#Mara's imagines

[justsomewritingblog]

Beating Malfoy

Request:  None

Requested By:  Nobody

Pairing:  Draco Malfoy x Ravenclaw!OC/reader

Summary:  A Ravenclaw is tired of being outdone by Draco

Warnings:  none?

A/N:  This was so fun to write!

Word Count:  6K+

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was the year.

I was not going to let a Ravenclaw be outdone by the likes of Draco Malfoy four years in a row.

Making my way to the Great Hall for breakfast, I sat down quickly, putting various breakfast items on my plate.

“What’s up with you this morning, Clarke?”

I looked up at the call of my surname.  “I’m doing it this year.”

Ivy raised an eyebrow as she sat down across from me.  “Doing what?”

I bit off a piece of toast.  “I’m going to beat Malfoy in Potions this year.  I don’t care if he is Snape’s favorite.”  I quickly downed some pumpkin juice to help me swallow the bread faster.

Ivy raised an eyebrow.  “Good luck.  You know Snivels is the most biased out of all the professors.”

“I know.”  I took another bite and picked up my glass, pointing my first finger at her with my hand still around the glass.  “But he also values intelligence and obedience.”  Taking a quick swig, I put the glass back on the table.  “Malfoy is only one of those things at a time.”

Ivy crossed her arms, resting them on the table.  “Frankly, I don’t know if he’s ever either,” she muttered, glancing over at the Slytherin table.

“What’s going on?”

Ivy and I looked up at the sound of the new voice.

The noise in the Great Hall rapidly increased, a large number of students pouring in, everyone just having gotten out of bed.

Ivy spoke up, talking just loudly enough that Drew could hear her over the chatter.  “Clarke here has decided she’s going to become Snape’s favorite student this year.”

Drew sat down on Ivy’s left, looking between us.  “She did, huh?”  At my nod he chuckled.  “Good luck with that.”

I narrowed my eyes slightly.  “I can do it.”

“Well, obviously you’re smarter than His Royal Brattiness, but I don’t think that matters to Snape,” Drew confessed, pouring himself a glass of pumpkin juice.

“We’ll see.”  I popped the last piece of toast in my mouth, wiping my hands together to clean off the crumbs.  “I’ll see you guys later.  I’m going to spend the rest of the breakfast period studying.”  Downing the remaining bit of my pumpkin juice, I stood, casting a quick glance to the platinum blond sitting at the Slytherin table before walking out of the Great Hall.

Not this year, Malfoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~

I hurried into the dungeon, my books clutched tightly to my chest.  Stopping outside of Snape’s classroom, I paused.  How early was too early?  Surely he wouldn’t scold me for being ten minutes early?

Taking a deep breath, I opened the door and stepped inside.  Looking around the classroom, I noticed that I was the only student here.  A feeling of horror overtook me when I saw Snape sitting at his desk at the front of the classroom.

His eyebrow was raised at me.

“You’re early, Miss Clarke,” he said, looking back down at whatever was on the desk in front of him.  “Is there a reason?”

I blinked, coming back into my senses as I hurried to my seat, placing the books I was carrying on my desk.  “I just wanted to do well this year, Professor.”

Snape didn’t look up from the parchment he was reading.  “Do you feel you have done unwell the last three years, Miss Clarke?”

I squirmed a little in my seat.  “No, sir.  But I know I can do better.”

His eyes raised to look at me, though his head hadn’t lifted.  Saying nothing, he looked back down at his notes.

A few beats of silence passed and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding before opening my books to where I left off.  I really didn’t want him to push me any further.

He didn’t need to know that I was trying to outdo his favorite student.

~~~~~~~~

“Can anyone tell me what Bezoar is used for?”

I was quick to raise my hand.

Snape turned to me.  “Miss Clarke.”

I lowered my hand.  “Bezoar is used in antidotes for the majority of poisons.”

Snape raised an eyebrow and turned away slightly before looking back at me.  “An example of an exception?”

“Basilisk venom, sir.”

The room broke out in whispers, no doubt the students recalling the events that overtook the school a couple years prior.

Snape raised his voice, drawing the attention of the students again.  He nodded his head ever so slightly at me before moving on.

My chest puffed out slightly and I turned to look at Malfoy who was seated a few desks away from me.  Waiting until he felt my eyes on him, I sent an arrogant smirk his way.

His eyebrow cocked briefly before his eyes narrowed.

I held his gaze for only a moment longer before looking back to the front.

I didn’t need my attention off the lesson for longer than necessary.

~~~~~~~~

“Hey, I was thinking we could hang out tonight,” Ivy suggested as she sat across from me at the dinner table.

“I can’t.”  I stabbed a piece of chicken.  “I’m studying tonight.”

Ivy rolled her eyes.  “You’re always studying.”  She gestured at herself.  “I want to do well, too, I’m a Ravenclaw, but you’ve left no time for anything social.  I feel like I haven’t seen you in months.”

“You’ve seen me,” I defended.

“Yeah, eating, in class, or in bed.”  Ivy gave me a deadpan expression.

“Sorry, Ive, but I’m so close to my goal.”  I swallowed some pumpkin juice.  “I just need-” I glanced towards the Slytherin table, trailing off when I saw Malfoy’s eyes already on me.

He was looking me over thoughtfully, his eyebrows furrowed.

I turned back to Ivy, eyes wide.  “ShoOT- what if he knows?  Rowena help me if he starts getting competitive and studying harder just to keep Snape’s favor, I swear-”

“Clarke, calm down.”  Ivy reached her hand out, placing it on the arm I had rested on the table.  “Malfoy doesn’t strike me as the studying type.  Besides, you were the one that threw him that look in Potions last week.  You basically challenged him, yourself.”

I released my hair with my other hand, remembering that Malfoy had been looking at me.  I needed to remain calm.

Even if it was just a front.

I couldn’t show weakness.

Clearing my throat, I sat up straighter.  “Well, you could do something with Drew.”

Ivy pulled her hand away from my arm, picking up her own fork.  “I have been.  But sometimes I’d like to just hang out with you,” she paused as she scooped up some peas, “or even the three of us.”

I looked at her, frowning.  “I’m really sorry.”

She nodded, not looking up from her plate.

My frown deepened.  “Hey, the weekend’s coming up.  I’ll take a break from studying and we can do something, alright?”

She lifted her head, meeting my eyes.  Giving me a small smile, she nodded.  “Alright.”

Satisfied that she was content, I stabbed my fork into some potatoes.  “Where is Drew, anyway?”

She nodded her head towards the Hufflepuff table.  “With Cedric Diggory.”

I cocked an eyebrow.  “Why?  He’s never spent time with Diggory before.”

“Because he’s one of the triwizard…quad-wizard champions.”

I nodded my head, remembering how Drew had said that he would’ve entered if he was old enough.  Raising my head to look over at the Hufflepuff table, I found Drew easily, being the only one at the table to be standing.

Cedric Diggory was looking up at him, a polite smile on his face.

I swallowed my food.  “I wonder what they’re saying.”

Ivy shrugged, looking over as well.  “Drew’s probably geeking out.”

I chuckled, looking over at Ivy only to see her gaze still fixed in their direction.  Raising my hand to hide my smile, I looked up at her.

She leaned the side of her head on her closed fist, her dark hair, while in a ponytail, nearly ending up in her plate.  Her gaze stayed unmoving.

When it became clear that she was lost in her thoughts, I spoke up to break the silence.

“Diggory’s cute,” I mentioned casually, looking up at her.  I fought the grin that wanted to take over my face.

Her eyes snapped over to me.  “You’d have to be blind to not notice that.  Everyone in the school thinks so.”  Her gaze drifted back to the Hufflepuff before looking back at me, though it seemed it took some effort.

“Too bad he has people around him wherever he goes.”  I smirked up at her.  “All you’d need is some alone time…”

She scowled, slapping my arm as her face turned a cherry red.  “Knock it off!”

I couldn’t even attempt to hide my laughter.  “I’m just saying…” I shrugged one shoulder, “he’s perfect for you.”

Ivy deadpanned at me, but I saw her expression shift slightly.  “Why don’t you go study or something?”

~~~~~~~~

With the weekend beginning the next day, I had crammed in as much studying time as possible.  Ivy’s reminder about the triwi- quad-wizard tournament had me recalling that Quidditch had been canceled, and I realized that Malfoy had even more time to study if he wanted to, which Ivy kept insisting he would never do.

It didn’t make me feel any better, though.

I sat in Potions, eagerly awaiting the next chance to answer a question.  I just had to be careful to not get overly excited and pretentious.

“Does anyone know the effects of drinking a Manegro potion?”  Snape turned to face the class.

I raised my hand.

“Miss Clarke.”

“The Manegro potion causes the drinker’s hair to rapidly grow.”  I lowered my hand.

“Correct again,” Snape said.

I thought I saw the corner of his mouth twitch just the slightest bit upwards before he quickly began speaking again.

Risking a glance at Malfoy, I saw him already looking at me, his forehead creased in thought.

I raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him before looking back towards the front, not giving myself the opportunity to have seen his response.

Before I knew it, class was over.

As I collected my things I stilled at the sound of my surname, looking up at Professor Snape.

I tried to ignore the way Malfoy’s packing had slowed.

“Might I have a word with you?”

Ivy gave me a look that told me that she wasn’t sure if this was good or bad.

I gave her a similar one before heading towards the front of the class.

Snape waited until all the students had left before looking at me.

I fought the urge to shift on my feet.

“I must admit that I’m impressed with your knowledge this year.”

I waited a few beats to make sure that he actually wanted a response before saying “thank you, Professor.”

“I thought you would be interested to know that you have moved to the top of the class,” he remarked, looking down at a parchment.

I forced myself to keep a neutral face, but couldn’t stop the swelling in my heart.  “Thank you, Professor.”

Snape raised an eyebrow at me.  “Have you given any thought in becoming a Potions Master?”

I blinked in surprise as I looked over at him.  “Professor?”

He didn’t say anything for a moment.  “You would do well in that career.”  He didn’t make eye contact with me, instead making a note of something.

I briefly wondered if it hurt him to give a compliment, much less to a non-Slytherin.  “Thank you, Professor.  I will give it some thought.”

He looked over at me again before nodding and turning back to what he was doing.

A few beats passed and I deduced that he had said all he wanted to.

Getting a face-splitting grin the moment I turned my back on him, I collected my things and hurried out the door, being in such a good mood I called “have a nice evening, Professor!” as I rushed out of the classroom.

I had to find Ivy.  I had to tell her I had done it.  I had bested-

A hand caught my elbow, spinning me back around.

-Draco Malfoy.

My grin faltered and my eyes widened as I looked up at the Slytherin.

His gray eyes were staring down at me, his lips pressed into a thin line and his eyebrows furrowed together.

I had only felt this small seconds ago; standing in front of Professor Snape.

“Malfoy,” I greeted with a false sense of calm.

“What game are you playing, Clarke?”

“Straight to the point, I see,” I remarked, raising an eyebrow.

His eyes narrowed and I forced myself not to swallow nervously.

“I’m not playing any game,” I insisted.  “I’m just trying to do well in class.  Isn’t that normal?”

“You were doing well the last three years,” he said, eyeing me suspiciously.  “You’re going above and beyond this year.”

I smiled- a fake and confident one- at him.  “Thank you for the compliment.”

“Clarke.”

“Is it too hard to believe I just want to be better?”

Malfoy raised an eyebrow.  “Better than who?”

I swallowed, but responded in what I hoped would be fast enough.  “Myself last year.”

He said nothing, instead just searching my eyes.  “You’re lying to me.”

“If you say so,” I replied, yanking my arm out of his hold.  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go find Ivy.”  Turning my back on him, I walked away, hoping he wouldn’t follow.

Thankfully, he didn’t.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I’ve done it!”  I exclaimed, sitting down across from Ivy and Drew.  I piled some food on my plate.  “Rowena, it feels so good.”

“Does that mean you can have a life again?”  Ivy raised an eyebrow at me.

“Yep.”  I grinned, spreading butter over my potatoes.  “As long as Malfoy doesn’t come for revenge, I should be fine.”  I pointed the knife at my friends.  “I’m going to keep studying, just not as hard.  I don’t want to slip from the top of the class.”

“Do you think Malfoy’s upset?”  Drew glanced over my shoulder before meeting my eyes.

“Well, he did corner me after class,” I admitted.  Furrowing my eyebrows, I looked up at him.  “Why?”

Drew nodded his head towards the Slytherin table.  “He keeps looking over here.”

I glanced behind me, only to meet the blond’s gaze.  Rolling my eyes, I faced my friends again.  “Annoying git.”

“Does he know?”  Ivy questioned, leaning forward.

“I hope not,” I confessed.  “Merlin knows I don’t need Malfoy having a vendetta against me.”

~~~~~~~~

“We are going to be splitting into teams to brew a potion,” Snape announced.

Ivy turned to me excitedly, grinning.

“Headmaster Dumbledore would like the houses mixed as a way to…” Snape raised an eyebrow and frowned, “overcome house differences.”  He lifted his head higher.  “Therefore, you cannot be on the same team with a member of your own house.  I will assign the potions once you have all chosen teams.”  He began to turn away.  “If you do not choose a teammate quickly, I will assign partners.”

As soon as he stopped talking, students began bustling around, not wanting to end up with someone they hated.

I stood on my tiptoes, trying to locate a Slytherin that didn’t look sour.

“Clarke.”

I whipped my head around, eyes landing on Draco Bloody Malfoy.

Cocking an eyebrow, I addressed him.  “Malfoy.”

He looked at me for a moment before leaning towards me, placing his hand on my desk so he could whisper without anyone else hearing.  “I’m not happy about this, either.  Let’s just do our best and get this over with.”

I held his gaze.  “I agree entirely.”

He stood up straighter, his eyes still on me and hand on the table for a few moments before he faced the front of the class again.

I let out a small sigh I had barely tried to hold in.

Rowena, this would be my luck.

Snape, realizing everyone was settled into teams, walked throughout the class, handing everyone papers.  “You all have different potions to prevent cheating,” he declared, making his way through the next row.  “This of course means that some are easier than others.”  He held out a sheet for me and Malfoy, which we both reached for and grabbed at the same time.

I glanced at him before looking down at the parchment.

“Everyone will be held to the same standards.”  Snape turned around to face the class once he handed out the last sheet.  “I will not tolerate laziness if you have an easier potion.  Is that understood?”

A murmur of acknowledgement swept through the whole class.

“Since some potions take longer to brew than others, these are due by the end of the month.  I’ve checked them- none should take any longer than that.  That means you will be forced to work outside of class if you have a longer brewing time.”  His gaze raked the classroom one last time.  “You may start your potions.”

My head shot down to look at the slip of parchment I- we- were holding.

Veritaserum.

My eyes widened.  From all the reading I had done about this, it was a difficult potion.

I couldn’t show weakness.

Not now.

Pulling out my large potions book, I flipped through it until I reached the right chapter.

Malfoy looked over my shoulder before wordlessly walking to the ingredient table.

Assuming Malfoy knew what he was doing- he was at the top of the class until recently, after all- I reached under the desk, pulled out a cauldron and poured the exact amount of potioning water into it before bringing it to a simmer.

I turned back to see if Malfoy had the ingredients only to be met with a chest.

I looked up, meeting his gray eyes.

He held out the vial of Ptolemy to me.

I accepted it wordlessly, turning back around and pouring the vial into the cauldron, making sure to pour it anti-clockwise.  “It says to let it simmer for ten minutes,” I said, not looking up from my book.

Malfoy walked around me, his arm brushing my shoulder as he took place by my side again.  He picked up a sand timer, turning it upside-down.

I looked over at him.  “We need ten ounces of powdered moonstone.”  My eyes dropped back to the recipe.  “It’s supposed to be stirred in one spoonful at a time.”

“Well, obviously.  It won’t dissolve otherwise.”

I looked over at Malfoy, watching as he measured ten ounces into a wooden bowl.  Once he was done, when it became clear he wasn’t going to do it himself, I put the top back on the bottle and returned it to the ingredient table.  Making my way back to the desk, I tied my hair into a ponytail as I approached my partner.

His back was to me as he stirred the cauldron, his head turned to the side as his eyes scanned the recipe.

Admittedly, seeing Malfoy hunched over something was odd, since he usually carried an air of such high importance.

I walked over, standing next to him as I pulled out a knife and adder’s fork, slicing the tongue in half.

When Malfoy had finished with the moonstone, I added the tongue halves and turned the cauldron to a boil.

As we worked in silence, I realized that Malfoy was indeed very bright, and if he spent half as much time studying as he spent bullying, he could be one of the smartest wizards in Hogwarts.  It left me with mixed feelings that I was glad he didn’t bother to study, since he would have been beating me still, and as a Ravenclaw I was not going to stand for that, but also that he could be so much more than he was.  He struck me as someone who always had things come easily to him, so he didn’t put in much more effort than that.

I must have been staring, because the confused look he gave me brought me out of my daze.

He gave me a bewildered, and somewhat judgemental, look before turning back to the potion.  “Are you going to help me or not, Clarke?”

“I didn’t think you ever needed help,”  I retorted as I moved closer, pulling the cauldron off the heat once I saw that it was at a rolling boil.  “You’re a Malfoy.”

“I don’t,” he replied sharply.  “Some people just think I do.”  Malfoy’s eyes lifted briefly to the front of the class before he crushed the three Sopophorous beans and added it to the mixture.

My gaze followed his, just in time to see Snape pull his attention away from us.  I raised an eyebrow as I looked back at the blond.

“Now it just needs to cool,” he said, looking at the book.  He plopped himself into the chair next to mine- Ivy’s- his arms crossed, resolutely not looking at me.

I gently lowered myself into my seat, staring at the cauldron, trying to will it to cool faster.

The silence stretched on and I pursed my lips.

Merlin, this was so awkward.

Pulling my book onto my lap to at least be doing something to occupy myself, I began reading over the recipe again.  Simply to fill the silence, I said “it takes twenty-eight days to mature.”

“I know.”

I glanced at him from the corner of my eye.

He still wasn’t looking at me.

I huffed.  I was never a fan of the Slytherin, but if we needed to keep checking up on the potion together, I would rather it not be the most uncomfortable thing ever.  I stared blankly at the page, pretending to read, but my head was swarming with possible topics of conversation.

Malfoy, on the other hand, seemed perfectly content to ignore me unless necessary.

Forcing a groan down, I looked over at him.  “Do you enjoy potions?”

He finally met my eyes.  He shrugged one shoulder before locking his gaze onto the cauldron.  “It’s fine.”

“Well, you’re good at it,” I reluctantly admitted, continuing to look at the side of his face.

His expression shifted ever so slightly, his gaze falling to his lap.  As if realizing his body language didn’t scream ‘confidence’, he straightened up, looking over at me.  “I know.”

I searched his eyes and he held my gaze, refusing to back down.

For a long moment we sat in silence as I tried to piece together…..anything.  I couldn’t think of anything to say, and I couldn’t even begin to understand the boy that sat next to me.

“There’s more to you than meets the eye,” I finally said quietly, more to myself than to Malfoy.

While his body language and expression stayed the same, something behind his eyes shifted.

I allowed myself to smile softly at him.

His gaze finally pulled from my eyes to glance at my smile.  His eyebrows furrowed in bewilderment before turning away and gesturing at the cauldron.  “This is probably done cooling.”

I chuckled, pushing myself to my feet.  “I’ll grab a strainer.”  Hurrying back, I held the strainer over a funnel into a vile as Malfoy poured the mixture from the cauldron into it.  “Alright, the recipe says to ‘leave bottle in a dark, cool, undisturbed location for the duration of the cycle’,” I read, closing the top of the vial.

“We could leave it down here,” Malfoy suggested.  He looked around the classroom.  “It’s got the right qualities.”

I nodded.  “Good idea.”  Glancing at him from the corner of my eye, I saw the tiniest hint of a smile form at the edge of his lips before he quickly wiped it away.

Malfoy extended his hand out.  “I could put it by my desk.  I sit by the wall, so it’s less likely to be disturbed.”

I looked up at him.  The idea of leaving my assignment in Malfoy’s hands- out of my own- didn’t sit well with me, especially knowing about the kinds of trouble Malfoy could get into.  But- I reasoned- this was a group assignment and he was clearly a capable potion maker.  I also, for some reason, wanted him to feel that I trusted him…even if it was under a little internal debate.  Nodding, I set the vial in his pale hand.  “Thanks.”

Malfoy walked away from me, returning to his desk to put the maturing potion somewhere.

I took a deep breath in an attempt to soothe my unease, and instead turned my attention to my book, which I closed and put away.

Snape, upon seeing that everyone was finished, at least for the time being, dismissed the class, reminding us to check up on our potions regularly.

Everyone flooded out of the dungeon, the Slytherins going one way, the members of my own house going the other.

I headed out, looking around for Ivy and Drew.  Finally spotting them, I began to make my way over.

“Clarke.”

I stopped, turning around and watching in surprise as Malfoy walked over to me.

Once in front of me, he paused.

I held back a chuckle, guessing that he probably hadn’t thought this far ahead.

How very Gryffindor of him.

Within a few beats he spoke.  “How often do you think we should check our potion?”

I blinked in surprise at him.  “Well, the book doesn’t give a recommendation.  We could probably check it a couple times a week and be in good shape,” I said, shrugging one shoulder.

He nodded, looking at the side wall.  “Alright.”  He let his gaze fall to me again.  “See you later, Clarke.”  With that, he marched away.

I stared at his retreating form, more than a little taken aback.

“What was that about?”  Ivy questioned as she approached me, Drew on her tail.

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

~~~~~~~~~

“What potions did you guys get?”

“I got a memory potion,” Ivy informed, leaning back on one of the couches in the common room.

“Mine’s a replenishing potion,” Drew said.

“What about you,” Ivy questioned.

“Veritaserum,” I replied.

Their eyes widened.

“That’s a hard potion,” Ivy remarked.

“It wasn’t too bad,” I admitted.  “Malfoy’s a capable potion maker, so-”

“Oh, yeah, I saw he was your partner,” Drew commented, frowning slightly.  “How’s that been?”

I shrugged.  “Uhh.”  My nose scrunched slightly as I thought.  “It’s awkward, but he hasn’t been mean or anything.”

“Wow.”  Ivy stared over at me.  “That’s unexpected.”

“Well, he did approach her, so…” Drew reminded.  He grinned over at me.  “Maybe he’s got a crush on you.”

Ivy laughed.

“I doubt it,” I responded.  “The impression I got was that Snape recommended he team with me.”  I couldn’t help the smirk that formed on my face.  “He’s probably upset that the top in his class isn’t a Slytherin.”

“That makes sense.”

Drew pointed a finger at me.  “He approached you after class got out, too.”

“He was asking about the potion,” I defended.

Drew scoffed.  “Yeah, as if he couldn’t look it up, himself.”

~~~~~~~~~

Malfoy and I had come to the decision that only one of us needed to check on the potion at a time, and would only get the other if something went wrong.  That way we weren’t wasting time.

I had started checking on the potion during my free period, since Snape’s lessons were running longer as the school year went on, giving me less time to get to my following class, and- therefore- not enough time to check the mixture.

Thankfully my free period happened to be Snape’s free period, as well.

Walking into the empty classroom, I followed the familiar path to Malfoy’s desk and- by extension- my assignment.

I crouched down, eyes fixed on the potion.

The swirling of the liquid was the same as it had been the first two weeks- eleven days, technically- but I still wrote it down on my notepad.

It was always good to be careful.

“Clarke?  What are you doing here?”

I turned around at the sound of the voice, looking over to Malfoy as he approached me.  “Checking on the potion.  It’s my turn.”

“You must be losing your memory, Clarke.  You checked on the potion last time.”

I shook my head.  “No.  Not unless you skipped your turn.”  I raised an eyebrow at him.  “I check Fridays, you check Tuesdays.”  I turned back to the mixture before looking back at the boy.  “Did you forget?”

Malfoy didn’t say anything.

I stared up at him, awaiting his response.

“This is your free period, isn’t it, Clarke?”

I had not been expecting that.

“Yes.”  I eyed him suspiciously.  “But I know it’s not yours.  That’s why we set our schedule up this way.”

Malfoy stared down at me, as if trying to figure out what to say next.  “I already told Professor Flitwick I wasn’t feeling well.”

After a few beats of silence I pressed him for answers.  “And?”

“And what?”

“Are you sick?”  I quickly scanned his form.  “You don’t look sick.”

He reluctantly shook his head.

“So you lied to my head of house,” I accused, crossing my arms.

“I would’ve rather lied to Professor Sprout, but I don’t have her until later.”

“Were you just trying to get out of classes?”

His eyes fell to mine, having previously been locked onto the wall behind my head.  “Not exactly.”

I stared up at him, trying to figure out what on earth his deal was.  I was certain he could see the gears turning.

Malfoy cleared his throat.  “Since I can’t go back to Charms, would you like to do something?”

Before I could understand the full weight of what Malfoy said, I blurted out “I would like to take some points away from you for lying to a Professor just to get out of class.”

Malfoy eyed me warily.

 I sighed.  “But since I’m not a prefect, I can’t do that.”  Shaking my head incredulously, I raised an eyebrow.  “What did you have in mind?”

~~~~~~~~

After the day Malfoy had skipped class to just talk in Snape’s classroom, he had taken to visiting me every free period of mine, if only for a few minutes because I told him if he missed Professor Flitwick’s classes repeatedly, I was going to hex him.

I was certain only Merlin knew why Malfoy was so desperate to see me, no matter how nonchalant he acted.

My friends on the other hand were convinced they knew why.

I didn’t believe them.

I sat in Snape’s classroom, looking over the potion, writing down the lack of change in its color or behavior.  I chewed on the inside of my cheek as I wrote ‘day 25/28’ on the top of the parchment.  I didn’t even look up when I heard the door open, instead offering a “hey, Malfoy.”

“No change, I expect,” he replied, walking over to the mixture and crouching down beside me.

I shook my head, looking over at him.  “I’m pretty sure that’s normal, though.  If I remember correctly, the book said it’ll only change when we put it in the moonlight on our last day,” I said, reaching in my bag for my book.

“Don’t bother,” Malfoy said, looking over at me.  “I trust you.”

I stared at him in disbelief before clearing my throat and standing.  “Thank you.”

Malfoy stood as well, nearly half a head taller than me.  “You did memorize the whole book, didn’t you, Clarke?”

I shrugged one shoulder, fighting off a proud grin.  “Pretty much.”

Malfoy smiled down at me and it took all of my self-control to not shuffle under it.  He had become more relaxed around me, but it was still an odd sight.  “Then there’s nothing to worry about.”

My face flushed slightly at the praise and my gaze dropped to my shoes before I whipped my head back up to look him in the eyes.  I cleared my throat.  “Don’t you have class, Draco?”

He cocked an eyebrow, an amused smirk pulling at his lips before he looked back to the door.  “I do.  I’ll see you in class on Monday, alright?”

I nodded before shrugging one shoulder.  “I mean, you’ll probably see me before that, but…”

He looked at me for a moment before he nodded, turning and exiting the classroom.

I stared at his back until he was out of sight.

Rowena, what was happening to me?

~~~~~~~~~~

Heading into the Great Hall the next day, I greeted my friends with a wave and large smile.

“What’s got you so happy,” Ivy questioned as I sat down at the table.

“One: it’s the weekend,” I started, pouring some cereal into a bowl, “two: I’m excited to finish my potion on Monday.”

“I’m torn on if I want you to do well or not,” Drew admitted, frowning.  “If you do well, that means Malfoy will do well, too.”

“Draco’s not that bad,” I admitted, looking over at the Slytherin table.

The blond was smiling at something someone said, head turned to the side to look at them.  His gaze flickered to me then, his smile growing slightly.

I offered a grin in return before turning back to my friends.

They were both staring at me incredulously.

My eyes widened and my smile fell.  “What?”

“What in Merlin’s name was that about,” Ivy hissed, leaning across the table towards me.

“What was what?”  I asked, leaning back and suddenly feeling very uncomfortable.

“Are you pals with Malfoy, now?”  Drew questioned.

I glanced back at the Slytherin table very briefly.  “I guess?”

Their mouths dropped open.

“You can’t be serious.”

I shrugged.  “He’s a nice guy.  No Prince Charming, of course, but-”

“Prince Privileged is more like it,” Drew said, crossing his arms and leaning back as far as he could without going over the bench backwards.

“I know he’s had a fancy upbringing and has been a bit of a bully, but he’s not like that-”

Ivy leaned forward.  “Are you hearing yourself?”

“When was the last time you saw him bully a student,” I pressed, raising an eyebrow.

“He bullied Potter and Professor Moody turned him into a weasel.”

“How long ago was that?”

“I don’t know.”  She shrugged.  “A month or two?”

“So.”  I leaned back in my seat.  “He stopped.”

Drew let out a humorless chuckle.  “Professor Moody probably scared him into being nicer.”

I sighed.  “Whatever.”  Standing, I made my way out of the Great Hall, heading towards my common room.  If they weren’t going to listen, I wasn’t going to bother.

“Clarke!”

I closed my eyes, slowing my steps before turning around to face the voice.  “Hey, Draco.”

He slowed his jog and stopped in front of me, his eyebrows furrowed.  “Is something wrong?”

I pursed my lips, looking away from him.  “I just had an argument with my friends, that’s all.”

“About what?”

I looked up into Draco’s eyes, surprised to see concern in them.  I opened my mouth, pausing.  I let out a huff and lowered my head, looking at my shoes.  “You.”

A few beats of silence passed.

“What did you say,” Draco asked, so quietly I barely heard it.

I looked back up at him.

He looked mostly impassive, but I could see the worry behind it.

“You’re not that bad,” I answered honestly.  “They just don’t see it.”

Draco looked to the side, nodding.

I could see that the tension had left his form.

Draco looked back to me.  “Join me for a walk.”

I nodded almost instantly, walking alongside him as he moved towards the same direction I was previously heading.

We walked in comfortable silence for a few moments before he broke it.

“Thank you.”

I looked over at him.  “For what?”

Draco didn’t look at me.  “For trusting me.  For defending me.  For spending time with me.”

I smiled.  “I enjoy it.”

His head turned towards me, surprise coloring his features.

“Besides…” I went on, grinning mischievously up at him, “it’s nice to find some intelligence and good conversation in the students here.”

~~~~~~~~

Draco and I rushed towards the dungeon, entering the empty classroom.  Grabbing the vial, we sped-walked back upstairs, being careful to not jostle our potion.  We walked towards a window, the bright moonlight shining through.

I looked up at the full moon, smiling nervously as I turned to Draco.  “Here it goes.”  I placed the vial in the moon’s rays, watching.

For several moments, nothing happened.

I knew it would take some time for the mixture to absorb the light, but I was starting to get slightly concerned.

The potion began to shift colors, becoming clear.  When it was done, I stepped towards it, opening the lid and smelling it.

There was no smell.

Giving the potion one final lookover I turned to Draco, grinning brightly at him as I put the lid back on.  “We did it!”  I pulled him into a hug, wrapping my arms around his neck.

Draco let out a small huff at my sudden weight against his chest before wrapping his arms around me.  “It still has to be graded,” he reminded.

I pulled away, looking down at the mixture before lifting my gaze to Draco.  “I’m confident.”

“Then let’s go turn it in, then.”

Draco and I made our way back into the dungeon, entering Snape’s classroom.

He was sitting at his desk, grading some of the other students’ potions.

Draco and I stood at the front silently for a few moments.

“Professor,” Draco finally called out.

Snape lifted his head.

I held out the vial.  “We just finished our assignment, Professor.”

Snape looked at the potion before accepting it.  He lowered his focus back down at the paper he was writing on.  “It will be graded by tomorrow’s class.”

~~~~~~~~~

“Everyone get together with their teams so that I may pass out your results,” Snape droned.

Ivy stepped away from me, quietly wishing me “good luck”.

“You, too,” I whispered back as Draco slid into Ivy’s seat.  I turned to greet him with a smile, which he returned.

As Snape walked through the classroom, handing out grades, I pulled at my robes.

Rowena, this was so stressful.

Draco eyed me with a smirk.  “You’re going to tear it,” he whispered.

“Sorry,” I muttered, relaxing my hold.

He chuckled just as Snape approached my desk.

I accepted the folded parchment and Snape moved on.  Staring down at the empty side, Draco leaned over to whisper once again.

“Are you going to open it or not?”

“I can’t do it.”  I shoved it into his hands.  “You look.”

Draco accepted the paper, smirking over at me as he began to open it.  “I thought you were confident?”

I deadpanned at him.  “A moment of weakness.”  I nodded at the paper.  “Now hurry up.”

He opened the page and looked down at it before looking back at me.  “I told you we didn’t need to worry,” he said, sliding the parchment towards me.

I looked down at the paper, a grin growing on my face.  “Full marks!”

Snape cleared his throat and I slapped my hand over my mouth, eyes wide.  He raised an eyebrow at me before continuing to pass out grades.

I turned back to the blond beside me, who was giving me a smug smirk.

“Now that you all have your results…” Snape began, returning to the front of the classroom.

I looked back to the Professor, unable to smother my smile.

“...are free to go.  I will see you all in class tomorrow,” Snape dismissed.

Everyone shot up, collecting their things.

I shoved my books into my bag.  “I can’t believe it!”  I looked up at Draco.  “It feels like a huge weight has been lifted from my chest.”

“I’m not surprised,” he said as we moved towards the door.

I looked back at the doorway as I maneuvered through people, seeing a few Slytherins and members of my own house conversing.

“As much as I hate to admit it, you are a bright witch.”

I looked up at Draco.  “Thank you.  You’re pretty bright, yourself.”

Draco smiled.  “That’s why we make such a good team.”

I nodded, continuing to walk down the hallway towards the stairs.  “We are, aren’t we?”

There were a few beats of silence before Draco spoke up again.

“Care to make it official?”

I stopped, forcing him to stop as well.  Turning to him, I furrowed my eyebrows.  “What?”

Draco chuckled.  “And here I was saying that you were bright.  Maybe it would be best if I showed you.”

I cocked an eyebrow.

He leaned down slowly and my heart began to race.  His lips pressed to mine and my eyes closed without me telling them to.  Draco pulled away after a few moments, smirking down at me.  “Does that clear it up?”

I nodded, feeling the burning in my cheeks.

“Is that a ‘yes’, then?”

I nodded again, still too flustered to say anything.

He grinned, beginning to walk again, me wordlessly in tow.  “I’m glad Professor Snape told me to pair with you for our assignment.  Your competitive streak was the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n: This one absolutely ran away with me. It's 26 pages in Google Docs.

[thefrsers]

#hes so dad coded

[raekensluver]

ᴅᴀʏ 𝟶𝟶𝟷 — ᴘʀᴀɪsᴇ ᴋɪɴᴋ

kinktober day 001 | spencer reid x fem!reader

contains: nsfw 18+, no use of y/n, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, creampie, praise kink, porn without plot.

word count: 700+

kinktober masterlist | main masterlist

spencer's hands gripped your hips, guiding you into a rhythm that felt like a dance you'd practiced for years. every thrust was met with a soft gasp from your lips, each one a silent plea for more. "you're so beautiful," he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. the words were a caress, a warm embrace that filled you with a pride that was almost too much to handle. your chest swelled with each compliment, and you felt yourself getting wetter, your body eager to hear his praise.

"you're so eager for me," he teased, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. the way he spoke to you was a dance of power and submission, a delicate balance that had you panting with need. his thumb traced circles on your clit, and you bucked your hips against him, seeking relief from the ache that was building. "you want it, don't you?" he asked, his tone playful but edged with dominance. "tell me."

you looked into his eyes, your own burning with lust and need. "yes," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. "i want it, spencer." the words were like a confession, a declaration that you were his to take. and he took it, his smile growing wider as he thrust into you with more force, his thumb pressing down harder on your sensitive nub. your body responded immediately, the pressure building until you thought you might break apart.

"good girl," he breathed, his voice thick with desire. the praise sent a bolt of electricity through your body, making you arch your back and moan. you leaned into his touch, craving the way he made you feel so cherished. his praise was a drug, and you were eager for your next hit. "you're taking me so well," he whispered, and you bit your bottom lip, your eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment before snapping open to meet his gaze again. the power in those two simple words was undeniable, a command that turned you into putty in his hands.

with every stroke, spencer's eyes seemed to devour you, as if he couldn't believe how lucky he was to be inside of you. "so wet for me," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. his thumb found your clit again, and he began to rub it in a slow, deliberate circle. the pressure built and grew, your breath coming in gasps that matched the rhythm of his thrusts. "you're so responsive," he said, his voice filled with wonder. "it's like you were made for me."

his praise was a symphony that played in your head, each note striking a chord of pleasure that resonated deep within you. you felt your orgasm approaching like a crescendo, and your muscles tightened around him as you neared the peak. "spencer," you gasped, his name a plea that seemed to hang in the air. his eyes darkened, and his grip on your hips tightened as he drove into you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

his thumb never ceased its torturous dance on your clit, and his cock filled you completely, hitting just the right spot with every stroke. "are you going to cum for me, baby?" he cooed, his voice a sweet temptation that made your core clench with anticipation. you nodded, unable to form coherent words, your eyes locked on his as if he was your lifeline in the tumultuous sea of pleasure.

and then it happened. your orgasm crashed over you like a wave, a powerful force that had you screaming his name. your body tightened around him, your nails digging into his back as spasms of pure bliss ripped through you. spencer watched with awe as your face contorted in ecstasy, his eyes never leaving yours. "good girl," he murmured, his praise a gentle caress that only amplified the intensity of your climax. "you're so perfect, so beautiful when you cum."

his own release followed shortly after, his cock pulsing inside of you as he reached his peak. with a groan, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. the taste of victory washed over him as he filled you up, his body trembling with the effort. for a moment, the world seemed to stop, the only sounds in the room the frantic beat of your hearts and the soft, satisfied sighs that escaped your lips.

kintober taglist: @multi-fandom-imagine, @imamexican, @majaduzejaja, @moony-artemis, @emma-e-a, @agoodgirlsguidetomakingmencry @indigoangel77, @froyofreya, @weirdothatwritess

[k2ntoss]

I need more baby daddy Jason. Maybe sitting at the park watching him with ur kids and hearing the other moms ogling over him

yall dangerously feeding my brain rot and it's giving me a baby fever i do not wish to feed !!!!!!!!!!! but whoever says baby daddy jason you have my heart rn bc i adore that man!!!!!!!!!!!

by the end of the week it was already time for your kids to go out and have a pretty day at the park, jason had been really busy lately so you took the stroller and placed your babygirl on it before calling your boy, living copy of jason when he was a kid and you couldn't want it any other way because both of your babies had those pretty emerald eyes you so adored.

the way to the park was easy, those two kids had a way to be pretty little angels when it came to go out to the park and you loved that because jason would usually catch up with you sometimes when the work was too much and today was one of those days. your little boy was six and your little girl four, which made it a bit hard to have him playing around and keeping an eye on your babygirl but as soon as jason joined you it was time for the girl to also leave your arms.

jason has been an amazing dad, always making sure his kids and girl were just fine, that they had everything they could ever need and want and it was easy to see in the way the little girl giggles loudly when he sweeps her out of your arms and walks to the playground while you sit, keeping an eye on your son and it's easy to hear the small group of moms muttering and giggling close to where you're sitting.

"do you think he's single? maybe divorced... he just came and picked up the girl from her arms" one of the women says and you roll your eyes because you know how damn well jason looks and how easy it is for him to trigger a baby fever in anyone but the small pang of possessiveness and jealousy that stirs in your chest is there.

"he didn't kissed her, i bet she is the kids' mom but they're not together... i should try and get his number," oh, over your damn dead body anyone would even dare to try and getting jason's number but you know better so you sit, looking at your family with a fond smile because now your two kids are held by jason.

you look at him and you can tell he's been working out more recently because he seems fitter, a little less of that dad body he had gotten since your second child was born and you loved how he looked, broad and muscly but there was a little tummy that only made you drool even more for the father of your kids.

you had to endure the comments and ogling from that group of moms for at least half an hour until you decided you had enough. walking over the place where jason was playing with the kids you stood close, looking at him with a smile when he lifted his head to glance at you and the glint on his eyes made you heart flutter, he picked up the kids on his arms and strode towards you with the widest smile ever amd without saying anything else he leaned in to press a tender kiss on your lips.

"hey there, ma," he whispered still close to your face "i missed you..." the words never fail to make your whole body shudder as you stand in front of the love of your life because that's what jason was, flaws and everything he was everything you could ever want.

"missed you too, jaybird... mind if we take the kids for ice cream?" you ask with a soft tone and it's easy for him to notice what's going on when you don't even pull away but stand even closer while looking up at him like a lovestruck teen again.

that's when jason gently places your girl in the stroller and wraps his free arm around your waist before he peppers a few kisses on your neck earning a chuckle from you and a soft 'yuck' from your boy's lips.

"daddy! stop kissing mommy! let's go for ice cream" and the childish protest makes jason smirk, knowing now he had yet to deal with a whole bunch of spoiled babies instead of just you but he wouldn't have it any other way and like that, with his arm still around your waist jason makes the way to get ice cream and you can satisfiedly feel the disappointment in the group of moms that were shamelessly planing to hit on jason.

[captain-flint]

can't stop thinking about the "hen wants us to hang around and sign [denny's] cast" because all i see is tommy standing in the back of the hospital room, just happy to be there, while everyone signs denny's cast, but he doesn't make a move to do the same bc he's a stranger to denny and it doesn't really feel right (yet). it's a bittersweet moment for him and he gets a little lost in his head about it until the sudden quiet in the room snaps him out of it. everyone's eyes are on him, and denny, with a smile on his face, is waving a sharpie in his direction, asking for his signature too. tommy looks confused at first, then surprised and a little bit scared that someone might react as he looks quickly from one member of the 118 to another.. and then his eyes land on hen, she smiles and nods her head towards denny's cast like 'go on then'

[dolene]

Could you do SMAU for Fernando Alonso with wife baker!reader? She would always bring something with her every time she went to the paddock. So, everyone was looking forward to it when shes gonna grave them with her presence. Nando would always fight for her attention with everyone. The Internet also loves her very much indeed. Something fluff and maybe a little suggestive 👀You decide how it goes. Thanks!! :))

﹙𝒮weetest pie : fernando alonso x reader﹚

she certainly steals the attention of the people around her, especially when everyone likes her new brand that she just introduced recently. but what's wrong if a certain person fights for her attention more when they also begs for hers over time?

yourusername

liked by iamrebeccad and 858,613 others

yourusername Introducing Sonreír. 10/10/24

view all 2,602 comments

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yourusername

liked by astonmartinf1 and 638,101 others

yourusername Are you alerted yet?

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fernandoalo_oficial Second ✌️🫤

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on twitter...

sonreir

liked by enchante and 21,730 others

sonreir Wild and Bewildered. Now available at sonreir.com

view all 127 comments

yourusername Wild and Bewildered bag is available now ❤️💋

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fernandoalo_oficial Sure i'll be buying, sweetheart

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username okay, easy with the caps now

sonreircafe added a photo to their story!

sonreircafe · 17h

alo.png (private)

liked by alex_albon and 258 others

alo.png I might kiss those lips if she kept teasing me with it...

show all 56 comments

alex_albon Whoa

mickschumacher Didn't expect this to even happen but I mean... What am I even expecting 🤷‍♂️

lance.stroll I thought this side of you were only a gossip

lilymhe Easy, she isn't going anywhere

fernandoalo_oficial Just for you ❤️❤️ ＠yourusername

charles_leclerc Get a room!

fernandoalo_oficial Don't worry, we will

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estebanocon Don't be embarrassed, Y/n. This is a rare thing to see

pierregasly stfu

estebanocon WHAT DID I DO TO YOU????

[yourlocalsmutwriter]

Okay - I see your Sex accidents and raise you “sex sent me to the ER” featuring formula 1 drivers !

Anon, I love your brain. I had to endure so much of the terrible editing choices of the show for these drables, but worth it.

Nsfw under the cut, namely mentions of : penis and genital injuries, riding, fingering, handjobs, overall accidents during intercourse, I mean it's sex sent me to the er

Charles Leclerc - It was your first time attending the Monza GP and the atmosphere was electric. As a Tifosi, there was a surge of something in the air. And you could see everything unfold from the comfort of Charles' garage. Your boyfriend's performance was crucial, the track being filled with fans, their cheers practically making the ground shake under you. Saturday ended with a P4 in qualifying. Because of your location, there was no way that you could leave the hotel, aside from going to the track. You'd usually stay in Charles' motorhome, yet this time, you were on strict no sex orders from Maranello. You were mortified that all his bosses were that superstitious about his race. Truth was, Charles could pull through and show everyone a phenomenal drive. Now it was up to the engineers and strategist to help him make the right call. Lap 40 rolls around and Oscar's lead gets taken from him as he pits. Now the crowd favourite leads. The camera pans to you, there's a serene shot of you looking like the Maddona. Your eyes are razor sharp on the screen, filled with anxiety? Hope? Love? Pride. No one's sure. But there's so much want in them. The pit wall buzzes around you. Next few laps go in a blur, quite literally. By lap 50, you're counting down along with everyone. The fans, they're cheering for him now. Louder and louder, ear drum splitting. You're not necessarily a pious person, yet you pray. It doesn't take a lip reader to distinguish the pleas that fall from your mouth. 3 laps now. 2. 1. And the chequered flag is being waved. David Croft tells everyone that Charles Leclerc has won the Italian Grand Prix. You scream, along with your beloved, whose shouts of Si reach your ears. Tifosi and Ferrari team surround you from all sides. You let Charles enjoy his moment. Right now, he wasn't yours, he was theirs, king of Monza. Your time would come too. When he winks to you from the top step of the podium, you make a decision. Tonight, he would feel like a winner.

Charles' celebrations end with you, in the penthouse suite you had been upgraded to after his victory. Your boyfriend and you feel like newlyweds. There's even a cheesy Madonna song playing in the background. Like a prayer, well prayers is exactly what you will need after tonight, you think. The two of you are both naked, basically after the first kiss. Truth be told, you were always like hormonal virgins around each other. Insatiable. So you were straddling your winner on the soft plush bed. Reaching in for the box of condoms the hotel somehow snuck in there. Tifosi, you think. They wouldn't want your Charles to suddenly pull a Sebastian Vettel. Ignoring for a moment the weirdness,of it all, you reach for your boyfriend's dick.

You roll the condom on, and straddle Charles.

"You just sit back and relax." You tell him, after all winners get their prizes. You underestimate his size. Usually you love the slow stretch that he gives you, allowing you to get used to his girth. But now it's just too much, too big. You can barely get past the tip. And usually your boyfriend is nothing but patient. In fact, he's no stranger to cockwarming you, taking his pleasure in watching you squirm and beg against him. But tonight he's impatient. Maybe it's the delayed adrenaline from the race. Maybe it's the champagne that was like ambrosia for his throat. But tonight Charles Leclerc wants to be ridden like never before. So he thrusts up, bouncing you a little, bullying his cock into your pussy. And by your pleas for more, he does it again, this time more aggressively. His hips against yours, the way you're squeezing against him, it's too much. He can't bust in just a few minutes though, he is no two pump chump. So he pulls out almost completely and changes his angle. With a pop sound, he's in excruciating pain and his boner is gone. You roll away from him, frantically putting on your clothes as he's saying variants of "it hurts, it's broken and hospital now.".

Daniel Ricciardo - Danny wasn't the type of person who boasts. Flashing his money around just wasn't his style. But what he loved to do was a good celebration of success. That's why you were in a western themed bar in New York, freezing in a cowgirl outfit in December. His friends were there, encouraging you to take a shot to warm up, sweetheart. And he was the life of the surprise party.

You sprint to the reception and ask them to call an ambulance. You're not ashamed to use your boyfriend's celebrity status as you ask them to hurry. You don't care that this is straight from a sex sent me to the ER episode. You then take your fucked out and fucked up partner downstairs to wait. You're a wreck, crying, a little bit amused but overall terrified. How does one explain a dick injury? Would that affect his driving? Would Ferrari have to pull out their reserve because Charles wanted to ride you faster. This in combination with your nonexistent Italian was not a good match. The doctors give your boyfriend some anesthesia in the ambulance so he's out cold. You can't really explain to them what happened so you're banished to the waiting room. And there you find 3 out of the 4 guys dressed as Ferrari priests. They explain that the last one got alcohol poisoning and that's why they're here. Seeing you fine and recognizing you as Charles' WAG they immediately put two and two together. All you can say about their hero is "it's fractured, he was in so much pain, I don't know how he is now." They stay with you, offering to help with the language barrier. Somehow the staff agrees and all of you are in the room as your boyfriend's sleeping soundly, a bunch of machines hooked to him. One of the guy's starts talking to the doctor and the other two are praying? For Charles. With no other option, you join them. You know what they say about Italy. The two religions are catholicism and Ferrari.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

He had enough on his plate planning the pop-up, so someone from the Shopify team organized this. What they failed to consider was just how much of an entertainer your boyfriend is. The bar was open all night, and Daniel, bless his soul, felt bad for the workers. So it was onto the two of you to get the place into a shape close to what you found it before the opening crew was there.

Daniel somehow managed to sniff out the hidden Redbulls, and you got to work. Sticky floors were mopped, a dishwasher was loaded, and overall, it was looking okay. You were by the mechanical bull, scrubbing the contraption down. Allegedly, someone was letting out suspicious noises while riding it last night, and that was a visual you weren't trying to think about. Apparently, you were the only one because the sight of you bent over was affecting your partner.

"Wanna go for a spin on it? Have some fun after I roped you in this whole cleaning thing?" Your partner asks, coming up behind you. You agree, and he's hoisting you up, hands lingering on your thighs just a little longer than necessary. He gets behind you, the bull wobbling a little under the collective weight. Daniel doesn't care. Instead, he's kissing your neck, saying

"Sorry, I got too caught up in this. I know you probably wanted to leave and go to bed. Promise I'll make it up to you. How are you, having a headache?" You're a bit surprised at his sudden question, half expecting for him to make you get off and pop a Tylenol. But even as you say yes, he just replies with

"Luckily for you, I know a great cure." and sneaks a hand towards your leotard, moving it to the side.

"I mean, really darling, this outfit, I don't know how I was behaving all night. When all I wanted was to take you to the bathroom and make you suck me off. Have you sitting on your knees so prettily as people wonder where we disappeared off to." His fingers go from rubbing your clit slowly and teasingly, to picking up speed with every sentence. He doesn't miss how wet you're getting, how you're biting your lip to stifle your moans. He continued.

"Thank God you didn't wanna ride this earlier, because I don't think I could've resisted you. Had to bend you over right between the horns and fuck you right in front of all our friends. Make them see how well you take what I give you, how you'd hump me and beg for more.". Daniel then slips two fingers inside of you, enjoying how you're already riding them. So why not give you both a bit of a faster ride?

His shoe presses the button for the mechanical bull and the machine whirls to life. But as soon as it starts, he feels a zap right where his fingers are, fucking you. You double over in pain as he scrambles to turn the thing off. He succeeds and immediately calls an ambulance, asking for help. He just prays that his boner's gone before the paramedics arrive.

At least that happens, but the people know who he is. Nothing could compare to hearing "I'm a big fan of yours." from a girl as she was between your legs, examining your vagina. Worst of all was your boyfriend signing the bottom of a piece of paper saying "electrical burns to the pelvic region and genital area.". Danny's rings and bracelets were metal, in combination with your wetness, it was a great electrical conductor. That's how you ended up shocked.

"I'm sorry, honey. For the hurt and the embarrassment." He says, guilty that he remained unscathed and you were in pain.

"You're paying the hospital bill, Ricciardo." is all you can say through your painkiller haze.

Lewis Hamilton - your relationship with 7 time world champion Lewis Hamilton wasn't exactly something either of you were boasting about. Which led to you two sneaking around like teenagers. Climbing through a ground floor window, however, proves to be a bit more of a handful than expected. Lewis rolled onto your soft carpet with a thud. He was scratched by the bushes outside, deep red hashes lining his tattooed arms. Despite chastising you about not wanting to just lie and go out to a little discreet hotel, he's under you in a minute. You love being on top of him, thighs wrapped around him, in control. You're needy, grinding against him while you're both still clothed. You run your nails against his arms, just like he loves. But you forgot about his injuries. Lewis Hamilton is apparently very sensitive to pain and, despite his own opinion, has the same reflexes he had 10 years ago. He fucking flinches and literally throws you off him. Your body hits the headboard, ironically head first. Your saliva has a metallic taste and you can see fear on Lewis' face. Your front teeth are gone.

"Shocker." He says and laughs his trademark laugh as you tell him there's no way in hell he's rubbing the prescribed ointment on you now or ever.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Fratboy! Lando Norris - Sports marketing students like you were passionate about certain things. For most, it was football, basketball, or other endeavors of the sort. For you, it was Formula 1. That's why you were standing in the corner of the sports bar, head to toe in Redbull merch. Even your makeup matched the team colors, with little hearts painted on your cheeks. And next to you was frat rat Lando Norris. Your mortal enemy. An insufferable man whose terrible taste in women was overshadowed by his terrible taste in F1 drivers. He was a McLaren supporter. The Brit constantly liked to brag that he used to kart and was still streaming with Max Fewtrell , who wasn't even the best Max on the grid. Truth was that when you each heard that the other one was a Max fan, you were ecstatic. May have led to a drink makeout session. But as soon as he asked for his jagerbombs to be mixed with Monster, you realized your mistake. So from then on, you loved fighting about whose team was better. The Max squared title war was in full bloom. And apparently, Lando thought that painting himself orange would help his friend.

"Thuck you, get me to the ER." You say.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

"Tangerine suits you." You say as the studio's in session. You're not particularly excited about what the commentators have to say, so you try to undermine Lando.

"It's papaya, and you know it." He replies.

"I know a lot of things. Like that after Brazil you can not say anything." You counter, talking about Verstappen’s phenomenal drive in the rain. But Lando wasn't letting up.

"And who won the sprint yesterday?"

"Rightfully, Oscar Piastri." Papaya rules was one of his sore spots. But actual second drivers were yours. So he asks

"And how many times did random cars out qualify Checo? I mean, really, a Sauber?”

Maybe it's the free shots. Maybe it's the bar getting fuller and fuller, forcing you to get physically closer to Lando. Maybe it's the fact that he's wearing a papaya crop top, and you can see that the body paint is indeed on the majority of his body. But as the red flag stops the race, the two of you are in a bathroom, testing the endurance of the sink countertop. Lando's lips are on your neck, and your hands are between his legs. You don't care that he's already stained your shirt, after all, Dutch orange also worked. But there was no way in hell you were letting him near your pussy. Hell no to that UTI, thank you very much. So you're subjected to his dirty talk as you keep stroking him. You slide your thumb over the head and it comes out sticky and orange?

"Lando, what the fuck, did you eat cheetos and jerk off before this or what?". He's freaking out as you show him more of the orange precum and you have to play the Dutch national anthem to get him soft enough to actually go to the campus doctor. You're scared that you're gonna be patient zero of a new STD called the “Norris” until they clear him. Turns out that for him to get into CHI DELTA whatever he was, they had to paddle his bare ass. And drunk college boys were not really known for their accuracy, so he took some hits to the balls too. Which then caused his sperms to mix with the body paint. He'd be clear in a month, but no sex or masturbation before that.

"See you on winter break, Lando. In 4 weeks. Speaking of 4, guess who's getting their 4th.." you can't finish your sentence because he hurls a hospital pillow at your head.

[baeshijima]

mmm thoughts of private executioner!blade, who is high priestess!kafka's bodyguard. well, more like her guard dog, as many fearfully seem to think.

he is aloof and gruff and rough around the edges, his name capturing it perfectly. when in the eyes of the public he either keeps to himself or stands ready by kafka's side, but when out he lurks in the shadows ready and waiting to carry out her death orders.

you, yourself, haven't had very many pleasant encounters with him... if you can even call them that. that being said, you haven't had many pleasant encounters with anyone. notorious for your... less than pleasant disposition, for a lack of better words, you have more people who'd rather see you run through than those you can call a friend.

in a dog-eat-dog world, you had no choice but to protect yourself. that, however, ultimately became your demise.

"oh? so you're the one sent to kill me. can't say i'm all that surprised."

standing before you is the feared executioner. his sword is tucked inside the sheath attached to his hip, that ever-present dark swirl of an aura stifling the air. he doesn't say anything, instead opting to silently stare down at your slumped and worn-out form. you find that his gaze doesn't bother you; rather, it's oddly comforting knowing someone will see you in your last moments.

"i've never asked you for a favour before, so this will be my first and last request for you." in all honesty, you're not sure where this chattiness stems from. considering you're currently in a holding cell under the crime of attempted murder towards kafka (a poisoned wine you were most definitely framed for, though you can't say you were surprised) and are awaiting for your turn to be under the guillotine for your public execution, you probably should be a little desperate towards the private executioner in front of you.

and yet, your mind is nothing if not peaceful.

with a huff, you relay your request, "can you make sure it's quick? painless, preferably, but i'd rather you just get it over and done with."

silence blankets the cold chambers. moisture accumulated along the cobble ceiling drip in a steady rhythm, like a clock ticking away the seconds. it's unnerving, almost, how there is not a single sound other than your impending countdown.

"why?" comes his low mutter, effectively causing a ripple within the stagnant air. you almost think you misheard him, but his following words cease the thought, "why won't you ask me for help?"

had it not been for the abrupt shuffle and clanging against the metal bars, you would have never looked up to see him in your last moments.

his scarred hands gripping the metal until his knuckles turn a ghastly white and blood dripping from his palms is what greets your sight. as your gaze slowly trails up, you almost let loose a laugh of disbelief; who would have thought blade, the infamous guard dog of the high priestess, could make such a desperate expression? one looking as though his whole world crumbled before him, in which he can do nothing but sit and watch.

(you will never know of the anger and desperation which coursed through his veins the moment he heard of your predicament. had it been anyone else, he wouldn't have cared. but you're not anyone else; you're you — unapologetically, wholeheartedly. it didn't take him long to hunt down those behind it, cutting them down without thought and putting an end to their miserable lives. he rushed as soon as he could when kafka gave him the order, no thoughts other than you, you, you, occupying his mind.

you will never know of the anguish which overcame him when he found you in such a state, your once healthy complexion and defiant gaze reduced to nothing but a tiredness which had always sat quietly behind your disposition. he's almost positive the muscle which unwillingly keeps him alive tore at the seams from your request, the acceptance in which you displayed causing his mind to go astray. even as he damn-near begs you to rely on him for help — to run away with him to some place no one knows of you and start anew there — you merely smile, resigned and peaceful.

you will never know of how much blade is willing to put on the line for you, for you never made it to see the complete and utter carnage he wrecked in your name.)

[caramara3]

Just Friends...? [1]

a Damian Priest x Reader Amani Cove fic

Summary: After a drunken night out, WWE Superstars and estranged friends Amani Cove and Damian Priest wake up to find themselves naked in bed together with no recollection of what happened the night before. They both choose to go on pretending as if nothing ever happened, but soon find out it’s easier said than done, especially when the lines of friendship begin to blur around them…

Warnings: plot, slow burn, angst, language, mature sexual content 18+, ofc, fluff, semi-friends to lovers

Word Count: 2.5k

**Partially Edited and Proofread**

**Interactive**

Notes: Thank y'all so much for reading!! Leave a comment, heart, share, and enjoy the ride!!!

Italic writing signifies an inside thought.

The Playlist | Meet Amani Cove | Amani’s tattoos | Meet the Cast

Chapter 1: The Morning

~Morning after Backlash Puerto Rico~

“Uugh… oww.”

You groaned softly and shifted your body, regretting that decision almost immediately. It’s not like being a wrestler for nearly two decades now, you weren’t used to a little soreness and tension after a match, especially one as rough as last night’s Last Woman Standing match against your current and all-time favorite feud partner/bestie Bayley. 

But Lord was this a different kind of sore. 

Every single muscle in your body felt like they had been stabbed with the tiniest needle ever created while also being set on fire. Your back felt like you’d been thrown through plexiglass over a dozen times. In your mind you made a mental note to have your chiropractor send Bales his thanks for keeping him in business.

“Ow… oww… argh, ow!”

You winced at each small movement as you opened your eyes only to be met with a soft but heavy material. You began to pull it from over your head and was immediately met with the morning sun shining its insanely bright ass through the hotel window.

“Ah, oh God! Absolutely not!”

You grimaced and pulled the material back over your face, sinking deeper and deeper into the fluffy fortress as you waited for the throbbing pain in your head to subside. 

Great, you thought to yourself. Sore and hungover: the perfect combination. 

You laid your head flat against the mattress as you tried to remember the events of last night. But as you did everything felt like a jumbled and confusing blur. Tequila is an evil bitch from the depths of hell…

You remembered leaving the arena and catching a ride back to the hotel with Zelina as well as getting ready with her to go out for the night to celebrate. You remembered spending way too long trying to find the perfect look, something that screamed "newly single and looking for revenge" before Zelina pulled out a khaki little cutout number from your suitcase that screamed "freak'em dress."

You remembered pre-gaming with Zel and the guys from LwO downstairs at the hotel bar before catching a cab into the city. You remembered, though you wish you didn't, the phone call on the way to the club with your lying, cheating bastard of an EX-fiancé Marcus Frost and informing him that he had 3 days to clear his things out of your home before you had the locks changed.

Fuck you Marcus…

You remembered getting to the club late and having shots immediately pushed in your face by Bianca, the mere thought making your stomach queasy. You remembered being pulled onto the dancefloor by Cruz and Carlito. Or wait, maybe it was Carmelo. Or was it Santos? Maybe Knight?? You remembered when your best friend Rhea Ripley finally showed up along with the other members of The Judgment Day. More shots. You remembered kicking your shoes off somewhere on the dancefloor because the DJ was on one, playing banger after banger. Was this when Finn was dancing with you?? But wait, was this before or after Sami kept stepping on your foot while you tried to teach him how to salsa?

More shots. You danced atop the bar with Samantha, Bianca, & Zelina like some bad Coyote Ugly remake and damn near slipped off. More shots. You got cheered on in the ladies room by your girls and others as they recorded you flushing your engagement ring down the toilet. Again, fuck you Marcus. More dancing. Even more shots. There was some random local who reeked of cheap tequila that kept grinding on you on the dancefloor and trying to cop a feel, you remembered that. You also remembered him getting snatched up by both Damian Priest and Finn Balor.

And after that happened you remembered... pulling Damian onto the dancefloor and dancing with him? Why the hell would you do that?

Or was it some other outrageously tall good-looking guy who resembled a younger Undertaker but Puerto Rican and from the Bronx…? 

Even more dancing. 

Shots. Shots. Shots. 

Ugh, god why did I keep letting Rhea feed me all those damn shots? I swear I’m gonna kill her next time I see her. But how did I get back to the hotel?  

Suddenly a flash of a memory appeared through the blurry fog of your mind. Lights. You remembered lights, streaks of gold and white hues racing past you. Was this from the time when you were in the cab? You wrapped yourself in the memory, hoping more would come back.

Touch. You remembered hands; rough and calloused with the softest touch brushing against your skin and pulling you onto their lap. Their touch traveling up from your neck down your open back before resting on your bottom, kneading your ass firmly. Caressing your skin as if it had been made of silk.

Taste. You could still taste his lips on yours. You felt as they traveled up your neck to your earlobe, nibbling on that tender spot that made you weak in the knees. Brushing against your shoulder, along your collarbone, between the valley of your breasts, softly biting your nipple, trailing down your stomach… the action sending vibrations up and down your body.

Sound. A deep and foreboding voice in your ear, whispering the dirtiest things you could ever imagine, you softly moaning against his chest as his fingers… his fingers…

“Ugh.”

Just like that the memory is gone, leaving you even more frustrated but also turned on. What and who did this to you? You groan softly and go to rub your temples, a wave of nausea washing over you as the after effects of your night out begin to hit you for the first time since waking up. You couldn't remember the last time you’d gotten this drunk. Yes you could, two years ago during the weekend that Marcus proposed. He had booked this gorgeous resort in Barbados for the two of you with a private pool overlooking the beach. The night he'd asked you, the two of you had gotten so drunk you ended up running down to the beach, stripping down to nothing but your bra and panties, jumped into the ocean & then the two of you…

Your eyes widened instantly at the thought, your heart drop down to your stomach.

Oh. Oh god no… Amani Jade please tell me you didn’t…

That nausea from earlier began to creep up once again. You knew you had to look, but you didn’t want to. After a few moments, several deep breaths, and inner monologue pep talks, you psych yourself up just enough to do it. You released a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and slowly lifted the comforter and gazed down at your body.

Fuck. Me.

It was bad enough that you were as naked as the day you came into the world, but from the look of things, whatever you got into last you had a pretty good time doing it. Your eyes moved down your body, navigated by the trail of small purple marks decorating your lower half. There was one just above your collarbone and one dead center between the valley of your breasts, thankfully blending into your sternum tattoo. One hiding just under your left nipple, two on your stomach, two or three up the side of your hip bone just near your tattoo, and several scattered along your inner thighs.

Shit, shit, shit. What the fuck Ani? You’ve only been newly single for all of three days and this is how you decide to celebrate? By getting shit faced and letting some random dick cover you in hickies?!?!

You ignored your body practically screaming for you to be still and move into a seated position in the bed, hand raised to shield you from any amount of sunlight creeping in. A soft hiss left your mouth as your bare back pressed against the cold wooden headboard. On sheer instinct you grabbed the sheet from the bed and pulled it up to cover your body. 

Oh, now we wanna be modest. It’s a little too late for that don’t you think?

You looked over to your left, expecting to find your phone on the nightstand charging, alongside your iPad with the light purple leather cover and your glasses. But your phone’s not there, neither is your purple leather covered iPad or your glasses.

Oh no. No no no no...

You looked around the room, a quiet gasp leaves your mouth upon the realization: this was not your room. 

In fairness, after spending nearly two decades on the road there gets a point where all the hotels room you've stayed in all begin to blend together. But no matter what you were always, ALWAYS, able to tell which was your room and which wasn’t. And this was NOT your room. None of your things were here. Your gym bag with your backup ring gear for last night wasn’t laid out on the couch near the window. Your laptop wasn’t sitting open on the desk just as you had left it before leaving. There was no makeup or various hair products stretched out along the top of dresser, and your lavender carry-on and backpack wasn't not tucked away in the corner by the settee. 

This wasn’t your room. It was the same hotel, but a completely different room. What you did notice was your purse, your dress and your heels from last night alongside a very large set of men’s clothes creating a trail starting at the door and led towards the foot of the bed.  

You also couldn’t help but notice that there were not one… 

not two… 

BUT THREE shiny, reflective, and OPEN gold foil packets tossed along the ground and nightstand.

Three? Goddamn Ani… I mean, at least you were safe right? That has to count for something… right?  

You groaned and brought your knees up to your chest, placing your head atop them as you tried yet again to remember what happened last night.

Come on Ani, I need you to think. What exactly happened from leaving the club to getting back to the hotel that got you here? How did you get back? Who did you ride with?? Please tell me he was at least hot and very well-endowed. 

Stadium. Club. Dancing. Shots. Bye bye ring… blank space.

Stadium. Club. Dancing. Shots. Bye bye ring… nothing.

Stadium. Club. Dancing. Shots. Bye bye ring… nada.

“Ugh. This is a nightmare.”

This wasn’t like you, you were not this kind of girl. Sure, you had a couple hookups here and there in your early twenties, but you outgrew that! You were a grown-up now, and grown-ups don't do nothing so crazy that you can’t remember it the next day! And they especially don’t hook up with random strangers while technically on a goddamn work trip!! 

Through all the emotional and mental chaos currently going on in your mind, you felt a sense of heaviness across your pelvis. For the first time since waking up you noticed the very large, very muscular, and very tatted arm stretched across your stomach. The sound of soft snores filled the once quiet room, like a faint rasp blending seamlessly with the stillness of the moment. You took a breath, held it, and slowly turned your head to the left. You couldn't see a face, rather a large figure sleeping peacefully, engulfed in the warmth of the hotel linen. 

You went to move your hand to remove the blanket, a low grumble stopped you dead in your tracks. The body under the blanket suddenly shifted and turned over on their side, their back now completely facing you, and settled after a few seconds. You froze and waited for a few seconds for the sound of soft breathing to know they were still asleep. You hadn’t the slightest idea what you would say to if he were. It had been a long time since you’d had a one-night stand and weren’t really sure if the rules were still the same. 

Do you start with a “hi” or “Good Morning random dude?” Do you thank Mr. Random Dick for the sex? Could you possibly try and sneak out before they wake up?? Like, what was the standard practice and protocol here??

Once you were absolutely sure he was asleep you gripped the blanket and slowly pulled it away, revealing your mystery dick and his giant back. You gasped loudly and practically jumped up off the bed and right onto the plush carpeted floor, landing hard on your ass with a heavy thud.

“Ah, son of a bitch!” you shrieked, wincing at the pain of the impact.

You ignored the immediate pain and sprung up to peek over the bed, your eyes peering over the edge of the mattress as Mr. Random Dick on the bed started to wake up. He groaned and moaned, stretching his body out as if he’d just been awoken from a long deep hibernation. You couldn’t move, all you could do was sit there like a weirdo, buck naked on the carpet watching him. He sat up and stretched yet again, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. You watched as every single muscle on his back spasmed and flexed from the movement.

But your eyes were fixated on just one thing: his back. His back had looked like he’d gone ten rounds with a mountain lion and lost. Indents in the shape of crescents decorated the back of his shoulders while the sides of his back were painted in streaks of pink and red. Some welts looked like the result of being hit with something multiple times, others looked like the result of fingernails being dragged down his skin. But your eyes couldn't help but keep going to the giant piece of art that was etched into the center of his back.

From afar someone could easily mistake it as just a standard skull tattoo, but up close it revealed something more. The skull made way for the inside art, resembling that of a dark grim reaper.

You’ve seen that grim reaper before. Many times in fact.

I mean why wouldn’t you? After all, the two of you worked together.

And up until about ten months ago, you had considered him to be one of your closest and dearest friends.

His eyes began to open and you quickly ducked your head back down, pressing your back to the carpet and covering your face with your hands like that would actually hide you in this moment.

This was a joke. This had to be a joke.

Some sick, twisted, perverted version of a prank that the universe was playing on you. Of all the men in the world you could have slept with, all the random dick being slung around desperately begging to be some woman's drunken mistake... why did your drunken mistake have to be with him?!?!

The room had gone a little too quiet for your liking so you peeked through your fingers, gasping as his head emerged from over the edge of bed to look down at you. His dark brown eyes widened in shock at you lying on the floor of his room; naked, disheveled, and covered in purple marks. 

“Oh my god-,” he trailed off, the panic and exhaustion seeping to the surface. His voice cracked slightly, the usual confidence he exhumed nowhere to be found.

“Amani?”

You tried to avoid his gaze, but couldn't look anywhere but his eyes. You slowly released the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding all this time, your voice soft and slightly shaky as you spoke.

“Hey Damian.” 

Tag List:

@beibigirl124 @bonni-98 @bossbitch-22 @queencherryberry @blueblazezz @mzv11 @theworldofotps @eringobragh420 @babiidee28 @jstarr86 @madhatterbri @southerngirl41 @abadbitchblogs @retro-rezz-the-est @shamaness11 @damiansgoodgirll @rootedinrevisions @thedeboniardevistation @lavitabella87 @kultklassickiller @chaneajoyyy @yana3sworld @writinglionqueen @gold--gucciempress @sassymox @msbigredmachine @terrortwinunicorn @cookiebelle @flawlessglamazon @wrestlingbabe @adriennegabriella @joy-of-life88 @daniiwrites @glitterquadricorn @lorena26 @ambreignsfan4life @jazzy-tzw @emjayewrites @ramp-it-up @mauvecherie-writes @trippinsorrows @simplymyself29 @beas-mind @disc0fairy @wrestlingprincess80 @misskukinz95

@joannasteez @hotmessexpressssss @queenofthearchitect @queenoftheworldisdead @msnikkimoneypenny @ms-wwe @skyesthebomb @chaneajoyyy

[justsomewritingblog]

Unrequited Love (Part 2)

Request:  None

Requested By:  Nobody

Pairing:  Adrian/Cat Noir x reader (unreciprocated)

Summary:  Y/n gets to know people.

Warnings:  None?  Jealousy?

A/N:  Repost!

Word Count:  1K+

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was lunch period, and everyone had taken their seats.  Y/n was sitting in the corner, with her empty lunch tray sitting on the table before her.  She was sketching some more.  Y/n let out a huff, drawing (wink wink) a blank.

She stared down at the page before her, hoping it held answers.  She heard a throat clear.

“Mind if I sit here?”

She didn’t look up, figuring the voice was talking to someone else.  The voice tried again.

“Y/n?  Right?”

Her head shot up and her e/c orbs stared into green ones.  She placed a hand on her chest in question.  “You’re talking to me?”

The boy laughed.  “Of course.”

Her face burned as she moved her things, making room for the friendly man.  He took a seat, and began to eat as she stared at him in shock.  His eyes darted to hers.

“I-I’m sorry.”  She apologized.  “It’s just that…..nobody wants to talk to me usually.”

The boy gave her a sad smile.

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t look very inviting….I guess.”  She added with a shrug.  The boy smiled.

“They’ll never know if they don’t give it a chance.”  He advised.  She smiled at his kind words.  He stuck out his hand.

“I’m Adrien.”

Y/n smiled, taking his hand in hers.

“Yes, I know.  I’m Y/n.”

Adrien smiled back as well.  “I know.”

“Well, I know that you know.  I was introduced in class.”  She countered.  Adrien smiled.

“Nice ring, by the way.”  She complimented.  His eyes widened a little bit.

“Thank you.  Are you new around here?”  He asked, trying to change the conversation.

“Kind of.  I’ve been here a month or so, trying different schools.”

“That must suck.”

“It does.  But it’s alright.  Seeing as I don’t talk to people, I don’t get attached, so it doesn’t bother me.”

Adrien frowned, resisting the urge to say something.  Y/n became nervous, and started fiddling with her pencil.  Adrien’s eyes glanced down, seeing movement, and noticed the sketch she was working on.  He smiled, seeing a conversation.

“You like to draw?”

Y/n looked up.  “Yeah.  There’s something bugging me about this piece, though.”  She turned the sketchpad towards him, and he observed it.

There was a building, with a few in the backdrop.  There was an open window with music notes floating into the air.  A small tree sat in the small yard, enclosed with a gate.

“Okay, what’s bothering you?”  He asked.

“Well, I can’t figure out what instrument I want being played, and by whom.”  She clarified.  Adrien nodded, understanding.

“What instruments do you like?”  He inquired, trying to be helpful.

“I like the piano.  It’s one of the nicest sounding ones.”  She paused.  “That’s how I feel, anyway.”

Adrien smiled.  “I get it.  I play the piano.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.  Do you play any instruments?”

Y/n shook her head.  “No.  I tried the piano for like, a month before quitting.”

“You quit?”

She nodded.

“Why?”

“To be perfectly honest, I can’t recall.”  She confessed, pinching her eyebrows together.  Adrien smiled.

“Well, I think you’re a very good artist.”

Y/n felt her cheeks burn as she bowed her head, hiding behind her curtain of hair.

“Thank you.”  She mumbled.  Adrien smiled at the shyness.

“If you want……I could try to teach you how to play the piano….if you’ll teach me how to draw.”  He offered.  Y/n’s head shot up, eyes wide, and a surprised expression on her face.

“Really?  You’d do that?  For me?”

He nodded.

“But why?  You don’t know me.”  She defended.

“I want to.”  He countered, sticking out his hand.

“What do ya say, friend?”

Y/n had never smiled so wide in her entire life.  She took his hand and gave it a firm shake.

“Friend.”  She repeated.

~Meanwhile~

Marinette groaned.

“Marinette, chill out.  He’s being friendly to the new girl.  Isn’t that partly why you admire him so much?”  Alya asked.  Marinette groaned again.

“I hate it when you’re right.”  She mumbled into her arms, folded onto the table.  Alya smiled, shaking her head.

“But what if he falls in love with her?  That means he won’t fall in love with me, which means I’ll be heartbroken.  I’ll grow up all alone, with no three kids, no hamster, and probably become a crazy-cat-lady, or a hermit.  I’ll die old, and alone, with no one there for me.  I think I may faint!”  Marinette managed to get out in a single breath.

“Girl, you have to relax.  You remember that Miss Bustier told us to try to get to know her, right?”

“Yeah.  So?”

“Soo.  When Adrien leaves, go talk to her.  Try to get some information, if you’re that worried.  Although, frankly I don’t see the point.”

“Easy for you to say.  At least you have Nino.”  She looked back over at Adrien and Y/n.  They were smiling, and chatting.  Marinette buried her head in her arms.

“It’s over.  I’m through.”  She muttered, hopelessly.  Alya rolled her eyes and shoved Marinette over.  Marinette stumbled forward, nearly reaching the table.  She would have made it, if not for the seating design.  She tripped over a chair, falling to the ground in an uncomfortable position.  Y/n and Adrien turned, upon hearing the ruckus.  They quickly stood to their feet, rushing toward the clumsy girl.  They both extended a hand, ready to help her stand.  The girl looked up.  Her eyes widened as they locked onto Adrien’s.  Her eyes spaced out slightly, making her look like she was in a daze.  Y/n noticed this and frowned, retracting her hand slightly.

“Marinette?”  Adrien asked, trying to get her attention.  Oh, he had it alright.

“Y-y-yes?”  She answered.

“You okay?”  He inquired.  She nodded hastily, taking his hand and helping herself up.  Y/n looked at her own ignored hand and retracted it, resting it down by her side.  Marinette and Adrien looked at each other for a moment.  Though to Y/n, it felt like an eternity.  She quirked an eyebrow, sick of this already.  Suddenly a girl jogged over.  She wore glasses, and had dark brown hair, that turned red farther down.

“You alright, girl?”  She asked Marinette.  The girl in question made a noise that Y/n wasn’t even sure was English.  The boy that sat next to Adrien this morning ran over as well.

“Dude, you alright?”  He asked.  Marinette seemed to have found her voice.

“Yes.  Thanks, Nino.”  She responded.  Noticing that everything was under control, Y/n backed up a couple steps, stuffed her things into her bag, returned her empty tray, and left.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n:  Repost!

[raekensluver]

ᴍʏ ᴡʜɪᴛᴇ ʙᴏʏ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏɴᴛʜ — ᴀᴜɢᴜsᴛ ᴇᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴ

sᴘᴇɴᴄᴇʀ ʀᴇɪᴅ (ᴍᴀᴛᴛʜᴇᴡ ɢʀᴇʏ ɢᴜʙʟᴇʀ)

[k2ntoss]

jason todd isn't the man to have couch sex, he's a brickwall of a man so how do you expect him to fit properly on a couch to fuck you senseless? he needs space to grab and grope you effortlessly, which means he has to be able to move freely around and he can't do it on a couch unless he has you riding him. jason todd is a bed sex guy, thanks for coming to my ted talk !!!!!!!

[yourlocalsmutwriter]

notarialno zavereni angst, danny ric or whoever u want

American law - Daniel Ricciardo x reader

You didn't know what was worse - getting your marriage annulled only a year after or the flight there. In your entire life you had only been to Vegas once. And now you have to do it all over again. Your divorce could have been an email, you think as you board the Amsterdam to LAX airplane. At least Daniel was already in America, you think bitterly. Of course he didn't care enough to stay with you, putting as much distance as possible between you. The little voice in your head tells you that he would definitely make a paddock cameo. Or a surprise appearance at the Enchanté popup. A man of the people, new and improved. Showing everyone that after the official end of your marriage, he was free. He could try all the girls now or drive a 100 cars. Even if lately you'd seen snapshots of him on two wheels.

Truth be told, he looked like he was doing better. Yet you knew him best. He was packing his schedule with events, sponsorships, and new merch drops for a reason. If he was on the move constantly, he didn't have time to think about your breakup. Meanwhile, you had been drowning your sorrows in D3 wine bottles. The last time you tasted that was on your faithful wedding night. Vegas GP 2023, you would always be famous. Since the queue for passport control was longer than the text chain between you and your now ex, you could reminisce about better times. Times where the world consisted of just you and Daniel.

There was nothing more dangerous than a charming man with lots of class. Unfortunately your beloved couldn't really exude that now. Daniel was wearing a sparkly jacket over his race suit.

"Snazzy, isn't it. Think we can get your glitter and some glue sticks and make you a matching one? New Enchanté drop?" Daniel jokes, motioning to the sparkly eye makeup he saw you in. He loved how excited about this you were, despite this being your upteenth GP. You'd been his grid good luck charm, ever since you started dating in 2018. Usually you'd be in for one or two European races, but there was no way you would miss the last few races, especially considering that you skipped out on attending a chunk of this season. You ignore the horrible memories from the Dutch hospital where they tried to give your boyfriend an aspirin for his broken arm.

"If you touch my primer tonight, you are not leaving Vegas in one piece." You joke and plant a kiss on his lips. "Your quali's about to start, lemme take this." You shrug on the eyesore jacket. The black and bold RICCIARDO letters pop against the blue sequins. Danny chuckles. He thinks how good his last name sounds with your first one. He got the idea way back when he was filming the grill the grid videos. When the admin asked who was most likely to get married in the little chapel in Vegas, he threw Charles under the bus. But the truth was, it was himself. Daniel had the ring ready, planning to take you on a late night track walk and propose there. Maybe it was the smell of weed in the air. Maybe it was the plethora of cheesy Vegas movies you two had binged the night before. But one thing was apparent. Daniel Ricciardo was getting married in Sin City.

He presses you into a bone crushing hug before dashing to his car. Despite there being a garage of people who also rooted for him. Despite the roar of the crowds, both here and at home. You're the one that cheers on the loudest. The most loyal supporter. Truly, you loved him the most.

You were snapped back from the thoughts by a government official asking for your passport and boarding pass. They take in the number 3 driver cap you had to pull to the side. Your last name intrigues them, too.

"Huh, what a coincidence that you're a Daniel fan and you have the same last name." They note. Clearly they were not versed in the gossip that came hand in hand with their sport. That was better, you thought. You weren't ready to be excluded from the WAG list.

"Yeah, funny. I'm actually going to the race, so maybe it'll get a few chuckles in the fan zone." You reply. In your mind you rotate the idea of having to change all your documents now. After this weekend you wouldn't be a Ricciardo anymore. Plain old you. That's why you hadn't bought a return ticket yet. It would feel almost fake to travel under Daniel's name.

With some time to spare, you grab a few packs of stroopwaffels and water for the flight. Your eyes scan the shelves and notice you grabbed your ex's favorite brand by force of habit. Nothing said "Fuck you for leaving me after we tied the knot" like a syrup baked good. What was an appropriate thing to even say? You debated asking your friends. They'd probably give you some jab about how you're the one keeping your dignity, even though he had been the one turning bitter near the end. Even though you'd laugh at their "give him money for a Moët, since he wasn't getting champagne podiums" line, you wouldn't believe it. Nothing could help you. Nothing could change the fact that this trip was going to hurt.

This first Vegas weekend was hurting. The Alpha Tauri wasn't a rocket ship. It was a submarine, sinking. Danny had somehow finessed a mini stroll for the two of you after he qualified in P14. He was blowing off media duties, ignoring the pen of journalists that wanted to know his thoughts. He had only 4 words in his brain. "Will you marry me?" looped around his head. The ring was now loose in his gloves, the fireproof pocket being too obvious. He took your hand and spun you around on the Vegas street. The sphere was changing. He was convincing you that there was something great on it coming soon, making you not take your eyes off it as he turned his back to you and retied his shoes.

He asks you to turn around and help him up cause he's got a cramp. You're mid bad joke about how he's blowing your back out so good and the car is blowing his when your mind registers what's happening. Daniel is on one knee, a shining ring in his hand.

" I want the only VIP on my table to be the view of you. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. Better than any win. You've been with me through the highs and lows of my career. I want you to be there when I retire in like 10 years and then forever. Will you make me the luckiest person in this city by marrying me?" He asks. You say yes, through tears in your eyes.

"Good, because the pavement was killing my knees. This thing gets hot." He jokes as he slides the ring on your finger. He kisses you and you swear it's like the first one. You slide your hand in his as he tells you about the ring, the engravings inside.

"You know, I never told you this, but I always wanted to get married in Vegas. Other girls probably wanted a grand ceremony filled with family and friends. My practical ass wanted in and out." You say, admiring the golden band.

"I mean, the chapel is open 24 hours. Elvis impersonator and all. It would be refreshing for them to get someone sober. Should we do it?" Daniel asks.

"You're crazy. You have a race tomorrow. People will tear you to shreds for focusing on me instead." You reason. Daniel's life was neatly sliced in two. Driving and not driving. And the biting comments from fans and Helmut were nothing new. Danny had a bad weekend? Your fault. You were a distraction. Which didn't make any sense. Max was world champion and he had Kelly. What people didn't see was that you loved your boyfriend so madly. Keeping each other sane through the online scrutiny. Covering for each other in front of paparazzi. Even things like keeping a balanced diet. Perhaps you were the best thing that happened to Daniel. But for you, it was beyond the shadow of a doubt. You wondered how you had survived your life before him. At least now he was yours forever.

"Come on. You're my lucky charm. If anything, you make me a better driver. I'm faster when I think that afterwards I'm coming home to you. So, let's make the gossip pages go wild." He says, not ready for the night to end. You give in, only interjecting with a

"Fine, fine but we cannot even have a lick of....."

"Champagne, please." You ask the stewardess.

"I'm sorry, but we don't serve alcohol yet, it's an early flight. I can get you sparkling water if you'd like." She offers, the picture of professionalism.

"That would be great, thank you." You say.

A hangover was not a good idea. Apparently you were the only sensible one. You paid for the in flight wifi solely to be able to communicate with Daniel. He was picking you up from the airport, so you wanted to update him. But the reply you got from him was unusual. The Instagram voice memos he gave you sounded something like this: “I'm drunk and I've been staring at my hands for an hour. I wanna remember what it was like to have you in them.”. His voice is slurred. He's reckless. So are you.

“Enjoying the night I see. Did you find a girl who's gonna erase me? Did you find a love that's gonna kill mine?”. He replies instantly with a “I found her, it's the one asking me stupid questions.”. Daniel means you, and he doubles down. “You're not mine anymore, but I don't want anyone touching you.” you cringe at his jealous streak. Maybe it was the first warning sign you missed. You know you should stop reminiscing about your wedding day. Yet……

You two are the smiliest couple in line to get married. Truly, someone could count Danny's teeth to pass the time. There's a wonderful old lady that's telling her entire life story to you two. She's here with her husband to be, who was her childhood sweetheart. But throughout her life, they were both dating other people, too hesitant to admit each other's feelings until now. She asks you if Daniel has always been this wonderful.

"He was born almost perfect. Though I think he needed me to complete him, to make him even greater." Your fiancee plants a kiss on your lips, effectively half-traumatising the older woman and smudging your lipstick.

You excuse yourself to reapply it, not about to get married with pink streaks on your face. As you exit the bathroom, there's a very drunk Elvis impersonator outside.

"Hey, baby. Wanna become my Priscilla?" He asks, wiggling his eyebrows at you. You decline politely and try to get back to the guy who you were about to marry. The fake king of rock and roll doesn't agree with your decision and continues to chat you up. You're practically sweating through the rental bride dress when your eyes meet a familiar pair of brown ones. Danny moves faster than the speed of light, fist raised in the air. Before he can punch the guy you step in, not wanting to have him spend his race in jail.

The faux Elvis backs off and the old lady lets you two cut in line. As a couple exits the chapel, it's your turn. You're about to marry the love of your life in Vegas. All your dreams were coming true. You ask Danny to pinch you and he jokes that he should say Max’s name instead.

The whole flight you're antsy. It was heartbreaking. To have counted on Daniel for so long to this. It was a long time coming. The nails in the coffin were getting drilled since the start of the season back in March. Spain was the first big fight. It was the fact that your husband's life was in a pressure cooker. The online hate. His crash with Stroll. The fact that Yuki's contract was extended already. His career hadn't been much of a roadblock even when it was uncertain before. The McLaren exit was actually almost a turning point towards considering to settle down.

You couldn't afford to think the time line after, not right now. Your hands were shaking as you type "I hope you're here, just landed." to Daniel. Then you shove the phone so deep in your bag, not wanting to look at it.

His messy curls are unmissable. Despite trying to lay low, he is there, like an eyesore. Decked out in yesterday's clothes, judging from Instagram. Holding an A4 piece of cardboard. Of course, it doesn't say your name or Ricciardo. It just says Unforgettable. Pictures of Danny in the Vegas airport would become a rumor mill and meme in a matter of minutes. It doesn't help that as soon as he sees you, he starts crying, his eyes filled with tears. Were they for you, for himself, for both of you. You would never know. Instead of a hello, or a miss you, you say.

“I can’t wrap my head around why you’re doing this right now.”

"I can't believe you're crying." You whisper to Daniel. His misty eyes are also making you tear up. The "priest" marrying you doesn't care about this, doesn't even shush you. Since this was not planned, there's no time to have personalized vows. Still, in the way your husband's voice breaks slightly at the "to love and to keep" says it all. Rings exchanged, a kiss shared and it's official. You are married to Daniel Ricciardo.

It's so past his "bedtime" (the regime set by his personal trainer) by the time you get to the hotel, that you actually consider just falling asleep. Of course, he has other plans. Danny's lips are on your neck since the elevator. As you pat down your pockets for the hotel key, his hands are all over your chest, squeezing and groping.

"Baby, please." You moan out.

"It's our first night together as a married couple. We can't just postpone it because we're busy tomorrow. I plan to make you thank yourself for saying yes to me." He argues, his touches trying to find any bare skin.

"Danny, come on. You know how lucky I am to have you. And you're also aware that you're insatiable." You say, leaning into his touch. You're trying to reason with him, but you can't help but trail your fingers from his defined abs down to his happy trail. He groans and you're a goner. It's safe to say that you end up "consumating" your marriage in the Vegas hotel. Some would call it poor decision making. You can't help but be a sucker for your husband talking about love and then making it to you. The creak of your bed and the banging of the headboard at least rattles the poor driver on the other side of the wall. So, a bonus for Alpha Tauri, you reason with yourself.

You had nearly forgotten what it was to have Daniel touching you. But as he's leading you out of the airport, he holds your hand. Your fingers are laced together, like lovers. There's an intrusive thought in your head.

"Drop it, stop this, you can't afford him to do that to you, why, Jesus fuck, you still felt it". The spark. The need to pull him aside and kiss him. The want to see that look in his brown eyes just before he leans in, like a needy puppy. Daniel is intent on killing you, because he draws little figures with his thumb on your skin.

"So, do we have a plan?" You ask, as if you hadn't had to figure out the logistics of this for weeks now.

"We'll go there during quali. At least this way all the fans will be occupied, either at home or in the grandstands." He says. "That way you can still enjoy a day of the weekend in Vegas."

"I don't know about you, but I don't think I'll be thinking about gambling or entertainment after the official end of my marriage." You reply. You're not sure if he shivers because of the cold or your words.

"You're right, I'm sorry." He apologizes. He drops your hand to wave to the Uber he hailed. Then he reaches out again, this time going for your left. Your ring is pressed against his. Possibly for the last time. You think that you should have simply given yours back that day.

If you opened the dictionary to the words “media circus” you'd find the Singapore 2024 Grand Prix as the definition. And at the center of it are you and Daniel. You're not sure why the press picks up on your increased presence in the paddock recently. Since Spain, you haven't missed a race. You and your husband may be on thin ice sometimes, but it would shatter like glass under your feet if you aren't communicating and being there for eachother. Supporting Danny reminds you why you love him. He's driven. Relentless. Never backs down from a challenge. Yet, now it's extreme. He works himself to the bone. On the simulator, or in long talks with his engineer Pierre. There is no rest for the wicked or the treathened. You're on the sidelines, picking out restaurants that are open at least til midnight. Making sure he eats, that he still can enjoy at least something. You're no influencer, but you use your social media to bring attention to his sponsored campaigns, to the new Enchanté collections. Anything to keep the image of Danny positive.

It's not like people don't ask you about it. Friends, family, coworkers are all curious what it feels like. Your reply? Even if it's tough on me, it's a million times tougher on him. So when you see the interview, you're flabbergasted.

The fans tag you in it. Not that you need that, seeing as you've been glued to the F1 website and social media. Danny is on media day duty, Thursday in Singapore. One of the reporters asks.

"Daniel , your lovely wife is joining you once again this weekend. Do you think that will affect your performance?"

"When it comes to how I drive, that's all me and the team. I'm not a superstitious guy, I don't believe in good luck. Racing is about strategy and talent."

The next journalist latches on, wanting to get a quote too. It spirals because your husband does not and cannot address his early exit rumors. So he talks about you. But his words aren't his, don't come from the heart. They are what Visa CashApp RB wants to hear. How he manages his time or more accurately how he doesn't spend it with you. He doesn't tell anyone that he asked for this. After spending a couple days apart, he wanted you to be by his side. As you'd been before. All good, always. Daniel even tries to crack a joke.

"Honestly, I'm starting to think that she's using me as a travel buddy or a way to check off some destinations off her holiday bucket list.". It gets scattered laughter, most because many times before he's shared that you weren't interested in flying out with him that much. That it stresses you out, the airport a hostile environment rather than a relaxing one.

After the press conference he's pulled aside, you presume for socials. You reason that he's busy and that's why he's not responding to your texts. His team's Instagram shows him energetic, and dancing to 28 by Zach Brian. Your song. Maybe the chorus of how lucky are we resonated with him, but not you.

"You can't just pretend it's all okay. After what you did. I'm not the villain, okay. I'm not the one taking your seat away from you." You say, the moment he comes back in your hotel room.

"You think they're gonna fire me, now? What happened to having my back. Do you think I'm like Logan, huh." He says back.

"You throw me under the bus, you throw another driver, anyone else? Wanna drag the lizard during practice, too, while you're at it? We're not the bad guys here, Daniel. Go ahead, blame me for being unhappy, and blame me for having bad luck. Just remember that when you fall from the top, it hurts like hell.” you reply.

He thinks he will show everyone who doubted him on Saturday. Have a great qualifying, cement his place in the team. Danny wishes that he didn't have to prove himself to you, too. But he does. So all the angst is worth it. As a “I put us through hell, but look where it got us, we'll fix it now.” He's out in Q1. It was over. He was the biggest loser, forced to see others succeed.

After watching Max win in Abu Dhabi, you were tagging along to the belated celebrations. 3 consecutive championships was a big deal. So you had a few too many glasses of champagne with Danny's friend and former teammate. That resulted in your husband having to support you out, and tuck you in with a bucket next to you.

When the morning comes, there's a bottle of water and ibuprofen on the bedside table next to you. But no Daniel. You make your way to the kitchen in the spacious penthouse room. There was your beloved, making breakfast. An omelet with extra cheese signaled the start of summer break. But what surprised you was the abundance of bouquets, flowers covering multiple pieces of furniture.

"Did I blackout before you lost a bet or something? Why is there a botanical garden in our hotel room." You ask, admiring your favorite ones.

"Wanted to give you something pretty to wake up. Besides the obvious. Also, you got so drunk last night that you started singing this song about getting flowers." He explains.

You cringe as you recall shouting the lyrics, "Buying me all the flowers, swearing on yourself that you count on me," along with a few others.

"You let me get "belting out breakup songs" drunk?" you ask.

"Hey, who knows how many tipsy nights you'll have left in you?" He replies.

"Is this a jab about me aging, how dare you? You're older than me, you prick. Wait. Oh? Is this about?" You go on, then the realization hits you. Daniel's actually talking about

"A baby, yes. You are bad at picking up on hints. Do you think we should try for kids? I know we've had the conversation before, but are you still sure?" He asks. In truth, he hopes you'd still say yes like before. Screw being World Champion, all he wanted now was to be a father.

"I've never been more sure. I know I can count on you and you can count on me. Though let's wait a bit, I don't want to be giving birth in the middle of the Dutch GP or something." You add, shuddering at the thought of being pregnant in the paddock.

"Baby Zandvoort Stroopwaffel Ricciardo wouldn't stand a chance in the world." Danny jokes before pulling you in a kiss.

“I don't know, I think they're going places.” You say after pulling away.

As Daniel helps the driver with the direction, you quip

"Glad that you've had time to roam around Nevada while I was at home packing up my things from what was our apartment. In Monaco, surrounded by our friends' pitiful looks."

"My friends. They're my friends. Besides, one of us had to stay here for six weeks. Otherwise they wouldn't let us get divorced." he says.

"Oh, there was no graph on the fucking forms for custody of racing drivers. And maybe someone should have looked more closely at the law before complaining. You were so reckless and cheesy for proposing in Vegas. And now we have to deal with this." You argue.

"Well I wasn't the one who wanted to break it off. That was all you, sweetheart." He fights back. You're about to make a jab at him for not using that competitiveness on the track.

The man in the driver's seat just sighs and points to a decal above the mirror. It says "no conflicts, please." You can't help it. You want your ex to scream, swear, so you know he's hurting.

But you try to be the bigger person. You and Danny had always been explosive. Before, it was passion. Stolen kisses on busy streets. Hands dangerously close to intimate places on Australian beaches (accompanied by down under jokes that never got old). Hotel room pillows under headboards. It was a miracle that you actually didn't have to file for custody. You guess it didn't take. The universe knew. And despite all the happy, messy, angry raw sex you had, the tests always came back negative. You chuckle at the sweets still in your carry-on, remembering that talk about naming your child after Zandvoort. You extend a pack to Daniel, a peace offering. Stroopwaffels were truly the answer to everything.

"I can't believe you remember to bring me these. I thought you hated me." He says, when he's not sinking his teeth into the syrup filled snack.

"Despite popular belief, I don't live to see your downfall." You reply. We both already saw it is what you think. And when you hear your "other half" say it back to you, you almost believe in soulmates again.

Daniel and you make a few stops. First you two look over the divorce forms with his lawyer. Then you make sure they are notary certified. And lastly, you head back to the courthouse. Nevada is colder than you remember. You shiver as he wraps an arm around you. That's how you walk in to the building. Lovers, soulmates, best friends. Anything but strangers. This time Daniel's the one that breaks when he sees you crying. His thumbs are gentle, wiping the tears from your cheeks with such love that you're almost ready to take it all back. To say "sike", to tear the forms in stripes and use them as confetti you kiss under. To momentarily forget and keep doing that until you forgive him. Instead you go through with it. Right outside when you're officially legally single, you can speak.

"I get why you had to get wasted yesterday. This hurts." you say.

"Wanna go out drinking together. You know, one last time? As a warranty I won't dial your number after the last call like I did back then." Daniel suggests.

"Lead the way, Vegas boy." you reply.

You were lost, figuratively and literally. Singapore was not a good place to wander off in. The 3 cap on your face is pulled down to your eyes. In the end you decide to go back for the race. To give Danny a chance. He's too emotional to talk to you in depth. He kisses you, and your hands grip his denim like shirt. Good luck is all you manage to say. The stars in the Singapore night are what you stare at for the majority of the race. Even with the fastest lap, you can sense it's not enough.

Your heart breaks when Daniel doesn't get out of the car immediately. You wish you could rush over to him, talk. Then you see his face and know. He's grieving. For his legacy, his future. There's no send off. You stay with him until late, until it's just you two and the photographer on the track. You can't do this right now. It's after your flight back that you ask. You deal the final blow to Daniel's life. You ask him for a divorce.

He posts on Instagram before he replies to you. You like the picture, and you pour out your feelings in the comments. You tell him you'll always be proud of him and his achievements. You tell him that you love him. You can't bear to say anything about the future. Because his future is no longer your concern.

He calls you in the middle of the night. He's tired of everyone, drunk, super sad and tells you

"I miss you." as if you don't know. It brings you no joy to hear this. You just ask him to pass the phone to someone else in the bar and you get his location.

"You know, for someone who makes wine, you are a light weight." you comment as you help him back into your shared apartment. You don't wonder where he's staying and whether he likes it. You're lying. Even as you try to settle on the couch, you can't relax. You go to your bed and watch Daniel snore softly. You carefully get in next to him. Sensing the dip in the mattress, he immediately pulls you into his arms.

"Did we fight? I'm sorry. Whatever I did, I didn't mean it. Don't go on the couch, please." He whispers, voice groggy from sleep. He had gotten so wasted he completely forgot he was in the process of divorcing you.

"I'm right here, Daniel. I'm not going anywhere." you say as you turn towards him. You relax into his chest. For the first time in 168 hours you get a decent sleep.

The next day, he just packs some leftover clothes into a suitcase and leaves for the airport. You see him in America and remember the talks with Christian. The faint mentions of Redbull ambassador duties in the States. Despite everything, he chose the job instead of you. Even retired, he was more loyal to the team, which didn't even give him more than 3 photos and a paragraph on Instagram.

Daniel said he'd reject it. Yet, the moment he was free of you, he took it. You had been the roadblock again, being the thing making his career go wrong. After years of being his talisman, you had turned to a bad omen. Of course it was best for you to leave while you can, sprint towards the exit.

You're in front of a bar entrance.

"Is this a good idea? I know we've both been drinking away the end of our relationship, and marriage. So maybe tonight, let's not." You say, suddenly getting cold feet.

"You're right. Do you wanna see the apartment? Make it seem like you're here for a regular vacation with your husband?" He hesitates on the last word, yet still uses it.

"It would be a shame to not see what Vegas residency has done to your taste." You reply.

"You'll love the slot machine in the kitchen, brings the whole place together." Danny jokes and you laugh and it's almost like the old times. He's missed this.

Bachelor Daniel is different than you'd expect. He cooks you both pasta and has one of those fridges with a water and ice dispenser. After dinner, he shows it to you, and it escalates into a chase, pelting frozen cubes at each other. He catches you easily, damn his F1 reflexes.

The ice from his hand is violent poured at the front of your shirt and you fucking moan. Daniel watches the droplets and realizes you're not wearing a bra. It happens in a flash. You're pinned against the counter, your ex husband grabbing another icecube from his fancy fridge. It melts on his tongue, your tongue as you kiss. Daniel's cold lips make you shiver and beg for more as they move from your neck to your chest.

"I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry." He mumbles, now between your thighs. You tell him that " his whole life isn't going to be enough time for him to apologize to you, but this is a good start.". When his tongue licks a stripe down your pussy, it's literally frozen.

"Baby, it's like Frosty the snowman is eating me out, stop." You say and he pulls away immediately. "I need you still, though. Can you fuck me, please. It's been months." You continue.

He's on his feet, towering over you, lips on your neck.

"I don't have a condom though. Is that okay?" Daniel asks.

"Damn, single for 6 weeks and already banging other people raw. You don't waste time,huh." You recoil, trying to move away from him.

"I haven't been with anyone else. Only you. " He confesses.

You're back in his arms, this time taking the lead. It's a different kiss, slow and gentle.

"Then tonight's your lucky night, lover boy. A hot divorcee in your area needs you." You joke as you lead him to bed. You want to be in control, at least with this. For once, you feel at ease again. You grind against him, slowly teasing you both. You sink down on his cock, and he doesn't miss the hiss you let out as you get used to his size again. You ride him, gradually getting closer to your orgasm. You speed up the pace, asking him to fuck you. As you come, you're begging, needing and pleading him to come for you, to finish inside of you. Who is he to deny you? Besides he doesn't think he can get himself to pull out. He too wants nothing more than to spill his seed inside of you, to fuck you through his orgasm. And he does so.

You're both spent, as he pulls away. His mouth is moving faster than his brain when he says "I love you.".

"Don't be cruel, Daniel. Don't talk to me about love when you don't know it." you respond and leave.

You can't leave your house. Even though you're the one that ended it. You're stuck inside, sad songs and ice cream galore. You know that eventually, it will stop hurting. The endless edits of Daniel to Pink Skies aren't helping. You wonder how he is. You wish he wore the hurt on his sleeve. He looked so happy. With Josh, or at the stupid Red Bull event. It's selfish, but you wish to see how these nights end. It's time for him to cry. Because there's no sign that you'd been his at all.

Daniel somehow managed to lose you twice. You don't come back. You just send a text asking to keep the ring on. He takes it as a sign. But all in him that believed evaporated later that week. You're back with your friends. Danny remembers you had mentioned that you'd be staying with them. You neglected to say anything about what was unfolding in front of his eyes via Instagram. A divorce party. They threw you a fucking rager. He analyzes every second of every video. A stranger that’s there worries him. The guy looks freakishly like him. And he keeps hiding his face, clearly not belonging there. The motherfucker is in a 3 piece suit for fuck’s sake. And keeps orbiting in your personal space.

Then it's almost radio silence. You barely post. There's a picture of you, 2 dinner plates ,glasses of water and a fancy restaurant. A number and a heart is all he gets to know you've moved on. Daniel was never good at math, but it doesn't take a genius to calculate when this happened. The day after your divorce party. Because of your new beau, now you only post the occasional selfie. Then the bomb drops. A video of you and his doppelganger. At a fucking gender reveal. And you're the one expecting. The caption reveals the due date. Daniel wants to be spiteful. He wants to know just how many days after you two last saw each other you were fucking others. He plugs in the day you're about to be due into a sketchy fertility calculation website. It's actually very detailed and indicates that you conceived on the last day of your ovulation. Which just happens to be the last night you saw him.

Daniel was about to have a kid. A tiny human being in whose life he would never be a part of. He can't help but think what would happen if he could turn back time. His heart tells him he'd somehow still manage to turn the situation into this.

[fandomnerd9602]

Sue storm and male reader please?

Y/N feels someone pinch their butt…

Y/N: Sue!

Susan giggles and materializes…

Susan: nothing like keeping you on your toes, huh?

Y/N: and I thought Johnny was the playful one of us.

Johnny walks by, popping popcorn with his bare hands…

Johnny: I am. I just won’t touch your butt

[justsomewritingblog]

Misread

Request:  “I needdd more hufflepuff readers so can you do a draco malfoy x hufflepuff reader? it can be short or long i don’t really care” + “angst and maybe a tiny wincy bit of fluff also make the relationship one sided for the drama! 😈”

Requested By:  Anonymous

Pairing:  Draco x Hufflepuff!reader (one sided)

Summary:  Davidson has a huge crush on Malfoy, much to her best friend's confusion. An assignment is given and Draco chooses to be her partner, giving the Hufflepuff a sense of hope.

Warnings:  None?

A/N:  WoW, this took forever and is way longer than I anticipated. Not super satisfied with the title, but when am I ever?

Word Count: 3K+

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re staring again.”

I looked over at Olivia, a blush tinting my cheeks as I rolled my eyes.  “I am not.”

“Liar.”

I crossed my arms with a huff.  “Alright, fine; so what if I am?  Is staring illegal all of the sudden?”

Olivia took a sip of pumpkin juice.  “It might be.”

I deadpanned at her.

“I still have no idea what you see in that guy,” the dirty-blonde put her glass down on the table.

My gaze darted back to the blond.  “He has good qualities.”

“He’s an arrogant, self-centered, pureblood supremacist and a bully.  What’s to like?”

“He’s…” I paused.

Olivia raised an amused, but slightly judgemental eyebrow, placing her chin in her propped-up hand.

I glared at her.

“I’m listening.”  She didn’t lift her head from her hand.  “You were at ‘he’s’.”

“Thank you.”  I glanced back at the blond before returning my attention to my friend.  “He’s strong willed, confident-”

“Conceited.”

I barrelled on.  “-very passionate towards the things he cares about-”

Olivia snorted.  “Yeah.  Like picking on muggle-borns.”  She pointedly rolled her eyes.  “Super charming, Davidson.”

I huffed.  “And he’s gorgeous,” I gestured over at him.  “Look at those blue eyes.”

Olivia glanced over to the Slytherin table before looking back at me, holding her hand out in a shrugging motion.  “So?”

“So I think I’m justified.”  I crossed my arms, leaning back slightly from the table to give myself room to do so.

Olivia stared at me blankly for a few moments.  “You’re deluded, Davidson.”

My heart twinged.  I looked down at my plate briefly before looking back up at her.  “Well, at least I know you’re not competition.”

She let out a short laugh.  “You don’t have to worry about competition.  I think you’re the only non-Slytherin in this school that wants anything to do with that boy.”  She ran her finger along the rim of her glass.  “Unless you count giving him a piece of our minds.”

I frowned.  “Thanks for your support.”  Standing, I turned and walked out, ignoring the call of my name.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My mood lifted slightly as I exited Potions, heading towards Herbology.

Professor Sprout was always so kind, and I enjoyed a break from the stone castle walls.

The naturally-lit greenhouse was a nice change of pace.

Sharing the class period with Slytherin probably had something to do with it, too.

Stepping into the greenhouse, my feet instinctively made their way towards my spot on the bench.  “Good afternoon, Professor,” I greeted with a smile, placing my bag down behind my seat.

Professor Sprout turned around, smiling once she saw me.  “Good afternoon, Davidson.”  She lowered her gaze to a book on the table before spinning back around, returning to whatever it was she had been doing.

Sliding onto the bench, I crossed one leg over the other, clasping my hands together and resting them on the table as I waited.

Students flowed in shortly, Hufflepuffs along my side of the table, Slytherins along the other.

A few minutes passed and Professor Sprout turned around to address the class.  “Hello, students!  Since you have to wait until your Chinese Chomping Cabbages grow, we’re going to do something in the meantime.”  She clasped her hands together, looking around the greenhouse.  “I’m going to have you divide into pairs, one member of each house in each duo, and you will need to write a paper.  I’m setting the due date for two weeks from today.”  Smiling excitedly, her gaze drifted across the students.  “Please write your essay on flesh-eating trees.”

Different sounds echoed in the greenhouse.

Some of excitement, some of mild interest, some of horror.

“I’ll allow you to choose partners instead of pairing you.”

A few moments of silence passed before the students jumped into action, realizing that the Professor was done speaking for the time being.

I lifted my head, gaze immediately searching for a platinum blond.

“Davidson, was it?”

Turning around, I locked eyes with Draco.  My heart skipped a beat and my stomach jumped.  “Yes?”

“Do you have a partner for this bloody assignment yet?”  He made a face, glancing up briefly at Professor Sprout.

“Not yet…”  I brought my hands up, picking at my nails.

He nodded, pursing his lips as he looked away.

Several beats passed.

I raised an eyebrow.

No response.

I cleared my throat.

Draco glanced at me.

“Did you want to be partners,” I asked, voice shaking slightly.

The blond looked back towards the front of the greenhouse.  “Sure.”

A large smile broke onto my face before I could stop it.  Clearing my throat, I opened my mouth to speak, wiping the smile away.  “Okay, great.  How did you want to do this?”

He raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

I gestured.  “Do you want to research one kind of tree, and I can research another?  Or…maybe one of us can research the origins of the flesh-eating trees and the other can research their current behaviors.”  I placed a finger on my chin in thought.  “What’s our angle?”

Draco opened his mouth to respond, but Professor Sprout cut him off.

“If you all have partners, I’m giving the rest of class time to work on your essays.  Outside of that, and maybe another day or two at some point, depending on how the cabbages are doing, you’ll have to meet up and work on your papers in your own time.”

Draco slunk onto the bench next to me with an eye roll.

I looked down, busying myself with pulling out parchment and a quill.  “It could be worse…”

He let out a scoff.  “Barely.”

My mouth opened to ask what was so bad about the situation, but I thought better of it and pursed my lips.

Draco reluctantly reached into his bag, pulling out his Herbology textbook and searching the index before flipping to whatever page he wanted.

I swallowed the lump in my throat.  “What are you researching,” I asked in a whisper.

“Flesh-eating trees,” he replied shortly, with just a hint of bite to it.

“Sorry.”  I frowned.  My heart raced as another question entered my mind.  “Anything specific?”

“No.”

I pulled away slightly, taking in a shaky breath.  “Okay,” I muttered, unsure if he was able to hear me.

Whether he did or not, he didn’t respond.

I lowered my head, welcoming my hair falling in front of my face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I moved quickly to the library, determined to do well on this project.  Entering the room, I strode instantly to the ‘Herbology’ section, never breaking stride until I arrived.  My gaze raked across the book titles, my finger sliding along the bindings.

A burgundy book with ‘Carnivorous Plants’ written in gold calligraphy on the side sat between two green books.

I reached up, plucking it off the shelf and briefly scanned the remainder of the titles, looking for anything useful.  Grabbing another book about trees, I approached the counter, checking the books out, thanking the witch that told me they were due in two weeks.

Exiting the library and heading towards the Common Room, I made a mental note to go through the books as quickly as I could so that other students could use them for their papers.  Approaching the Common Room, I adjusted my grip on the books and tapped the correct barrel a few times.

The door opened and I strode in.

“Davidson.”

I looked to the left, seeing Olivia stand from her seat and walk towards me.  I hugged the books to my chest as she stopped in front of me.  I nodded curtly.  “Olivia.”

She sighed quietly, her gaze on the floor before she looked up at me.  “Look, I shouldn’t have said those things.  It…I…was wrong, and I’m sorry.  You’re a free person.  If you want to pursue Malfoy….I won’t stand in your way.”

I paused, searching her face for a moment.  I ran my tongue along my teeth.  “So you’re gonna help me ask him out?”

Olivia’s face fell even further.  “Don’t push it.”

A tiny smirk pulled at the corner of my mouth.  “Alright.”  I nodded.  “Thank you.”

A few beats of silence passed.

“He’s my partner for the essay for Herbology, ya know,” I said.

“Yeah, I saw.”

I eyed her.  “Who’s your partner?”

Her nose crinkled.  “Melvin.”

“Marvin Melvin?”

“Yeah.”

I grimaced, but a smile formed on my face anyway.  “That’s rough.”

“Tell me about it.”  She ran a hand along her face before groaning.  “I’m gonna have to do this entire paper by myself.”

“Well, at least you’ll know it was done well,” I offered with a shrug.

She nodded her head at me.  “How about you?  Malfoy helping?”

“He was taking notes this afternoon… I’ll try to ask him what our strategy is.”

Her eyebrows lifted.  “You don’t know?”

“He’s not the most communicative…”

She nodded.  “That doesn’t surprise me.”

I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye.

She pursed her lips.  “Sorry.”  Clearing her throat, she gestured at me.  “Well, you can always ask him tomorrow.”  Her eyes drifted to the clock sitting on the fireplace.  “Speaking of, we should probably get to bed.”

I nodded.  “Yeah.  Tomorrow, here we come.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walking to the greenhouse the following afternoon, I kept my eyes peeled for Draco.

Opposed to me always arriving early to enjoy the sun a little more, the Slytherin never came until he needed to, and he was never alone.

I sat down in my usual seat, putting my books on the table.

“Good morning, Davidson,” the professor greeted.  “Or, afternoon, I should say.”

I smiled.  “Good afternoon, Professor.”

She snipped a tiny piece off a leaf.  “Have you started your paper yet?  I know I only assigned it yesterday, but I know you have a habit of getting things done early.”  Lifting her head to look at me, she cocked her head in interest.

“Draco and I were taking some notes yesterday during class time.”  I ran my finger along the planter in front of me.  “I want to talk to him more today about it.”

Professor Sprout hummed.  “Malfoy isn’t known for his work ethic.”  A large frown overtook her face as she placed her hands on the table in front of her.  “He always does what he’s supposed to, and it’s always on time, but I can’t help but feel like he doesn’t care.”  She picked up a bottle of something.  “He’d be doing better in the class if only he put more effort into it.”

My gaze stayed locked on my head of house for a few moments, seeing rather than watching her do something with the bottle.  Picking at my nail, I looked back to the planter, feeling a discomfort settling into my stomach.

The greenhouse door opened, most of the Hufflepuffs walking in.  The Slytherins weren’t far behind.

I looked up, eyes immediately locking on Draco’s form.

He glanced over at me briefly before turning back to the Slytherin he was talking to.

An anxious flutter dulled some of the discomfort I had been feeling.

Olivia sat next to me.  “Hey,” she greeted quietly.

I looked over at her, fighting desperately against my blush.  “Hey.”

Whether she noticed or not, she didn’t get to comment- Professor Sprout beginning to speak once everyone found their seats.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I stood, collecting my books as class finished.

Olivia stood with me.  “Who knew Chomping Cabbages could be so cool?”

“I know, right,” I replied, though distracted as I looked for Draco.

Olivia began to move away from the table, heading towards our next class, continuing to talk.

I followed her but kept my eyes peeled.  Spotting the platinum blond also leaving, I figured this would be my best chance.  “Draco!”  I called, tapping Olivia so she knew I had a reason for bailing on her.  Walking towards Draco, Olivia in tow, I fought down my nerves.

He raised an eyebrow, looking me and Olivia over.

Crabbe and Goyle stood on either side of him.

My gaze drifted to them before looking back at Malfoy.  “Is this a bad time?”

He hesitated.  “It’s about this essay, no doubt?”

I nodded.  “I-I was just wondering how you wanted to divide the work…” My eyes drifted to his friends before looking off to the side awkwardly.

He waved his hand dismissively.  “I’ll research, you can write the paper.”

I nodded.  “Alright, that’s fair-”

“What?”  Olivia’s face scrunched.  “That’s not fair at all!”

Draco’s expression shifted into one of challenge.  “I don’t recall asking for your opinion, Corbyn.”

I reached a steadying hand out to my friend.  “Olivia, it’s alright.”  I looked over to Draco out of the corner of my eye.  “It’s fair.”

Draco smirked at Olivia.

She glared at him.

Draco nodded his head to the side.  “Come on, boys.  We don’t want to be late for our next class.”

“You’ve never cared about being late for class a day in your life, Malfoy!”  Olivia called after them as they strode away.

Once they were out of earshot, I turned my body to face my friend completely.

She looked over, her gaze scanning my expression.  “What?”  She gestured at their retreating forms.  “They’re jerks, and he is using you for a good grade!”  Placing her hands on her hips, she bent down a little to get closer to my height.  “And you know research and writing isn’t a fair divide.”

“It depends on what it is…”

She deadpanned at me.

“It does!”  I brushed some hair behind my ear.  “Researching isn’t too bad, as long as you can find the information, and writing isn’t too bad as long as you have all of the information there.”  I shrugged, gaze drifting to the side.  “So…”

Olivia ran a hand along her face.  “Alright, fine.  Whatever.”  She raised her hands in surrender.  “Do whatever you want.  I’ll just try to be glad he’s doing something.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“I thought Malfoy was supposed to be doing the research.”

I looked up, seeing Olivia place a couple books down on the table, sitting across from me.  “Well, I figured I borrowed these books from the library; might as well use them.”  Putting a finger in the page I was on, I lifted the book, showing her the cover.  “Then I can give them back and let other students use them.”

The dirty-blonde hummed.

Silence filled the air in the Common Room as Olivia began flipping to a page in her book.

I picked up my quill, writing something else down.

“They’re grey.”

I furrowed my eyebrows, looking up at my friend.  “What?”

She didn’t look up from her book, writing something on a piece of parchment under the dim lamplight.  “His eyes.  You were on and on about how blue they were?  I got a closer look.  They’re grey.”

I blinked in surprise.  My mouth opened and closed a couple times before I ultimately decided I had no idea how to respond to that.

Olivia never even looked up.

Lowering my head, I tried to focus on my work.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Lifting my head at the sound of the glass door, my eyebrows raised in surprise of their own accord.

Draco Malfoy walked into the greenhouse.

Early.

By himself.

“Mister Malfoy,” the professor greeted.  “Good afternoon.”

I could hear the confusion in her tone.

“Afternoon,” he replied shortly.

My eyes widened and my heart raced as I watched him walk over to me.

He placed a short stack of parchment on the table by my hands before he made his way to his seat.

I stared at him in bewilderment for a few moments before looking down at the stack, leafing through them.

They were notes on the flesh-eating trees, each one having exactly six items jotted down about them.

I picked up another page to look at.

Actually, this one had five.

Lifting my gaze to Draco, I opened my mouth but quickly shut it when the glass door opened again, the other students flooding in.  Tucking the papers into the pages of one of my Herbology books, I smiled at Olivia as she sat down beside me.

She eyed the papers briefly before smiling back.

“Good afternoon, students!”  Professor Sprout began to speak, and for the first time I had trouble paying attention.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting on my bed, I leafed through the notes Draco gave me, one leg dangling off the side as I spread the sheets out around my space.  I pursed my lips, pulling out the handful of pages of notes that I had taken from the library books.  Pulling out some blank paper and my quill, I sighed as I began to write the paper.

Getting to the first body paragraph, I picked up one of Draco’s note cards.  My gaze raked over the words, reading the information again.  My eyes focused on Draco’s handwriting, noting how each letter was sized and shaped.

There were no ink splotches on the paper, and his handwriting was fairly neat.

I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth as I tapped the parchment against my other hand, pondering the care he seemed to take into creating the pages of notes.

Lowering my gaze back to the paper, I felt my stomach flip at an idea.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re going to what??”

“Shh!”  I leveled a look at Olivia.  “Everyone in Hogwarts will hear you.”

She scoffed, placing her fists on her hips.  “Well, everyone’s gonna find out, anyway.”

“Only if it works,” I countered.

“And only if he doesn’t tell everyone that you asked him out,” she countered back, raising an eyebrow.

Gut-wrenching panic gripped my heart.  I felt my blood run cold.  “You don’t think he would, do you?”

She shrugged, pursing her lips.  “I wouldn’t put it passed him.”

I picked furiously at my nail.  “Oh, gosh.”  My breathing picked up.  “Maybe this isn’t such a great idea.”

Olivia frowned, sighing.  She raised her hands in mock surrender.  “Look, I don’t know.  I don’t know him, so…” she pinched the bridge of her nose.  “I really can’t say.”  She gestured at me.  “He’s definitely been a little nicer to you than I expected, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

I frowned.  “What do you think I should do?”

Olvia huffed a laugh.  “I have….no idea.”  She tilted her head slightly.  “Really, the only one that can make this choice is you.”  She shrugged one shoulder.  “Just think about the repercussions if you do, as well as the ones if you don’t.”

Pursing my lips, I nodded.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I think I’m going to try.”

Olivia lowered the book from her face and raised an eyebrow.  “Try what?”

“Asking Draco out.”

The dirty-blonde blinked a couple of times before she returned her attention to her book.  “Okay.”

I nodded.  “Okay.”  I picked at my nail.  “I was thinking maybe after Herbology?”

Olivia looked up at me out of the corner of her eye.  “Okay.”

“That’s usually the only time I see him, so…”

Olivia nodded.  “Okay.”

I huffed, dropping my hands to my sides.  “Will you say something besides ‘okay’, please?”

Olivia looked at me for a few moments before uncrossing her legs and pushing herself to be more upright in her chair.  She closed the book, keeping a finger in it to mark her spot.  “What do you want me to say?”

“Anything?”

Olivia chuckled, standing and walking over to me.  “Good luck.  You’re a special girl.  If he doesn’t know it, it’s his loss.”  She smiled softly.  “I hope it works out,” she said, turning around and moving back to her chair.

“You do?”

“Course.”  She sat down, opening her book and smirking up at me.  “He could use a good influence in his life.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My heart raced as I walked to Herbology, my breathing quick and shallow.  I sat down in my seat, barely hearing Professor Sprout greet me.  Giving a distracted wave, I pulled out my books, staring at them once I set them on the table.

“Hey.”

Turning to my right, I watched Olivia sit beside me, briefly wondering how I hadn’t noticed her come in.

Or the other twenty students.

“Do you know what you’re gonna say?”

Ah.  That.

“Kinda,” I admitted, my eyebrows furrowing.  “Even if I had memorized a speech, I would have forgotten it, so.”

Olivia nodded.  “Fair.”

“I’m just going to try to be confident.  Guys like confident women, right?”

She deadpanned.  “Depends on the guy.”

“Alright students,” Professor Sprout turned to face everyone.  “Let’s begin.”

My gaze shifted to Draco before opening my textbook, trying to regain control of my heart’s rhythm.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I stood with the other students, beginning to pack up my bags.  Lifting my gaze to Draco, I watched him walk away from the table and head outside.  Letting out a gasp, I released my things, rushing out after him.  “Draco!”

The blond turned around, eyebrows furrowing as he watched me approach.  “Davidson?”

I came to a stop beside him, feeling my palms begin to sweat.  “Yeah.”  I hesitated for a few moments before forcing myself to speak.  “We did well on our essay…” I remarked quietly.

He raised an eyebrow.

Confidence, Davidson, confidence!

I cleared my throat.  “We make a pretty good team.”  My voice fell slightly.  “Don’t you agree?”

He shrugged one shoulder.  “I suppose.”  He eyed me, confusion all over his features.

I scuffed my foot against the dirt before forcing it to stop.  “I was wondering if you’d want to make it official?  Maybe…” I trailed off.  My brain function was leaving me.

“What?”

I blinked.  “What?”

“Are you trying to ask me out, Davidson?”

I blushed furiously.  “Well…”

He sneered slightly.  “I can’t be seen dating a Hufflepuff- I’d be a joke amongst my housemates, let alone my parents.”

I flinched back slightly.  “But…but you wanted to be my partner for the assignment-”

“I couldn’t be with a member of my own house and you’re always here when everyone else comes in, so you clearly like the class.”  He tilted his head.  “I was simply getting myself a partner I could trust.”

If he noticed the tears beginning to fill the brims of my eyes, he didn’t comment on them.

“But you helped.  You clearly put some effort into the notes you gave me.”

He shrugged again, rolling his shoulders back and standing taller.  “Well, I had to do something, didn’t I?  If I did nothing you might have told Professor Sprout that I didn’t participate in the assignment.”

A few tears fell from my eyes.  “Oh.”  I lowered my head, backing away a few paces before I turned around and walked as quickly as I could towards the back of the castle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Olivia plopped my bookbag down next to me.

I looked up from my spot in the corner chair.

A few beats of silence passed.

Olivia sighed.  “I’m sorry, Davidson.  Malfoy……sucks.”

I pulled my knees closer to my chest.  “Thanks,” I mumbled.

She frowned down at me, tilting her head slightly.  “Do you want company?”

I shook my head.

The dirty-blonde nodded.  “Alright.  You deserve way better than him, anyway.”  She backed away a few steps.  “Don’t forget it.”  Turning around, she walked up the steps in the Common Room, heading to the dormitories.

I frowned, hugging my knees.  “That doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n: There it is, folks.

Tag List:

[raekensluver]

ᴅᴀʏ 𝟶𝟾 — ᴍɪʀʀᴏʀ sᴇx

october 15th | spencer reid x fem!reader

contains: nsfw 18+, no use of y/n, mirror sex, slight praise kink vaginal sex, p in v from behind.

word count: 700+

kinktober masterlist | main masterlist

spencer's body pressed into yours, a wall of warmth and strength, as his legs tangled with yours. the feeling of his bare chest against your back sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine, a thrilling reminder of his presence. his breath was hot in your ear, a gentle contrast to the coolness of the air, as he whispered sweet nothings that sent shivers down your neck. your eyes locked with your reflection in the full-length mirror, watching the scene unfold as if you were a spectator in a silent film.

his hand traced a path down your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake, as he murmured, "you're so beautiful." the words were simple, but the sincerity in his voice made them resonate deep within you, causing your heart to flutter. you felt the heat of his gaze as he took in the sight of your naked form, his eyes speaking of admiration and desire. you blushed under his scrutiny, the intensity of his stare making you feel both vulnerable and powerful.

his hand reached the curve of your hip, his fingers digging gently into your flesh as he began to move inside of you, setting a rhythm that mirrored the racing of your heart. your eyes never left the mirror, watching the mesmerizing play of your bodies coming together in perfect harmony. you could see the tension building in his jaw, the way his muscles flexed with every thrust, and the raw passion etched across his features. it was a heady sight, one that had you arching your back and pushing against him, eager to feel every inch of him.

you felt his teeth graze your earlobe as he whispered, "tell me what you want, tell me how it feels." your breath hitched, and you murmured, "spencer," his name slipping out like a desperate plea. his grip tightened on your hip, his movements becoming more urgent, as if the sound of your voice was the catalyst he needed to unleash his own desires.

his other hand slid around your waist to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your hardened nipple. the sensation sent a bolt of pleasure shooting through you, making your legs tremble and your pussy clench around him. you leaned back into him, letting your head fall against his shoulder, exposing the graceful curve of your neck to his hungry mouth.

his kisses grew more fervent, teeth grazing your sensitive skin, making you gasp and arch your neck further, giving him better access. his hips ground against yours, his cock sliding in and out in a delicious rhythm that had you panting and squirming. the mirror showed the flush of arousal spreading across your chest, your hard nipples peaked and begging for attention.

his hand slid lower, his fingertips grazing the wetness that coated your inner thigh before finding your clit, the center of your pleasure. a soft cry left your lips as he began to rub it in circles, his touch feather-light at first, then growing firmer with every beat of your racing heart. the sight of his hand between your legs, the way your body responded to his touch, was almost too much to handle.

spencer's breathing grew heavier, his chest rising and falling against your back as he watched the show in the mirror, his eyes dark with desire. he could see every expression that flitted across your face, every twitch of your body as he brought you closer to the edge. "look at us," he whispered, his voice thick with arousal. "look how good we are together."

you nodded, unable to form coherent words as his skilled fingers worked their magic on your clit. your eyes locked with yours in the reflection, the haze of passion making them look almost otherworldly. your cheeks were flushed, your hair a wild mess around your face, and your lips swollen from his earlier kisses. it was a side of yourself you rarely saw, raw and uninhibited, and it only served to make you feel even more alive.

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