of you, a little winded as he left a sweet kiss on your lips before moving to lay down on the mattres, pulling you with him.

"i love you," he uttered, his arms wrapped tightly around your body as he kept his cock buried deep inside of you.

"i love you, lan," you mumbled, your face finding the spot between his jaw and his shoulder as you caught your breath, feeling yourself slowly drifting off to sleep with your nose nuzzled on his neck.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris drabble #lando norris fanfic #lando norris smut #lando norris imagine #lando norris blurb #lando norris fluff #f1 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 x you #ln4 x reader

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 9 months

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Wow! As the header says, my blog just went past 5k followers - I'd like to extend a heartfelt thank you to everyone who hopped on for this journey; I'm having the time of my life sharing my writing with you all.

In celebration and as a way to have a little fun - I'll be opening my inbox for a day and letting those who want to send in something fill it up!

Now, I know you're probably asking yourself 'Hal, I thought you said requests are going to be closed so you can finish the ones you have and work on the AUs?' And you'd be correct - I did say that. I'm not going to be writing full-length works for this event.

To anyone who sends something in (and follows the rules I have in place on my Request Form (be sure to check it even if you've already read it, I added some more characters and other stuff)) I'll be writing one-to-two page drabbles!

All this being said, after this post is uploaded I'll be opening my inbox up to anyone who would want to participate and closing it exactly one day after!

Thank you again for being the best community ever - I'm incredibly lucky to be surrounded by kind and respectful individuals as well as mutuals who are mind-numbingly sweet. I could not have achieved all of this without you; I think that's beautiful.

This post will also serve as the Masterlist for all of the expected drabbles, so if you'd like to keep updated on what's going to be happening/being written soon, this would be a good place to hang out!

ALL COMPLETED AS OF 11/5/2023

IMAGES USED: A black retriever in an extensive mountainous landscape by Maud Earl & L'angelo, la morte e il diavolo by Roberto Ferri || TOTAL: 5

➣The Perfect One

╰┈➤ ❝ [He stares at the rings under the glass with an acute narrowness to his eyes. He inspects every one as if a bomb might go off at any second, not missing a single detail in the metal.] ❞

➣Get In

╰┈➤ ❝ [Coming home with bruises and stitched wounds, you drag him into the bathroom to wash away the memories.] ❞

➣Hum Me A Tune, Blue-Eyes

╰┈➤ ❝ [You listen to his heartbeat as he keeps you to his chest, his breath tickling your hair.] ❞

➣Here Now

╰┈➤ ❝ [He nearly misses one of the most important moments of your lives together.] ❞

➣Burst Veins

╰┈➤ ❝ [He never noticed you weren't behind him.] ❞

IMAGES USED: Fallen Angel by Roberto Ferri & Nature of Fear by Nicola Samori || TOTAL: 5

➣Nervous Eyes

╰┈➤ ❝ [No one understands how you two get along - not when you're so different. It makes you second-guess yourself. He notices.] ❞

➣Blood Like Obsidian

╰┈➤ ❝ [Simon can only fight against so many nurses as they shove him back from your operation room.] ❞

➣Supposed To Happen

╰┈➤ ❝ [You died and left him a child he had no idea existed. How can he even begin to try and understand?] ❞

➣Digging Gaze

╰┈➤ ❝ [You indulge in a one-night-stand after you'd both called it quits, only, it leads to more problems. When he sees you again, how will he react to the swelling of your stomach?] ❞

➣Sole Survivor

╰┈➤ ❝ [Your father died years ago, and so you fall under the stiff, and unyielding, protection of your Uncle Simon. But it's not all bad. He can be funny when he wants to be.] ❞

IMAGES USED: White and Black by Vadim Gorbatov & Saint Augustine by Philippe de Champaigne || TOTAL: 7

➣Didn't Mean It

╰┈➤ ❝ [Arguments are rare, certainly ones that leave you in tears.] ❞

➣Him, Her, and the Dog

╰┈➤ ❝ [The woes of pining after a woman whose deadly K9 looks like it hates his guts.] ❞

➣Drunken Sappiness

╰┈➤ ❝ [You can't say you've ever had a boyfriend as perfect as Kyle.] ❞

➣How Do You Listen To That?

╰┈➤ ❝ [It was three a.m. when you all got the call to load up, but what's the best way to wake both yourself and the Sergeant up?] ❞

➣Finally Broken

╰┈➤ ❝ [Childhood friends turned lovers. The realization was far more violent and instantaneous than you'd like to admit.] ❞

➣Don't Look At Her

╰┈➤ ❝ [The bomb starts ticking down, rapidly firing to zero. Gaz won't let Price near you. Not after he'd remembered the Captain's actions when they'd first met.] ❞

➣In His Head

╰┈➤ ❝ [Collection of his SFW and NSFW quirks.] ❞

IMAGES USED: Scene from the Great Flood by Joseph-Désiré Court & Saint Jerome in Prayer by Carlo Dolci || TOTAL: 7

➣Life Snaps By In Flashes

╰┈➤ ❝ [A collection of memories from the second he laid eyes on you. All flashing past in the soft buzzing of the overhead lights.] ❞

➣Heart-Eyes

╰┈➤ ❝ [Being a medic wasn't pretty, but when your boyfriend was the subject under your needle you can't help but enjoy his unwavering gaze. Today, he has something to share with you.] ❞

➣From Ten To Twenty & Beyond

╰┈➤ ❝ [You've known him ever since the incident on the playground, and now you can't help but imagine that same boy as you watch him make supper with flour in his hair.] ❞

➣Find Me

╰┈➤ ❝ [You're finally back in One-Four-One's hands, but that doesn't mean you're saved. Johnny tracks you down after a violent episode.] ❞

➣Still The Same Fools

╰┈➤ ❝ [There was always a rivalry between you two - that hasn't changed even if both of you have. Years later, the boiling point is finally met.] ❞

➣Is This Why?

╰┈➤ ❝ [He finally sees why you never introduced him to your parents.] ❞

➣Oblivious Pining

╰┈➤ ❝ [Johnny hangs off you like a silent beast. Not that you would notice, of course.] ❞

IMAGES USED: King Gustav III of Sweden and His Brothers by Alexander Roslin & Geography lesson by Eduard Karl Gustav Lebrecht Pistorius || TOTAL: 6

KEEGAN P. RUSS:

➣Paint The Dawn; Paint My Eyes

╰┈➤ ❝ [In the midst of war and death, there's little time for pleasure. All you had was a ripped-up sketchbook to call your own, its contents littered with the rough face of your comrade.] ❞

➣Hold Her Close

╰┈➤ ❝ [Keegan cares for his young daughter.] ❞

➣When The Fighting Stops & The Silence Sets In

╰┈➤ ❝ [Continuation of (Don't) Go To War: the aftermath of recovery and a budding relationship.] ❞

➣Movies and Stale Popcorn

╰┈➤ ❝ [Oak and Keegan finally get to watch that movie.] ❞

DAVID 'HESH' WALKER:

➣To The Boy of My Childhood

╰┈➤ ❝ [Ten years came and went fast, but the memory of the Walker boys stayed. One more than the other. You never got to tell him you loved him.] ❞

➣Keep The Sheets Warm, My Love Is Coming Home

╰┈➤ ❝ [If this wasn't enough to prove that you were the only person for Hesh, you didn't know what did.] ❞

IMAGES USED: Saint Catherine of Alexandria by Caravaggio & Amor Vincit Omnia by Caravaggio || TOTAL: 17

CAPTAIN JOHN 'SOAP' MACTAVISH:

➣New Paint

╰┈➤ ❝ [Fighting to forget you, MacTavish finds comfort in whoever he can. Yet, like the layers of paint on the walls, it always peels back to you.] ❞

➣A Song of Gnashing Teeth

╰┈➤ ❝ [There was never a day where the two of you weren't butting heads - everyone was at their wit's end. Of course, you would both be forced to cooperate at some point.] ❞

➣Listen To My Voice

╰┈➤ ❝ [He orders you to focus on him as the sounds outside the cell get closer. He promises nothing will happen to you. You know he's lying.] ❞

➣Look At The Stars; Look At Me

╰┈➤ ❝ [Stargazing in the middle of an overgrown and wild glade.] ❞

➣Alive and Breathing

╰┈➤ ❝ [You're sick. Very sick. John takes drastic action.] ❞

➣I Can See It In Your Eyes

╰┈➤ ❝ [It's finally time to meet the family.] ❞

➣A Green-Eyed Monster

╰┈➤ ❝ [You'd slept together, sure. No strings attached. Then why are you trying to make him jealous? Who cares, the point is that it's working.] ❞

SERGEANT GARY 'ROACH' SANDERSON:

➣Dance With Me Before The Chill Sets In

╰┈➤ ❝ [Tired? Yes, but he's never too tired for you and your loveliness. But maybe you need to remember to lock the door when you're home alone.] ❞

➣Raining Cats and Dogs

╰┈➤ ❝ [Roach has a deep love of storms.] ❞

OPERATION OFFICER ALEX KELLER:

➣Bright-Eyed History Lesson

╰┈➤ ❝ [A librarian with a fascination for war history and a soldier who loves how her eyes light up. Like a dog, he can't stop himself from coming back; smiling like a fool.] ❞

COLONEL ALEJANDRO VARGAS:

➣Hold Me Longer

╰┈➤ ❝ [Mornings spent in the sanctity of warm sunlight and bare skin.] ❞

SERGEANT MAJOR RODOLFO 'RUDY' PARRA:

➣A Love Like Ours Makes Us Strong

╰┈➤ ❝ [Rodolfo came back, alive but bruised. How do you explain how terrified you were?] ❞

COMMANDER PHILLIP GRAVES:

➣Sleeping On The Porch

╰┈➤ ❝ [As it turns out, your husband never really died. It's safe to say you're not overjoyed.] ❞

➣Love Echoes In Silence

╰┈➤ ❝ [You can feel him watching you, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and a small smile. Humming to yourself, you listen to the birds outside the window.] ❞

SEBASTIAN JOSEF KRUEGER:

➣Ain't Giving Up My Pride

╰┈➤ ❝ [You get on his nerves, partially because you want to. But what happens when he finally snaps?] ❞

ALL 141 INCLUDED (SEPARATE):

➣Count The Hours

╰┈➤ ❝ [Collection of what the One-Four-One do on their down-hours with their Lovers] ❞

➣Wide-Eyed Panic

╰┈➤ ❝ [Why were you behind the couch?] ❞

#halcyone updates #cod #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #cod x female reader #5k celebration #cod masterlist

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lovelytsunoda · 6 months

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hounds of love // yuki tsunoda

summary: yuki is in love…aka, the yuki soft launch <3

pairing: yuki tsunoda x normal girl! reader

yukitsunoda just added to his story!

yukitsunoda just posted to his story!

yukitsunoda just posted!

liked by yourusername, pierregasly, liamlawson30 and others

yukitsunoda we did the monster mash

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user yuki stop wth the soft launching we wanna see her!!

user I bet she’s so fucking pretty-

danielricciardo so what kind of monster mash were you doing?? did it involve a bed or a jukebox (or both)?

-> user LMAO DANNY U KNOW UR COMMENTS R PUBLIC RIGHT?

-> user oh he defo knows, hes just trying to work yuki up

->user what do you know that we don’t!!

liamlawson30 so can you tell her to bring some of those cinnamon rolls next time she’s in the paddock? they were to die for and genuinely I hope you guys never break up simply because I don’t think I could live without her baking

-> yukitsunoda I will tell her that! I also hope we don’t break up (she still has so many recipes to teach me)

user yuki and liam going on about mystery girls baking skills is SENDING ME

-> user oh you know they eat well in that house

yukitsunoda just updated his story!

yukitsunoda just posted!

liked by yourusername, alphataurif1, liamlawson30 and others

yukitsunoda always ❤️

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user NOT HIM LINKING IT BACK TO THE SONG HE FIRST HSED TO SOFT LAUNCH IM GONNA CRY

yourusername I love you baby 💕

pierregasly welp i guess the cats out of the bag now

-> yukitsunoda if I had never left you alone in the same room as my phone nobody would know what she looks like and this wouldn’t have happened straightaway

-> user lmao not Pierre spoiling the soft launch

liamlawson30 so can you send me the cinnamon roll recipe?

-> yourusername no you’ll ruin it. but I will gladly bring a Tupperware container to the next race

-> alphataurif1 but what if admin wants the recipe? 🥺

-> user damn how good are these cinnamon rolls?

-> danielricciardo better than sex. by a LONG SHOT

user what kind of sorcery did he use to pull her?

-> yukitsunoda i was like the stray cat following her home and eventually she took pity on me

-> yourusername LMAO no we met through a mutual friend, someone who does martial arts with my sister is embedded in the racing world

danielricciardo aw you guys are too cute! and don’t worry yourusername, i promise I’ll take care of him next season ❤️

TAGS

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @clemswrld @httpiastri @twinkodium @lorarri @thatsdemko @scuderiamh @oconso @cartierre @silversainz @thatsdemko

#yuki tsunoda #yuki tsunoda x reader #formula one x reader #ig aus #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #the cozy collection 2023 #Spotify

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 4 months

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AITA for always making people uncomfortable?

I, 30(f) am autistic. I don't get social cues well but I do try really hard to read the room whereever possible. I became Facebook friends with a mutual friend (of my best friend since high school J 30f) S whos 31 who I've never met. They constantly post about a specific Fandom ship. I have a playlist of old AMVs that I've archived and I found ablut 10 or so related to that ship, if people are wondering it's Naruto/Sasuke. I tagged them in one and they got really excited and seemed to like it.

I tagged them in a second one a week later because I didn't want to overwhelm them. They dmed me and accused me of digging through YouTube videos to find amvs of this ship and said it made them super uncomfortable that I was going through all that effort for them when we don't even know each other and it seemed kinda obsessive. I apologized profusely and explained my situation that I am autistic and struggle to know what to do socially but thought they would like them and also explained to them that I actually just had a few in my favorite AMV Playlist but didn't want to be weird and send them all at once so I was spacing them out. She said that was even more strange and she felt like that was "also obsessive" and to just send her what I had left in the chat so I sent them to her and I guess she was the creator of one of them like 10+ years ago because she freaked out about it and blocked me.

Our mutual friend dmed me and said that I always do this and this is why I don't have friends and I was asking her if she can at least tell me what happened and she said to figure it out because she's not covering for me anymore and blocked me and I had to find out from another mutual friend what even happened.

Aita here? I have had other people I met through my friend stop talking to me but it was usually because of lack of communication and people irl thinking I don't like them because I don't emote. My former best friend has never once communicated to me that people find me creepy. Should I have just known? I don't really have friends to ask who won't take S's side because I guess S was complaining about me for several years. I understand if I'm the asshole but I do not feel as though I have any reliable narrators in my life at present.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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mcflymemes · 6 months

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8 IDEAS FOR GETTING MORE ROLEPLAY INTERACTIONS remember to always be respectful and read rules before reaching out!

cater your space down to the most active, most interactive blogs on your dash, and always try to follow new people to broaden that group. if someone isn't liking your posts or sending memes, maybe it's time to part ways! that's all right! it's okay to softblock them and find others who are more engaged and more interested in your blog and your character/s.

memes. reblog them... and dear god, send them! if you see a blog on your dash reblog a meme... send some in! send a handful! especially if the two of you have never interacted, sending memes shows them you're interested and want to create some fun dynamics! please don't be nervous about doing this - you know how excited you get when you receive memes... and they'll probably feel the same way!

send spontaneous headcanon questions, asks, or compliments. everyone loves a good (not anonymous) message in their inbox. ask about their character! ask where their ideas came from! how do they write so beautifully - what books do they read to help inspire them? what music do they listen to when they write? maybe compliment their graphics! compliment their writing style! this is a fantastic way to create connections and show an interest in others, who will then in turn show an interest in you.

follow your mutuals' mutuals. if you keep seeing a certain blog writing with your mutuals... follow them! see what happens! they've probably seen you on their dash, too, so you already have something to bond over. maybe you can incorporate your dynamic with a mutual into one of your new threads?

send an IM. this is the one that rarely ever gets used, but i find it the most effective way to start something fun. if you follow a new blog and you've got an idea for a plot with them... send them a message! "thanks for following me back! i love your blog already! would you be interested in plotting?" start a chat with them and come up with something fun!

do not put all the burden on the other person. too often people are so excited to plot... and then expect the other person to do all the work. when you plot with someone, have ideas. come with options. offer to send them memes to start something off. ask questions about their character. would your character even like mine? what dynamic will they have? should we do a pre-established relationship and avoid the awkward first meeting threads? have ideas ready!

don't guilt. "no one wants to write with me." "no one likes me." "i don't have any threads." "no one ever sends me memes." "i guess all my followers hate me." "i'm just gonna delete my blog." these are not fair to say. these statements are harmful, both to you and to your friends, and i can guarantee that these statements push any potential interactions away. these are normal feelings to have, and it's terrible that you feel these things, but posting about them to guilt your followers does not create an environment conducive to creativity and harmony.

most importantly, remember that people have lives. people have jobs, families, pets, responsibilities, health struggles, and other irl things that might prevent them from putting all of their enthusiasm or time into writing with you. if plotting or interactions don't work out with one person, move on to the next.

#rp help #rpc help #rp psa #rpc psa #roleplay help #roleplay psa #roleplay advice #rp advice #mcflymemes #mine

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babydollmarauders · 1 year

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LAVENDER HAZE — TREVOR ZEGRAS

trevor zegras x fem!reader

part of the Midnights Fic List

summary: in which y/n has been dealing with hate from Trevor’s fans and journalists constantly speculating when they’ll get married.

specific lyrics: “i been under scrutiny. you handle it beautifully. all this shit is new to me.” and “all they keep asking me is if i’m gonna be your bride. the only kinda girl they see is a one night or a wife.”

not my gif

“y/n, when are you and Trevor gonna get married?” a reporter asks as i walk through the hallways of Honda Center, away from the Ducks dressing room and up towards the seating. i send a stiff smile their way and continue walking, effectively ignoring their question.

i’ve been dating Trevor since we were sixteen. five years together and you’d think i would be used to this by now, but it’s harder than one would think.

of course Trevor and i have talked about marriage, when you’ve been together this long, it’s inevitable that you’ve talked about it. but we’ve mutually decided to wait until it feels right for us. we’re only twenty-one after all. but it seems that it’s the only question i get asked nowadays.

sure, when i ran into reporters in the past, they may have asked me this question a couple times, but usually they just asked me what it was like to be high school sweethearts with an nhl player or what kind of things Trevor does at home to get ready for a game. but now it’s always ‘when are you guys getting married?’ and ‘y/n has Trevor proposed yet?’.

having been dating Trevor since his USNTDP days, it’s definitely different dealing with him now having real fans and him being approached at restaurants for pictures. i don’t mind it, but it can get to be a bit much when with his fame comes hate towards me. girls telling me i’m not good enough for him or that they could treat him better and whatnot. every photo i post on instagram has at least twenty comments saying such things.

i’m sat on the couch waiting for Trevor to get home from his game. i left right after it ended, Trevor texting me that he had to do interviews and that Jamie would drop him off at home.

—

@y/n11 just posted

Liked by @jackhughes and 14,628 others

@y/n11: the secret is out, i’m actually just @trevorzegras personal photographer 📸

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@user1: y/n using her boyfriend for clout again lol

@user2: alexa play treat you better by shawn mendes

@jackhughes: i’m stealing Louie next time i visit

@y/n11: good luck, Trevor might actually disown you as a friend if you try

@jackhughes: @y/n11 sounds like a win-win situation to me

@user3: how has it taken me months to realize she changed the number in her username to match Trevor’s jersey number? didn’t she used to be y/n46?

@user4: yeah, and before that she was y/n9 to match his usa number. they’re so cute 😭 i wonder if she’ll change her username to y/nzegras when they get married

@trevorzegras: and you’re the cutest photographer there ever was

@y/n11: i wanna smooch your face 💋💋

@_alexturcotte: whipped

@trevorzegras: @_alexturcotte i don’t see you with a girlfriend so which one of us is really winning here?

@user5: oh look, another post of Trevor. anyone wanna take a guess on what her next post will be? hint: it probably won’t her ugly ass

@_quinnhughes: miss you! come visit soon!

@trevorzegras: aww miss you too Huggy!

@_quinnhughes: @trevorzegras did it look like i tagged you? you can stay in Anaheim

@y/n11: miss you too Hugs! i’ll come with Trev on their next game there and root for you! 🧸

@user6: lmao she’s rooting for another guy? slut. bet she’s bounced around to all Trevor’s old teammates + Quinn

—

i scroll through the comments on my recent instagram post, seeing all the girls insulting me or saying i use Trevor for fame. am i not allowed to post my boyfriend anymore just because he’s in the NHL?

i didn’t realize i had tears welling in my eyes until one drops onto my screen. wiping it off, i hear the front door open and shut, Trevor arriving home. i listen to the mundane sounds of him slipping his shoes off and dropping his keys into the dish by the door before i hear his footsteps coming towards the living room. i hastily wipe away my tears and sniffle before he can see that i’ve been crying.

“hey, baby.” i say, my voice not quite recovered from my throat being closed up while i was crying, but Trevor doesn’t seem to notice. he takes the seat next to me on the couch, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and pulling me in so my head lays on his chest.

“hi, love. did you see that goal i made for you?” he asks and i chuckle.

“i did. you did amazing, babe. i’m so proud of you.” i tell him, wrapping my arm around his waist and squeezing him tighter to me. he drops a kiss to the top of my head and i can feel the smile on his lips.

“lemme see that pretty face.” he whispers, nudging my chin up with his hand. but when i look up at him, his smile drops. “hey, what happened? why were you crying?”

he rubs at my cheek with his thumb, tracing my puffy under eye with the tip of it. i shake my head slightly.

“it’s nothing, Trev.” he shakes his head and scowls.

“it’s not nothing if it made my girl cry. now tell me.” he says.

“it was just the comments on my instagram post. there were these girls—” i cut myself off, not knowing if i want to tell him what they said.

“hey, what? ‘there were these girls’ what?” he asks softly.

“these girls were commenting that i was using you for clout, and that i was ugly. and another one said that i’ve probably gotten with you and all your friends.” i whisper. his face contorts in disbelief before dropping into an angry frown.

“don’t listen to them.” he tells me. i open my mouth to rebut but he speaks again. “i’m serious, y/n. don’t pay them any attention. i know you’re not using me. i mean, you put up with my annoying, class clown ass in high school. if that doesn’t speak wonders then i don’t know what does.”

i giggle and land a light smack against his chest.

“i happen to have liked your annoying, class clown ass.” i tease.

“and i still wonder why.” he shrugs. “as for the other comments, you’re gorgeous, princess. you’re so beautiful. i still can’t believe i get to wake up every morning and see that pretty face. i can’t understand for the life of me, why you stay with me when you’re so out of my league. but i’m so grateful that you do, because i can’t imagine where i’d be and what my life would be like without you.”

i smile at his sweet words and lean up to kiss his lips.

“i love you.” i mumble against them.

“i love you too, babygirl.” he presses one more quick peck to my lips before pulling away “also, i know you’ve never been with any of my friends. i mean, c’mon, why would you want them when you can have this?”

he sweeps a hand down his body and i bark out a laugh. he smiles down at me, running his hand through my hair before he stops it at the back of my neck, pulling me in for another, deeper, kiss.

“you know, i’ve been thinking.” he tells me when he pulls back.

“oh that’s never good.” i say.

“ha ha ha.” he narrows his eyes at me, slipping the hand from the back of my neck in order to use it to shove my forehead, making me fall back onto the cushion of the couch behind me. “i was thinking, maybe next year?”

“maybe next year what?” i ask, face contorting in confusion.

“maybe next year we should get married.” he says. i pop back up into a sitting position quickly, nearly hitting my head against his. he chuckles and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear.

“Trevor Zegras did you just propose to me?” i ask, my tone incredulous. “on our couch?!”

“yeah, i guess i did.” he says. “what do you say? you wanna be my wife?”

“i could hit you right now.” i tell him.

“so, it that a no?” he asks, an eyebrow raised in questioning. i shuffle onto his lap, straddling him and grabbing his face in my hands.

“there is nothing in this world that i want more than to be your wife.” i whisper, leaning my forehead against his.

“oh thank god.” he sighs. he sticks his hand in his pocket, shuffling around in it before pulling his hand back out in a fist. he opens his fist to reveal a ring box. “because i’ve had this ring since we were eighteen.”

tears sting my eyes, my heart leaping in my chest as i pull my head back from his. he opens the box, showing off a beautiful white gold ring with a pear cut diamond and a twisted halo design.

“since we were eighteen?” i ask. “but that’s the year that we were fighting all the time.”

“yeah, and you stayed. despite all the stupid arguments, you still made sure we never went to bed angry at each other, and you stuck by my side.” he takes the ring out of the box, slipping it onto my finger before pressing a kiss to my knuckles.

“i love you so much.” i whisper before capturing his lips with mine. he pulls back a second later to mumble out his own ‘i love you’ before he resumes kissing me.

but then a thought pops into my head and i pull away, furrowing my brows at him.

“why did you have the ring in your pocket right now?” i ask him.

“well i had this whole plan that i was gonna bring you out on the ice before warm ups and ask you there but, when it came down to it, it didn’t feel right. i wanted the right moment. and now felt right.”

—

@y/n11 just posted

Liked by @colecaufield and 43,793 others

@y/n11: forever with you sounds pretty great @trevorzegras

comments on this post have been limited.

@trevorzegras: i’m pretty damn lucky that i’ll get to call you my wife 🤍

@jackhughes: finally! i was beginning to think he would never use that damn ring! congrats guys

@y/n11: you knew about the ring?!

@jackhughes: @y/n11 who do you think helped him pick it out?

@colecaufield: congrats you guys! can’t wait to be the best man

@jackhughes: think again bud, i’m gonna be the best man

@_alexturcotte: @jackhughes i think we all know that I’M gonna be the best man because Trevor likes me best

@y/n11: @jackhughes @_alexturcotte thank you cole! and i hate to be the bearer of bad news but the best man will definitely be Louie … gotta go 🏃‍♀️

@_quinnhughes: congratulations! so happy for you two!

@y/n11: thank you Huggy! get ready to go suit shopping because i can’t imagine anyone else being my man of honor

@lhughes_06: damn, Z beat me to it. i was gonna ask you this summer at the lake house! happy for you though 🥲😪

@y/n11: aww sorry Moosey! keep an eye out just in case forever doesn’t work out

@griffinzegras: can’t wait for you to officially be my sister!

@y/n11: aww you’ve been my baby brother for 5 years but now it’ll be legally true! can’t wait to boss you around!

@griffinzegras: @y/n11 i take it back @trevorzegras any way that you wanna take her back to the pound?

@trevorzegras: @griffinzegras nah, i like this one. i’mma keep her

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#trevor zegras #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras x reader #nhl fic #nhl imagine #anaheim ducks #faithlynn’s writings <3 #babydollmarauders #midnights fic list

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lululawrence · 5 months

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It’s November, and around my house that means I’m getting into gear with all of my Holiday and Winter Cards! This time of year is always rough for me, but one thing that always makes me happy are Christmas and Winter cards. This is my 9th year doing this, which is hard to believe, but I’m crazy excited to be able to continue the tradition this year, and I'm doing so with something new!

The cards are in the process of being made entirely by me, as always, but this year I'm also trying my hand at watercolors so every card will be unique with a bit of art that is hopefully not horrible adorning the front hehe

I'm still making them, but the rainbow trees in the banner are a preview of the art that will be featured on most of the cards and then I will add my personalized messages and send them filled with all of my love and good vibes! I can't do that without some important information from YOU though! So...

WANT A CARD? HURRAY! Here's how it works.

As stated above, I'm still working on the cards and they might not be sent out in time for Christmas, but they will all be mailed, I promise! haha

Through the rest of the month of November and maybe a little into December, I’ll gather addresses and finish the cards so I can start writing out the cards ASAP. Life happens, so the cards might not all make it to you before the new year, but I’m going to try my best to make it happen! Even if my goal of mailing them in early December doesn’t happen, you’ll definitely get a card at some point if you claim one.

HERE’S WHAT I NEED FROM YOU.

I’ll be collecting addresses using this google form. It’s pretty straight forward, but on the form I will be asking for:

Your address (I will mail them internationally). PLEASE write it out exactly as you would on an envelope, line breaks and all! I’ve had some cards get returned to me in the past because I guessed where the line breaks should be, and I guessed incorrectly, so to avoid that I’d love it if you could tell me where the line breaks are

The name you want me to use for the address as well as the name you would like me to write inside the card. For many, the name will be the same, but for others, it will be different, so to account for that, I’ll have an option for both.

Your tumblr URL. This is just so I can reach out to you if there are any issues.

Your preference in card. I will mostly be making rainbow pride trees affixed to Christmas or winter themed paper, but in case you need your cards to be holiday and rainbow free, I am going to be attempting some winter tree cards as well.

And that’s it! There aren’t any other stipulations or requirements. We don’t need to be mutuals, you don’t even need to be following me or in the fandom tbh. You just need to want a homemade card from me to hopefully bring you some cheer!

Even if you aren’t interested in a card for yourself, please reblog this post and help me spread the word. I would greatly appreciate it!

Thank you, and Happy November!

#christmas cards #holiday cards #winter cards #my art #that's weird to have a tag for and maybe i shouldn't do it but i'm kinda proud of myself for using watercolors and it not going to shit #big thanks to emmu for that btw #this post is two weeks later than i usually get it up but that's how it goes fronds #i'm still trying my best to get these out to people in december!!#rainbows #rainbow art

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defendglobe · 6 months

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mutual 1: moving in to my new place today! can’t wait to make new friends and ignore the lingering sense of dread!

mutual 2: HEEEEEEEEEEELP!!!!!!!!!

mutual 3: what if you were just minding your own business and then suddenly turned into an animal and all the other animals were talking to you. would that be fucked up or what?

mutual 4: well, i had a good cry and i’ve decided to leave my life of crime behind. deleting this account soon, dm for new blog!

mutual 5: i could beat you up. and i would if it weren’t for the Circumstances.

mutual 6: daily affirmation! just because i take on more than i can handle and need to be bailed out sometimes doesn’t mean i can’t achieve my dreams!

mutual 7: dude, can you imagine what i could do if i cloned myself? no, not like that you sickos! i could annoy so many people. i could be in two places at once. i would be un-fucking-stoppable.

mutual 8: i understand that you don’t want to be friends anymore but i don’t understand why you couldn’t just say it to my face instead of sending a message and then disappearing off the face of the earth. whatever. i guess i learned my lesson. there’s no point in trying to make friends if they’re just gonna treat you that way. //delete later //vague

mutual 9: if someone is infodumping about something they care about it’s rude to just fall asleep on the spot, even if it is a bit dry.

mutual 10: hahaha funny circles go brrrrrrr 🤪🤪

mutual 11: just in case you didn’t believe callout posts were dangerous: someone thought i was going to hurt them when i really just wanted to help! all because of a false accusation. :(

mutual 12: SMASHING AND KILLING AND VIOLENCE AND GORE

mutual 13: did i escape from the secret prison today? day 136 - no.

mutual 14:

mutual 15: *loading a pistol and getting back in the portal* worlds ending.

mutual 16: i am crying.

#pmd shitposting

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venus-haze · 1 year

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What Is It About Men (Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Summary: When your best friend and college roommate Jenny Presley returns from spring break your junior year with the news that her mother has left her family, you end up taking on the responsibility of helping her power through the rest of the semester. At the end of the semester, she invites you to spend the summer with her at Graceland, and the last thing you expect is to get so deeply entangled with her father, Elvis, as the season heats up.

Note: So I’m back after a month with the longest fic I’ve ever written. I got some inspiration from the incredible Amy Winehouse song of the same name. The reader in this fic is a cis woman but no other descriptors are used. I also made a fictionalized Presley!daughter for this scenario since I’m kinda doing an alternate timeline type thing which I’ll expand on in the fic. Please do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 10k

Warnings: Age gap (Elvis is in his early 40s and reader is in her 20s), angst, substance abuse, toxic relationships, sexually explicit content. Do not interact if you are under 18.

As soon as you stepped foot in your dorm room, your nose scrunched at the smell of what you knew was mold—again. You hoped in the two weeks you’d been gone for spring break the university would have taken care of the maintenance request that you and your roommate Jenny had submitted at least ten times a piece by then. Still, it had been a good excuse to get out of class when the two of you just wanted to watch TV in the dorm’s common area all day. You and Jenny would take turns pretending to sound sick on the phone to whatever department secretary was on the other line, explaining you couldn’t make it to class because of some reaction or another to the mold in your room, send my regards to professor whoever.

When you first arrived at college your freshman year, you were dreading having a roommate. Though you knew plenty of people who’d become lifelong friends with theirs, for some reason the handful of horror stories you’d heard about nightmare roommates played through your mind, especially when the university wouldn’t tell you the name or contact information of your roommate so you could at least try to coordinate who was bringing what. By the time you got there, she’d already been neatly moved in but was nowhere to be seen until later that night when you met your completely normal roommate who would, in fact, end up being your best friend.

For the first few weeks of the semester your freshman year, Jenny was secretive about her personal life, and you figured it was best not to pry—though you did notice her forced laughter when you said ‘Presley, is your dad Elvis or something?’ Only later to find out that yes, her father was in fact Elvis Presley. She was worried it would change your friendship, her being the daughter of the most famous man in the world. It wouldn’t, though, because through the years, before anything else, Jenny was your best friend, practically your sister, which was why when she arrived back at the dorm from spring break, a blank expression on her normally cheerful face, you immediately began to panic.

She didn’t greet you as she trudged over to her bed, dropping her duffel bag on the floor and sitting on top of her covers. You’d never seen her in such a state before. Unsure of what to do, you cautiously approached her and asked if everything was okay. As you’d quickly learn, it wasn’t.

“Mama left,” Jenny answered, her voice hoarse. “Said she couldn’t do it anymore.”

You sat next to her on her bed. “Do what anymore?”

“Bein’ a Presley, I guess.”

“Jesus, Jenny, I’m so sorry.”

You put your arms around her, allowing her to cry into your shoulder. The wall on her side of the room was covered in a collage of posters and photos, some of you and her together, others with your larger group of mutual friends at events on campus or parties, but mostly of her family. While you knew they were close, Elvis made a point of that from his mother’s untimely death and his increasingly strained relationship with his own father, you didn’t know very much about them besides that. They never came to campus, whether by their own choice or at Jenny’s request as to not draw unnecessary attention to her as she worked to get her history degree.

Despite having just about every resource at her fingertips, Jenny was just as dedicated as any student at the university. She studied hard and took the occasional less than stellar grades with more maturity than some of the people in your own program who didn’t have money and a big name behind them. You were drawn to how down to earth she was, crediting some of that to her parents, who she said tried to give her as normal of a childhood as possible, mostly at the insistence of her mother.

“Half her stuff was gone. I found the note she left us on the kitchen counter that mornin’. Dad had fallen asleep on the couch and didn’t even hear her leave,” she choked out.

“Jenny, don’t–”

“I mean I knew since I was young that he cheated on her, and I can’t fault her for bein’ mad about that. But in the note–she said she wanted her life back. Why weren’t we good enough for her?”

You were at a loss for words. From what details you’d managed to pull from Jenny about her family life, her parents had known each other before Elvis became famous and married just ahead of him receiving his draft notice. A couple of years later, Jenny came along, and you assumed the rest was history. After all, Jenny was always excited to visit home during breaks in between semesters and would receive regular care packages from one–or both–of her parents throughout the year that she’d always share with you.

Surely being married to such a busy and famous man like Elvis must have taken a toll on Jenny’s mother, especially knowing him before all of it, but it was unfathomable to you that she could leave Jenny like she was nothing. It wasn’t like any of Elvis’ vices were Jenny’s fault.

Any attempts to get Jenny to calm down and rest were futile, as she somehow powered through her sorrow to explain how the rest of her spring break went in the fallout of her mother taking off. Her father was a wreck, drinking and rarely leaving his room–though you didn’t want to be rude and point out that’s what tabloids said he did anyway in the wake of his public and messy break from his exploitative long-time manager, Tom Parker. He’d sent most of his entourage away, TCB, the Memphis Mafia, whoever the hell they were, making Graceland emptier than ever. This especially distressed Jenny; she’d refer to them as her uncles more often than not. You were shocked she even returned to campus, but understood when she said she needed space away from home, unable to stand the constant reminders of what just days ago was her happy family life.

Jenny didn’t seem to blame Elvis for the situation. After all, he wasn’t the one who left the family in the middle of the night, throwing in the towel of over twenty years of marriage and motherhood. You’d listen to Jenny’s rants about her mother and the subsequent sobbing sessions too. After all, she’d done the same for you when Billy, your boyfriend of two years, had broken up with you just a year prior.

You began to resent Jenny’s mother too, as you found yourself having to pick up the maternal slack. You loved Jenny, but balancing your studies and social life with making sure she got out of bed, took care of herself, and went to class every day was becoming overwhelming. The selfish part of you wanted your best friend back, but with you being the only other person privy to the situation, the damage control fell on your shoulders.

Things began to get better as the semester came to a close, yours and Jenny’s late night study sessions before finals bringing glimpses of her old self back. You did have to give her credit, she was looking at ending yet another semester with a near perfect GPA. You wouldn’t have been surprised if she managed to snag the title of your graduating class’s valedictorian.

The two of you were packing up your shared dorm room after your last finals of the year, excited to be out of the crappy room and moving into an off-campus apartment for your senior year. You’d been worried about how close you and Jenny would stay after graduating and going your separate ways, but she had decided after a meeting with her advisor that she was going to apply for the university’s graduate program, so the two of you would be roommates for the foreseeable future.

“Y/N, I hate to ask this. I’m sure you’re itchin’ to go home for the summer,” Jenny asked with an uncharacteristic hesitancy as you decided which notebooks you were going to keep and which to throw away.

“What is it?”

“Will you spend the summer at Graceland with me? I don’t have any friends in Memphis really–”

“No, Jenny, I don’t want to spend the summer with my best friend in her giant mansion.”

This pulled a laugh from her, so rare those days that you felt a sense of accomplishment at hearing the sound. “Shut up. I’ll let dad know to expect you.”

“I do wanna spend a week or two at home, though, just to see my family.”

She nodded. “That’s perfect, actually. Gives me time to assess the damage.”

You weren’t sure if she meant physical damage to the house in her absence, or emotional damage as her father dealt with her mother’s leaving on his own. Deciding it best not to pry, you instead began excitedly planning the summer with her. You would miss having time with your friends from back home, but you knew you wouldn’t be at Graceland all summer anyway. Every year from the end of July into the beginning of August, Jenny volunteered at a sleepaway camp in the Smoky Mountains for underprivileged kids, so you’d have more time with your friends when she left to go there before the semester started and you headed back home.

The visit with your family the first two weeks of your summer break was short and sweet, ending comically with just about the entire household trying to help you fit a summer’s worth of clothes and toiletries into a suitcase and carry-on. Jenny had told you to pack light, promising she’d take you shopping, but the last thing you wanted to do was seem like you were taking advantage of your rich friend. After all, she had your first-class flight to Memphis billed to Elvis Presley Enterprises, despite your insisting that economy class was fine.

Memphis was bright and sunny when your flight landed, and you were glad to be one of the first people off the flight, excited to see Jenny again. She’d called you a few times while you were home, you suspected partially to try to convince you to get to Graceland earlier than agreed upon, but knowing you had limited time at home, you were busy catching up with as many people as you could before what your family jokingly referred to as your vacation.

You shook your head upon seeing Jenny standing in arrivals, holding up a white poster board with your name written in thick black marker across it. You grabbed your luggage from baggage claim, failing to suppress your smile as you walked over to her.

“You’re so lame,” you laughed, giving her a hug.

She jokingly hit you over the head with the sign. “I was tryin’ to be thoughtful.”

As you and Jenny walked arm and arm out of the airport, you almost stopped in your tracks at the limo that was waiting at the curb for you. You didn’t know what else you expected, but the reality of who your best friend was finally hit you after three years of knowing her. She thanked the chauffeur who put your bags in the trunk of the limo and ushered you inside the luxurious car.

“You hungry? We can stop somewhere,” she offered.

You shook your head. “I’m nervous. Is it normal to be nervous?”

“Don’t be. Dad’s dad,” she said, as if that were supposed to make any sense.

Except your dad isn’t dad, you wanted to argue. Your dad is the most famous man in the world, the king of rock n’ roll. He’s not just some dad, Jenny. Hell, you grew up listening to the man’s voice on the radio or on your parents’ record player. As far as you were concerned, you may as well have been meeting Jesus Christ himself. Maybe what you were feeling in the back of that limo was how old people felt as they neared death, legs bouncing and bile rising in their throats as they neared the pearly gates. In your case, however, it was the music-note adorned gates of Graceland where at least two dozen fans were standing vigil. What’s more, Jenny recognized some of them, asking by name how they were doing. You slunk down in your seat, suddenly considering if agreeing to spend the summer at Graceland was a mistake.

Jenny turned back to you when she finished catching up with the people outside her home. You’d read a few articles that detailed how Elvis was dedicated to his fans, taking more of an interest in them than many other celebrities. He’d stop everything to sign autographs and get to know people, feeling that it was the least he could do for the people who made his career possible. Although it was a foreign concept to you, you thought it sweet that Jenny took on that attitude as well.

An elderly woman stood on the front porch, who Jenny practically jumped out of the car to greet. You figured it must have been Grandma Dodger, Elvis’ grandmother who Jenny was just as close with as he was. She was kind, giving you a hug and asking polite questions about how finals went and what your plans after college were. Dodger could tell you and Jenny were about to melt from the heat when she waved the two of you inside to follow her.

Despite knowing exactly whose home you’d be spending most of your summer in, you were starstruck upon seeing the man in person, standing frozen in awe as Elvis Presley himself walked over to the foyer, a bright smile on his face when he saw the group of you. He gave Dodger a kiss on the cheek as she settled into an armchair in the living room.

Growing up, you’d always thought Elvis was handsome, from the photos you saw of him in magazines and handful of his movies you’d seen, but he was younger then, not quite mythologized yet. Meeting him in that moment, with his evident age and maturity, he was gorgeous.

“You must be Y/N,” Elvis said, his voice deep and smooth as he greeted you. “I do hugs ‘round here, hope you don’t mind.”

You shook your head, because who the hell were you to say no to a hug from Elvis Presley of all people. His arms were warm and strong as they wrapped around you, pulling you close as if he’d done this a million times before—maybe not to you, at least. You returned the gesture, a bashful smile on your face when the two of you broke from the hug.

“You’re all Jenny talks about,” he said. “I call her and ask ‘How’s school?’ and I get an earful about you. Feels like I already know ya.”

“Dad,” Jenny groaned, rolling her eyes before shifting her gaze to you. “He’s exaggerating. He likes to embarrass me.”

He laughed. “That’s what I’m supposed to do.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you,” you said. “Thanks for letting me stay here. Your house is beautiful.”

“It’s your house for the summer, too,” Jenny said.

“That’s right. Y’all girls got the pool, the horses, go-karts. Hell, Memphis is jumpin’ most nights. I used to go to this club on Beale Street called—“

“Club Handy, yeah dad.”

You almost laughed at the situation. For how much you had built up the Presleys in your head all these years, especially Elvis, it was a relief to see Jenny get just as embarrassed by her dad as you did at your own parents sometimes. Still, you didn’t understand what she had to be embarrassed about, Elvis had been nothing but nice and funny so far. You nearly protested when she began pulling you up the stairs with her, your suitcase in her other hand.

“Alright, don’t want the ol’ man crampin’ your style, I get it,” Elvis said as he noticed Jenny leading the escape.

Jenny smiled. “Love you dad. We’ll see you for dinner.”

“Love you too, kiddo. How’s hamburgers sound?”

“Perfect!” Jenny called back from the top of the stairs.

As the two of you walked down the long hallway to the guest room where you’d be staying for the summer, you couldn’t help but finally blurt out your thoughts at meeting Elvis for the first time.

“Your dad’s like—“

“He’s a lot, I know.”

“What? No, I was gonna say normal. I mean, except for the whole ‘being Elvis Presley’ thing.”

She huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, except for that.”

The guest room was at least twice the size of your room at home, and you couldn’t imagine what the other bedrooms in the house must have looked like. The decor was a bit outdated but in pristine condition. If anyone had stayed there before you, you couldn’t tell as you walked around to observe the large bedroom.

Jenny stood awkwardly in the doorway, clearly unused to having guests of her own over. “I guess I’ll leave you to unpack. Bathroom’s right through that door, and my room is two doors down. Come find me when you’re done, and I’ll give you the tour.”

“Okay,” you said.

You opened the closet door, finding empty hangers for your clothes. It didn’t take you very long to unpack, hanging up some of your clothes and putting others in the drawers of the nearby dresser. The bathroom was just as elaborate as the bedroom, its pink tile walls and floor looked like it’d just been installed. You set your toiletries where you usually kept them at home.

Jenny’s bedroom door was open, and you found her laying on the floor, reading a magazine. Her room wasn’t much different from the dorm room as far as decor went, except the bedroom was naturally far bigger. You wondered how she even survived in the cramped shared living space, growing up with such an incredible room of her own.

She was surprised to see you walk in, not expecting you to finish unpacking so soon. True to her word, she gave you the grand tour of Graceland. She had a story for just about every room in the house, something funny she or her dad had done, but you noticed mention of her mother as scarce. Still, the woman’s presence lingered throughout the mansion like a ghost–family photos that were still on bookshelves, the wallpaper and furniture she’d picked out in some of the rooms.

By the time Jenny had finished showing you the house and just how much there was to do outside, your stomach began rumbling, and you couldn’t ignore the smell of whatever was cooking in the kitchen.

“Dad, what’re you cooking for?” Jenny asked upon seeing Elvis standing front of a cast-iron skillet on the stovetop.

“Changed my mind about burgers. This is one of Dodger’s recipes, I wanted to do somethin’ special for your friend’s first night here.”

“Food poisoning isn’t special.”

“C’mon, that was one time, and I got just as sick as you.” He turned to you. “Don’t listen to her. It hasn’t happened in years.”

You laughed, sitting at the table, amused by their banter. Dodger walked into the kitchen, taking the seat near you and giving you an exasperated glance. Apparently this was a regular occurance.

You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until you started eating, but it didn’t faze them, as you noticed where Jenny had picked up the habit of talking while chewing came from. The whole situation was almost normal, which made it all the more bizarre to you. You hadn’t expected to be catered to hand and foot by butler and maids or whoever they may have employed at Graceland, but having a regular, home-cooked meal with the Presleys wasn’t what you had in mind for your first meal there.

The food was good, and Elvis was especially pleased the next morning when no one showed signs of food poisoning, as he so kindly informed a half-awake Jenny over breakfast the next morning. You slept well in the guest room, the bed was more comfortable than the one you had at home, and having your own bathroom to take as much space as you needed to do your nighttime and morning routines was something you knew you’d savor throughout the summer.

Your first week at Graceland was mostly spent in the house, either in Jenny’s room where the two of you listened to music and planned the rest of the summer.

“Y’all can’t spend all summer inside. We got a nice pool out there, and y’all ain’t even used it yet,” Elvis said. “And those poor horses are neighin’ for you, Jenny.”

“Oh my god,” she groaned, covering her face with a pillow in embarrassment.

Elvis winked at you, and you smiled in return.

“You bring your swimsuit, Y/N?” Jenny asked when she lifted her head.

When you changed into your swimsuit in your room, you looked at yourself in the mirror, admiring how well it looked on you. It flattered your figure perfectly, so much so that you’d bought different patterns and colors in the same style. A brief, foolish thought raced through your mind, what would Elvis think?

As you made your way downstairs, you took a detour to talk to Dodger who was watching TV in the living room.

“Hi Dodger,” you greeted cheerfully. “Are you gonna go swimming with us?”

She scoffed. “I went enough of my life without air conditionin’, I’m not givin’ up bein’ comfortable now.”

You nodded. “I don’t blame you. Do you need anything before I head out?”

“Jenny just got me a Coke before she ran out the door. Thanks for askin’, sweetheart,” she said, smiling.

Jenny was already in the pool by the time you got there, climbing out to head to the diving board. You set down your towel on an empty pool chair and applied your sunscreen, watching as she jumped from the board and into the pool. The sun was unforgiving as you could already feel yourself sweating off the sunscreen. Still, you knew you needed to wait at least a few minutes before heading in.

Sometimes you and Jenny would swim at the pool in the campus gym, but it reeked of chlorine and on more than one occasion had to be cleared out because some hungover asshole threw up in it. The pool at Graceland looked immaculate, though.

“You’re not swimmin’?” Elvis asked, startling you a bit. You hadn’t noticed him walk up.

“I’m waiting for my sunscreen to dry first.”

“I’ll keep you company,” he said, sitting next to you on the towel.

Neither of you spoke as you watched Jenny do a backflip off the diving board, Elvis jokingly calling out a score when she emerged from the water. She stuck her tongue out at him before swimming over to the ladder out of the pool, making her way back up the diving board.

“Did she dive competitively or something?” you asked.

He laughed, shaking his head. “Nope, just likes jumpin’ off the thing. We signed her up for just about everything else she wanted to try. Really is a miracle she ended up alright, Lord knows I let that girl get away with murder growin’ up.”

“Jenny is the best friend I’ve ever had,” you said softly.

He turned his head to look at you, squinting a bit from the bright summer sun that was shining from behind you. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him—his tanned skin almost gold in the sunlight with his black styled hair, the faintest hint of laugh lines beginning to show in the corners of his mouth as he gave you a kind smile. “I’m real glad to hear that. She thinks highly of you too.”

Before you could respond, he said, “I’ve spent a lot of time readin’ the Bible recently. Lots of strong friendships in there, people who get through trials and tribulation together. We’re all sinners, but the Lord gives us strength in each other. Seein’ how good Jenny is doin’ thanks to you makes me think maybe I shouldn’t have pushed away all the people I did when her mama left.”

If that was his way of calling you heaven-sent, you’d take it. Jenny had told you he was religious, not obnoxiously so, but had a deep, personal faith that he cherished. People often turned to religion when they felt lost or troubled, seeking comfort that their experiences weren’t meaningless and there was a higher power looking out for them. Regardless of how you felt about it, you weren’t about to tear apart something that gave him peace.

“Isn’t that why God made Eve? So Adam wouldn’t be lonely?” you asked.

You couldn’t read the look he gave you as his expression shifted just enough for you to notice sitting so close to him, yet he answered, “That’s right.”

“Y/N, are you coming in or not?” Jenny shouted from the diving board.

You smiled at Elvis before getting up and taking a careful step into the shallow end of the pool. Standing in the waist deep water was refreshing, and you floated for a bit, talking with Elvis and Jenny who’d taken a break from diving to unsuccessfully convince her dad to join the two of you in the pool. He simply brushed her off, claiming he was fine despite the sweat dripping from his forehead in the Memphis heat.

It wasn’t until you expressed that you felt bad he was sitting out in the sun, he finally relented. To your disappointment, he didn’t take off the t-shirt he was wearing when he got into the pool. You were slightly embarrassed that you even wanted to see him shirtless, especially with Jenny around. It made you feel acutely aware of how much you were talking with Elvis, even though Jenny had become preoccupied with diving again.

The next few weeks were mostly spent poolside, except for the day Jenny stayed out too long and ended up getting heatstroke, confining you inside the house while she recovered. Elvis offered to have a car bring you into Memphis to go shopping or do some sightseeing, but you decided to stay with Jenny instead, watching the TV in her room and bringing her food and drinks, even though she told you that someone else could do it.

When she recovered, she brought you on a shopping spree, ‘To thank you for playing nurse,’ she had joked. She told you not to pay attention to the price tags of anything, but you couldn’t help it, putting back items you deemed too expensive and claiming you didn’t like them that much anyway. Of course, Jenny would go right back behind you and grab whatever you’d left, buying it for you anyway.

You enjoyed Memphis a lot, and Elvis seemed excited when you returned from the shopping trip with Jenny, telling him as much. It was nice to switch things up from the normal pool days, something that you never thought you’d find yourself thinking. As Elvis had pointed out, there was a ton to do in Memphis. Although, on the handful of nights you and Jenny went out to a local bar or club, he waited up until the two of you got back to Graceland. Jenny apologized each time, as if embarrassed by Elvis’ concern. Each time, you brushed off her apologies. Sure, you and Jenny were adults, and her dad didn’t have to wait up by the window for the two of you, but it was sweet.

Apparently, the nights out you’d experienced in Memphis would be nothing compared to the annual Presley Fourth of July party, which Jenny grew more excited for as the day got closer. Every year they had a party that raged on from the height of the afternoon well into the next morning. Though she told you that it wouldn’t be as extravagant as past celebrations, it would be a good time nonetheless. Still, Elvis had apparently invited the “Memphis Mafia” whom you’d heard so much about, the first time they would all be together in months.

She had assured you it would be a casual barbecue type of event, so you decided to dress comfortably for it, figuring you’d be spending most of your time outside in the pool or hanging out with Jenny. You certainly hadn’t underdressed, as when you got downstairs, just about everyone else was wearing some kind of t-shirt and jeans or shorts. You noticed Elvis dressed down in a t-shirt with your university’s logo on it and a pair of jeans that made his ass look fantastic—not that you were looking.

The first hour or so of the party consisted of getting drinks from the open bar and going through introductions to the four dozen or so people in attendance, most of whom Jenny introduced as “uncle” or “aunt” so-and-so. Luckily Dodger knew everyone, and in the two instances Jenny asked you to get someone in particular, she gladly pointed you in the right direction.

At some point in the afternoon, a football game started, unsurprising as Jenny had told you how much her dad loved football. In fact, he’d wanted to attend some of your university’s football games but knew it’d cause a scene if he showed up. You helped Jenny referee the pickup game, not knowing much about football yourself, but it seemed like they were making up rules on the spot anyway.

The game was fun to watch and a good excuse to stare at Elvis, until a football went flying in your direction. Just as it was about to hit you square in the face, you landed on the ground with a thud. You were dazed for a few moments before noticing Elvis was on top of you, looking at you in concern.

“Y/N, you alright?” he asked.

God, he felt nice pressed against you, but as so many eyes were on you, you had no choice but to answer, “Yeah, thanks for saving my face.”

He laughed. “‘Course, darlin’.”

“Sorry about that!” a man shouted from a few feet away.

Elvis helped you up off the ground, brushing away some of the stray dirt that’d gotten on your shirt.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked once again, a steady hand on your shoulder as he searched your face with his ocean blue eyes.

You felt your face heat up at being the focus of his attention. “I’m fine, really.”

He nodded, but still jokingly said, “Jenny, you watch her. Keep her out of trouble.”

The football game didn’t go on much longer after that. Jenny had forgotten what the score was, and you hadn’t been much help. Not to mention with how hot it was out, everyone was getting tired and hungry. You and Jenny talked as you balanced the paper plates filled with food on your lawn chairs, but your mind kept wandering to Elvis being on top of you earlier. So close to him, you could have leaned up for a kiss, pressed your lips against his and found out what he tasted like, something sweet yet masculine you supposed.

You were startled from your daydream by Jenny asking you where you wanted to sit during the fireworks. Jenny. You felt horrible for the crush you’d developed on your best friend’s father and foolish for even considering he’d be interested in you in the first place. After all, you were at Graceland to spend the summer with Jenny. She was the one who’d invited you and extended such generosity that you didn’t feel like you deserved, especially now that your mind was wandering to thoughts of her father.

As soon as the sun set, the elaborate fireworks show began, you and Jenny sharing an old picnic blanket she’d found and sitting on Graceland’s lawn, watching the bright blues and reds light up the night sky. You could hear Elvis laughing and hollering with some of his buddies as they lit the fireworks, each one more dazzling than the last.

About halfway through the palette of fireworks that the guys were going through, Elvis turned to you and Jenny, a big smile on his face as he extended his arms out, raising his eyebrows. You responded with a thumbs up, and Jenny nodded enthusiastically in agreement. Your ears were ringing by the time the fireworks show was over, but there was no denying they were the best you’d ever seen.

The smoke from all of the fireworks left the air hazy, so you and Jenny laid out on the blanket, looking up at the stars while waiting for everything to settle down. You loved how no matter the situation or how long the two of you were around each other, conversation with Jenny always flowed naturally. No matter what, you could tell her anything. Well, almost anything.

At around two in the morning, when nearly everyone else had left or called it a night, as Jenny had, you found Elvis sitting alone at the empty bar, a glass of melting ice next to him. You sat down next to him, your knee touching his as you turned on the bar stool to look at him.

“I wanted to thank you for the party. It was incredible,” you said. “I mean the food and the fireworks, just everything. Also, you know, saving me from an emergency room visit.”

“I’m glad you had a good time, darlin’. Seemed like Jenny was havin’ a lot of fun.”

“She was happy to see everyone. I don’t think I remember all of their names, though,” you said. “She’s got a lot of uncles.”

He laughed. “Yeah, she grew up with all of ‘em. They’ve been part of the family for, well, since I got back from the service.”

“Did you like Germany?”

“No, I was homesick and lonely the whole time. Jenny’s mama was back here, and it didn’t help that—“ he sighed, shaking his head. “I was ‘bout Jenny’s age when my mama died. That ruined me, it really did. Then the same thing pretty much happens to her. It’s like we’re cursed or somethin’.”

“I—I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “You got nothin’ to apologize for, darlin’. You’re bein’ a good friend to my baby girl right now.”

“She’s been a good friend to me. She deserves it,” you said. “I know it’s not the same, but when my ex dumped me, I didn’t think I would ever feel okay again.”

“Can’t believe anyone would dump a lady like you.”

“I could say the same about you,” you flirted back without thinking, horror washing over you as you realized your faux pas. “Elvis, I—“

“I’ll take it as a compliment, comin’ from you, darlin’.”

You gave him a nervous smile, assuming he was just saying that to be nice. It was a ridiculous thing for you to say, after all, hardly knowing the man besides what little your friend had told you and the month or so you’d been at Graceland. His faults were glaring, the repeated infidelity toward his wife—soon to be ex-wife, you supposed—as well as his substance abuse issues, the latter of which you understood he’d been working on, to at least be fair. Still, he was a loving father to your best friend, and he’d been nothing but kind and charming toward you, a near stranger staying in his home for the summer.

Upon speaking with him further, he revealed that the reason he cast out so many of his trusted friends, the people who made up TCB, was that almost all of them, in one way or another, could see Jenny’s mom leaving from a mile away. Meanwhile, Elvis and Jenny were blindsided by her abandonment. He was hurt that no one gave him a heads up, at least so he could try to make things right with her. He did admit, however, that as her husband, he should have noticed something was wrong and she was reaching her breaking point.

About an hour later you excused yourself to go to bed, and didn’t wake up until late the following afternoon. The mood in Graceland shifted after the Fourth of July party. Despite the heavy conversation you had with Elvis that night, things seemed lighter. He had his old friends over more frequently, which Jenny was glad about, expressing that she felt like her dad was slowly getting back to his old self again.

Most notably, Elvis sought you out more. Though you and Jenny were practically attached at the hip, he began occupying the spare moments you had to yourself. You couldn’t even say that you minded too much, but the way he regarded you felt more intimate than before, deeper conversations and fleeting touches punctuated your time with him.

One evening, when you decided to cook an old family recipe of yours for the Presleys, Elvis insisted on helping. He chopped and grated as directed, but when he needed to get past you to grab something, he put his hands on your hips, squeezing them a bit as he moved in the space between you and the counter. Your breath hitched at the action, and when you looked over at him, he appeared preoccupied with what he was searching for.

You tried to burn the feeling of how his hands felt on your hips into your memory. Perhaps it was a reflex, a holdover from domestic moments with his wife. Your heart raced at the thought. Filling the maternal role for Jenny was one thing, but the prospect of inadvertently providing Elvis the intimacy that was absent since his wife had left made your head spin.

You and Jenny already looked after each other, and though helping her push through the last few weeks of the spring semester was a struggle, spending the summer keeping her mind off of her mom was far easier. There were still some nights when she’d knock on your door, tears streaking down her cheeks as she asked if she could talk to you, not wanting to be alone, knowing you would always say yes. They weren’t nearly as frequent, though.

Elvis didn’t seem to have someone like that, who he could be vulnerable with and not have to worry about being judged or taken advantage of. You supposed he gravitated toward you because you were already there, convenient, within reach, and well aware of the situation at hand. The more you spoke with him, the deeper your attraction to him became. For all of the things you’d read and heard about him through the years, none of them mention how smart and sensitive he was.

At that point, it shouldn’t have surprised you that Jenny’s affinity for history came from him. He read a lot in his free time on a variety of subjects and was interested in the details of your major. He told you how proud he was when Jenny expressed a desire to go to college and get her degree. It definitely didn’t surprise you when he said that she’d always gotten fantastic grades, graduating in the top ten percent of her high school class.

You were glad Elvis supported Jenny so much, even if she did regard him as a bit overenthusiastic at times. There were plenty of people you knew with terrible fathers, and Elvis’ dedication to Jenny made you admire him that much more. Of course, Jenny was incredibly important to you too. You liked your other friends, but they weren’t her.

When Jenny approached you toward the end of July, standing in your room and shifting from leg to leg with an anxious expression on her face, you were sure you’d been found out. She knew about your crush on her dad and was going to confront you over it. Send you packing and leave you shit out of luck for a roommate just a month before the semester was going to start.

“I forgot to tell you,” she began, “that summer camp I volunteer at every year is coming up next week, the one in the Smokies.”

You nearly sighed in relief. “Yeah, I know, Jenny. I’ll see you in August.”

“I was wondering—can you stay? I really don’t think dad should be alone, and Dodger needs to rest, not worry about him. He was a mess the week before you got here, Y/N. Just check on him, that’s all.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, taken aback by her request. “I don’t want to impose. I’m your guest here.”

“He trusts you. He has a hard time trusting people. I swear I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t know he trusts you.”

Fuck, why can I never say no to Jenny, you found yourself thinking as you agreed to look after her father during the three weeks she was away. It was only three weeks, and you liked Elvis a lot anyway, maybe more than you should have considering he was your best friend’s father. Still, you figured there was no harm in the small crush you were harboring, certain it would fizzle out by the end of the summer when you and Jenny returned to campus.

The week leading up to Jenny leaving was hectic on her end, and you got a bit of a trial run on how spending three weeks by yourself with Elvis would be, especially since Dodger was understandably doing her own thing, though she knew how to play just about every card game in the book and could kick your ass at just about every one of them. When you informed Elvis that you had to call it quits on a game of Go Fish of all things with Dodger, having lost all of the Hershey’s Kisses you’d been betting with, he laughed so hard you thought he was going to fall over.

“You’ll get more kisses, I’ll make sure of it,” he said when he finally caught his breath, unaware of how your heart jumped at his statement.

Jenny cried when she left for her volunteer camp counselor position, giving you a long hug and thanking you for being such a good friend through everything. You couldn’t help crying too. Of course, you’d miss her, but the guilt you felt in regards to Elvis allowed itself to peek through at her sincerity.

Elvis was lonely, achingly so, and you weren’t sure if it was because he genuinely cared for you or as you suspected, you were just there already, but the time you’d been spending with Jenny was quickly occupied with Elvis’ presence instead. He’d sit in on your card games with Dodger, not playing despite his competitive streak because he hated to lose, which was almost always a guarantee when playing against her. During the day, the two of you would spend hours in the pool, talking and horsing around. When the weather wasn’t great, you’d hang out in the jungle room, listening to music, or if you were really lucky, he’d sing for you.

You got into a comfortable routine with Elvis, a little too comfortable, you realized, when you’d settled in to watch TV with him after dinner and his arm was around your shoulders, his fingers absentmindedly brushing up and down your forearm as the latest episode of Columbo played. It didn’t matter. No one else was around, which was just the trouble—despite his entourage slowly making their reappearances at Graceland throughout the summer, it was almost as if he reserved his evenings specifically for you.

At the very least, you’d be able to tell Jenny when she returned from her stint as a camp counselor that her dad was doing fine and she had nothing to worry about. That’s how things seemed as the first week of her being away came and went. She sent you, Elvis, and Dodger letters along with some Polaroids of her with her cabin playing baseball, painting, and tubing down a river. You were glad she was having fun.

Elvis did too, until you noticed his face fall as he studied one of the photos intensely for a few moments.

“She looks just like her mama in that one,” Elvis whispered, putting it on the coffee table.

You walked over, noticing that the angle of her leading the painting class did make her resemble her mother, at least from the few pictures you’d seen of her.

Elvis disappeared after that, and neither you nor Dodger saw him the rest of the day. When dinner rolled around, your spirits lifted when Dodger taught you one of her old family recipes, the one Elvis had made the first night you arrived at Graceland. She said she only trusted family members with her cooking secrets but figured you were just as part of the family as you could be, which brought you to tears.

After dinner and chatting with Dodger for a bit, you went to check on Elvis. Graceland being the mansion it was, it took at least twenty minutes of checking rooms and admittedly getting lost at one point before you found him in the jungle room, sitting on the couch with a glass of something amber in his hand. The record player was on, but whatever he had on the turntable had long since stopped playing. You broke the unsettling silence in the room, letting him know that there was still some leftover from dinner if he was hungry.

He didn’t answer you or even acknowledge your presence, simply staring straight ahead, deep in thought. You tapped your fingers against the door frame, letting a few moments pass by before turning to leave. Just as you were about to do so, he finally spoke.

“You give your whole life to a woman, and then she just throws it away,” he slurred.

You did cheat on her, you almost said. You understood what he meant, if it had bothered her so much, why did she wait so long to leave. Perhaps she felt as if she didn’t have an opportunity to before, that spring night she left being the only time she had the chance or the nerve to do something she’d apparently been considering for some time. Maybe it was years of built up resentment or countless confrontations that resulted in empty promises. There was no way of knowing what had been the final straw for her, but she certainly hadn’t chosen the least painful option.

You wondered if she had any idea the fallout that was left in her wake. Neither Elvis nor Jenny had any contact with her in the months she was gone. It probably hadn’t occurred to her that your life would be so drastically changed too.

Sighing, you approached Elvis, your hands on your hips as you took stock of the situation. The last thing he needed to be doing was drinking and overthinking, and while you would have preferred he eat a solid meal, the best option was to just make sure he got to his room okay.

“Elvis, let me get you to bed,” you said softly.

He made a grunting noise that startled you. “Ain’t too bad to hear from a pretty thing like you.”

“I’m sorry. That isn’t what I—” you stammered. “I mean, you should go to sleep.”

“Christ, seein’ you all summer in those swimsuits—like you drive me crazy on purpose.”

“C’mon, let’s go,” you said, helping him up from the couch.

“Shame you’re Jenny’s best friend,” he mumbled. “Ain’t many girls like you ‘round anymore that know how to take care of a man. I’d shack up with ya in a heartbeat.”

You froze in your tracks. He was drunk, that was all. Unable to utter anything coherent in his inebriated state. Still, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of misplaced pride upon hearing Elvis say that he wanted you, that he found you attractive, even.

Taking his hand, you guided him into what you knew was the master bedroom, though you’d never been inside of it before. The dark decor sent a shiver down your spine, even when you turned on the lights to illuminate the way to his bed. You’d never seen a room so ornate before, truly fit for a man like him—the king.

As soon as Elvis hit the bed, he was out like a light, and you pushed his body so he was laying on his side, just in case. You went into his bathroom, finding a bottle of aspirin among the other bottles that were on the counter. After filling up a glass of water, you brought both to his bedside table.

Quickly, as if at risk of being caught doing something you weren’t supposed to, you turned off the lights and left, shutting the door behind you. Padding down the hall to the guest room, you sat on the edge of the bed, your head in your hands. You found yourself wishing Jenny was there, but it wasn’t like you could discuss what had happened with her anyway.

You woke up with a headache the following morning despite not being the one who had been drinking. Slowly, you made your way through your morning routine before heading downstairs to get something to eat. Dodger had made breakfast, so you offered to clean up for her in thanks after you finished your meal.

While scrubbing one of the pans Dodger had used to fry up eggs in, you could hear Elvis’ familiar footfall. You’d already decided not to acknowledge what had happened and hope the rest of the summer would go on without a hitch.

“Morning,” you said, looking at him over your shoulder. “Dodger left a plate for you in the fridge.”

He sighed, making his way over to you and leaning against the counter. “Y/N, I wanted to apologize for last night. I made a damn fool of myself.”

“It’s okay,” you said. “We all have off nights.”

“Let me make it up to you?” he asked. “It’s the least I can do.”

You hesitated, wondering what exactly he had in mind as far as making it up to you. Ultimately you agreed, finding yourself more anxious than excited over what Elvis had planned, simply telling you to be ready and meet him in the foyer around six. To pass the time, you tried reading some of the magazines in Jenny’s room, but couldn’t focus on any of them long enough. Your headache from earlier was still just barely noticeable, so you took a nap in hopes it would go away before whatever Elvis had planned for the night.

You awoke a little over an hour before you were supposed to meet Elvis downstairs, with no idea as to how to dress. He probably didn’t have a t-shirt and jeans type of thing in mind, but formal wear wasn’t anywhere on your list when you packed your suitcase at the beginning of the summer. You’d brought one nice dress with you, as you knew Jenny wasn’t the type to go to high-end clubs or parties that had a dress code. The only heels you had were a pair Jenny had bought you on your shopping sprees earlier in the summer, and while they didn’t exactly match the dress, they looked nice enough together.

Satisfied enough with your appearance, you rushed downstairs a few minutes past five. Elvis was already waiting for you, as expected. At least you weren’t underdressed, as he wore a tailored blue suit, foregoing a dress shirt underneath the jacket so his chest hair was on display. You tried not to stare at him, but all dressed up, he looked like a dream.

“I was startin’ to think you stood me up,” he joked.

Stood him up–like a date? “I’m sorry, the time got away from me while I was getting ready.”

“You look beautiful, darlin’. You always do,” he said, putting his hand on the small of your back.

He led you outside to the limo that was waiting for the two of you, opening the door for you to get in first. Almost as soon as he joined you in the back of the limo, the chauffeur drove off, and you still had no idea where you were going, probably dinner, considering the timing, but there was no way Elvis could go anywhere without being noticed.

“I was able to pull some strings last minute, but this is my favorite restaurant in Memphis,” he assured you. “I booked the whole place out. I didn’t want anyone botherin’ you.”

“Thank you. That’s really sweet.”

“It’s the least I can do. I’m embarrassed you had to see me like that, Y/N.”

“I’m just glad I was able to help,” you said, sincerity in your eyes as you looked at him.

Before he could respond, the limo stopped, and the chauffeur got out to open Elvis’ door. You noticed that the car was parked in front of the restaurant’s service entrance, although you wondered why even bother with the limo if he was trying to be discreet. You supposed you’d never exactly understand how the other half lived.

You could see why the restaurant was Elvis’ favorite. The place was chic yet charming, and you quickly found that the food was incredible. Not to mention, being the only people in the place meant that the service was great. The owner even made an appearance during the meal, talking up Elvis and saying how lucky he was to have such a beautiful date. Neither you nor Elvis corrected him, which sent a thrill through you. So it was a date.

The night went on perfectly, and the way Elvis looked at you, with an intense adoration, made you feel warm. You wanted to be more forward and flirty, but he simply made you melt into a bashful mess without even trying. He’d been kind and respectful, nothing short of a perfect gentleman, as opposed to how crass he’d been toward you less than a day earlier. You were more than happy to brush the incident off as an isolated thing if it meant you got to see this side of him more.

The date ended far too quickly for your liking, but you and Elvis talked all the way back to Graceland. You found it funny when he walked you upstairs, as if walking you up to your front door.

“Is this where we call it a night?” you asked, standing in the hallway near his bedroom door.

“We don’t have to, but I don’t want to overstep, Y/N,” he said. “I don’t remember much of what I said last night, if I’m bein’ honest.”

“Last night you said that if I weren’t Jenny’s best friend, you’d have sex with me,” you said boldly, looking him in the eye. “Did you mean it?”

He shook his head. “No,” he answered, and a lump formed in your throat as you held back tears at his response. You knew it, just drunk nonsense. How could he ever want— “No, I’d make love to you. ‘S’what you deserve.”

You could only manage a whimper in response.

“You can say no, darlin’. I won’t hold it against ya none,” he whispered.

Your chest tightened as you could tell by the intensity of his eyes that he was being truthful, but you were too when you whispered back, “I want you to kiss me.”

His lips were soft against yours as he kissed you tenderly, one hand cradling your face as the other pulled you closer by your waist. The care he handled you with made you want to cry as nearly a summer’s worth of pent-up emotions filled your chest. Steadying yourself on one of his arms, you squeezed his bicep. In response, his teeth grazed your lower lip, and you parted your lips, allowing his tongue to slip inside your mouth. He tasted of whiskey and tobacco, and you wondered if he noticed the cherry chapstick you’d put on just half an hour earlier in the restaurant’s bathroom.

He opened his bedroom door behind him, just as quickly shutting it and turning the lights on. He undressed you, gingerly removing each article of clothing from your body and pressing warm kisses across your skin. When you were fully nude, you did the same to him, in awe of the man who stood before you. Your eyes widened a bit at his length, already hard as it sprung free from the confines of his tight pants.

Just like that evening in the kitchen, his hands were firm on your hips, giving you a squeeze as he guided you backward onto the king size bed. As soon as you made eye contact with yourself with the mirror on the ceiling, you just as quickly averted your eyes. He noticed your hesitation, as a man with a mirror on his bedroom ceiling and extensive sexual experience would, you supposed. Gently, he used his fingers to tilt your head up, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispered. “Don’t be shy, darlin’, look at how perfect we are together.”

Darlin’. You wondered, as he kissed and sucked on the tender skin of your neck, if he meant it, if you truly were darling to him. He threw around the pet name so often, especially toward you. A burst of possessiveness sprung from within you at the thought of him calling another woman that, even in passing. He was yours, fuck everything, he was yours.

When you looked up at the mirror again, you realized your initial discomfort came from seeing a woman unrestrained, unhinged. You met your own gaze with one of lustful determination and pulled his head away from your neck, pressing your lips to his once more. Threading your fingers through his messy black hair as you deepened what could hardly be considered a kiss at that point—teeth and tongue and the eventual tang of blood as you bit his lower lip a little too hard in your frenzy.

A sense of pride bubbled in your chest as you smugly watched him consider you with bewilderment. He returned your expression with a smirk of his own, his hand slipping between your thighs. You spread your legs farther open, having no intention of playing the ingénue. You weren’t lying in his bed to pretend you didn’t want him to ruin you.

He wanted you. He wanted you. You repeated this mantra in your head as he slid two of his fingers in your pussy. You couldn’t be bothered to stifle the moan that came from your lips and filled the room. This stirred something in Elvis as he worked his fingers, rapidly pumping them in and out of you, using his other hand to rub your clit to elicit more moans from you.

“Fuck, darlin’, you keep doin’ that and I might come before I’m even inside ya,” he groaned.

You could feel your pussy tighten around his fingers as you were pushed closer and closer to climax. He leaned down, pressing kisses to your stomach and thighs while whispering something you couldn’t hear. Your ears were ringing, mind hazed—no one had ever made you feel so good in your life, you weren’t sure if anyone else ever could.

The cry that escaped your lips when you orgasmed was nothing short of primal, your fingers clawing into the satin sheets as your hips bucked against his hand. What was more, he kept at it, using one hand to hold down your hips as he made you cum again with his fingers. It was almost too much, yet you whined when he pulled his hand away.

You could do nothing but lay still as you attempted to steady your labored breathing, but that didn’t stop Elvis, who seemed intent on devouring you.

“I need you,” he mumbled, his desperate prayer repeatedly whispered into your skin that burned at his touch. “Y/N, I need you.”

“I’m right here,” you breathed. “You have me.”

He pressed his lips to yours fervently, holding your face in his hands with a passion that left you even more breathless. You gripped his bicep, kissing him back with a desperation you couldn’t even pretend to be ashamed of.

You gasped as you felt the head of his hard cock against your pussy, digging your nails into his skin as you brought him closer. His chest pressed against yours, he slid his cock inside your still sensitive cunt that immediately responded to being filled.

His thrusts were slow and steady, taking his time with you in contrast to the messy finger-fucking he’d given you just moments before. You looked up at the mirror on the ceiling again, your lips curling in a smile at the sight. His face was buried in the crook of your neck, your hair wild and eyes wide as you clung to him as he had his way with you. A high-pitched moan escaped your lips as he lowered his head to take one of your breasts in his mouth, the other bouncing in rhythm with his thrusts. You and Elvis looked ethereal, immaculate, a Renaissance painting that would put the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel to shame.

“Elvis, oh my god,” you choked out, throwing your head back as you felt your third orgasm building up in your core.

“I’m close, darlin’,” he moaned. “You take me so well—I don’t think I can last much longer.”

“I want you to cum inside me, Elvis,” you confessed, voice strained as you tried to form words. “Please.”

Upon hearing your plea, his thrusts became more erratic. It didn’t take much after that for him to climax, and you jolted at feeling his cum inside you, especially when he rubbed your clit again, sending you over the edge yourself. His name emerged from deep within your throat, as your eyes watered and toes curled when you came.

He’d marked you, claimed you, obliging the request you made in the heat of passion. There was no turning back, no undoing what had just been done. Just as much as Elvis was yours, you were his.

He settled next to you, taking one of your hands in his and kissing the top of it before asking, “Darlin’, you feel alright?”

You nodded, although alright was such a gross understatement. You felt beautiful. You felt loved. You felt guilt pool in the pit of your stomach at the thought of Jenny and allowed yourself to drown in it when Elvis pulled you against his chest, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head and whispering that he loved you.

Taglist: @eliseinmemphis @crash-and-cure @kittenlittle24 @im-lame-irl @loudwombatmugkid @rxsesss @roseymary04 @queendelrey @jovialladyaurora @positivitylane112 @moonknightswif3 @holy-minseok @datsavageavenger @21bruhs @luckyevansstan @djsjs13949 @butlerslut @ash-omalley @powerofelvis @sad-bisexual-bitch @peachy-deaths @kibumslatina @adoreyouusugar @raefoxiegirl @ilovehobi101 @donnamarie23 @memphis-menace @animeketsu-yander @phhistheloml @dkayfixates @austinstyles @ophelia-writes-stuff

#elvis x reader #austin!elvis x reader #elvis presley x reader #elvis smut #elvis 2022 #elvis #austin!elvis

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stusbunker · 4 months

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Spotless: Fermata

Chapter Five

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Sam/Madison, Chase the waiter

Word Count: 1815

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, Dean casually getting dressed in front of the reader, third wheelin', Dean is a smooth motherfucker, unbeta'd

Series Masterlist

Divider courtesy of @cafekitsune

The glossy finish of Dean’s desk stuck to the sweat of your palms as you sat on the surface, waiting for him to finally decide on an outfit that Bela wouldn’t roll her eyes at the moment she saw him. He had been going through his wardrobe in front of you for the better part of an hour and you were both on the cusp of entirely different versions of frustration. He strutted out from his massive closet, pants undone and flashing you the same pair of boxer briefs you had been salivating over all morning. His shirt was open, showing off his one and only tattoo, high on his peck as he futzed with the collar, trying to get it to lay right and then he started to button.

“Can’t believe you set me up with some hoity toity wardrobe Nazi,” Dean grumbled a repeated accusation in a new and more colorful way.

“Don’t give me that crap, I know how much you like playing dress up,” you shot back.

He spun and glared at you. “Traitor. Even Charlie knows this dog-and-pony show is not the same as fighting orcs in the valley.”

You put on a face of mock sympathy. “You poor, poor thing, having to wear the free shit designers send you out in the wild.”

Dean flipped you off with one hand while tucking in his freshly buttoned shirt with the other. The way his shoulders stretched the gray fabric was more distracting than the thickness of the offensive finger.

“I’m not wearing a tie for fucking coffee,” Dean griped.

“No, you’re not. People’d think you went to church first and the last thing I want to start is cult rumors for either of you.”

Dean hopped on the balls of his feet as he zipped his fly, finally standing before you in an acceptable outfit. You looked him over as he fiddled with his cuffs.

“Roll them up, shows off your arms,” you coached him, as he went between glancing in the mirror on the back of the door to across the room for your appraisal.

Dean chuckled, but did as he was told.

“So, you calling in the paps or just seeing who catches on on their own?”

“I’ll have Bela post something, showing off you and her plate with a tag to the restaurant. I might snag some candids just in case, but I’m guessing you’ll get noticed.”

Dean dug through his rack of belts as you talked. “Can’t you get fired for leaking photos to the press?”

“Technically that is my job description, dude. But honestly? Only if I’m making extra money off of it— or if my boss decides to be a bigger dick than usual,” you sighed, avoiding scrolling through your phone as it buzzed next to your hip.

Dean smirked. “I’ll show you a bigger dick than—”

“None of that, god, Dean, shove down the locker room talk for like two hours. Please?”

He rolled his eyes and threaded his belt. “When it’s go time, I will be fucking angelic. I promise. I’ll show everybody what a gentleman I am. But you can’t just toss me a perfect spiral and get mad when I run with it.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes. “You hate football.”

Dean marched back across the room with a pair of Italian leather ankle boots and sat on the edge of his ridiculous bed to put them on. “No, I hate the televised corruption of football. It shouldn’t take twenty or thirty minutes for a two minute drill. But I wouldn’t say no to landing the Halftime show of the Super Bowl.”

“Noted.” You fell to the temptation of your phone, now that more of Dean was hidden than exposed. Bela had texted you twice, both with mirror selfies, you snapped a picture as Dean finger gunned his reflection to send back. She replied with a stream of positive emojis and you barked a laugh.

“What?!” Dean demanded.

“Outfit approved,” you spun your screen so Dean could read Bela’s response and his stupid face went from concentrating to smug in two seconds flat. He waggled his eyebrows at you but you stole your screen back before he could go scrolling through the conversation. His finger hung in the now empty air.

You typed a simple ‘you’re welcome’ to Bela and put your phone aside, screen down as Dean started on his hair in the en suite bathroom. You hopped off the desk and slinked into the doorway, bored and anxious in equal measure.

Staging public appearances had always been a hit or miss with Dean.

“You gonna be alright being Sam’s third wheel? I know you want to make this seem like it’s just me and Bela out, but we could still make it a group thing.”

“I’m so not dressed for an outing with Bela—”

Dean huffed as he washed the product from his hands.

“And we really need the focus to be on you, less distractions, better angles for candids, all that crap,” you said, professionally side-stepping the question.

“Yay,” Dean muttered with mock enthusiasm.

“You love the spotlight, remember?”

“Not the same thing. But I guess I have to live with it, don’t I?” Dean lamented, waiting for you to move out of the doorway and lead the way downstairs. He called for Sam, telling him that it was time to go over his shoulder. Something had shifted between you and you felt every ounce of his regret at the forced circumstances like it was a second skin.

Sam’s laugh, somewhere to your left, drew you out of your careful scrutiny of Dean’s posture across the patio. Madison had been telling a story, and though they both knew you were only there for work purposes, you still felt guilty for ignoring the conversation. You turned and faced the table and took a sip of your coffee. Sam gave you a squint, but didn’t say anything about your sudden return to reality, bless him.

“I think I’m going to do the eggs benedict scrambler. What are you thinking, Y/N?” Madison reminded you to look at the menu.

“Uh, I think I’m leaning more towards lunch, actually,” you said, because you really hadn’t processed anything on the laminated list in front of you.

Sam sipped his fresh squeezed grapefruit juice and you tried to speed read as your waiter returned with a cheerful look on his face.

“How’s it going over here? All set to order?” His name was Chase and he either was a bodybuilder on the side or he was an actor, which didn’t really take skill to parcel out in L.A., but it was still obvious.

Sam, the traitor, answered happily, “sure thing. I’ll have the kale frittatas and could we get a pitcher of Bloody Marys, please?”

“Okay, then,” Madison chuckled, shaking her head at Sam trying to get her tipsy in the middle of the day.

“Definitely, man,” Chase the waiter replied, typing in the order on his tablet. He then turned to Madison, which earned him an appreciative smile as your eyes darted back down onto the options.

You didn’t bother listening to what she ordered, too busy deciding on something you could eat without too much distraction. There was a certain columnist at Rolling Stone whom you wanted to get back in her good graces and if you could get her a good enough shot of Dean being Mister Charming, the better.

“What about you, doll?” Okay, you didn’t have an ounce of a fuck to give to this waiter who probably thought he was being slick.

“I’ll take another water and— the DELICIOUS BREAKFAST SELECTION with wheat toast.”

“Got it. Alright, that’s all in and I’ll be back with your drinks in a sec.” Chase finally left, freeing you from scripted social interaction. Sam gave you a reassuring head tilt and turned back to Madison. Both of them were polite enough to not point out you did not actually order a lunch selection.

Bela and Dean were near the railing of the patio, perfect for visibility from passersby, but what caught your attention most was that they seemed to be genuinely smiling at one another as they talked over their meals. The urge to join them welled up, to know what had two people so close to you so amused, to be included in their tiny bubble. You stayed put, managing to snap a few pictures of them before the table next you was seated.

So far, it felt like it was working.

The rest of the meal went by in a blur, you checking your phone more than was strictly polite but neither Sam nor Madison seemed to mind. The waiter continued to be a little extra, but all you cared about was the couple of people that had gathered across the street not so subtly snapping pictures. Bela’s post must have done its job. Dean and Bela lingered after he paid the check and you wondered if they were waiting on your permission or actually enjoying themselves. But before you could text either of them a posh car pulled up next to the patio and Bela was standing up to confirm her ride.

You watched on bated breath, Dean ushering Bela out of the iron gate of the patio with a hand on the small of her back. He was always at ease with physical touch and you were grateful for that fact as he sold your lies. Bela turned to face Dean outside the waiting car. She smiled up at him and he said something, making her bite her bottom lip. Oh, shit, she was milking this!

That’s when he leaned in and planted a quick kiss on her lips, just a breath longer than a peck. Sam kicked you under the table but you ignored him. They were really doing this and you couldn’t deny they looked damn good together. Dean held the door as Bela climbed into the backseat and closed it when she was situated. He tapped the roof and turned to walk towards where he parked the impala. He kept his head up, but you could see the slight smirk on his lips which only deepened as you gave him a double thumbs up as he passed your corner of the patio.

Fucker had this down.

You watched Dean walk away, hoping the photographers got that because you were not prepared for the goodbye kiss. And when Sam nudged your ankle for the second time you sighed and glared at him. He just raised his eyebrows. You ducked your head, trying to hide the heat on your cheeks. Which didn’t really make sense, you had gotten caught staring, so you chalked it up to mild embarrassment. It wasn’t jealousy, you had set this whole thing up. You were fine.

Tagging: @deans-spinster-witch@mrswhozeewhatsis@cosicas-cuquis@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like@suckitands33@ladysparkles78@deans-baby-momma@stoneyggirl2@sassy-pelican@leigh70

Chapter Six: A Due

#spotless series #dean winchester fanfiction #dean/reader #dean/bela #rockstar au #fake dating #angst #jealousy

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mangocheesecakes · 5 months

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Fraudulent gofundme's by one "Michelle Diaz" of Berwyn, IL (And connections to tumblr scammer Laura Deramas)

Tumblr user widelys

A few weeks ago, @kyra45 called out now-deactivated user widelys for sending out suspicious asks and failing to provide consistent answers to questions about their fundraiser. (As an example, they couldn't clarify whether they were raising funds for their twin infant children or for their twin sister.) (Check out key's tag for the posts documenting what went down).

On the actual gofundme page, it says that the fundraiser was organized by one Michelle Diaz of Berwyn, IL "to help out a member of the community". The link to this (likely fraudulent) fundraiser is still up and can be found here:

Twitter scams

The other day, user @hannaweeny reached out to me after finding my blog while reverse-image searching pics being used by a twitter user they believe to be a scammer. Sure enough the pics were the exact same ones used by known tumblr scammer (and proven Laura Deramas alt) sheeyancjoje. The now-deleted twitter account (@JKrismoz8405) was once more claiming to be a "homeless trans" but now going by the name "Jess". This "Jess" was using a gofundme that was once more organized by, you guessed it, Michelle Diaz of Berwyn, IL. Link here:

Thanks to hannaweeny's screenshots and links, I found the twitter account that's sharing this new scam gofundme, user @/divinesanxuary. When you look up their account, their pinned tweet is another fundraiser they claim to have created for a Palestinian woman in Gaza named 'Azhar'. The one who supposedly organized the fundraiser is, once more, Michelle Diaz of Berwyn, IL:

I have no solid proof yet that this last fundraiser is a scam, as it is dated September 28, 2023, way before the internet and communication blackout in Gaza, but the way the other two fundraisers above organized by this "Michelle Diaz" person both turned out to be fraudulent makes this third one extremely suspicious and very likely to be a scam. The twitter account that is supposedly owned by this Palestinian woman also looks very untrustworthy (user @/burner74358009 if anyone wants to look them up). If this is indeed another scam, then it's a new low for this Michelle Diaz, to use the unimaginable pain and suffering being experienced by Palestinians right now for their own selfish gains.

Google Results

(After checking these twitter accounts, I then turned to Google to see what would come up if I try to Google gofundmes by Michelle Diaz of Berwyn, IL, and here are a few more that I found that all look suspiciously similar in wording to the ones I've linked above:

Screenshots of these Gofundmes in case the links above get taken down:

Twitter user @/divinesanxuary sharing the fundraisers for sheeyancjoje/Jkrismoz84035 and "Palestinian woman, Azhar"

The Laura Deramas connection

(deep breaths everyone, I know we are all so fucking tired of her. I will make a separate post for the screenshots of what I will describe on this part, as the post is already too long. For now, this is just a rundown of what happened as best as I can recall it.)

While I was writing this post, my mutual @thewondersmith was messaging with Laura on Facebook. Laura had contacted them a while ago asking them to tell me to take down my posts about her and her scams, saying that her irl friends and acquaintances have found out about her scams on tumblr, that they were mad at her and harassing her and threatening to report her to the police, and she was being called to their purok leader in connection with her scamming. After some prodding, Laura admits that she was the one behind the sheeyancjoje account. At first, she was still insisting that she wasn't responsible for the new one on twitter that was literally using sheeyancjoje's pics and typing exactly like her, but eventually, when her whining and guilt-tripping made no impact, she also finally admitted she was running JKrismoz84035.

From that point on in their conversation, Laura admits to owning sheeyancjoje, tumbsrrplzzstop, "A Cancer Girl" that "didn't go very far", widelys, AND the most recent blog milkydonutsh, which was found to have been using a Jessa Malubay paypal account. When asked about her connections to "Michelle Diaz" and Jessa and Joan Malubay, Laura gives confusing and conflicting details, claiming that Michelle Diaz messaged her on twitter saying she can help make her a gofundme (which doesn't explain how the widelys gofundme was made seeing as that one started here on tumblr, long before this recent twitter scheme), that there was another person, a "Tom" who shared it and has a "group chat of donations".

What we were able to understand from all of this, though, is that Michell Diaz organizes the fundraisers on gofundme, presumably using her American bank and money transfer accounts, subtracts a fee for running said fundraisers, then sends the remaining to Jessa or Joan Malubay's paypal accounts, which can then be transferred to Laura's Gcash account.

While talking to thewondersmith, Laura was all cry-emoji apologetic and remorseful, explaining why she was driven to do all of these scams, citing the usual excuses of wanting to fix her mother's house, her many different relatives being sick and needing money to go to the hospital. She begged thewondersmith "not to post about her anymore" because she's afraid people will post about her on twitter and "there are many Filipinos on twitter", sent videos of her son saying Merry Christmas and even had the audacity to ask them for "a gift" as her son's "godparent". She made it seem as if she was sorry for all the scams she was running and gave the impression that she was going to stop moving forward.

Despite all this, the tumblr blog milkydonutsh, which she has admitted to be hers, made a recent update just 5 hours ago (Monday morning here in the PH), as can be seen in this call out post by @confidenceiscrucial. When thewondersmith confronted her about this new update, Laura yet again tries to deny it, saying she no longer has access to this particular account. A few minutes after their convo, milkydonutsh was deactivated.

(The details on this part are up for correction in case I misinterpreted or misunderstood anything as I wasn't the one directly conversing with Laura. Oomf, thewondersmith, feel free to add any correction or clarification based on what you know <3)

#donation scam #laura mae deramas #laura deramas #jessa malubay #joan malubay #michelle diaz #sheeyancjoje #widelys #milkydonutsh

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andreafmn · 3 months

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Running in Circles | Chapter 9

Word Count: 3.6K

Summary: (Y/N) Rossi is following in her father’s footsteps by joining the BAU team as a profiler. The girl genius knew almost everything but she could have never predicted falling for Aaron Hotchner, her boss, and her father’s friend. in their world mutual feelings are not enough to push them together. Will all the adversities and obstacles they face pull them together or push them apart forever?

A/N: can't believe it's been over a year since I updated this story. It was one of the first I ever posted but quickly got disheartened by it as I tried to follow the show's timeline (which is non-existent, honestly). I'm trying to get through season 6 as fast as I can because I've already written chapters for afterward, but I need to tie it into the show. Honestly considered putting the story on hold but I got the chapter done 😊😊 Also need to go back and edit this story, especially regarding the POV

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As if by divine intervention, (Y/N)’s phone started ringing. The vibrations matched the fluttering of her heart as she prayed that Hotch could have been thinking about her at that moment as well. Maybe then she could trick herself into believing that fate was playing its cards right.

“Hey, baby girl.”

“Derek,” she sighed quietly, trying her best not to voice her disappointment. “What’s up? Everything okay?”

“You mind some company for tonight? I got a bottle of whiskey with our names on it.”

“Know what? After the day we just had, sure.” She looked down at the pan of lasagna and decided if she couldn’t enjoy it with Hotch, she’d enjoy it with a friend. “I’ve got some lasagna going in the oven we can eat.”

“Sounds perfect. I’ll see you in about fifteen minutes.”

After the phone clicked, she decided the most prudent thing would be to send Hotchner a text message thanking him for the food and saying she’d update him on everything tomorrow. After everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours, she needed a moment of calm and clarity. A moment with certainty rather than mixed signals and stolen glances. She just needed a moment to breathe.

As any evidence of the day shed from her skin in the shower, a loud knock rang through the house. She quickly stepped out of her bathroom and slipped on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie before she ran down the stairs to be met with Derek already inside the kitchen, digging a fork into the piping hot lasagna, with Spencer staring at our friend as he ate like a maniac.

“You know, if you let it cool down a bit, you can savor the taste,” Reid chuckled.

“I know,” he spoke with a full mouth. “But I wanna get drunk tonight, and I won’t do it on an empty stomach.”

“There’s some garlic bread in the toaster oven if you need something that will soak up the alcohol,” (Y/N) laughed as her two friends came into view in her kitchen. “And it’s good to see you’re putting those emergency keys to good use.”

“Sorry, (Y/N),” Spencer responded quickly. “Derek said you wouldn’t mind. We waited five minutes outside.”

“It’s fine, Reid. But you could’ve checked who was at the door.”

“Well, I didn’t want to overstep,” he shrugged. “It’s not my house after all.”

“Good to know you have boundaries, Reid,” she chuckled. “Not that they stopped either of you from letting yourselves in.”

Derek only grumbled in response, too focused on serving the plates and stuffing his mouth. (Y/N) headed to the front door, unsure of who else could have decided to drop by. And though a part of her wanted it to be Hotchner, she knew better than to live in that delusion. He was back in his home with his son, while she had a house full of friends and him on her mind.

“‘Em,” the woman smiled as she opened the door. “Derek invite you too?”

“As a matter of fact, he did. But I’m guessing he didn’t tell you I was coming over.”

“I’m just glad you didn’t use your emergency key as freely as those two boys.”

“Well, you did say we should feel at home,” Morgan grinned. “I’m just doing what you told me to.”

“First time you follow the rules, Morgan,” Emily teased. “Although I’d rather you guys break into (Y/N)’s house than mine.”

“Geez, thanks, Em,” she chuckled. “You’re lucky there’s enough food and booze to go around. But don’t go too crazy. We still have work tomorrow.”

“As if you’d ever let us go hungry,” Emily laughed. “Your Italian blood would never let you.”

“All I need to know is if there’s anyone else that will show up out of the blue.”

“Not that I know of,” Derek shrugged. “Now open up that bottle, I’m thirsty.”

By the time midnight rolled around, Emily and Derek had gone back home. They had eaten enough and drank enough the exhaustion was making their eyelids flutter. And all of them knew that the longer they stayed, the harder it would be to make it back to their homes. Only Spencer was left, curled up on the sofa, still nursing the same glass of whiskey from the start of the night. His eyes were squeezed shut, a hand over them blocking the overhead light.

“You okay, Spence?” (Y/N) asked as she sat by his head, resting it gently onto her lap. She ran her fingers through his curls, massaging his scalp softly. “You got a migraine?”

“Something like that,” he sighed. “They’ve been going on for a bit, but lately, they’ve been worse. The pain is unbelievable, and it makes me sensitive to everything around me.”

“Have you gone to a doctor? This could be something serious, Spence,” she worried. “I have a friend that might be able to squeeze you in. She’s a neurologist and…”

“I’ve got it handled, (Y/N),” he chuckled softly. “I made an appointment for later in the week. I just have to power through the remaining days with sunglasses and pills.”

As soon as he mentioned the pain, a question popped into (Y/N)’s head that she did not want to ask. It was composed of words that could only bring back horrors from his past and the mistakes he was still paying for to that day. The last thing she wanted was to resurface that horrible period, but she had to know. For his sake, she just had to.

“I haven’t taken Dilaudid,” he said before she could speak. “It hasn’t even crossed my mind.”

“How did you…?”

“You were thinking too loud,” he responded as he grinned slightly, his eyes still closed. “And you’re the only one that still asks.”

“I’m sorry, Spence. I don’t mean to be so pushy, she sighed as she stared at the way her fingers ran through the brown of his hair. “If you don’t want time to ask, just…”

“No. I’m grateful that you do.” His free hand searched for hers, squeezing it softly as he enjoyed the warmth of her skin. “I sometimes feel that the team goes out of their way to pretend that part of my life didn’t happen or that it could never happen again. But it did, and it could. Still, I know I can always count on you to look after me, (Y/N). Even if I’m a couple of years older than you, you always find a way to take care of me.”

“And I always will, Reid. You’re a part of my family, and I take care of my family,” she responded softly. “Do you wanna stay here tonight? If it’s too bad, I don’t want you driving out there in the dark.”

“Honestly? Yeah,” Spencer breathed. “I don’t think I could make it home right now.”

“Alright, then. Why don’t you head on up and take a shower while I prepare you some tea and get you a cold compress for your head?” (Y/N) instructed. “You can take any of the sweats from the guest room, and I’ll fetch you some migraine pills so you can hopefully get some shut-eye tonight.”

“Thanks, Rossi,” the man smiled, finally allowing his eyes to open, finding that she had dimmed all the lights. “Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“And you’ll never have to find out,” she smiled. “Now, go on upstairs, and I’ll get started on the tea.”

“Fine,” he jokingly whined. “And can you not tell anyone else? I don’t want them worrying about me.”

“I won’t. Just, please keep me updated.”

“Copy that.”

As he disappeared to the second floor, (Y/N) couldn’t help but worry about her friend. Spencer had gone through things that were unimaginable. And though he came out of them with his life, they had slowly started to eat away at him. She knew firsthand just how debilitating anxiety could be to someone’s body, and it concerned her that he was downplaying his symptoms.

She set her kettle to boil as she searched for her own mixture of sleepy-time tea—chamomile, lemongrass, peppermint, and lavender. From her cupboard, she pulled out the purple and blue mug Spencer had always used since he had claimed it was able to keep his tea warm enough to sip slowly. Because apparently it had always been a big concern of his. After placing the tea infuser into the mug, she drizzled a few circles of honey to the bottom and a sprinkle of cinnamon. And once the kettle beeped, she drowned the leaves and the honey in boiling water.

(Y/N) could hear the shower running upstairs as she let the tea seep into the water, and all she could do was worry. Granted, it was something she did every single day of her life. She worried about her father spending all his time in books and his work and not enough on his personal life. She worried about little Jack having to grow up without his mother and a dad who didn’t quite believe he could do a good job as a father. She worried about Hotch, about what he did or didn’t feel. She worried about the team every time they went out on a case. And most importantly, she worried about herself and how she would ever live up to the people around her. Now, she added Spencer’s migraines to the list. If she ever made it to old age without a heart attack, she would have been very surprised.

Walking up the stairs with the mug and the pills, her phone vibrated in her pocket. She balanced the mug on the flat handrail and pulled out the device to see Hotchner’s name lighting up the screen. Her heart hammered against her chest, making her hands tremble with nerves. It was just a phone call., she told herself. He was probably only calling to thank her again.

“Hotch,” she breathed, her voice croaking more than she intended. “Hey.”

“Sorry. Did I wake you?”

“No!” she answered quickly. “I was just heading up the stairs. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, you don’t need to worry,” he assured. “It’s just that Jack wanted to say goodnight and thank you.”

“Isn’t it a bit late for him to be up?” (Y/N) smiled. “I mean, it is still a school night.”

“I caved,” Hotch chuckled. She could hear the exhaustion still present in his voice, and all she wanted to do was help him. It was all she could do. To him, she’d always be just a friend, a coworker, his colleague’s daughter. “Please don’t hold it against me.”

“I could never,” the woman laughed. “I would have probably caved too.”

“Well, then, I’ll put you on.”

(Y/N) heard scuffling from the receiver before Jack’s voice came through. “Hi, (Y/N),” he said. “I wanted to say goodnight since we couldn’t say goodbye to you. I had a lot of fun this weekend.”

“Aw, buddy, I’m glad,” she cooed. “I loved having you over. You know you’re welcome any time.”

“Thank you, (Y/N)!” he beamed. “But I gotta go to bed now. I have school tomorrow. So, goodnight!”

“Good night, Jack,” she responded. “Now, why don’t you pass the phone back to your dad.”

“Alright. Bye bye!”

“Bye, Jack,” she chuckled. “I think that kid should be heading off to bed now, Hotch.”

“He is,” Hotchner answered. “I knew he’d want to after saying good night to you. I think my son likes you more than he likes me.”

“Oh, that’s nonsense, Hotch. He only likes that I’m all fun. But he loves you. Don’t ever doubt that.”

“Thanks, (Y/N),” he chuckled softly. “I’ve been saying that a lot lately.”

“Even when you don’t have to,” the woman sighed contentedly. “Now, go on. You have to sleep too. It’s not just Jack that is up past his bedtime.”

“Very funny, (Y/N). Good night.”

“Night, Hotch.”

(Y/N)’s chest wrenched as her heart accelerated, already wishing the days before could repeat themselves so she could wake and know that he was there. But there was no point in deluding herself. The man could not and would not ever see her as anything more than what she already was. Even their job would allow it. Nothing seemed to ever align for something between them to work.

She turned to the left once she reached the top of the stairs and headed to the guest room to leave the steaming mug for Spencer to find after his shower but found him already sitting on the bed drying his hair. “Was that Hotch on the phone?” She nodded in response. “You didn’t tell him about what’s going on with me, right?”

“Of course not, Spence,” she said in a low tone as she set the mug on the nightstand. “It’s not my information to divulge. Unless it becomes life-threatening, I won’t say a thing without your permission.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” she smiled, handing him the pills. “Anything.”

“What do you think these migraines could be?” The pain behind his eyes was more than visible, it was almost palpable. “I just… what if it’s something serious, (Y/N)?”

“Serious like what, Spence?”

“What if I’m starting to lose my mind?” His voice was frail, trembling at the terrifying thought. “You know, my mom…”

“Don’t go there, Spencer. You can’t go there,” the woman insisted. “We won’t speculate until you have an answer from the doctor. So, I’m begging you, don’t go there.”

“I can’t help it, (Y/N). Either there’s something seriously physically wrong with me, or it’s all psychosomatic. Neither is a good option.”

“I know, Spence. I know. But let’s just not jump to conclusions yet. Not until you’ve gone to the doctor, and we get some type of answer. Until then, I don’t want you to think of the worst-case scenario. It’s not gonna do you any good.”

“Fine,” he sighed as his shoulders slumped forward. “Can I ask you something else? Something that is so off-topic you’ll get whiplash.”

“Go ahead, Reid,” she chuckled softly.

“Do you still have feelings for Hotch?”

The question as innocent, no ill-will behind it. But it still made (Y/N)’s breath hitch in her throat. It had been a long time since any of the people they knew mentioned her less-than-secret infatuation with the unit chief, and it made her heart race like the first time he had confronted her about it. “Yeah,” she muttered. “It’s not something that’s going away any time soon.”

“Have you ever thought of dating someone else? It might help you get over him.”

“I might not be ready for that just yet,” she sighed. “I just can’t seem to stop holding onto hope.”

“I understand. Love… it’s hard, huh?”

“It’s one thing we can’t learn from all the books we read,” she smiled sadly. “But that’s enough talk. The pills should start to work soon, and you need to sleep.”

“Thanks, (Y/N),” he smiled as he got under the covers. “Thank you for caring.”

“You don’t need to thank me for that, Spence. Again, you’re family,” she grinned. “I’ll see you in the morning, alright?”

“Yeah. Good night.”

“Good night, Reid.”

The rest of the night, Spencer’s words floated in her head. She could open her dating pool and allow herself a little venture. Hotch wasn’t waiting for her, nor had he shown a smidge of real interest in her. Holding onto him only hurt her in the long run, making it harder for anyone else who wanted to take the place he did not want. But she couldn’t. Not now. Not just yet.

After a couple of days and a two-night case all the way in Miami, Spencer asked (Y/N) to accompany him to the doctor for the reading of his test results. He was jumpier than usual, his legs bouncing at a rapid speed as they waited for his name to be called. He figured with his fingers, picking at the skin on the corners until she placed her hand on top.

“You won’t have any skin left for our next case,” she chuckled. “Don’t start jumping to conclusions, Mr. Genius.”

“I can’t help it,” he worried. “It’s all I can do. I can’t just shut off my brain.”

“Then, tell me something. Something I might not know.”

“Easier said than done,” he snorted. “You know almost as much as I do.”

“Ah, you said almost as much. So, you believe there are things that you know that I don’t.”

“Okay,” he chuckled. “Did you know that rubber bands last longer if they’re kept in the fridge? The unusual, lightly cross-linked polymer structure of the rubber used to create them react to the cold differently to what people might expect…”

“Right, the chains heat up when stretched, technically shortening them causing the rubber to contract and eventually snapping at the exothermic change,” she mused. “Cooling them would allow for a bigger stretch and life longevity because the release of energy is slower. Nice fact.”

“See, it’s not as fun with you,” he said with a soft chuckle. “The team would have been asking why I would care about rubber bands. You? You go into a simple explanation of thermodynamics.”

“Well, I ask you for a fun fact. I never said I wouldn’t analyze it.”

As Spencer was about to retort, a nurse came out to call his name, telling him the doctor would see him. He got up onto his feet, smoothing down his pants and taking a steadying breath. But he didn’t seem to do more.

“Do you want me to go with you?” (Y/N) quickly offered.

She was met with a soft smile and a gentle nod before they both headed into the office where Spencer’s worst-case scenario unfolded. The doctor told him there was nothing he could see that was physically wrong with him, the scans and the lab work all came back negative. If there was something happening, it was most likely in his head.

Those were the news Spencer did not want. They terrified him, and he let the doctor know. In his own way. “It’s not—I’m not crazy.”

“Crazy? Dr. Reid, I’m not saying…”

“I have headaches. I have intense sensitivity to light. Because there’s something wrong with me,” he asserted, his words spilling out faster than he could hold them. “Physically, not mentally. It’s not that.”

“That?”

“Listen, doctor, my mother’s a paranoid schizophrenic who’s been institutionalized. So I know very well what mental illness looks like,” Spencer continued. “Maybe even better than you, and it’s not that. It’s not.”

“Reid,” (Y/N) called as the man got up from the exam table and left the doctor with a shocked expression on his face. “I am so sorry, doctor. This topic is just… it’s a little hard for him.”

“There’s not much you can do to help someone who doesn’t want to accept their reality,” the doctor sighed softly. “Can you just see that he finds a way to manage his stress and his emotions? I truly believe this might be one of the biggest reasons for these headaches.”

“I’ll try my best, doctor,” (Y/N) smiled. “Thank you for seeing him.”

“No problem.”

She found Spencer waiting for her in the hall, his sunglasses on his eyes and his arms crossed in front of his chest. They remained in silence until they reached her car, the doctor’s pout evident on his face. She knew he was annoyed she had apologized for his behavior, but she couldn’t leave without at least giving a reason for his outburst.

“It’s not psychosomatic,” he stated. “It just can’t be.”

“Spence, we have one of the most stressful jobs on the planet. Day in and day out we see cases that astound even the most seasoned officers. And we get into the minds of the people that commit these atrocities,” she offered. “Don’t you think there is a possibility that these migraines are your body’s way of telling you that you need to balance yourself out?”

“If it was really the job like you say, all of us would be getting these headaches,” he said angrily. “But I don’t see Morgan or Prentiss doubling over because their brain feels like it wants to escape their skull.”

“Everyone is different, Spence. And I know you don’t need me to tell you this. Stress presents itself differently in everyone. Just because we don’t know how they handle their burdens doesn’t mean they don’t have them,” (Y/N) continued, maintaining the same calm tone as she cooled him down. “All I am saying, Reid, is that it might be psychosomatic, and you need to find new ways to handle your stress because I am certain this is not you going crazy. Or it might be something else, and you’ll need to get a second opinion. But regardless of what the outcome is, you can’t just get angry at your doctor because you don’t like your results, and I’ll be with you every step of the way. We’ll find you a way through this, okay?”

His stance finally softened at her words. His arms fell to his sides, and a soft smile tugged at his lips. “I was kind of an ass back there,” he chuckled. “It’s just frustrating and terrifying all the same time, and I don’t know how to process it all.”

“We take it one day at a time, Reid,” she smiled, taking a hand of his in hers. “You’re not alone in this.”

“It’s sometimes hard to remember that you’re you get than me,” he snickered. “I’m pretty sure you’ve babied everyone on the team at some point.”

“What can I say?” she laughed. “I just wanna make sure every single one of you is okay.”

And that was one thing she knew she would do for as long as they would let her. For now, her main concern was Spencer’s well-being. And she was grateful that it was enough to keep Hotchner out of her head.

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