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gguk-n · 2 months ago

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Chapter 5- Racing for Love

Unravelling Max's Mystery (Max Verstappen x Online Friend!Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- Y/N spends her time in Netherland with Max while his girlfriend no where to be seen. They spend Christmas and New Year together. Y/N can't get over Max; maybe it's for the best. Max realised he loves her.

{Reader's POV}

I headed back to the hotel after the race to get dressed and meet up with Max. Every one was going to be celebrating Max's win at the club. All the drivers were also joining, making it the perfect opportunity for us to meet. I was so excited. I wore a navy blue body con midi dress, it made me look and feel hot. I had told Max I'd meet him there, yet he insisted on picking me up. I was almost done getting ready when Max knocked on my door. I opened it to a much cleaner Max. I grabbed my purse and headed out with Max. "Is your girlfriend in the car?" I asked walking along with him. "No" he answered and then we walked in silence to the car. On the way there I asked again, "Is she meeting us there?" "No" he replied shortly. "Why?" I asked again. "She went back home" Max said in a tone that meant he didn't wanna talk about it anymore.

At the party, I had a lot of fun. I got to meet everyone who were very kind, welcoming and funny. They were all shocked that Max had a friend for so long that no one knew about, Charles and Lando included. We laughed, we drank, Max was pretty sober, not having touched a drink since we got there. "Why aren't you drinking?" I slurred having gulped down my previous shot of vodka, I'd lost the count of how much I had to drink since I got handed a glass as soon as one finished. "I drove here, we need to drive back to the hotel" he replied. "OHHHHH, LET'S DANCE" I shouted over the loud music. "You should go, I'm good here." Max replied while preventing Lando from toppling over. I sauntered my way to the dance floor, a guy had made my acquaintance as soon as I started dancing and we were having a lot of fun until, Max came dragging me back to where we were sat. "Max, I'm having fun. Lemme go" I whined trying to pull my hand away from his but drunk me wasn't very strong. "Drink some water and then we're leaving." he stated. "What? But we just got here. Look at all those bottle" I pointed at the bottles behind the bartender, "I need to sample those" I cried. "You can sample the alcohol later. We don't want you to get alcohol poisoning." he said shaking his head. "I have a good tolerance. SEE" I said while finally breaking free from him to try to walk in a straight line only to fail miserably and almost fall. I was only saved by Max's crazy fast reflexes, who caught me at the right moment and carried me over his shoulder back to his car, all the while I was screaming. "PUT ME DOWN....MAXIE.....YOU'RE MAKING ME DIZZY....PLEASE....I THINK I'M GONNA puke" I puked as soon as he put me down next to his car; thankfully having the brain to stop myself from puking all over his expensive car. I brushed the back of my right hand against my lips after puking, "Thank god I didn't puke on your car. haha. I don't think I can afford to clean it" I laughed. He handed me a bottle of water and got me in the car after that. The hang over wasn't as bad as I had expected it to be; maybe because Max got me medicines to help.

I spent the next few days in Zandvoort going to some of the very few places Max was allowed to go and have fun as a kid. We even went go karting. It was a shitty feeling racing against a World Champion since that idiot can't just enjoy the race. He had to make everything a competition. How did he expect me to win when this was the first time I was karting while he did this as a living for many years. We had bet on the fact that the loser had to do whatever the winner wanted; in all my confidence I had said yes, I had forgotten that my opponent was Max Verstappen. Yet, when he won after one pout, Max forgot he's the winner and let me get what I wanted since it was technically cheating since this wasn't his first time and it was mine. So, that's how we ended up watching Barbie at the end of the day. As I wiped away tears, I saw that Max was also wiping away tears. I'm never gonna let him hear the end of this.

The next few days were a blur, I tried to make the best of the situation since I wasn't sure when I would get to meet Max again. I packed up my stuff, a question still lingered on my mind; where the fuck was his girlfriend?. So, I decided to have this conversation in the car where he wouldn't be able to escape me like he did the last few days. Max carried my stuff to his car and loaded it in the car. I sat down on the passenger seat waiting for Max to come. We drove off towards the airport when I said, "Maxie, I haven't seen your girlfriend since the race. I was really looking forward to getting to know her" "Oh, umm" he sighed, "Actually, we broke up" he said while looking straight ahead. "What? Why? Is it because you hugged me first at the race. Fuck, should I apologise?" I rambled. "Schat, nonsense. We hadn't been getting along for a while. I'd been thinking about breaking up with her for a while, it just happened when you were there. It's not your fault" he clarified. My shoulders sank while I waited to get to the airport. I bid Max a good bye and he promised to come visit or have me visit during the off season. I promised to meet him soon. With a heavy heart, Max disappeared in the crowd as I walked into the airport.

We went back to our previous routine of talking on video calls. I ended being spoiled a lot more now that he knew where I lived because I would come home to a new package I didn't remember ordering at my front door when I returned from work. If I asked him why, and he'd just shrug it off and say that it was something that reminded him of me when he was in that country for the race. After a few packages, it was overwhelming me. I felt like I was using my rich friend for financial gain. We were on call after I had opened up a package I got from Brazil. Y/N- Max, you can't keep sending me so much stuff. There was a box full of trinkets and snacks from Brazil. Max- It was nothing, did you like it? Y/N- No Max- oh ok, what do you want? I can get that for you? Y/N- Maaaaxxxxx, that's not what I meant. You have to stop sending me stuff now. It's getting over whelming. Max- But...I just wanted to bring a little something back from every race. Y/N- Yes, do that for yourself. Not me Max- I've always wanted to take you along to races and bring you stuff back from races since I've known you. Now that I can, let me make up for all the lost time. Y/N- I get the sentiment Max, I do, but no. It's making me feel crappy since I'm not able to get you anything. I enjoy our friendship, I do not want to feel like I'm using you. Max- You're not using me. I'm using myself, honestly. Y/N- I don't want to come home to anymore packages any more. If you really want to get me something, think about it for a couple time. One or two items that you would like to get for me, is perfectly fine. Max- Ok...I really wanted to get you things though. Y/N- You can tell me about your weekend. I'll listen but this is overbearing to me. Finally he got what I meant.

We ended up making a plan for the off season. Max had won the season with the amount of points he had scored. It was a given that he was gonna be the World Drivers Champion for 2023. So, I wanted to celebrate it with him. He offered to fly me out to Abu Dhabi for the race which would not be possible since I had work. That's why we planned to spend the Christmas break together. I did suggest leaving a few days before Christmas so he can spend it with his family but he was vehemently against it. I had started Christmas shopping in November, could've done it earlier. I got Max an ugly Christmas sweater with the grinch and a matching one for myself. It would be like a friendship bracelet. We would be spending the holiday in Monaco because of the privacy and I wanted to get away from here for a few days at least. I kind of wanted to clear my feeling for Max during this trip too. Being on the receiving end of Max's affection with gifts or the phone calls wasn't easy when you were in love with him. He made it so difficult to try and get over him when he would sweet talk his way back into my heart whenever I thought I didn't like him in that way.

I had sent my collection to the author I was editing for currently since she wanted to read it ever since I mentioned that I wrote. I sent her the email a couple days after going over the collection one last time. It was exciting and nerve wrecking. Maybe getting the opinion of a fellow author would help me make it better and improve it, if need be.

The last race of the season was upon us. Max was crowned the World Driver's Champion for the third time. I texted him as soon as the race ended and congratulated him. I couldn't believe that I got to witness a Max win. The day couldn't get any better when I got a call from the author I was editing for who said that she loved the collection of poems I sent her and she wanted to help me get it published under the publication she worked for. She had been working for that publication for so long and was the biggest earner that they couldn't deny her request. In her defence, she said that the poems were so good that any one stupid would only reject it. I was asked to edit it and the author was an angel to help me out. Her reasoning was that this was a mutually beneficial relationship since she hadn't enjoyed working with someone as much as she enjoyed working with me.

Winter break couldn't come any sooner. I had packed my bags; no work, done with my editing side gig. I couldn't wait to hang out with Max. The flight there felt so long, maybe it was the excitement of wanting to see him. Max was waiting for me at the airport when I got there. A big smile on his face as I walked towards him. I wrapped my arms around his neck as I hugged him. He twirled me around a little before putting me down. We walked back to the car with my bag in Max's hand. The ride there was filled with a lot of talking on Max's part. Hearing him go on about what he loved was the warmest feeling. "The cats are so excited to see you" he said. "So, you aren't?" I joked. "What no" he was flustered. "I'm excited to." he mumbled a tint of red visible on his cheeks. My heart leapt in my chest as I watched him blush. What if I wasn't delusional? What if he liked me? I thought.

At his home, the cats were a little cautious of the stranger that had entered their space but recognised me quickly by my voice and a few hours later I was sat with both of them sat on either side of me; petting the two with both of my hands. Max snapped a picture of us sat on the couch. "Can't believe this is the life you live" I said petting his cats, a soft purring exuding from both. "Having cats is the best thing ever" I almost screamed from excitement. Max laughed. "I might kidnap them" I suggested. Max shook his head, "You will do no such thing"

The next few days leading up to Christmas were a a blur, we spent time around the city, walking around and site seeing. Max was a great tour guide since he stored the most random information in his head. He gave me a quick history lesson on a lot of the places we went to. We walked along the track in Monaco since I wanted to. We went hiking; I was very out of shape is the conclusion I've come too. We spent the day leading up to Christmas cooking at home and decorating the place. This was the first time since I moved out from my parents place did I end up celebrating Christmas.

We ended up sleeping on the couch as we watched Christmas movies after tiring our self out with the decoration. I woke up in Max's arms, a warm fuzzy feeling erupted in my stomach as I watched soft snores emit from Max's lips. I carefully pried myself out of Max's grasp. When I returned, I found a disheveled Max sat on the couch. "where did you go?" he asked while rubbing his eyes. "I had to pee" I said, now sitting down on the couch beside him. "Should we open presents?" I asked. "Lemme freshen up" Max mumbled while getting up. He came back, much more awake and with 2 cups of coffee for us. We drank in silence until Max brought his present for me from under the tree and handed it to me. There were a few actually; a book on Formula One with Max's face on it, a pendent with a sapphire stone and a stupid coffee cup saying 'best friends forever'. I smiled as I held the cup against my lips acting like I was sipping coffee. "Thank you Maxie" I said. He just smile. "Now, it's your turn." I said. He grabbed the other presents; which included an ugly sweater, a Sid from Ice Age plushy and a perfume from Max's favourite brand. "These are a lot of things" he said. "Yeah, I wanted to spoil you" I smiled. "I feel spoilt" he smiled back. "I got us matching ugly sweater" I said while going to grab mine. We ended up putting our sweaters on. "I didn't tell you but I got signed by a publication" I said while Max inspected his sweater. He looked up with shock and happiness in his eyes. He quickly hugged me, "I'm so proud of you. I knew you could do it" he said while hugging me. I hugged back, "Thank you for believing in me" I said with tears in my eyes.

Christmas was a weird day, we had Turkish kabab because Max wanted to. I wasn't one to say no to delicious food. The days between Christmas and New Year were a bit of a blur honestly. On new year's eve, we went out with a couple of his friends. I had decided not to drink my weight in alcohol. As we all counted down the time to new year, the excitement palpable. When the clock struck 12, I was pulled towards the guy next to me who had made acquaintance much to Max's dismay. He pressed his lips against my lips, easing me into a kiss. When I pulled away to look at Max, who's eyes flashed hurt. I hugged Max wishing him a happy new year. We left a little while later. Max was uncharacteristically quite as we drove home.

We never spoke about the silent treatment Max gave me on the way back from the club. I left Monaco a few days after. Our friendship returning to it's long distance status. With Max having to train for the next season and me having to prepare for school and my book.

The next few months were a blur with both of us quite busy. Max kept is his streak of winning the races and watching him win was a proud feeling. He would call me at the end of the day to discuss what happened and I enjoyed listening to him even though I didn't know shit about cars.

I spent the entirety of my spring break and summer break with Max, travelling to his races; which he insisted I joined. The feelings I had for him only grew. I tried to keep myself in check but all the small things he would do made it impossible. He was caring and sweet and kind, and most of all my first love that I had a hard time moving on from.

His summer break was spent lounging around my house. He accompanied me to the launch of my book; going as far as to promote it on his socials. People had started to speculate that there was something going on in between us. Max didn't really answer those questions or even try to kill the rumours. He got me a big bouquet of my favourite flowers when he came to the book launch. We went out for dinner to celebrate; ending up on all the tabloids the next day. I apologised to Max about the mess but he was unbothered, a little smile played on his face after he read the articles but nothing more.

After the summer break, Max was flying out to Netherland, for his home race. I couldn't join him due to there being a few tests I needed to grade but promised to be there for the race. I flew in the morning of the race, Max showing up at the airport to pick me up. He wouldn't let me be on my own, if he was there. We caught up on the stuff that happened in the 2 days we didn't speak. It felt like routine talking to Max. If we didn't, it felt like my day had gone my horribly and everything that could go wrong would go wrong. There was comfort in Max's voice and his arms whenever he hugged me.

I accompanied Max to the paddock, the cheers loud. Last year, was the first time I was here, this year it felt so familiar even though it was only my second time. Max wasn't starting pole but he could still finish first since he was in the front row. The race started off with Max over taking Lando at turn 1. The chance of Max wining his home race for the fourth time seemed more likely. But as the race went on, Max lost his P1 to Lando who kept the distance between him and Max a constant. Making Max finish P2, the way he started. He got out of the car to find me and his team waiting for him. I mouthed a congratulations as he walked towards me. He had tears in his eyes, "I wanted to ask you out as a race winner." he said wiping his tears. My heart skipped a beat; "You can still ask me out" I suggested. "But I'm scared of what you'll say" he muttered. "My answer would be the same, whether you were P1 or P2" I said. "And what's that?" he asked expectantly. "I would love to go out with you, Maxie" I said with a smile and tears in my eyes. Max almost jumped when he heard me, "Go on and finish up. We have a lot to talk about" I said pushing him towards the media pen.

I was waiting in his driver's room just like last year. But this time it was different, there were butterflies in my stomach and I couldn't stop smiling. I found myself pacing around the room, imagining what we would say. I was pulled out of my thought by Max now standing at the door. "Hi" he greeted shyly. "Hey" I replied, sitting on the sofa followed by Max. We sat facing each other, he took my hands in his, "Lifde, I can't believe this" he began. "me neither" I chimed in. "I've liked you for so long, I don't remember a time I didn't like you since I've known you" I continued. Max couldn't help but smile. "I didn't think you felt the same" I said. "I didn't think you felt the same either." He added. "Y/N I really wanted to win this race and ask you out as a race winner." He sulked. "You're already a race winner and a three time champion at that. I couldn't ask for more. Plus I couldn't care less; to me you'll always be a winner" I said. He took my face in his hands, "Can I kiss you?" he asked softly. I nodded. His lips inched closer to mine before they touched, our eyes fluttered close, his lips dry and chapped against my soft shiny glossed lips. Our lips moved in synchrony, tilting our head as we deepened the kiss. His hand trailing down from my cheek to my waist to pull me closer, I was now sat on his lap. I pulled away breathless, our foreheads touching, breaths intermingling, eyes locked; "I love you Y/N" he stated. "I have for a while. I didn't know how to say it. I'm glad not winning pushed me over the edge" "I love you too, Maxie. Can't wait to celebrate your fourth championship" I said. "You think?" he asked. "I know" I said, cupping his cheeks to kiss him again. His hands on my waist pulled me closer, as if it was even possible. "Will you be my girlfriend?" he asked in between kisses. "Yes" I breathed out as we continued to kiss.

When god sends blessings, it becomes hard to count. I got the man of my dreams and the stepping stone to my career goals.

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iwannakisskissyoureyesagain · 9 months ago

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more things in pop culture that the apollo cabin and will have introduced nico to

will gives him every vaccine he’s missed out on. nico’s bedridden in the infirmary for a whole week because his immune system is so shit.

“vienna” by billy joel.

wes anderson movies. nico absolutely adores fantastic mr. fox.

eventually, they all convince him to get a haircut from drew, because this kid has the worst split ends in the whole world, he hasn’t had a haircut since he left the lotus hotel and casino.

eyeliner. he prefers to smudge it on and around his waterline, rather than a clean wing.

someone, probably piper tbh, convinces him to watch sex education. at first he has no idea how to react, because god forbid this little rat from hyper-catholic-conservative 1930s italy is exposed to *gasp* sex! but he gets used to it, and spends sleepless nights crying over it. he’s particularly attached to eric’s story arc, especially in season 4. (idk i just think it’s a very important show, and it’s helped me through my own internal struggles and insecurities.)

hozier.

when it comes out, he, will, kayla, and austin sneak out of camp to see barbie. the four of them are sobbing messes by the end. will still can’t hear “what was i made for” without breaking down.

noah kahan.

the entire twilight saga. nico’s team edward. will’s team jacob. it’s the longest they’ve gone without speaking (thirty minutes).

award shows.

the internet (and its dangers).

jane austen. nico loves it, being the hopeless romantic he pretends he isn’t.

EDIT: i’ve come to my senses and realized that nico would be team jacob and will would be team edward. i apologize for spreading misinformation online

#percy jackson #nico di angelo #nico di angelo headcanon #solangelo #solangelo headcanon #apollo cabin #cabin 7 #pjo hoo toa tsats

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velvetchrry · 6 months ago

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hockey player!ghoap x smm!reader thoughts

just thinking about how you’re a social media manager for a new hockey expansion team. johnny and simon — who grew up playing hockey together — both got drafted to the pros but have never played on a team together before. they’re both selected for this new franchise — the first time they’ve played together since they were kids.

simon is a defenseman. big, hulking — he’s the guy that's going to initiate fights with the players that are picking on his teammates. you aren’t going to get away with a dirty hit when he's around — he will retaliate. he will dish out a big clean hit when they think they’re safe. especially if it’s johnny. he’s the team enforcer, but still a talented defenseman.

johnny is your center star. he’s wicked fast on the ice, and is always showing off with plays you think are near impossible. he’s surprisingly humble — giving credit where credits due, passing to his teammates when they’re open instead of taking a wild shot himself. he’s the chatty one, always talking up the press during intermission and after the games over.

(and ofc we have gaz as a winger and price as the old goaltender close to retirement, who just can’t give up the game yet)

you were hired with a batch of social media managers in order to promote this new team to the locals. you want to attract season ticket holders. you want people excited for the upcoming season. you want people to meet their players — even though most of them have a history on the ice.

you’re really good at your job. your main job is keeping up with the videos and pictures of the team and players — creating the content that gets posted. your coworkers laswell responds to the fan tweets and comments — she’s got more of a knack for that, where you have the creative eye.

part of your job is getting to know the players and getting them to open up to you on camera, especially when you’re recording. you have them follow along to the latest tiktok trends, record practice sessions and even what time everyone shows up to the arena (simon is early, price is right on time, gaz and johnny are running late). normally your job would be staying on home ice — not following the team when they’re away — but to keep up with content the owners request you specifically go along. it’s been a total hit online and tickets are selling like hotcakes.

you start to really get to know the team — you fly with them and stay in the same hotels. you’re with them at every practice. they start requesting you be the dj at practice even. it helps loosen them up. you get great content. you joke with them. you even stand at the bench during games. (content content content)

johnny of course chats you up first. he's easily to film and he’s your star. he’s the one generating the views and likes and hearts and comments. he’s the one everyone’s excited to see. he’s the first to jump on a new trend you want to film and he’ll encourage everyone to do the same. he’s the only reason that you get simon to be on camera. (and he still won’t go on camera much, rather you have to get shots of him on the ice)

they do their best to include you in everything, but especially when they’re at an away game. if the boys are going out for dinner, johnny will make simon knock on your hotel room door and convince you to join. (you don’t take a lot of convincing, however johnny has to pour simon a stiff bourbon to work up the courage to go ask you). you’re included in celebrations when the team wins. they drag you to one of the guy’s houses for a private dinner and drinks.

johnny and simon start to separately invite you to things — just the two of them. it’ll start off as johnny acting like he has a great new idea for content. he and simon did grow up together, they are best friends. they could have a great little segment together.

but it turns into more. they sit on either side of you. johnny brushes a hand against your thigh and rests it there. simon has an arm on the back of your chair, always keeping his body in the way of any potential threats. always keeping you safe. their sweet little puck slut princess. their hands are all over you by the end of the night.

they take you to a shared hotel room — after all it would be irresponsible for any of your to drive home. and johnny and simon share everything. they’re happy to share a room.

they’re happy to share you.

#cherry’s hockey playoff thots™️#call of duty #cod x reader #ghoap #ghoap x reader #ghoap au #ghoap fic #ghoap x you #ghoap fluff #ghoap smut #simon ghost x you #johnny mactavish x reader #ghost x reader #johnny mactavish x you #ghost x soap x reader #my work

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deandoesthingstome · 1 year ago

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Forest Fantasy

Pairing: Werewolf!Walter Marshall x Reader

Summary: There's a new hotel in town. It can't possibly be what it's advertised as, can it?

Word Count: 6.5K

Warnings: 18+, NO MINORS, cunnilingus, p in v (missionary and doggy style), monster fucking (right?).

A/N: I was considering waiting until Oct, but it's a fucking Super Moon tonight so let's gooooo.....!!!!!

When The Fantasy Hotel opened up in town, you scoffed at first. "What’s with this name? What kind of depravity is this? Why can't folks just fuck in their own homes?" you thought to yourself. “At least they have someone to fuck. Why must they flaunt their relationships in my face this way?”

But then you heard the whispers. The suggestions. The innuendos. A few of your online friends, who know you'd been through a dry spell for some time now, had been asking if you'd given any thought to trying it out and you were...confused. They wouldn't say outright what they'd heard about the place, but curiosity got the better of you.

You opened the incognito browser and typed the hotel name and were...shocked. Shocked at the images and the rave reviews. This hotel wasn't strictly for couples. As a matter of fact, it was designed for singles. And you shut your laptop quickly, convinced this wasn't for you and worried what your anonymous, online friends must think of you. You broached the subject delicately, so as not to offend in case maybe they didn't really know what they were asking about.

MNstrluvr: Come on. You've read the fics. You've liked and commented. Are you really saying you weren't into it? The idea of it?

sendmeanangel: I was sucked in by the phenomenal writing. You know me. I read anything if it's told well, descriptive, immersive, get you out of your head.

darkgothnightengale: This is THAT. But IRL. You're fucking lucky they picked your town to open the first one. You HAVE to try it and tell us how it is!!!

sendmeanangel: Have you seen the prices?

darkgothnightengale: We chipped in.

sendmeanangel:...

MNstrluvr: Come on! We're dying to know first hand from someone we actually know. Please. For science!

It took a few more gentle prods and pokes, with promises of no jokes unless you gave specific permission. And under NO CIRCUMSTANCES were your friends allowed to post anything that even vaguely alluded to the fact that you were trying the place out. Private DMs and Super Private Chat Room discussions only.

Your visit was booked. You opted for a brief stay only. Two hours. You couldn't bring yourself to book a longer stay and the theme you selected was one that allowed for less than full evenings. It was also the only slot available on the day you were able to ask off work.

You showered and primped, pampering yourself with your favorite body wash and lotion, knowing how good it made you feel to be fresh and clean and smelling delicious. You checked your clothes and your makeup in the full length mirror by your apartment door, opting not to change for the fiftieth time since stepping out of the shower. A few final items stuffed into your travel satchel and the large floppy hat on your head you'd bought specifically to hide your face as you made your way into the hotel and you were off for your adventure, trepidation buzzing around your insides and threatening to derail your purpose.

Your friends had paid and you figured you were already past a normal hotel refund window, so paying them back would mean picking up a few extra shifts on top of your already hectic university schedule. Besides, you didn't want to disappoint them. They were so curious to know if the stories that were starting to pop-up on Tumblr did any justice to the experience. You really couldn’t imagine this was anything more than some extremely well put together costumes and perhaps use of silicon implements, which had you really wondering about sanitation, but whatever.

The cab pulled up at the hotel entrance and a petite woman with a pixie cut stepped forward to open the door and help you out. She gave a warm smile with no hint of derision or teasing about the hat as she welcomed you sincerely and led you through the front doors, depositing you at the registration desk.

"Enjoy your stay!" she beamed at you, with a conspiratorial wink before heading back out to, you assumed, await the next guest.

You called out a thanks after her, then turned to the front desk attendant, who welcomed you by name.

"You have the only check in slot at this time," he answered your unspoken question with a kind smile. "We stagger arrival on purpose to ensure privacy for our guests. Especially first time visits. We have you booked in the Deep Forest Suite for the next two hours, and it looks like you requested the basket add on. That will be waiting for you in the room. Since it is your first time, we just need you to sign a few waivers and I'll run through the hotel safety rules for you. A copy has also been sent to your email, if you want to check them during your stay. But also, rest assured, your host is well versed and knows exactly how to keep you safe. You are in good hands here, I promise."

Every word spoken carefully and with respect, every inflection designed to put your worries at ease. If you had butterflies going in, you'd never know it now. You had taken notice of the lush and inviting lobby, dark wood furniture covered in rich velvet, chandeliers and wall sconces casting a warm glow around you. There was nothing menacing or untoward, nothing like you had expected, even after seeing the interior photos online. You'd experienced marketing ploys before. This wasn't glue disguised as milk or fries on toothpicks to stand up straight in the box or a long angle shot of the tiniest pool ever. Everything so far was exactly as depicted and you were impressed.

Then you remembered the photo of your host and had to swallow hard. You had assumed it was a doctored image, maybe some unique lighting to draw attention. But if the decor was real, then maybe he was too. The rules were oddly specific for an experience with a guy in a costume.

Maybe everything you had assumed about the nature of this hotel was wrong.

"Everything okay?" the clerk asked with a furrowed brow. "Is there something worrisome about the rules?"

"Oh. No. No everything is fine. I'm just..." you trailed off. Nervous wasn't the right word. Nor were you embarrassed, as you thought you would be. The door attendant, the desk clerk...neither had made you feel anything but welcome and safe and not self-conscious at all.

"It's perfectly reasonable to feel a little apprehension your first time. If it makes you feel better, you should know: you actually can opt out at any time. We do have to retain a portion of the room fee, but a partial refund is available. Should you change your mind."

"That's nice to know, thank you. I think I'll be okay."

"Then let's get you to your room,” he clapped his hands together with a mirth. “427. Elevator is down the hall and there are directional signs, but I'm happy to escort you if you'd like."

"I think I'll manage, but thank you."

As he placed the key in your possession and sent you on your way, the reality sunk in a little deeper. Weighed down by the heavy iron key in your hand as you rode the elevator to the fourth floor and stepped down the hall to your room, you could no longer deny what was about to occur.

You were headed into the wolf's den.

The door unlocked with a satisfying click as you turned the iron key. You were transported to a lush forest setting when you stepped into the room. Or as close as you could get indoors, anyway. A carpet of deep, soft green lay on the floor beneath your feet, and you immediately slipped out of your shoes to feel the cool material on your skin. It was impossibly silky, smooth, and comforting.

Large potted fir and pine plants lined the walls and stood in corners. At least a few held miniature deciduous trees and some with limbs stretching across the ceiling. You finally let your eyes fall on the chunky, four-poster bed, the legs, head- and foot-boards crafted of smooth finished logs you might find in a high-end cabin or ski chalet and covered in a thick feather mattress wrapped in luxurious blankets and piled high with pillows.

A picnic basket sat prim and proper on the coffee table nestled between two plump, overstuffed chairs and you had just reached out to peek beneath the deep red cloth when the door closed softly behind you and a throat cleared.

"I hope I haven't startled you."

You turned and gasped as you took in the sight of one of the largest, and, for lack of a better description because your brain was starting to fail you, manliest men you'd ever set eyes on. His photograph might have been deceptive, but only because it didn't do him justice. He wore a thick, blue cable knit sweater and dark gray cargo pants that seemed to mold around his thighs. He was barefoot, which surprised you a little, but then who were you to judge at the moment?

You caught his smirk as you lifted your gaze to appreciate the rugged beard and full head of chocolate curls that framed his face, offsetting mesmerizing blue eyes.

"I'm Walter," he offered you his hand as he spoke your name with a gentle growl. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"You're not..." you stopped yourself, suddenly embarrassed at how eager you'd found yourself. "Forgive me. That may have been a rude way to start."

"It's okay," he chuckled. "This isn't the form you signed up for, but I've found it more enjoyable to at least meet in this state. If I bounded in here all claws and snarls, we wouldn't have a chance to speak first. And I prefer to have at least a quick chat, if that's okay with you."

"It's fine," you whispered, your throat dry though your mouth was watering.

Walter stepped past you and reached a large mitt into the basket to pull out a bottle of water.

"Would you like to talk with me a bit?" he asked, offering you the bottle. Your eyes lingered on the basket, though, curious what else might be in there. The amenity said “Fantasy Basket��, so it could have just been a riff on the hotel name, but still, you had assumed…

“Did you not get a chance to peek before I arrived?” he asked as you took a sip of water.

“No. Do you know what’s in there?”

“I do,” another chuckle, deeper and darker than before. “Do you want to know now, or later?”

“We don’t have a lot of time, do we?” you asked, suddenly aware and mentally kicking yourself for thinking you didn’t need more than a few hours to get the lay of the land. Literally, you snorted at your internal joke.

“Something funny?”

“Lay of the land,” you replied with a grin and as he laughed with you, you caught sight of his canines. They seemed a little longer than when you saw them in his first grin. At the moan that slipped from your throat, he darkened again.

“That it will be.”

You gasped and squeezed your thighs, clenching at the reverberation in his voice. Something had changed from even just the moment before when he’d entered the room. Aside from the physical appearance, you sensed a shift in the air, something wavering in the ether around you. A heat crept from your core to your cheeks, through your spine and settled into your chest. You were breathless.

“How do we…um, how does this start?”

“We’ve already started, haven’t we?” he replied, a little mysteriously. “Sit with me?”

What made you drop to the floor beneath you instead of onto the comfortable looking seat, you couldn’t say, but here you were resting back on your heels as you took another drink of water from the glass bottle in your hand.

“I was going to suggest the chairs, but if you prefer the ground, I’m happy to say I do too.”

Walter stepped forward and lowered himself to the ground beside you, one knee splayed wide and almost touching yours, the other knee bent with an elbow draped over it as he leaned toward you. You could swear you caught him sniffing the air.

“I don’t know what to say,” you spoke with caution, suddenly overwhelmed. The day was just becoming a series of flip-flops in your mind as you imagined yourself, sometimes bold and determined to experience what you could, then timid and nervous as the reality overcame you. Once at ease and open, now shy and reserved.

“That’s okay,” Walter replied. “The better for me to begin.”

Why did that sound like such a familiar phrase? You took another drink and nodded for him to continue.

“I’d like to continue our time together by undressing you, one way or another. You have a choice, which you can leave to me if you’d like. I can do it now, in this form,” he paused, cocked his head to one side, then the other as he cracked his neck. “Or I can shift, in your presence or not, and do it that way.”

What did he mean by “shift”? Surely, he must mean change. As in undress and don a mask. But then you remembered his teeth, somehow longer. And you thought about the subtle way the atmosphere seemed to shimmer and transport you and you wondered if he really did mean “shift.’

“That sounds like two choices,” you whispered and caught his grin, canines even longer than before.

“Perceptive. I like it. Need a few moments?”

“What happens after I’m…I mean, I know what happens, I guess… but just, like, how…” you trailed off, not really sure what you were asking.

“We’re playing a game here, really. That’s all. It can be as simple or intricate as you’d like, though, you’re right. Our time is ticking away.”

“You do it.” You rushed, barely letting him finish his response.

“Here or…?”

“I’ll close my eyes.” The thought of watching his shift, though intriguing, also made you wonder if it would make you more nervous than you already suddenly found yourself again. Maybe it was better to just jump in and get started, as much as you were also enjoying speaking with Walter in his human form.

“Why don’t you take the basket into the bathroom? Pick out whatever intrigues you for use and come out when you’re ready. I’ll shift before you return. Sound okay?”

You nodded and he helped you to stand, then handed you the basket and gently urged you toward the bathroom door. Before he let go of your arm, he stepped in close, slipping his hand over yours and pressing it to his chest as he tugged you toward him.

“Do you mind if I give you one kiss this way before we meet next? You can say no, but it’s nice, I think, a good way to gauge your interest.”

Did he somehow think you weren’t interested? How had you hidden the drool from him? You’d been too quiet, clearly. Mesmerized by everything that had happened already in such a short time and you’d lost your voice, unable to truly communicate your desire. You were ruining everything, obviously.

“I’d like to kiss you very much,” you admitted, peering up into his eyes, which you now noticed were not the 100% blue you’d originally thought. Was this man really about to change shape? Did it matter? It didn’t matter in the least as far as how well he could kiss you, because while you were contemplating the genetics of the man in front of you, he was leaning down to capture your lips in what started as a chaste, closed mouth peck that grew steadily more intense as you felt his free arm slip up your back to settle a hand against the nape of your neck while yours slipped around his waist and urged him closer, as if you were guided by some unknown force. You felt his tongue lick along your bottom lip and you opened your mouth to him as if you’d known him your whole life.

With your hand still pressed against his sternum, you could feel his heart beat faster as each second passed and the kiss grew more heated. When he pulled away you actually whined.

“I’m glad to see you are interested,” he teased with a grin before he spun you toward the door again and pressed you inside. “Now hop on in and don’t take too long. I want to treat you for as long as I can.”

The bathroom was just as sumptuous as the main room. A dark tiled shower took up one entire wall of the room and you couldn’t tell if the color was black or just the deepest forest green you’d ever seen. Instead of a curtain or sliding door, a glass panel separated the shower from the rest of the room with an opening opposite the brass water valves to step in. What you imagined must be a rain shower head jutted out from the ceiling. You didn’t want to waste any more of your precious time, but wondered if there’d be any left to enjoy this shower when all was said and done. The rest of the bathroom fixtures and amenities would have to wait for inspection, since you needed to pay attention to your basket. You set it on the veined marble counter and finally lifted the cloth completely off.

Only the cloth wasn’t exactly a cloth. It was a cape, tucked neatly on top of a few more bottles of water, a small loaf of bread, some cut cheeses and fruit in a covered bowl. And that was it for the tame picnic items.

You pulled a short, white peasant dress trimmed in lace and a red apron with black satin ribbon criss-crossing the front out of the basket, along with what appeared to be a pair of black fishnet stockings and thought of Walter’s comments. Were you expected to change or only if you wanted this part of the experience? Finally, you noticed a few heavy leather straps and as you pulled them from the basket you realized they must be meant as restraints, but for whom? You or him? You also noticed a distinct lack of silicon implements.

You heard a rustle of some sort outside the bathroom door, reminding you that Walter was waiting and time was fleeting and you really needed to make a decision about how you wanted to enter the room again. Walter had suggested you take the basket with you. And he was going to be … different when you saw him again, wasn’t he? And you had asked him to undress you. Maybe he anticipated that undressing would be … vigorous. What if this costume was meant for that? You had brought a change of clothes but didn’t think you’d be leaving here with one less outfit in your already sparse wardrobe.

Your mind made up, you stripped quickly and donned the outfit, amazed at how simple the apron was to slip over your head, then pull the satin ties tight with your own hand. You always imagined an intricate article of intimate clothing like this would take so much more effort. Maybe it would be something you’d feel comfortable and confident enough to do outside this hotel someday.

For now, you were drawn back into the moment with a thud on the door and a low growl that sounded like “Come out.”

You finished dressing, wrapping the cape around your neck and drawing up the hood. You still weren’t wearing shoes, so you could feel the ground through the wide gaps of the fishnets as you stepped back into the room, picnic basket on your arm. It felt different. More uneven. Crunchy leaves crackled beneath as you stepped onto what now felt like real grass, fading to dirt, fading to ground littered with pine needles and dry leaves. Ferns peaked out from the tree trunks. And a supermoon shone overhead.

This was not your room. It was on the other side of the bathroom door, to be fair, but this was not the room you’d stepped into 20 minutes ago. And yet, how could it be anything but? A twig snapped to your left and drew your attention as you realized you didn’t see Walter. You’d thought he’d be right outside the door, waiting for you, maybe in a chair, maybe on the bed. But you didn’t see him, only his clothes folded neatly on the table where your picnic basket had been. Suddenly, you felt a rush of air next to you.

“What are you doing here, little one?”

You had a hard time deciding what to focus on as the words were spoken. The actual choice of the words themselves, which harkened back to that story that drifted through the tendrils of your mind, whispering “You know me?” Or the rough, low way those words tumbled from him, hungry and full of want. Was this the game?

“Your voice sounds so strange, Walter. Is everything okay?” you asked, plucking the words from the cobwebs in your head.

“I think I just swallowed some water wrong.”

You took a deep breath and turned, ready to catch him, ready to see. He was glorious and you were awestruck. It took a few moments of taking in the sight of his body, arms slightly elongated, up on the balls of his feet, hair that looked like chocolate silk covering his body but not in a way that you couldn’t see the tone and definition of his skin underneath, nose and mouth pulled forward, ears up. Ears up.

“Walter, what big ears you have,” you cooed, reaching up to touch them, though waiting for the assent in his eyes. When you could see he would allow it, you brushed your fingers along the back side, then scratched a little in the crease where they met his head and he closed his eyes for a moment. His eyes.

“Walter, what big eyes you have,” your voice a bit lower, sultry, as if the confidence you’d lost earlier had found its way back to you. He opened them and you’d have sworn sparks flew as his deep blue eyes pierced yours before you saw him drag his gaze over your face, down your neck, back and forth between your breasts, unfortunately still covered. He must have felt the same because he didn’t linger on the clothes, but when he reached your thighs, clad in the black hose he snarled, baring his sharp teeth. Sharp teeth.

“Walter,” you teased. “What big teeth you have.”

“The better to eat you with, my dear,” he growled and pounced, swatting the picnic basket to the ground before lifting you by the waist and hoisting you over his shoulder. He only needed a few steps before he could toss you back onto the plump bed. Your cape hood dropped off your head and your dress skirt hiked up a little, but not like it mattered.

Walter was between your legs, nudging your thighs wide with his own as he folded himself over you, arms caging your head. With a snarl, he began to nuzzle down your neck, sniffing along the way.

“You smell good,” he grunted as he drew a paw over your chest. “Smelled you from the moment I walked in the room, but I wanted to be closer. Like this.”

You peered down towards his hand and noticed the sharp claw of what should be an index finger drawn back and ready to slice through the black satin down your breast. The apron draped to your sides as easily as you’d put it on, practically one handed, and it was gone now. You didn’t really care if the white dress met the same fate as the apron, but the cape was quality. Surely there was no need to ruin it. You reached to untie the bow at your neck just as Walter sliced easily through the front of the dress. The rip as he reared back and grabbed a side of split fabric in both hands to finish the job was satisfying.

Since you’d decided to just leave off the bra and panties for the sake of time, you were now left like an unwrapped package on the bed, intricately woven stretchy black thread the only thing sitting between you and Walter. Your chest was heaving and so was his. And since he was now up on his knees instead of bent over you, you had a chance to glance away from his face toward his hips and you had to bite your lip.

He was huge. Like, possibly not gonna fit huge. He must have seen the hesitation on your face.

“Don’t worry,” came the sound as he dropped back off the bed, knelt on the floor, hooked his arms under your thighs, and tugged you to the edge of the bed. You felt his nuzzle against the skin of your belly, the warm, wet air of his exhale trailing down your side, into the crook of your thigh, and finally settling right on top of your cunt. He was so deft as he slipped a finger into your slit, then cut the thread between your legs as he pulled the finger free, widening the hole to give him greater access.

The noises you made could absolutely be interpreted as nothing other than consent, but you wanted to make sure he didn’t stop, as the contract said he could if he had any doubt about your permission. There could be no doubt.

“Please, don’t stop. Put your mouth on me. Make me cum.”

There was the slightest of huffs, as if he was smiling the briefest of victory smiles, before his assail began. It was measured, it was slow, it was a thorough gathering of information. It was infuriating. As you were about to open your impatient mouth and remind him that the clock was ticking the minutes away, like the insufferable bitch she was, he shifted tactics.

Every little nuance he’d taken note of, every amount of pressure and length of lick that produced some desired effect was now fortified. This was the only thing he did. And at a brisker rate, as if he’d calculated the pleasure you’d derived at the low speed and determined the exponential pleasure you’d get from the real speed.

They had not put mathematical genius in his bio, but here you were getting eaten alive better than anyone had ever done it before. And you dared say, maybe after. This could get expensive.

When you couldn’t take it anymore, when you were afraid the remaining time had to be expired because you kept awakening from mind bending bliss to find him still lapping and sucking at your pussy as if he just got started and how long had it been, my gods, you grabbed hold of the curly hair around his head and tugged as you begged.

“Stop. Stop,” you were breathless. “Walter, please stop. It’s so good. It’s too good. I don’t want you to stop but we have to stop. My time must be up, I have to go.”

His laugh wasn’t cruel, but it was sinister “We have time. Don’t worry. I made sure.”

You didn’t dare look at the clock. Your gaze was locked into his anyway, whites of his eyes replaced by a deep, lustful red. He held your stare while dragging his tongue and snout along your heated skin.

He slipped an arm under your waist, tugging your torso in one direction as he stepped a hind leg up to nudge your hips in the other. He settled in between your legs once he had you parallel to the edge of the bed. You threw your arms over your head as he caressed your outer thigh, coaxing it around his waist while bending to savor the scent you'd released for him. When he was satisfied, he moved again to climb over your body.

You were aching for him, arching into the heat radiating from the closeness of his form. As you reached for his neck to pull him even closer, you realized why he'd kissed you before the turn. It would be awkward now to put your mouth on his. The shape didn't lend itself to an easy slotting of lips against one another, though you yearned for the recent memory.

As if he could sense your desire, he leaned in and nuzzled against your neck, behind your ear, then along your throat. He pushed your chin up with his muzzle to bare your pulse to him and then he nipped.

You whimpered at the sensation and even as he licked to soothe it, he did it again, a little harder, just shy of breaking skin.

"Please," you begged, eager to feel the power, though you knew it was strictly forbidden and you trusted he did as well.

His growl was full of bravado, as if he was proud to have you begging him to break the rules.

"You wanna get me in trouble?" Walter grumbled in your ear as he ran his paws up and down your body, dragging his claws carefully over your skin. He snarled when they snagged on the stockings and looked to you for approval before he tore them away from your legs completely.

"If you can't bite me, then at least mate me," you pleaded, knowing full well he couldn't do that either but you were too far gone to care. It would at least get him thinking about sinking his cock in you one way or another.

He reached for the drawer of the heavy wooden night stand and produced a few foil packets, dropping all but one on the bedside table and handing you the last, prompting an eyebrow raised in question from you. His response was measured, as if he struggled to control something deep inside.

"You have another choice to make," he began with a low rumble as he sought understanding in your eyes. "I can't mate you directly and I'm sure you know that. I have access to...toys, equipment that would allow you to feel that sensation, but it won't be me. If instead, you're willing to use protection with me, I will gladly fill you up."

If he wouldn't go bare, so be it. He wiggled his claws as you attempted to hand him the packet, sure you'd make a debacle of trying to sheath the monster between his legs.

"Just to be safe, you'd better do it. These are pretty sharp. That ok?" he grunted at you in question.

You nodded and scooted out from under him, up the bed so you had a little leverage. He kept a knee on the mattress as he stood tall from his other hind leg still on the floor and waited for you to tear the package and roll the condom down his cock.

"Is there anything special I need to do to make it fit?" you asked, vaguely aware of how ridiculous the question sounded but eager nonetheless to get past this part and onto the one where Walter would be deep inside you, filling every inch, stroking every wall. You'd already seen the size, but forgotten your initial trepidation thanks to the glorious head he'd given you.

Surely, no standard drugstore rubber would cover it. His huff was kind, and you could swear you saw the twinkle of a smile in his eyes as he answered.

"We bring them in special. They're designed for a ... more substantial, and sometimes even exotic, need. But if you know how to use one, you know how to use them all. Still alright?"

You nodded with a smile, and set to work, letting the heft and feel of his member draw you back into your haze of lust and desire now that logistics were out of the way. You worked the rubber over his girth and found yourself imagining what it would be like to have him split you in two. You couldn't wait and he could tell.

"So eager," he grumbled as he grasped your shoulders and eased you onto your back.

You thought about trying to tame your excitement, but to what end? For a brief moment the thought that you surely didn't have much more time left flitted through your mind and then you let the excitement and anticipation take over.

"Please take me now," you begged and captured the side of your lower lip with your teeth as you once again pictured the incoming pleasure.

"If anything feels uncomfortable, you can tell me to stop," he murmured in your ear as he lowered himself over you. "Say 'woodsman' and I stop. Understood?"

He pulled back to find your reply and when he had his confirmation he didn't hold back any further. As if no time had passed between when he had coaxed so much moisture from your core and now, you were still dripping for him when he grabbed ahold of his thick member and placed the tip at your entrance.

Any other man would have slid in easily, but Walter wasn't any other man and he knew it. Once the tip breached your aching pussy, he carefully nudged a knuckle alongside, pressing in and loosening the way. You spread your legs wider for him and willed your walls to relax, though they wouldn't.

Remembering what he said during the exchange about the condom, you pulled a hand off his shoulder, down his furry chest, and in between your bodies, reaching for the spot where you were connected. The growl he let out when he realized what you were doing was invigorating and spurred you on.

You watched him bend his head down so he could take in the sight of you stroking him a few times before you began to massage the folds at your entrance. You let your fingers tease your clit and when you couldn't stand it any longer, a time which you were sure had already passed, you split your index and middle finger and gently coaxed your opening wider.

As he felt the ease, Walter sank ever deeper until he was bottomed out and pressed as far in as he could. You saw stars, immediately, and loosened even more, coating him with warmth and juices that helped his movements.

In another time, with another man, that may have been it. Most men, if they even took the time to draw an orgasm from you through the missionary position, would collapse in almost relief as soon as you came, spending their load and ending the night then and there.

But you'd already established Walter was no mere man. He took your sigh as his cue to help you feel that way again and again. And when he couldn't tear another orgasm from you in this position, no matter how hard he pumped or how high he got your legs over his head, he pulled out and flipped you to all fours and slammed back in from behind, eager to wrench at least one last shout of pleasure from your lips before he spilled his seed in the condom and sent you to your belly with a slap on your ass as he withdrew from you entirely.

"Am I charged extra for that?" you mustered the energy to ask once he'd returned from the bathroom. You peeled one exhausted eye open to see he was back to his human form, though still completely unclothed and you wondered if anyone was lucky enough to enjoy that experience as well.

"Sorry?" he asked, a quizzical look on his face.

"Does this place charge by the volume? Was there a limit to the number of orgasms allowed? I imagine it has to be like the extra mini-bar charges they tack onto your bill when you check out of any other hotel, right?"

His laugh was deep and infectious. It reverberated through the room and your chest as he climbed into the bed beside you with the bowl of cheese and fruit in one hand and the bread in the other.

"We don't have a limit. You can have as many as you want. Care for a snack? Get your energy back?” Walter took the time to feed you small bites while your boneless body slowly recovered.

"We have to be so far over my time limit. Am I about to turn into a pumpkin now?" you asked after swallowing a final bite of bread.

Walter laughed again and it warmed your heart. Maybe he was just a really good actor, but nothing so far had rang false, so why would he try to fake this? He thought you were funny.

"No, nothing so drastic. But if you do want to rinse off before checkout, you should get a move on. I could carry you if you're still not up to moving just yet?"

You nodded, and as if you weighed nothing, Walter lifted you from the bed and deposited you in the shower cabin, away from the shower head while he fiddled with the water faucet. Once the steam began to rise, he pulled you in with him and helped you lather up and rinse off, careful to keep your hair away from the spray as best he could. Then he dried you off with a fluffy towel and helped you dress in your extra set of clothes, before tucking the cape in your bag with your original outfit.

"It's part of the basket fee," he answered your unasked question with a ridiculous wink. "If you book it again, they'll give you a discount, but you'll have to remember to bring it with you."

As you stepped out of the bathroom, the room again appeared as it did when you first entered what felt like hours ago. Surely more than two. Walter could sense your confusion.

“The hotel has some special features we don’t actually advertise,” he offered, as he pulled on his pants. “We use them at our discretion, but it means you get an experience unlike others. This room, for example, truly can transform into a deep forest. And I like to stretch the time here, especially for newcomers. When you walk out into that hall, it’ll be two hours since your arrival. We’ve been here for longer though. But do me a favor, wouldja? Keep that to yourself?”

You nodded and smiled, appreciative of his special treatment, then took one last look around the room to make sure you hadn't forgotten anything. Walter walked you to the door and gave you a final kiss goodbye.

“I do hope everything was to your satisfaction. Hopefully, you’ll come back sometime,” he grinned at you as you stumbled backwards down the hall, not wanting to turn away from his gorgeous face. You were absolutely going to figure out a way to pick up some extra shift and make your way back to this hotel again if it killed you.

Bonus Edit: Absolutely GORGEOUS headers made for me by my wonderful friend in fic @geralts-yenn:

Everything HC Taglist: (as always, let me know if you want on or off)

@sillyrabbit81 @mayloma @geralts-yenn @raccoon-eyed-rebel @fvckinghenrycavill @kebabgirl67 @beck07990 @itsrubberbisquit @sweetdreamsofgelato @liveoncoffeeandflowersss @alexakeyloveloki @marantha @aireraume @angelmather1 @lizzystuffsthings @enchantedbytomandhenry @omgkatinka @littlefreya @avengersfan25 @just-chirpin @thesaucynomad @valacirca @henryownsme @summersong69 @foxyjwls007

Special tag: @kittenofdoomage (cause sometimes you love my stuff and this one's a monster fucker lol!)

Werewolf!walter only (if you asked on the teaser):

@ellethespaceunicorn (hope this is okay! Tag me in whichever HC character werewolf you end up with!) @juliaorpll78 @martha-oi @cardierreh15 if you asked and aren't here, Tumblr won’t let me tag you. Sorry!

#walter marshall fanfiction #walter marshall x reader #werewolf!walter x reader #walter marshall #werewolf!walter #spoopy season #forest fantasy #henry cavill characters #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #could be a series #who knows?#mine #deandoesthingstome

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adventuringblind · 9 months ago

Text

Don't Leave Us

Lestappen x Reader

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Summary: With the mass amount of online hate and a relationship that's not public, it all gets too much.

Warnings: graphic depictions of self-harm, graphic depictions of suicide

Notes: I hope you're doing okay, Nonny! Maybe this will help you like it does me :)

side note: I am not above begging for interaction. Fill my inbox with feral driver thoughts! Interact with my posts! It feeds my praise kink and makes me giggle and kick my feet 🥰

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

It's not like the toxicity of social media is a new thing. She's always known that it could happen. She just wasn't expecting it to be so... much.

Her relationship with Max and Charles isn't out for the public. There are dangers that come with opening that up for everyone to get a glimpse of. Reporters waiting to make snide remarks. Fans that want to bash on the drivers they dislike.

Plus, she's not famous. People don't notice her. At least - they didn't until recently.

Some WAG account had managed to get photos of her with either Max or Charles. Not the three of them together. Speculative fans determined she must be playing both of them.

Not all of them, some people defend her. Those comments make her cry out of relief that at least someone isn't trying to tear her down.

She doesn't bring it up to either of the boys. They have enough on their plates as is. Stress and sickness become her new best excuses to not go out in public.

Sure, she's isolating herself and not talking to anyone. Carmen and Lily keep trying. She's just not ready to show her face.

Nothing is sacred anymore. The rumors are too much. Even avoiding all social media isn't enough. She can't even leave her house without someone trying to discreetly take her photo.

Her skin burns with attention every time she steps out the door. She can't eat knowing people are always looking at her. She can't even go to the shop to get groceries or to her mailbox.

It gets worse by the day. Soon enough, someone figures out where she lives. Knowing she has a stalker makes every ounce of security she once had vanish.

It's miserable seeing her information leaked out for everyone to see. Privacy is now a luxury of the past. It's enough to send her spiraling.

When her safety is called into question, Max and Charles bring her to Monaco. They are willing to risk it for her. Their attempt at giving her some piece of mind by staying in the same apartment only makes her thoughts darker.

She's the reason there is so much negative publicity. The sharks are circling them, just waiting for one wrong move. Is she ready to be the catalyst for her lovers' downfall?

The thought sends her stomach up her throat. The thoughts swirl around her head, paralyzing her body into a perpetual state of fear. Stuck in a luxurious Monaco penthouse. Because people being toxic and stalking her is such a horrible problem to have. She should just suck it up; pretend everything is fine.

So then, why is it so hard? Why can't she just be alright?

One week. A plan in her head and a smile plastered on her face. The boys haven't asked about it. Their concern shows in the facial expressions, but they don't push. Maybe it would be better if they did. Send her already crumbling walls to the ground.

She deep cleans on Monday. She does her best to make sure the apartment isn't in disarray, that her own things are packed away, so they won't have much to deal with. The contrasting red and blue of Max and Charles' clothes are the only things left in the closet when she's done.

Speculations start again on Tuesday. Max and Charles spend all day in some PR meeting about it. It gives her time to sort out her affairs without them hearing her. She cooks them dinner to help ease the frustrations. Their teams don't want them to come out, but they do.

Wednesday, they leave to their next destination. She doesn't leave the hotel room despite the concerns of others. Carmen and Lily come around at some point. They eat in with her and kick out the boys. It feels normal for the first time in months. She almost breaks and tells them.

Thursday is media day. She feels for both boys as they get asked invasive questions about their love life. They look stressed. She gets hugged a little tighter that night. It calms the thoughts, but it's not enough. They hurt more every day. She's just wants it to stop.

Practice on Friday goes well for both. Max and Charles are in better spirits. She drags herself out to eat with them. the boys don't care who sees. She does. The anxiety nearly suffocates her. eyes crawling over her skin. Please, make it stop.

Saturday is a wreck. The qualifying is difficult for both her partners. Their relationship status is once again coming under fire. The speculating is becoming extreme, enough for the whispering of the paddock to become deafening to her ears. She spends her time hiding away, writing her last thoughts in messy scrawl.

Sunday, they turn the weekend around. The podium has always suited them. Smiling for everyone to see and dousing each other in champagne. She smiles too, even though it hurts.

They fly back to Monaco that night. Conversation turns to going public despite team wishes. They are willing to risk it for her. She can't bring herself to say yes. They worked hard to live their dreams; she won't ruin it for them.

Monday comes around again. The notes are laying out on the table. The boys are with their friends, some kind of brunch get together.

She leaves the bathroom door unlocked.

The bath filled, her clothes still on. Her thoughts finally still. Tears streak down her face.

The water is cold.

Then it's red.

~~~~~

"I worry about leaving her alone." Charles pulls the car back into its spot.

"Well, if we brough her along it wouldn't be much of a surprise, yes?" Max checks his watch again. "Plus, what could she have done in the fifteen minutes we were gone?"

They haul the ridiculous number of snacks to the front door. They decided last week they would see if they could coax the female out of her depressive state, just for a little while. Maybe get her to confide in them. If not, then at the very least a therapist.

The distance is damn near suffocating. She's so close physically, yet so far away mentally. Always staring at the walls with a distant look in her eyes.

The apartment is eerily quiet when they step inside. The kind that Charles despises after living in a chaotic house with two brothers and three busy schedules his Maman had to keep track of.

He drops the bags and peers around the entry way. Then searches the corridors until he finds one of the bathroom doors closed.

Charles knocks on the door but receives no response. "Cheri? Are you not feeling well?"

Charles almost dives out of the way when Max comes barreling down the hallway. The Dutch tries the doorknob, heavy breathing filling the odd silence.

Charles pales at the sight revealed to him. Paralyzed that this horrific scene could even be a possibility. Is he dreaming? He has to be - there isn't any way for this to be real... right?

"Charles!-" the Monegasque is dragged from his thoughts. Real or not, Max needs his help. Scratch that - she needs his help. "- Get an ambulance!"

Charles fishes his phone out of his pocket and makes the call. Max is desperate trying to stop the bleeding from the vertical slit traveling her forearm. "Is she...?" He can't finish the thought. Heart being through his chest at the possible answer.

"Pules is there but faint." Max sounds like he's desperately trying to hold back his tears. His mind working desperately to keep her alive.

Charles must space out. He doesn't remember opening the door or watching her be carried out by the swift paramedics. The car ride doesn't register, not until they are already in the waiting room.

Max hands him her notes. The paragraphs she wrote to them. A final goodbye in messy scrawl, but the tails of her letters still curled.

"She did it for us, Charlie, because she thought she was hurting us."

They both break down in the uncomfortable waiting room chairs. Charles violently sobbing. Neither of them respond to their messages. Phones buzzing with calls that go to voice-mail.

A doctor comes calling her name. Charles is only half listening. Specifically looking for either a confirmation of death or the relief of hearing that she's okay. Max seems to be paying attention. His shoulders sag, and there is a soft look on his face when they are left to their own devices.

"She's alive, Charlie."

He erupts until tears once more.

~~~~~

Everything hurts. Her thoughts are fuzzy. There is something soft beneath her.

The white ceiling is paired with the burning smell of alcohol. A sterile environment. Meaning-

Fuck. How did it go so wrong? How had they managed to keep her alive?

The beeping on the heart monitor picks up. A sign that she's definitely alive and in a hospital.

Her attempts at moving are futile. There is too much pain and exhaustion to do so. A pulsing behind her ears drowns out the thumping of her heart.

"Rest now, amour."

It takes a single stroke of Charles' fingers on her cheek to make her entire facade shatter into nothing.

She's mumbling incoherent words. It's a string of apologies, rants of anger and embarrassment, and confusion at why they are even here with her. They are continually reassuring her. They coo into her ear how they are so glad she's alive. That she doesn't have to fight whatever battle through hell this is alone.

Recovery is difficult. They have to put her on a suicide watch, but Max and Charles somehow manage to keep her out of the psychward. Mostly because they want to be with her at all hours of the day.

They miss a singular race for her. Then drag her to the next. Part of the deal they had made was that they won't sacrifice their careers for her.

They negotiated with the teams. Managed to wriggle around their soft spots and get them to approve going public. Max and Charles want to openly defend her. No more public executions. They'er pulling her out of the shark infested waters that is the media.

It's slow. People ask about it sometimes; why Charles and Max had missed that race. None of them give an answer. They aren't obligated to.

"Why fight for me?" She asks. a year after the events.

"Because chéri, we love you enough to help you carry the burden."

"Honestly liefste, we fight for what we believe in. We believe in you and the love you have for us."

"Maybe it's selfish, but we want to share that with you. Keep you here with us to go on adventures and explore the different paths life offers."

"So don't leave us yet. You are worth every sacrifice."

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olliebee66 · 10 months ago

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Sugar Daddy Alejandro x Sugar Baby [GN] Reader

Content Warning: sex mention

Sugar Daddy Alejandro who meets his sugar baby online with Rudy's help before meeting them in a coffee shop.

Sugar Daddy Alejandro who gives them $1000 as a promise, as well as his personal number and email.

Sugar Daddy Alejandro who gets their address and sends them flowers once a week and has a maid come to clean for them once a month.

Sugar Daddy Alejandro who takes the reader on dates twice a week, and if he has to reschedule, he sends an apology in the form of money, gifts and lunch or dinner.

Sugar Daddy Alejandro who won't ever let the reader pay for anything on their own, even if it's just dry cleaning fees or gas for their car.

Sugar Daddy Alejandro who doesn't ask for anything in return except for selfies of the reader wearing any clothes or jewelry he purchased them.

Sugar Daddy Alejandro who books a hotel for the readers birthday weekend and takes them on a shopping spree, suggesting some new toys, wanting to finally get the chance to see them in the bedroom but also giving them the chance to say no.

Sugar Baby Reader who happily agrees to get some toys, letting Alejandro choose a couple as well as some lingerie for them to wear on their trip.

Sugar Baby Reader who lets Alejandro take the lead in the hotel room, letting him even record them and take pictures for the memories.

Sugar Baby Reader who thanks Alejandro with a kiss and a bracelet they picked in secret for him, asking if they could be more than just Sugar Daddy and Sugar Baby.

Sugar Daddy Alejandro who says yes.

#alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro cod #call of duty alejandro #sugar baby reader #sugar daddy alejandro

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satyadevind · 7 months ago

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katareyoudrilling · 2 months ago

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Audience of One (Dave York one-shot)

Pairing: Bodyguard Dave York x Female Reader

Summary: When online comments threaten your safety, you reluctantly agree to hire a bodyguard

Word count: ~3k

Rating: Explicit (18+ only. NO MINORS)

Content Warnings: a bit of danger, masturbation, unprotected PIV (please use protection IRL), a hickey (sort of)

A/N: This is my entry for @burntheedges Roll-a-Trope challenge! I got famous person AU and twisted it to fit my very niche tastes lol. It has been quite a while since I posted something, thanks for hanging in there with me. I really hope you enjoy it! Big thanks to @burntheedges for the beta 😘

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

Dave York Masterlist

Masterlist

Taglist – link in my bio or let me know!

“I really think you’re overreacting.” You finish cleaning off your instrument and securing it in your case.

“I’m not and it’s not open to discussion.”

You sigh. “I’m a concert violinist, not a movie star. No one is out to ‘get me’ or whatever. This is ridiculous.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” your manager forces you to meet her gaze. “There have been emails, social media posts… I know you don’t want to believe it, but there are creeps out there focused on you. I need you to be safe.”

She’s looking at you with so much care and concern that the fight leaves your body. “Fine. Send him in.”

“Thank you.” She turns to open the door to the dressing room and gestures to someone in the hallway. You gather the rest of your things into your bag and prepare to head to your hotel.

Your manager steps back into the room trailed by a tall, broad, dark-haired, incredibly attractive man in an overcoat.

“Meet Dave York, your bodyguard.”

. . . . . . . . . .

“I’m really sorry about this,” you apologize for the tenth time since getting into the back of the town car with your new bodyguard in tow. “All this fuss is unnecessary.”

Dave regards you across the darkened backseat. “Your manager doesn’t think so and neither do I. The sooner you accept my help, the better this will go.”

You lose your train of thought as the streetlights sweep across his gorgeous features. His pouty lips… his aquiline nose… his strong jaw… his dark eyes… each feature takes its turn in the lamplight. It’s probably for the best, taking him in all at once might actually kill you. No one has the right to be this handsome.

You shake yourself out of your reverie and find Dave watching you closely. You look away quickly, shifting your focus out your window. You cross your legs, and the slit of your dress opens, revealing your legs up to mid-thigh. You quickly adjust the skirt to cover yourself and tell yourself that you’re imagining Dave’s eyes flickering away.

You clear your throat, “Right, umm… how is this going to go, exactly?”

“I’ll be with you during the day. When you return to your hotel room at night, I’ll hand off responsibility to my security team. There will be extra security at your concerts and events as well.”

“That doesn’t sound too intrusive.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

“I hope you like classical music.”

“We’ll find out.”

. . . . . . . . . . .

And that’s how it goes. Dave meets you outside your door when you’re ready to leave in the morning and accompanies you on each step of your schedule. He tags along to masterclasses, rehearsals, concerts, and your own practice sessions. Ushering you in and out of town cars and back exits.

You share brief conversations in the car. His dry, sarcastic wit comes out little by little as you spend time with him. He often makes you laugh and you thrill when his pouty lips tilt at the edges into a wry smirk at something you said.

He leaves you at your hotel room door in each city at the end of the day, waiting until you close the door to call his security team.

You don’t lean against the door and wonder where he goes after he’s with you. That would be inappropriate.

You don’t replay the events of the day, the glances, the almost touches, that assuredly exist only in your own imagination.

You don’t catalog the little things you’ve learned about him. Single. No kids. Ex-military. Coffee, black. Unexpected crinkles around the eyes when he smiles.

You don’t seek him out in the concert halls, looking for a sign that he enjoys the music you’re making, always finding him watching you intently from backstage, still and focused.

You don’t find yourself pulling out your favorite toy to relieve some tension more and more frequently as the days spent in his company add up.

Definitely not.

. . . . . . . . . .

“You played something different tonight.” Dave’s deep voice breaks the silence of the car.

You hum your assent, “Sarasate’s Carmen Fantasy. It’s a real crowd pleaser.”

“I didn’t know a violin could do that.”

You chuckle, “Yeah, the soloist gets to show off in that one.”

“You like to show off, don’t you?”

The energy in the car shifts in an instant. Dave’s dark eyes are even darker than usual as he regards you across the cab. The question hangs heavy in the air.

“You have to like to show off to do my job,” you explain a bit breathlessly. You meet his dark gaze, and he hums in approval. “Do you like to show off, Dave?”

He drags his thumb across his lower lip, your eyes can’t help but follow the movement.

“No, I don’t like to show off. I like to watch.”

His words hit you like an electrical current, zinging across your skin, breaking you out into full body goose bumps.

You hold each other’s gaze in the dark, your breath coming in increasingly erratic pants. He doesn’t look away. Neither do you.

You cross your legs and allow your skirt to fall open up your legs, just like the first night you were in the car with him. This time, the dress has an even higher slit—you save this particular gown for when you perform the Carmen, you enjoy playing into the persona. This time, you don’t cover up.

You watch as his gaze flickers to your bare legs, exposed practically all the way to your underwear, the tip of his tongue sneaks out to wet his plush lips.

He drags his eyes back up to yours. The air is thick with possibility. A line has definitely been crossed. Words begin to bubble up from your gut when the car pulls to a stop in front of the hotel.

The moment pops like a balloon.

Dave opens his door and swings up and out of the car. In a haze, you open your door and step out into the night.

The next moments go by in a flash.

You hear someone shout your name, Dave yells, you’re shoved against the car, unfamiliar hands grab your shoulders and whisk you into the hotel lobby and into the elevator. The doors close before you can understand the commotion happening outside the hotel.

You’re flanked by security guards you’ve seen around after hours. The words “assailant” “custody” “weapon” permeate the buzzing in your brain. Questions form and dissipate in the tangle of your thoughts before you can get them out.

The elevator doors open on your floor, and you are bodily moved into your hotel room. Before they can close the door, you finally manage to ask what’s going on only to be met with vague instructions to stay in your room and wait.

You pace the floor and look out your window, hoping for a glimpse of what might be happening on the street below, but you’re on the wrong side of the building. It doesn’t hold any answers for you.

Your hands reach for your phone only to realize it’s still in your bag in the car, along with your instrument case.

The car.

Your mind returns to that moment right before you pulled up to the hotel. So ripe with promise and possibility.

Then you had gotten out of the car.

Oh shit.

You got out of the car yourself. You opened your door yourself. You weren’t supposed to do that. Dave opens your door. Dave ushers you out of the car.

It’s all your fault.

Just as your thoughts threaten to spiral, there’s a firm knock on your door.

“It’s me. Everything is ok. Open the door.” You hear Dave through the door. You rush over and check the peephole like he told you to. At least you can say you remembered to do that. You confirm it’s him and open the door.

“Dave, I—”

He crashes into you, pressing you against the wall with the length of his body before claiming your mouth with a rough, desperate kiss. His hands grip your chin, your shoulders, your hip as he devours your mouth.

Your hands scrabble against his chest, finding the lapels of his coat to hang on.

Just as suddenly as you found yourself kissing Dave, you aren’t. He pulls back abruptly leaving you cold and breathless.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t ha—”

You pull him back to you by his coat, drawing his mouth back to yours. You lick into his mouth, moaning as he responds.

This kiss is less frantic, but still full of need. Your tongues tangle together, tasting and testing.

Dave eventually breaks away, resting his forehead against yours.

“Are you ok?”

“Yes, I’m ok, but what happened?”

“A man came running toward you, the police have him now. I’m sure it’s the person making those creepy comments about you online.”

“I got out of the car by myself, Dave, I’m so sorry, I know I’m n—”

“Shh,” he hushes you. “It’s ok. You’re ok.”

He presses his lips to yours, swallowing your protests, until you melt into him.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long.” He drags his lips down your throat, across your collarbones and shoulders. He licks back up the side of your neck.

You gasp as he drags his tongue over the sensitive spot on your neck.

“I noticed this mark the night I first met you,” he murmurs into your skin. “I was so jealous of whoever got to do that to you. I kept waiting to find out who it was, to see if they were worthy of marking your skin, but there has been no one and the mark has stayed.” You sense the unasked question.

“My… it’s… a violin hickey,” you pant as he drags his nose up the column of your throat and along your jaw. “Where my violin rubs against my neck when I play.” He chuckles.

“Should I be jealous of your violin?”

“Probably.”

He hums against you. “Fair enough.”

He steps back to the hotel room door and for a moment your heart drops thinking that he might be leaving, but he only opens the door to pull your bag and violin case into the room. You hear him conversing with a guard outside before he closes the door, locking the deadbolt before turning back to you.

He shrugs off his overcoat and suit jacket. He loosens the knot of his tie and begins to unbutton the cuffs of his sleeves. You watch the movement of his fingers with rapt attention.

“So, Miss Show off. Do you want to show off for me?” His eyes flash dangerous and dark and a thrill runs up your spine.

Adrenaline tingles in your fingertips as you find the zipper of your dress and pull it down your side.

You lock eyes with Dave as you let your gown fall to the floor, a puddle at your feet. You are left standing in only your panties and high heels.

Dave drinks you in, caressing your curves with his warm gaze. Your nipples harden under his perusal and wetness pools between your legs. It’s all you can do to not rub your thighs together.

“Get on the bed.” He commands, his voice deep and rasping with need. His shirtsleeves are rolled up now, exposing the tendons and veins in his forearms. His hands fist at his sides, clearly fighting the urge to touch you. But you’ve learned this about Dave, he is always in control of himself.

You walk over to the bed, turning your back to him and adding an extra sway to your hips. You catch his strangled moan at the sight of your round ass framed by the string of your thong. You turn to sit at the end of the bed with a satisfied smirk. Dave stands at arm’s length from you, pinning you with his dark eyes.

“Show me. Let me see if those fingers can play your pussy as well as they play your violin.”

You gasp at his filthy words and your center clenches with need. Keeping your eyes on him once again, you drag your panties down your legs and off, kicking off your shoes as you do, and scoot a bit farther onto the bed.

You lean back into the plush bedding, resting on one elbow, knees bent, and spread your legs for Dave.

He drinks you in hungrily as you part yourself for him, dipping your fingers into your wetness.

Your mouth falls open as you circle your clit, a moan escaping your chest. You fight to keep your eyes open so you can watch Dave watch you. You really do like to show off and he is an eager audience.

You quicken your pace, hitting the rhythm you like best, and find yourself careening towards your peak. Your hips buck on the bed, and you whine that you’re close.

“Show me,” Dave commands one last time before you fall over the edge, pulsing and shivering through your release.

“Do I get a standing ovation?” you ask, breathless, once you’ve come back to yourself.

“You tell me.”

You crack one eye open and find that he’s standing at the end of the bed naked. His cock juts proudly away from his hips at full attention.

“My favorite kind.” You lick your lips as you sit up and crawl to the edge of the bed. You look up at him as you take the tip of his cock between your lips, sliding down the hard length of him. You watch his stomach flex with effort as he resists fucking into your mouth.

It makes you want to make him lose control. He’s always alert and watching. Even in the car on the way to the hotel tonight, he kept his cool as you tempted him. Bursting into your room to kiss you is the only time you’ve seen him not in complete control of himself.

You tongue and suck and moan around him, losing yourself in the rhythm. Dave drags his fingers down your cheek and throat.

“Look at you, fuck.” He cups your breasts, swaying heavily between your arms, and pinches your nipples. “I want to watch these tits bounce while I fuck you.”

You whimper around his length, arousal practically dripping down your legs. He pulls out of your mouth, diving down to kiss you deeply and press you backwards onto the bed.

He arranges himself against the headboard and drags you on top of him. “Ride me, baby,” he commands. You eagerly comply, lining his weeping cock up with your entrance.

Your eyes roll back in your head as you sink down onto him, the stretch is so delicious with every inch you take. When you bottom out, you open your eyes to find Dave breathing hard, the tendons of his neck taut with effort.

You rise and sink back down slowly, angling yourself backwards so he can see his cock disappear into your wet heat. He licks the pad of his thumb and reaches between you, giving you friction that makes you shudder with each roll of your hips.

“Fuck yes,” he groans, eyes locked on your greedy pussy, swallowing him whole. You feel yourself start to flutter around him, the intensity of his eyes on you drives your arousal higher and higher. Being watched with so much desire gives you such a thrill that your orgasm threatens to take you far too soon.

You slow and lean forward, placing a hand on the headboard over Dave’s head. Your breasts wobble in front of his face and he quickly takes one nipple into his mouth. You arch your back into him as he sucks and tugs, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.

He holds your hips still with one hand as he feasts on you, bringing his other to cup and pinch your tender flesh.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you cry as the pressure builds in your core. Your hips grind into him, seeking relief as he relentlessly toys with you.

He allows you to move, to chase your high, riding his cock with abandon as he looks up at you with lust blown eyes. You tilt your hips, and he finds your clit once again.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he praises you as you near your peak. “Come on my cock, baby. I want to feel you.”

You come with a gasp, rising up on your knees as your pussy clenches then collapsing back down with shuddering pulses. Dave caresses your back before rolling you over and gently pulling out. He kneels between your legs, stroking his length, as you lie boneless and hazy.

“That was so fucking hot, baby.” His jaw clenches as he strokes himself faster and faster. “I fucking love to watch you. Watch you play your violin… watch you touch yourself… watch you fuck…”

“It’s my turn, Dave,” you interrupt. “I want to watch you come. Come all over me.” You prop yourself up on your elbows and smirk at the way a shudder moves through his body. He lets go with a groan, ropes of cum painting your tummy and chest.

You both collapse, satisfied. Dave cleans you up, taking extra care with your breasts. You smirk as he chases the warm cloth with his even warmer mouth.

“What happens now?” you ask later, when you’re twined together on the bed. “If that was the guy…”

“I’ll be here as long as you need me and even after you don’t,” Dave presses a kiss to the top of your head. You snuggle into his side, relaxing in the knowledge that you are safe and thrilled with the prospect of showing off again for your audience of one.

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

A/N: I don't have, and never have had, a violin hickey. I probably don't practice enough lol. But they are often seen as a point of pride among violinists.

Dave York Masterlist

Masterlist

Taglist - in reblog

#roll a trope challenge #dave york #famous person au #dave york x reader #pedro pascal characters

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pkjobs · 10 months ago

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Business Coordinator (Female Filipina) Latest Job In Qatar

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purinfelix · 11 months ago

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f1 drivers as meet-cutes ₊˚⊹⋆

summary: small blurbs about meeting some of the drivers in situations that are equal parts awkward and romantic !! featuring: CS55, CL16 and DR3 warnings: none, although carlos' one is a teeeensy bit suggestive

a/n: if there's one thing about me it's that i'm a hopeless romantic who's obsessed with meet cutes so enjoy these (semi-self-indulgent) blurbs - you can read pt2 here !!

ᝰ.ᐟ Carlos Sainz - one night stand

You’re woken by a throbbing pain in your head and the blinding white of the morning sun that pierces through unfamiliar curtains doesn’t seem to help. As if this isn’t disorienting enough you slowly sit up to realise you’re in a bed that isn’t yours, in a room that isn’t yours, in clothes that are way too big to be yours. And perhaps most confusingly of all, there’s a man who you can only vaguely remember meeting the night before fast asleep beside you - shirtless.

When he finally stirs the two of you exchange awkward conversation as you try to piece together the events of the previous night which are little more than a drunken haze of drinking, dancing, and stumbling back to hotel rooms. You don’t think too much of it, he’s good-looking enough that you aren’t embarrassed, and just by looking around the room, you can tell he isn’t too bad off either. That is - until he starts explaining how terribly sorry he is in advance for all the publicity you’ll have to fend off after pictures of you two leaving a bar together are plastered online. A couple more explanations, questions and proper introductions later you come to find out that he isn’t just any random man, but rather Carlos Sainz, a famous race-car driver who’s only touching down in your city for the next week or so. This all sounds new, besides his name - which falls off your tongue easily, which makes you a little more concerned about how you might've used it the night before.

He’s so oddly gentlemanly and polite though, a stark contrast to what most of the celebrities who visit your city or guys you’ve met in bars are like. And despite what the two of you had gotten up to last night, the look in his eyes and the way he looks sort of shy in the morning light can’t help but make your heart soften and you feel a little more comfortable with this total stranger. You immediately offer to leave though, but are caught off guard by his counteroffer to make you a cup of coffee - and after all, who are you to refuse?

ᝰ.ᐟ Charles Leclerc - coffeeshop

He’s here again. That irritatingly good looking stranger who, you’d think had just walked out of a magazine, but is in fact seated by the window of the cafe you work at. He’s dressed rather modestly, contrary to what the black card he uses to pay for his americanos may suggest. So modestly in fact that you probably wouldn’t have noticed him if this hadn’t been his fourth time here this week, in the same seat that’s positioned just right so that you can see him from any spot at the counter.

And if you can see him, you’re pretty sure he can see you - affirmed by the several instances you’ve caught his eye and gotten a glance at that dreamy expression coupled with a slight smirk that toys at his lip. That is, of course, before he realises you’ve locked eyes and whips his head the other way around, sometimes even sputtering on his coffee. You’d probably be a little weirded out by the fact that he comes in here almost everyday to do seemingly nothing but cradle one drink for almost an hour, but you also can’t help but feel a little endeared by him.

You have tried making small talk whenever he orders, or when you bring him his drink - but the conversation never goes beyond awkward remarks about the weather or how your shift has been going. Hell, you don’t even know his name yet. That is until you notice him getting up to leave after another hour is up, not before turning around to shoot you a quick nod and - was that a smirk?. You go to clean up after him, but to your surprise, an empty cup and a generous tip isn’t the only thing he’s left you. A napkin, branded with the logo of your cafe chain, with a couple numbers scrawled in blank ink and then below it: a name - ‘Charles’.

ᝰ.ᐟ Daniel Ricciardo - blind date

You were never on board with the idea, even when your friend had enthusiastically pitched it to you almost two weeks prior. It wasn’t like you were busy, or had anything better to do - rather, you thought the idea itself was ridiculous. You weren’t looking for a relationship and if you were you’d prefer being able to do the looking yourself, instead of giving yourself up to a blind date and wasting an entire night for nothing.

But that was before your friend had done a ridiculous amount of pleading and begging and nagging and convincing. And before you knew it you were waiting outside one of the fanciest restaurants in your city, still not entirely excited but wanting to get the night over and done with without being too rude to whichever poor guy she’s roped into this. That is, until you spot him. The first thing that you notice is his smile, it’s beaming, blinding even and you feel yourself smiling before you even realise he’s looking at you too. And to say he’s good looking is an understatement, because you’re beginning to question how on Earth your friend knows someone like this. The way the suit hugs his figure should be illegal, and his hair looks so confusingly perfect yet effortless. You feel a stir of emotions, your previous apathy replaced with a burning desire to both impress and charm him, as well as newfound nerves.

He introduces himself without the smile leaving his face - “Daniel, but you can call me Danny,” - and you practically feel your nerves melt away as he offers you his arm to take you into the restaurant. Maybe blind dates weren’t so bad.

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circeyoru · 7 months ago

Text

Unwanted Soul _ Part 9 = Requested

[Yandere!Alastor x Owner of his Soul!Reader]

Part 1 — Part 2 — Part 2.5 (ask) — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5 — Part 6 — Part 7 — Part 8 — Part 9 (here)

The days when you worked for Lucifer were dull and boring, you saw nothing to gain even though you’re the one doing all the information searching and collecting. You went belong Lucifer’s expectation when you said you’ll infiltrate and plant yourself close to the source so that the information collected was reliable

Lucifer told you directly that he expected for you to just listen and gather what rumors were around and tell him, or what information was available then you report to Lucifer in a neat pile. Never did he think you’ll go above and beyond, considering your mood and status of wanting to get yourself a second death

Well, you didn’t really mind it all. Back when you were writing your novel, you had a ton of characters, each with different backgrounds and personality. You tried just researching online to get the information, but there wasn’t that feeling when you were writing them. You needed to get the feel of it. So you actually tried out part-time jobs from all over the place to get it

Turns out it worked since even a copy of the novel got such fame and wealth…

Now, you realized you didn’t need to create something for you to know what you have. With your new power, you seem to have something akin to photographic memory to the point you’ll be able to keep what you see and know like a compute file system. Very convenient and steal-proof

Your main target happened to be Vox, the TV Demon and an Overlord that is acquainted and in alliance with another two Overlords Velvette and Valentino. Lucifer requires newer information of the modern Overlords, so you went to the V Tower to sneak within their ranks

That was before your charm abilities from your pages developed to what you have today, so Lucifer gave you an entirely new look and some common powers so you didn’t make an impression on Vox or the other two Overlords

It was through Vox that you learned of Alastor as well. While you never saw him, you heard plenty from Vox to know they weren’t overly fond of the other. Alastor seem to tolerate Vox and didn’t even see Vox as a treat since it was all so childish from on outlooker’s perspective

But what you learned from within was even worse. Vox was controlling, very controlling. He not only hypnotizes the customer and reporters to boost his fame and gain loyalty, he treats his employee the same and than some. His people were treated as slaves, dehumanized, and worse than animals. All for Vox’s entertainment

“Don’t.” You firmly declined, “Let’s just get on with it.”

“Wow, you’re really into all that redemption thing? Goody-two-shoes huh.” Vox smirked condescending, “Can I get your name or?”

You glared, feeling the shadows riled up by the second, you back up away from Vox. “No. This is strictly business. I hope we don’t see each other after this.”

“Hot and feisty. I like that in a demon. Let’s see how you’re at persuasion.” He turned to the lift and gestures for you to follow him. “Well, come on then, representative.”

Throughout the entire time Vox was bringing you to the ‘meeting room’, he had been so annoying with his small talk. There were a few times he tried hypnotizing you already but you acted like nothing happened, it was fun to see him try

You declined any drinks and food he offered, he set them on the coffee table between the two couches you two were sitting on. This setting was quite perfect for him to try a more direct hypnotizes, even if you were to accuse him of so, he can say it was a glitch in the system or it’s just his screen acting up

Everything was set to give himself the advantage he needs and wants

As expected the only thing he had against the hotel and Charlie was the fact that his merchandise were all destroyed without his knowledge. Though he even come clean as to why he would be aware of they were gone or not, he lied and said it was to ensure his services were top-notch and that he could send his employees to repair or replace them with new ones

Why he was doing this was to show his appreciation to the epic battle Charlie and the hotel put up. To defend all of Hell and the other sinners even when no one asked, to give everyone hope that there was good in this hellhole. It moved Vox’s metallic heart beyond words

Such flattery. You know information that Vox tried to watch the battle, you panicked when you wonder if Vox saw your powers when you defended and saved Alastor. It doesn’t seem like he knows by the annoyance and degree he went to ensure the hotel was under surveillance. He’s finding that one demon that interrupted his show. He’s looking for you

To compensate, the hotel is to either send someone to work for Vox, of course without a soul contract but a business deal only, or give them Angel. What it means was that Angel was to stay at the V Tower for as long as it take for him to individually produce all the cost of the materials used to make the devices Vox installed in the hotel

It was basically a contract that would ensure that Angel doesn’t get redeemed, stays under the Vees’ or rather Valentino’s hold, and continues to bring profit or even more to the three Overlords. You heard that Angel’s boss was Valentino, you also heard about the little stunt Angel did to his boss outside of the studio. Valentino sworn revenge. This was it

When you weren’t agreeing immediately, you were in for a shock when Valentino and Angel appeared through the doors. They took a seat in the couch between yours and Vox’s, Angel forcefully gapped between Vox and Valentino so that if anything happened, they’d have a hostage. Because unlike them, the hotel and its people are oh so very kind

“Angel here volunteers to work on top of our contract on this little mishap.” Valentino grinned, playing with his pipe as he released a puff of red smoke. “Angel came all on his own too.”

“Then why isn’t he speaking on his own?” You challenged, it’d take a blind person to ignore the nervousness and uneasiness Angel was displaying. From what you observed, Angel truly likes it at the hotel. He wouldn’t willingly leave it and everyone. “Why are you speaking in his place?”

Vox raised a hand, answering as if it was all rehearsed. “Val is Angel’s boss, so it only makes sense he speaks on Angel’s behalf on something so important.”

Your eyes narrowed, “You got it backwards. On matters as important as this, the one directly involved should be the one talking.” You glared at Valentino, “Not to be spoken on behalf by.”

Vox laughed, “You forget. You’re at our mercy now, we don’t need to care for your wants.” He got up and strolled over to you, “You know, you’re quite talented. We could use someone like you here. If you agree to take Angel’s place, then Angel can go free from this deal. I’m sure with your talent, you can make up that number in no time.”

“That wasn’t what you offered.” You hissed, you could feel Alastor growing rage as well.

“Oh, need more incentive?” Vox smirked.

The moment he said that, the doors opened and revealed Velvette though it was what was dragged behind that caught you off guard. Husk, all beaten up and bantered, was being pulled into the room by some hellhounds that was in servitude to Velvette, or maybe the Vees.

Velvette gave a cunning grin, “You called?”

This was obviously a bad situation. Two hostages and three Overlords, one of them were in the worse pairing possible as well. This was all a trap

There was a high possibility that Angel didn’t want to answer Valentino’s calls and was dragged to the V Tower where he’s be powerless. Husk most possibly saw what happened and tried to stop it since you were going to the same place later on

In the end, two were caught and used as leverage to convince you into servitude of Vox. Maybe you shouldn’t have came, but you didn’t want them to get hypnotized again and this was their domain so Vox holds more power here

You’ll admit, you’re cornered. Do you call for Alastor? But Alastor couldn’t care less about Angel or Husk went you were on the line. He’d even agree with the deal Vox offered just because you would be out of harm’s way. You just know Alastor will do that. While he cares for your decision, but when it was your time away from him on the line, he’ll do anything to keep you within his hold

In that case, you’re left with one option

“You want compensation for your broken devices, yeah, I can handle it. But I will not be working here.” You spoke firmly, “The hotel has a 16 floors, each floor has around 10 rooms, each room has a VoxTech TV and a pair of speakers that were installed, in total that’s 160 TVs and 320 speakers. The lobby has a large screen made of 6 TVs and 8 pairs of speakers to provide high quality sound transperance, the top floor has a cinema that is made with 10 TVs and 10 pairs of speakers aligning the walls.”

As you were listing, everyone was surprised with how well you knew everything. Especially Angel and Husk since you were rarely out of your room or around. How you knew all this was a mystery to them.

“So in total, you require the compensation of 176 TVs and 356 speakers. I can provide all of them back to you in the newest condition, but I will not be working here.” You concluded.

“Wow, crazy math, but how can we be sure you can give us high quality goods?” Vox questioned, “We can’t trust that you’ll leave us high and dry after we agree. You can even give us cheap knockouts like some copycat off the streets.”

You opened your hand, “Give me something, anything.”

The Vees all looked at each other, then Valentino passed a gun of his to you. They eyed you suspicously while you plainly inspected the object, Angel and Husk watched in confusion of what you were doing

You ignored all the stared. This was your last result. You’ll show them your power and ability with a page, they wouldn’t know how you did it and they wouldn’t be able to control you since you have Alastor’s protection and you could always put Lucifer on the table. They wouldn’t dare touch a servant of the King of Hell

Your fingers brushed through the curves and texture, feeling where the edges were and how they felt. Then you began taking it apart. Vox kept Valentino in place when you began, Vox keeping an extra close eye on what you were doing. You laid out the parts in front of you, then you inspected each part like how you did to the gun as a whole

When you were done, you reassembled it all. You quickly aimed a shot into the wall behind you so they wouldn’t say you attempted assassination to add compensation. You got the gist of what was used to make it and how it was made. You remember the parts and you remember how to assemble and take it apart. The conditions are set. You can do it

You moved away your oversized coat and took out your book, writing the words ‘Valentino’s gun’ on the page before tearing it out and blew on it. Then in your hand appeared the exact same. You gave to Valentino to inspect them

He was surprised his gun was replicated to perfection. He didn’t mean to say it since he was shocked and covered his mouth

That’s all you need to hear. You took Angel and Husk to your side, telling Vox, without giving him the room to deject your offer. You will reproduce those TVs and speakers, Vox just need to wait patiently and you can have it done within a few days. Someone will come delivery them. End of story

“It’s you! Hahahaha! So it’s you all along!” Vox laughed, falling back down into the couch, “You win this! So you’re not bad at persuasion too.” He grinned, “Now I really like you.”

“Well, I still don’t like you.” You snarled.

“Playing hard to get, huh.” He waved his hand, “Sure, I’ll wait and see. If it’s not delivered in time, I’ll expect you to work for me.”

As quickly as you came to the bright studio that blinds your eyes, you left with Angel and Husk hand in hand just in case they tried something. The moment you were out of the building, Alastor reappeared and hugged the living daylights out of you, you returned the hug, melting into his hold

It was such a scary experience, but you know you got through it because Alastor was watching and listening all that time to support you

Alastor sent Husk and Angel back through the shadows to retell the message of a smooth negotiation and nothing else. They were to have the cover story of meeting you and Alastor on the way back and to pass the message along while the two of you enjoyed a stroll for the hardwork. Needless to say they agreed easily to that plan

You walked with Alastor arm in arm, leaning against him for a more physical support. You closed your eyes to rest a bit since it was way too bright in the studio and you trust Alastor enough to lead you on the right and safe path

Being the radio host he is, he talked and talked about anything and everything he could to fill the silence and give you the perfect voice to listen to. At the sight of Alastor, a number of demons left the area and stayed clear of him

Everything was very peaceful, just you and him strolling down the streets. It reminded the two of you during those days when you both were in your home area. You’d sometimes want to just stretch your legs and walk around. Alastor would accompany you to keep you safe

In the beginning, it was just you and your music while Alastor was busy with whatever bloody methods to keep the demons’ eyes off of you. Then you and Alastor made small talk so Alastor’s attention wasn’t on destroying some poor demon that was minding their own business. Turns out, that was one of moments that got you to see another side of Alastor

You smiled as you hugged onto Alastor’s arm, you felt Alastor’s miniature jerk before he relaxed again. You really wanted to tickle him, but you’ll save it for when you two are back behind closed doors to have more fun

“You! You in the giant stupid coat! Stop!” A voice shouted behind you and Alastor.

Alastor looked down to you, you nodded as you opened your eyes again. Alastor turned around, shielding you from the unknown demon’s sight. “What is it that you need from us?”

“I’m not talking to you, f**ker!” The demon exclaimed at Alastor, “Move aside or else.”

“Else?” Alastor’s head tilted to the side with his smile growing to a threatening grin, “Quite bold of you to assume you have a chance here.”

You peeked from behind Alastor, this demon was unfamiliar to you, not someone you messed with nor did you gather information on them for anything in discriminating. You wonder if you should let Alastor have at her since you already dealt with Vox today. But something bugged you with how desperate she was acting, very familiar. So you stepped out, “What is it?”

Her eyes seemingly light up and came over to you, gripping onto your shoulders tightly with that crazed look in her eyes. “You’re the one he wants. It was never me. Whatever he wants with you has nothing to do with me. It was all a lie. The contract, the flattery, the money, everything!”

“Huh?” You glanced over to Alastor with confusion, Alastor didn’t return the sentiment as he looked ready to rip the demon apart. “Uh, what do you mean?”

“I saw your powers over the pages, you’re the one he wants! I don’t know how we have similar powers, but yours is much more superior. Trade places with me, I’m begging! I can’t work for Vox!”

You backed up and slapped away her hands, retreating back to Alastor’s side. “Similar powers?”

You wondered if it was her, that friend of yours. You watched she continued to rant on about the benefits of working for Vox like she prepared to pitch it to a customer. This desperate plead was like her asking (demanding) that you continue writing that novel she stole so she can go publish it in her name

Do it in the name of friendship, she said. It started small, she asked for some tips to writing, it moved to asking for character reference sheets, then ideas on a sequel, last was your help to write the entire thing

She knew you have written it beforehand, she was aiming for that in the beginning. Again, she stole it while you were distracted with setting up a sleepover for her. You remember that empty look you had when you saw the barely closed front door, the pillow you were hugging fell from your grasp

The next week or so, the sequel to her (your) novel was out. Millions and billions of people flooded the bookshops, mass sell out signs for that book was taped to the display for the novel. She came back and praised you for a job well done, you hanged out with you and shared so much with you

All that time, you smiled and enjoyed the peace. Anything to help a friend, you innocently spoke. After all, she was there for you when you broke up with your boyfriend. She was your closest friend, things like these happen. See? She’s back at your side

She appeared on TV, she appeared on podcast, she appeared in interviews, she appeared in best selling author signing sessions, she appeared as a professor to teach young aspiring writers. She was everywhere. That was because the novel was everywhere, it was adatped into movies, TV shows, cartoon series, it has audiobooks and was references in a number of places

People loved your work. You were content with that. It was fine. As long as your friend is by your side. You can take it all. Yet you can’t help it when tears flow down your face in the dead of night. You hugged your pillow so tightly

It was all supposed to be yours, yet it wasn’t… You gave it all up to someone that’s not worthy of it

“See?” She threw a bunch of papers into the air from her side bag, with a snap of her fingers, the pages turned into paper daggers and flew around her at command. “If you can summon things, then you’re a such better fit! Please, come back with me to the V Tower and take my place.”

“Shut up.” You spoke, your hands unconsciously gripped onto Alastor’s wrist tightly that it could have snapped. Reacting to your obvious hatred, Alastor snapped his fingers and fires burn down the pages that she was so proud of. “Ha, I can’t believe you haven’t changed.”

She raised a brow, “What?”

You sighed, “Karolina, so you died, huh. Did you have a good life? Must be good as the famous author, right?”

Kat’s eyes widened, now it was her turn to back up, “No way… You can’t be serious…”

“Dearest, do you know her?” Alastor inquired with a cute head tilt, his ears moving along.

“Yeah, I know her.” You smiled, you know what will happen after your words because you know Alastor, “Meet Karoline, my former best friend while I was alive, but most importantly… The one that stole my precious writing.”

Note: Another one~ There's one more part to this and the involvement of Kat arc is done. I think I might end this series after that. The unanswered questions could be counted as trivia or extra mini moments. Cause I feel like this series is getting a bit too long. What do you guys think?

Circe Y.

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