Walls & Veils (Draco Malfoy X Reader): Vol.1

Walls & Veils (Draco Malfoy x Reader): Vol.1 

Masterlist

Summary:

Monday to-do-list:

Coffee! Coffee! Coffeee

Go through pending reports

Eat that almond biscotti everyone is talking about

Draco Malfoy.  Focus. I mean, he is kinda hot

(Where Draco and the reader work for the ministry and communicate every day via “work reports” passed back and forth and have no idea they are actually talking to each other)

Genre: Fluff, workplace romance, enemies to lovers (ish) 

Warnings: none except some light swearing and mentions of food and one mention of scotch

Words: 2900

A/n: I wrote this for the Harry Potter Writing Event. Don’t forget to keep an eye out for stories written by other amazing writers. (Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated). Please note that the POV switches constantly in this but every switch is divided by “****” for your convenience. This is my first time writing a story set in the ministry, hopefully it worked out..

Keep reading

“I don’t know, I’m not used to having a woman asking me every so often if I’m feeling okay or making breakfast for me,” you said with disinterest.

STOP i relate ty for making me cry. I so wanna disappear to another universe with loving parents pls

“Is that seat taken?” You asked amused and Peter almost fell off the building he was sitting in.

LMAO you go girl

“It’s like electricity,” he observed. You frowned a bit without understanding his comment “Yes, and you are like a conductor. You offer low resistance to the movement of an electrical charge, which allows the energy to spread in you”

SO LIKE PETER TO CHANGE EVERYTHING TO SCIENCE, SHUT UP YOU ADORABLE CUTE BOY.

“It will be like magic”

*cue me crying*

so far my favorite part of the series jgaskada

Failed spells [P.P] part 3

Andrew Garfield!Peter Parker x reader

Word count: 4.3k

MASTERLIST

A/N: I hope you like it, I wanted yo address various perspectives and lay the groundwork for the romantic parte begin (At least I hope so) un later chapters. Hope it's not boring, I'm really excited to talk about magic and stuff, but if you want a little more action, tell me in the comments!

You were walking down the school hallway, with your books taped to your chest, looking for the locker number that you had written down on a sheet of paper. Your mind was still wandering a bit in the memories of the previous afternoon, pondering if it had been a good plan that you were carrying out.

"Ok, I need a quick review of all this because it's too much to take in" Gwen had said, doing those movements with her hands that you had already learned.

It had been quite a while since you had used your powers to keep them in the room and after conjuring a few more things the two of them seemed satisfied enough to pay attention to you. And once you had their attention, you talked about the thousand things that were different from your universe.

"Yeah, I too got a bit lost somewhere in the story," Peter admitted. He didn't see you the same way anymore now that he knew you weren't his girlfriend.

“Okay, here it goes again. My name is Y/N Y/L/N, I am a student of the mystical arts and was raised in recent years by a man named Stephen Strange after my parents were killed in an accident related to the Avengers. The Avengers are the most powerful heroes on the planet and among all their threats they had to face a purple alien named Thanos who disappeared half of the existing population. Strange and I helped a bit, but we were both missing for five years. Another of the people who helped the Avengers is named Peter Parker and he is my best friend. Yesterday Peter and I were drinking and apparently, I screwed up a spell that works to travel between dimensions and realities. I hit my head and, in the morning, I woke up here. Now I don't know how to go back or where to go since apparently Strange doesn’t exist and where our sanctuary is supposed to be there is a Chinese food restaurant” you took a breath, exhausted by everything you had just said, and then you observed them “Any questions?"

There were many questions, both from her and from him, and of course, you also asked many things about the life you had. You knew nothing about your parents, about your brother, not even about the two of them, and you thought it was essential to continue in that world at least until you knew how to fix the mess you had caused or until Strange found you.

"And why don't you try to do the spell again, but now with this Peter?"

"Although it is a very intelligent idea, those are skills that I don’t master and I am worried about ending up in another place worse than this one" you had responded to her, feeling worried about how little by little you were discarding possibilities "And as much as I try to make a return portal, I only manage to go to places within this same universe”

So, after hours of talking, the easiest thing was to agree that Gwen would help you with questions about the school and Peter would take care of the family matter. They would practically teach you about your own life.

"I found you damn it!" you said victoriously when the locker number matched the one Gwen had written to you. You placed the combination and once opened you noticed that it was full of things that you did not know. There were books (not school), a change of clothes and decorating the door was a picture of you with Peter. It was strange to see so many things about your courtship and that at the same time he was a stranger. You wondered what Y/N (Peter's real girlfriend) would be like and felt a bit sorry after imagining that you wouldn't be anything like her. Judging from the photographs, you realized that this girl was very loving, feminine, and much more serene than you. Most were characteristics that you didn’t have because apparently, she never had to worry about any problem in her life and it was obvious that you did. It was strange that you were so physically identical, but too far removed from any emotional similarity.

"Hey, Y/N," they said behind you, making you jump with fright "Sorry, I didn't want to scare you"

"Okay, it wasn't your fault" you replied once you turned around. That day Peter was wearing the same army green jacket, but now with a strangely patterned black T-shirt. Also, a camera hung around his neck "How are you?"

"I come to ask you the same thing" he smiled at you, a little shy "Have you had problems with something?"

"I had a problem with my locker, but now everything is in order" you replied, nodding slightly and trying to sound friendly. You were wearing a sweatshirt that you had borrowed from Peter a long time ago, but when you saw you, he didn't have the strength to tell you about it and he just enjoyed your image wearing his clothes. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something."

"I hope it's not any more surprises," he exclaimed jokingly, although he was genuinely concerned about what you were about to say.

"Me too," you said, giving a nervous laugh "It might sound strange, but I want to ask you if you are here too..." You looked both ways, hoping not to be heard by anyone, and then you leaned closer in their direction. Even though you had been at that distance thousands of times, he couldn't help but feel nervous "if you are Spiderman" you whispered and you instantly saw the boy turn the color of a sheet of paper.

"How do you know that?" he asked, his voice an octave higher than normal, giving himself away completely.

"Oh, what a relief," you said, now out loud, while holding your chest "I didn't say it yesterday because I didn't know if Gwen knew, but at least now I know that you are almost the same Peter Parker from my universe”

"What are you talking about? Is your Peter a superhero too?”

"Yes. You didn't think we took him to fight Thanos because of his pretty face, did you?” you joked and he couldn't help laughing softly. His laugh was very pretty and contagious, so much so that he made you forget for a second that you didn't belong there. Peter, on his part, was surprised to see that you had that sense of humor because in your relationship he was always the funny one.

"Yeah, it's just that... well, I didn't think he was Spiderman too."

“Yes, but don't be overwhelmed thinking about that. I won't tell anyone” you assured him “I'm just saying that if you need something from hero to sorceress you can tell me and I'll be ready. After all, I don't know anyone here and it won't hurt to stretch my legs, right?” you told him and he nodded at your proposal. Another difference was that you did not know that facet of his life and although he had wanted to tell you, he never found the right moment. So, the fact that that had changed from one moment to the next felt liberating in a way. Not even Aunt May knew about it, which left no one with whom he could talk about it or whom he could ask for help.

You heard the sound of the doorbell flooding your ears and you slammed the locker shut, desperately searching for your schedule.

"We have math" Peter commented before you finished looking for the day and time on the horrible photocopy that had been given to you in the office "Today you share almost all the classes with me"

"Oh, that's fantastic" you replied, sincerely grateful "Is there a problem if I'm with you during the day? I mean, I'll be with you in class, but you know what I mean”

"Well considering that we are supposed to be a couple, it wouldn’t be very strange" he commented vaguely and your smile fell immediately.

"We haven't talked about that yet, have we?" you said, a little sorry you forgot. He denied your question and you caught a glimpse of discomfort on his face.

"Well, I suppose that if you aren’t my Y/N you are not obliged to continue being my girlfriend" he commented, scratching the back of his neck. That was a habit that you would soon get used to. "Will we have to make a kind of… pause? while you can return to your world”

"Yes, I think it's for the best," you exclaimed immediately. You were a little worried about having to continue in a relationship that you didn't even know you had. "I'm so sorry, but I promise you that I'll be leaving soon and the prettiest Y/N will come back with you," you said, waiting to reassure him, receiving one of his smiles. as a reply.

"Now what we have to do is go to class"

"Yes, yes, I know," you murmured, as you slammed the locker shut and encouraged him to lead you to the classroom. You could still feel a bit of tension in the environment, but you expected it to disappear with time. You started walking down the hall, following in his footsteps, and you felt a kind of familiarity in that act as if you had done it your whole life “You know? I'm good at math.”

"No way"

"It's true!" you insisted, a little offended that he doubted your abilities, but also excited by the thought that you were smarter than... well, than you "And I suppose you like photography."

"Yes, I take some photos for the school newspaper," he replied, showing you his camera.

"Really?" you answered incredulously "In my world, we don't even have a newspaper. Although well, we have a news program...” you began to tell him. And to be honest, you wish the walk to the classroom had been a little longer than usual.

"There's really nothing we can do?"

"Kid, if there was something to do, do you think I wouldn't have done it already?" Strange asked, quite annoyed.

It had been two days since you had disappeared and, unfortunately for both men, Peter barely remembered what had happened or the spell you had tried to cast, forcing Stephen to walk blindly down the road.

"Do you think she escaped?"

"Please, she is a rebellious teenager but she isn’t stupid" he replied. It wasn't his favorite activity to talk to people your age and now he had Peter almost every hour of the day asking if he had found your whereabouts “Well she's stupid but not like that. Most likely, she tried to cast a spell that she has not yet mastered and ended up causing a completely different result. This results in more trouble finding where the hell she is.”

"But she will come back, right?"

“If she carried her sling ring with her when she disappeared, she will eventually come back. If not, we'll have to put 'lost dog' signs all over the place,” said the man, with a snort. On many occasions I had had to save you from your nonsense, but this already sounded like something more serious "I already tried to locate her with one of the hairs that I took from her brush, but the spell always fails when she is about to finish"

"Then?"

“Then nothing, Peter. You have to wait until I can think of a way to locate her or until she returns on her own account "

"And that's it? Isn't there a spell or a book? Can't we track her cell phone or something? My friend Ned is good with computers and…” Peter was suddenly silent when he saw the expression of the man in front of him as if he was about to throw him out the window “I guess you want me to go”

"You are very perceptive" smiled Strange, shortly before his cape flew to the door and opened it "And the thousandth time, although I appreciate your visits very much, I suggest you come back until I call you and tell you that I have some useful information or until Y/N be back in the sanctuary”

“Okay, Miste—Doctor Strange. Call me as soon as you know something, okay?” he said, but his words were interrupted by the sound of the door closing.

The man sighed and slumped back against a chair, changing his previous expression to a slightly more concerned one. If you had been there, you would have even made fun of him.

"Y/N" he whispered, his gaze fixed on one corner of the room. There was a chair and there rested one of your favorite sweaters. It was burgundy and you had always used it to imitate the wizard's clothing, which secretly amused him. "Now how the hell am I going to find you?"

As soon as you finished school hours, you ran to the antique store that you had found on the internet, hoping to find some of the relics you had in the sanctuary, a book, or even decoration that could be useful for your mission to return.

In the day, you had also thought of visiting the nearest libraries to do as much research as possible on the concept of the multiverse, the travels through it, and the proofs of its existence, even considering asking Peter for a little help in that regard. You discovered that he was very intelligent and passionate about science, which was beneficial for the situation you were in.

When you finally reached your destination, you smiled hugely, because the place was bigger and messier than you expected. It was dusty too, but not everything could be perfect. You were attended by an old man with the face of a few friends who grumbled every time you asked the price of an item and who took advantage of each distraction to fall asleep.

You spent more than an hour walking around the place waiting to look for something worthwhile and when you were about to surrender a box containing some clothes fell behind you. You thought it was all a simple accident, but when you picked it up you could see that it was a dark blue uniform, identical to those used in Kamar-Taj for training.

"Almost like a work of destiny," you said with a satisfied smile. You imagined that a sanctuary had never existed (or if it did exist, it had been dismantled) things had ended up in ugly antique stores.

You were happy to have found the uniform that apparently was your size, but when you looked at the price tag and you almost had a heart attack. It was more money than you could afford, and you honestly didn't feel confident enough with your new parents to ask them for anything. You looked both ways to verify that no one was there and with a bit of guilt you opened a small portal to your closet, throwing said object for him.

Then you said goodbye with a smile to the grumpy old man, ran to the closest alley, and opened a portal discreet enough to jump into it and appear a few streets from your house. When you knocked on the door, you were greeted by your mother's frown and a thousand questions about where you had been, followed by a scolding.

You didn't think it would be more difficult to deal with family problems than traveling through the multiverse.

"Y/N, I think I have an idea," Gwen said in your direction, with a huge smile. You, her, and Peter had snuck into the city library for an hour off to find a useful book. Although you had insisted that their company wasn’t necessary, they both ignored and accompanied you anyway, so you did not know how to feel "You should ask Spiderman for help" he muttered and you saw Peter almost choke on his own saliva.

"What did you say Gwen?" he asked, trying to cough in the quietest way possible.

“Yes, he is a superhero, after all, right? He must know how to help with these things.”

"Who is Spiderman?" you asked pretending innocence and she opened her mouth in surprise.

"You don't know him?"

"I think I saw it on the news yesterday, but in my world, we don't have one of those" you lied. You could feel Peter's gaze, but you didn't want to turn to him because you knew that would give you away.

“He's a superhero from New York. The only one really "

“Oh, it is fantastic. And how do I contact you? Do I need to jump off a bridge for him to save me or something?” you asked funny. Peter bit back a smile and just lowered his gaze.

“Well, if you manage to see him at some point, you could ask to speak to him. If you want, we can go out this afternoon and…”

"I can't" you interrupted her. They both looked at you confused "I'm grounded or something like that"

"Grounded?"

"Yes, these parents seem to be the kind who get angry if you come home late" you laughed, remembering your mother's words about the dangers that could be in the streets "I would even say they care about me"

"Sure they care about you," Gwen said seriously, but you shrugged "Why did you think they wouldn't?"

"I don't know, I'm not used to having a woman asking me every so often if I'm feeling okay or making breakfast for me," you said with disinterest. And it was true because as I had mentioned before, you got to feel a bit suffocated by receiving so much attention. You hated Gwen a bit because of the pity that crept into her gaze as if she saw a little girl who didn't know love “But back to the topic, if I see that Spiderman out there, I'll try to talk to him. Maybe he'll agree to give me a job” you joked and you finally looked at Peter, who had a playful expression. The chemistry you had developed between the two was curious as to if there really was some kind of relationship between the two of you. "I think I'll take these books from here and study them at home, I can't go anywhere anyway"

"I will try to find out if Oscorp has done a related experiment"

"Oscorp?"

"It is a company specialized in the defense arms industry, Harry's father is the owner and Gwen works there," Peter told you.

"Yes, but they don't only specialize in weapons and stuff, sometimes they do different experiments" she added "I know it's not very related, but at least we have to try," she said and you just nodded, grateful for the help that could represent. You grabbed the books on the table, ready to go back to school, and took advantage of an oversight by the librarian to open a portal the three of you walked through.

In fact, both Peter and Gwen enjoyed benefits like that, which came with the new you.

"Is that seat taken?" You asked amused and Peter almost fell off the building he was sitting in. You couldn't see his face because his mask covered him, but you still imagined him smiling.

"What are you doing here?"

"Well, it's a shame, but this superhero has only been swung by the New York that you have in front of you," he replied, shrugging. The air was cold from the Empire State building, but the view was totally beautiful "How did you find me?"

"You know, I'm lost in the multiverse and a friend told me that maybe the friendly neighborhood Spiderman could help me," you replied, taking a seat next to her. After thoroughly washing the uniform that you had stolen bought from the store, you had taken the liberty of adjusting it in some parts and now it fits you perfectly. The sling ring hung from your belt and you had put on some boots that you found stored in a box. He observed you from head to toe and surprised you by your appearance because he never imagined seeing you dressed that way.

"Oh, you know, with my magic," you said, slightly proud. The truth was, you hadn't been able to close your eye at night and you thought that maybe spending time with him would help you calm down. After all your Peter was so good at it, why would he be any different?

"Since you arrived, I have wanted to ask you: how does he work?" he exclaimed, curious, while he lifted his mask and gave you a view of his pretty face. "That of your magic" he clarified. She was in the presence of what he could call a witch and the nerdy side of him had come to light.

“It’s not that complicated. The magic I have used is called Eldritch and it consists of extracting energy from different dimensions and then manipulating it into physical forms. There is a lot of this energy in the environment and you just have to train your mind so that it can vibrate at the same frequency.”

"It's like electricity," he observed. You frowned a bit without understanding his comment “Yes, and you are like a conductor. You offer low resistance to the movement of an electrical charge, which allows the energy to spread in you”

"What a precise analogy" you replied, with a smile. That boy was really smart.

"So, it's more science than magic"

"It's a bit of both" you exclaimed, watching the boy closely. Your fingers traveled up to your belt to play with your ring, which you always did when you were nervous “What about you? How did you start being Spiderman? "

“I was bitten by a spider in the Oscorp labs. I accidentally got into an area where they were working on the genetic crossing of species and… well it seemed to work,” he joked, followed by a contagious giggle.

Your feet were dangling from the building and your bodies were close to each other. Too close for friendship, but still too far for love to exist.

"Do you mind if I ask you something?" you asked, after a good period of silence.

"No" he just answered. You hugged yourself to protect yourself from the cold and to feel a little comfort from the thoughts that had hovered in your head.

"A while ago I talked to you about my parents, I was thinking about one thing" you began and for some reason, you felt the need to look away "And that is that I know absolutely nothing about them. I don't know what they like, I don't know what they dislike, I don't understand their jokes even though it's supposed to be something I should know. I hardly talk to that boy who lives in my house, who I am supposed to love. I don't know anything about Gwen, I still don't know the blond boy in the picture...”

"Harry?"

"Yes, Harry. Look, what I mean is that there are a lot of people in my life that I should understand and I honestly don't. So I'm afraid of hurting them in some way because I know that when she comes back she will have to fix the mess I left behind. And the plan to go home is not going the way I expected. I know it's just my second day here, but if I'm honest I was hoping I was gone by this point. By God, I don't even know basic things about myself, how am I supposed to be able to maintain this charade?” you whispered and were silent, staring at the small lights of the condos below you. After sighing, you continued "And then there is you, of course" you exclaimed, meeting your eyes with his. They were the most tender and profound you had ever seen. “That I know everything about you and at the same time, I know nothing. And that terrifies me”

You were quiet for a bit, lost in that glow that reflected her gaze and already feeling the anticipated regret of having been sincere with him. At some point in the silence, you felt his gloved hand take yours and his voice brought you back to reality.

"Then I guess I'll help you understand this world" he replied sweetly. You couldn't have imagined better words for that moment and that simple sentence was enough to make the anxiety in your body dissipate. The words you had said at the end were ringing like bells inside Peter's head and for a second, he felt terrified as well.

I know everything about you and at the same time, I know nothing.

"It will be like magic" he exclaimed, seeking to encourage you "You need your mind, but you also need this" carefully pointed to your chest, where your heart should be "The energy flows within you and you transform it into something of your own. So, you will have to adapt to this sudden change in the same way. But with the difference that you will have me here to help you. This time, I'll be like your conductor” he finished. You smiled, a little calmer, and gave a friendly squeeze on his hand as a silent thanks.

You reflected for a moment and came to the conclusion that even though you were trapped there, the outlook didn't look so dire when you held Peter Parker's hand.

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I DONT READ SERIES BUT FOR THIS ILL ALWAYS MAKE AN EXCEPTION 😩😩😩

Band-Aids on Broken Hearts ➾ Part Two (tasm!PeterParker x Reader)

Summary: Spider-Man visits you to say thank you for patching him up last night and you share what you think might qualify as a "moment"

“Stay for a bit?” you whispered, “If you don’t have to go get beat up, that is.”

“I’ll stay if you stop being mean,” he teased gently. “Get some rest.”

You hummed quietly in your throat. “Speaking of rest, do you ever get a day off? Or is New York always a shitshow?”

“Sometimes everyone collectively decides to not break any laws,” he laughed, and you found that you liked the rumble it produced through his chest, the way it eased his posture so you could sink deeper into his side. “I had a night off two weeks ago.”

“I should get you a sign, like those little workplace incident ones, so you can keep track.” Words: 4.2k A/N: grief, mentions of death, coping with loss and hurt; cursing, mentions of food and alcohol, canon-typical violence; fluff and flirty banter; slow-burn; strangers to friends to lovers; there's a plot! part 2/5 -> previous parts: (one)

You must have drifted off to sleep sometime around four in the morning because when your eyes fluttered open, there was pale pre-dawn light filtering in through the small window over your kitchen sink. You shifted, rubbing sleep from your eyes as you sat up, the movement making your back crack loud enough to make you wonder if you’d aged fifty years overnight. Truthfully—well, you hadn’t been truthful at all last night when you’d told Spider-Man that the couch was comfortable. No, it was a ratty old thing, the cheapest piece at the Salvation Army on the particular Tuesday you’d gone thrifting. Its lumpy cushions sagged under you and it creaked with protest if more than one person sat on it at a time—which was fine, given that you rarely had visitors. Still, you figured that Spider-Man needed the comfort of a mattress more than you, since he had been the one soaring around New York and bleeding profusely.

Speaking of…You glanced over to your left, at the bedroom door at the end of your hall. It was open, which meant that the hero you’d helped was gone. Unless it had been a dream? A very vivid stress dream brought on by the fact that you were overtired, overworked and underappreciated. That was, admittedly, quite possible.

But when you stood, stretching your arms over your head to get your blood flowing again, your eyes immediately fell upon what had been left for you on the counter of the adjoining kitchen. It was your paring knife, with a Post-It from the pink pad you kept on your bedside table stuck underneath it. Curious, you padded over to the kitchen, taking note of the empty glass in the sink and the fact that the last of your bananas had mysteriously vanished from the fruit bowl. Smiling, you slid the knife into the sink and picked up the note.

You should sharpen this. It wouldn’t even defend you against an apple.

There was a crudely drawn spider next to the scrawled initials YFNSM. It took your brain a moment to process—your friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man.

Okay, so not a dream. Your smile grew, this time accompanied by a shake of your head as you wandered into your bedroom. The sheets had been removed and left in your already embarrassingly overflowing laundry bin. And, judging by the streaks in the layer of dust that had built up on the hallway floor, Spider-Man had also at least attempted to wipe up where he’d dripped blood on your tiles. Friendly indeed.

An alarm buzzed on your phone, making you jump. You’d left it on the coffee table and quickly scurried back to stop the grating noise, the sound that alerted you it was time to get ready for your shift at the hospital. You could think about what had happened last night later.

-----*

Peter shoved his hands into the too-big pockets of borrowed grey sweatpants, thinking to himself that you hadn’t been kidding when you said they were enormous. His torn up Spider-Man suit had been shoved into his backpack which he’d thankfully found exactly where he’d left it last night, tucked away on a rooftop corner at the intersection of 10th and West 29th, right near the High Line.

He managed to slip into a local coffee shop and change back into his own jeans and sweater before lining up to buy a coffee he didn’t feel like drinking solely because he could never get over the awkwardness of using the washroom in a place he wasn’t buying something from. At the register, when the barista asked him if he’d like anything with his small black dark roast, he paused, glancing at the display case of pastries and pointing to a decadent looking chocolate cupcake.

Feeling like himself again, Peter stepped out of the coffee shop and proceeded to give the coffee to the first homeless person he saw, along with the change he’d gotten from his purchase. The autumn air was crisp on his cheeks, the sharp smell of slowly decaying leaves rich in his nostrils. He was tired and sore and wanted a shower, but there was something he had to do first—something that he hoped would quell the uneasy feeling he’d had since waking up that morning in a stranger’s bed, albeit without said stranger.

One quick purchase at the florist, three short stops on the subway, and a lonely walk over a well-maintained asphalt path, Peter found himself sinking to the ground in front of a large grey stone, etched with a name he still had a hard time uttering aloud and two dates that were far too close together.

He laid down the floral arrangement he’d bought by the headstone, beside the fresh wreath he knew had come from her parents. And then he took a long, steadying breath and he spoke, hands balled tightly into fists and eyes closed.

“Hi,” that seemed like a good place to start. “Hi Gwen.” Saying her name still hurt and his tongue nearly didn’t let it past his lips, his mouth stumbling over that single syllable. Peter cleared his throat and continued.

“The weirdest thing happened last night. And it made me think of you which made me realize it’s been a bit, yeah? Two weeks. Sorry about that, work has been busy and Dr. Octavius says we’re close to a breakthrough so that’s a good thing and—”

He paused, a choked laugh caught in his chest, “I digress, as always. Anyways, this girl—no wait, back up—I got hurt pretty bad, but don’t worry, the other guy looks way worse and so yeah—I landed on this girl’s fire escape all bloody and disgusting and she bandaged me up and it was weird because it almost felt like you were looking out for me, you know?”

Peter had to stop again. Stop his words because he knew he was rambling and stop his mind from playing back images of Gwen sitting on his bed with a towel, gently wiping away his pain. “It was like,” he continued after a long silence, “Like you were up there rolling your eyes at me for being reckless and still doing this whole Spider-Man thing. I don’t know if it’s what you’d want. I don’t know. I was so lost when you—I just didn’t know what else to do and now it feels too fucking late to change.”

“I’m sorry, Gwen. I’m still sorry. I wish I’d done things differently, that night and every night since. I miss you.” Tears now, falling freely, caught on his lashes and cheeks and the sleeves of his sweater as he tried to wipe them away.

“I’m going to go see her again, I think. To say thank you. I feel like it’s a bad idea, but she’s nice and she’s a bit broken, just like me so, yeah. I, uh, I just wanted to tell you.”

It was 7:15 by the time Peter walked, defeated and uncertain, back into the home he shared with his Aunt May, who just so happened to be waiting for him at the tiny table in the breakfast nook, a stack of pancakes ready.

“Sorry,” he muttered, trying out a smile. May pursed her lips and gestured at the seat opposite her.

“It’s okay,” she told him, “I checked the news and didn’t hear anything about you, so I hoped you were with a girl.” She said it lightly, gently, knowing the depths of her nephew’s anguish and powerless to stop it. Humour had always worked with him—of that, she was grateful.

Peter snorted as he slipped into the chair, shower forgotten in the face of May’s famously airy pancakes. “Yeah,” he mused, “I guess you could say that I was.”

-----*

One hour. That was all that was left in your shift before you could go home and kick your feet up and bury yourself in the clinical case studies you needed to finish by next week. Fun.

Days in the pediatric ward were hectic at best and probably some of the most exhausting you’d had in your training so far, physically and emotionally. You had a collage of Scooby-Doo bandages on your cheek, courtesy of one of the kids in your ward, and your hair had long since fallen to pieces, but thankfully kids weren’t all that judgy and most of them considered you either a princess or a hero which was both flattering but also hilarious because you were certainly neither of those, lacking the grace and poise (and money) of royalty as well as the power and agility (and absence of self-preservation instincts) of a hero.

With 43 minutes left, one of the kids you were checking in with for rounds asked “Do you think Spider-Man goes to the doctor?”

You grinned. Maybe not the doctor, but definitely the unsuspecting nurse. You weren’t very good at children generally, but imagined it wouldn’t be the best to regale a story of Spider-Man dropping onto your balcony with fractured bones to anyone under the age of 12. So you settled for whatever passed as tact in child-land.

“For sure! Everyone needs to see the doctor sometimes, even Spider-Man.”

With 34 minutes left, you downed a cup of coffee and a protein bar and thought about whether you’d buy boxed or bottled white wine on the way home. You wondered if Spider-Man might be back, maybe even with the sweatpants he’d borrowed.

With 27 minutes left, all hell broke loose.

You were very nearly dead on your feet, stifling yawns like that was your job and trying to file away the last of your papers at the nurse’s station when you heard Dolores, your supervisor, gasp and the murmur of seven other nurses followed.

“Are you seeing this?”

“Oh my god…”

“Is Spider-Man there?”

You turned, your gaze following everyone else’s to the television set over the desk that was perpetually tuned to the news. Your tired eyes had only just refocused when something exploded. You felt your face go taut. Fuck.

The screen was filled with smoke and ashes and, then, amazingly, Spider-Man swinging through it all, following after something—or someone—that looked disconcertingly like sentient sand, a living and moving desert settling over the wreckage.

You felt your hands start to shake again and automatically pinched inside your elbow.

“Who can get down to the ER right now?” Dolores was speaking, but her voice sounded far away, “We’ve got five transports that are heading out and are gonna need all hands on deck when they get back.”

You raised your hand, not aware you were doing it until Dolores called your name and wished you luck.

So much for a lack of self-preservation instincts.

Downstairs, the ER was a mess of broken bones and contusions and lacerations and you noticed every detail while somehow being so zoned into your work that nothing mattered at all. Three hours went by in the blink of an eye, casts set and cuts stitched and the man who’d been responsible for all of this unconscious in OR #7, beaten to within an inch of his life by someone whose whereabouts you were considerably worried about. What would you find on your fire escape when you got home?

Your hands were shaking all the way home, along with your knees. The attending physician had done you the kindness of calling you a cab and paying for it, bless her, telling you that no one needed to take the train after sixteen hours of being buried in the sickness and hurt of others.

The fire escape was the first thing you checked after locking your apartment door. It was empty and you weren’t sure if you ought to feel relieved or worried so you settled on confused because what did it even matter? Spider-Man had landed there by accident and you’d likely never see him again other than on the news or in the paper. Why did that bother you? Normally, you’d find a spider in your apartment and throw it out onto the fire escape, not the other way around.

You flopped onto the couch, exhausted, not even caring if you ended up spending another night on its lumpy cushions. You had work to do, sure, but it could wait, your brain just needed a break before it imploded. A quick moment to shut out the world and everything in it. Earbuds in, you shuffled your playlist of 80s music and closed your eyes, letting the smooth sound of Bowie synths lull you into something like relaxation.

You didn’t know how much time had passed when you woke up, music still going softly in your earbuds, mouth dry with thirst, and hair sticking to the nape of your neck with sweat. You shifted to grab your phone from where it was digging into your waist, its illuminated face letting you know that you’d only crashed for 20 minutes. Not bad, it had felt much longer and you didn’t have that awful post-nap grogginess.

“Hey! You’re awake.”

You weren’t quite sure how to categorize the noise that left your throat, somewhere between a scream, a gasp, and a laugh when you spun around and caught sight of Spider-Man sitting on your kitchen counter, doing the crossword puzzle from yesterday's New York Times by the dim light of his own phone.

“Jesus Christ, what the fuck is wrong with you?” You had jumped to your feet, sweater falling back down around your waist from where it had ridden up while you slept. Your iPod clattered to the floor, pulling your earbuds out along with it, but you didn’t care. You practically flew to the light switch, turning it on so that your apartment was bathed in warm white light.

“What?” Spider-Man said lightly, putting down the paper and hopping off the counter, “I thought you’d be happy to see me. I’m returning your clothes. And I brought you something.” He gestured toward the pile of neatly folded clothing on the counter, on top of which sat a little white box.

You shot him a quizzical look but joined him in the kitchen, opening the box to find a slightly squashed and smeared cupcake. Admittedly, it was cute.

“It had a bit of a bumpy ride,” Spider-Man shrugged and you could swear he almost sounded sheepish.

“It’s thoughtful,” you said quietly, “But you could have knocked! Do you know who else breaks into people’s houses with a mask on? Michael Myers. Jason.”

“That guy from Scream,” he added as you dipped a finger in the icing and tasted it. You almost groaned at the flavour. Hell, that was sinfully good.

“Not helping your case. You should have knocked.”

“I did,” Spider-Man retorted, “But obviously over your music and snoring you didn’t hear me.” You didn’t even bother to deny the snoring—it was something that you’d done since high school whenever you were running on empty. “Plus,” he continued, “Those guys bring butcher knives when they go visiting. I brought a cupcake. It’s very different.”

You made a noncommittal noise in your throat, instead breaking off another piece of the cupcake and eating it. You realized, as your stomach grumbled for more, that you’d skipped dinner. “And you’ve been waiting in the dark for…”

“Only, like 3 minutes. I’m not a creep,” he assured you, “I was gonna wake you up if it got to five.”

“How’d you get in?”

“Picked the fire escape lock.”

“That’s criminal.”

“I like to think of it as resourceful.”

You shook your head, slightly disbelieving that this conversation was even happening but happy that it was.

“Busy day at work?” you asked, changing the subject because you had a strange feeling you wouldn’t win this argument. Spider-Man visibly winced, sucking in a breath through his teeth.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I guess you had to clean up Sandman’s mess?”

“I helped. And it’s not your fault. You didn’t blow up the bank,” you said matter-of-factly. “Any injuries you need bandaged?”

“All healed up,” he said and you could hear the grin in his voice, “But thanks.”

“Damn,” you sighed playfully, “I was hoping for an excuse to have you bring me another cupcake.”

“You don’t need to play nurse to get a cupcake out of me. All you have to do is ask.”

“Can I ask where you got it because cupcakes have no right being that good?”

“I made it,” Spider-Man said, lifting his shoulders with a shrug.

“For real?” Your jaw fell open, “You need to quit the hero gig and open a bakery!”

“Oh god no!” he laughed loudly, “I was fucking with you. The extent of my kitchen talents is brewing coffee and making cereal.”

“A good cup of coffee is an art,” you replied and he shrugged.

“I got the cupcake in the Meatpacking district,” he revealed, “Place near the High Line.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“It’s, uh, that’s where we used to live, before he died.” You frowned, feeling the tightness behind your eyes that was a harbinger of tears, and bit your tongue to distract yourself. Absently, you waved a hand toward the fridge and watched as Spider-Man’s gaze shifted to follow where your fingers pointed, an old Polaroid pinned up with a pumpkin-shaped magnet.

He observed for a moment, as he took in the details of the picture; a lush forest in the background, two smiling faces shaded by baseball caps, two figures with canoe oars held up like lightsabers, her standing on a rock outcropping level with his shoulders.

“I had the high ground,” your laugh was broken, forced. Spider-Man let out a small noise of amusement, his gloved hand hovering tentatively over the photo before he turned back to you. You wished that you could see his face, but were almost happy you couldn’t. You wouldn’t want to see the pity you were certain would be there.

“You look happy,” he commented, voice low. There wasn’t pity there, though, only certainty, understanding.

“I was. I am, but differently now.”

There was a beat of silence, something thick in the air between the two of you. “What happened?”

Your eyes widened, briefly, breath caught in your throat, your chest. For a moment you thought you wouldn’t answer. Then, the words began rolling from your lips like a tidal wave, furious and relentless.

“One day he started complaining of a sore neck and a month after that he was really sick and six months later, he was gone.”

It was the shortest version of the story you could tell, the one that hurt the least. The cold, hard facts. But there was something about the way Spider-Man took a step toward you, the way he placed a hand on your arm, that made you keep talking, that made you say all the things you’d never said to anyone except your weeping reflection. He was a hero after all—wasn’t his job to help? To save? Then again, wasn’t your job to heal? Hah, sure.

“You know, I hated him. I loved him so much that I hated that he was going to leave me. There was a whole week, right at the end, where I couldn’t drag myself out of bed to go see him because the thought of seeing him like that made me want to die too. But it wasn’t fair. So, I showered and forced myself to go and I sat with him and we talked for two whole hours and I left when he fell asleep. His sister called me an hour later to say that he—he was dead.”

You lurched forward, the weight suddenly too much to bear and Spider-Man caught you, holding you up when you wanted nothing more than to crumble under the waves of anger and sadness and injustice that you thought you’d long since learned to live with.

“And I know,” your voice was shrill, gasping for words, “I just fucking know that he waited for me. He waited because he knew I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

You felt your tears on Spider-Man’s chest, gathering but not absorbing into his uniform. Of course it was fucking waterproof—you found the realization oddly comforting, like you could cry into his shoulder forever and your tears could never touch him. You could keep your sorrow all to yourself.

“I’m sorry.” Spider-Man was ushering you back to the sofa, helping you sit, filling you a cup of water from the sink. Hero shit, you thought, he’s so good and…

No, you wouldn’t allow yourself to finish that thought. You were just emotionally wrecked and all those feelings were trying to go somewhere. You pulled them back, stitching them deep into the fabric of your heart.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” you sighed, taking the proffered glass and gulping it down, your heart slowly calming, sudden cold setting into your veins as a shiver ran up your spine.

“It’s not sympathy,” he said, sitting beside you, doing a double take when the couch creaked in warning.

“It’s old as shit,” you muttered and you thought that if you could see his face he’d be smirking. You looked at him for a long moment, trying to imagine what he looked like under the suit, how his eyes might be soft and kind and how he might have dimples or freckles or a five o’clock shadow.

You imagined that he might have tears welling up behind long lashes or a crease in his forehead from the frown he sported as you stared. And maybe it was the sound of his voice, the way it was twinged with understanding rather than fear of saying the wrong thing. Or maybe the sharp angle of his shoulders, a defensive stance you’d recognize anywhere—not against anyone else, but against yourself and all the things your mind wanted to wander toward. But all at once you realized that this hero—this person—sitting on your crappy sofa in a mask and with web shooters attached to his wrists, was someone like you.

“Who were they?”

“What?” Spider-Man tilted his head to the side, but you knew he understood the question. You didn’t say anything, just letting him take his moment.

“She was,” he couldn’t seem to find the right words, clicking his tongue, clearing his throat. “She was brilliant and beautiful and perfect. I loved her. I still love her.”

You put your hand out, gently letting it fall over his and nodded. He sighed, you imagined, weighing how much he wanted to reveal about himself. In your experience—and you hated how much of it you had—broken people didn’t want to talk so much as need to.

“I think I kept being Spider-Man after she died to prove something. To prove to myself that I was still alive but somewhere along the way I think I stopped being good and just started being angry.”

“It’s okay to be angry,” you shrugged, running a thumb over his knuckles, “A month after the funeral, I burned a bunch of the notes he took for his classes. If my life was going up in flames why not, you know? It’s human. Don’t lose that.”

“I think I might already have lost it.”

You took a moment, flashes of the villain who’d shown up at the hospital that afternoon near dead flickering behind your eyes. Nearly dead, but not.

“Well,” you sighed, squeezing his hand reassuringly, “I think that you even being able to think that proves you haven’t.”

“Thanks, Y/N.” He put an arm around you, pulling you close until your head rested on his surprisingly comfortable shoulder.

“Stay for a bit?” you whispered, “If you don’t have to go get beat up, that is.”

“I’ll stay if you stop being mean,” he teased gently. “Get some rest.”

You hummed quietly in your throat. “Speaking of rest, do you ever get a day off? Or is New York always a shitshow?”

“Sometimes everyone collectively decides to not break any laws,” he laughed, and you found that you liked the rumble it produced through his chest, the way it eased his posture so you could sink deeper into his side. “I had a night off two weeks ago.”

“I should get you a sign, like those little workplace incident ones, so you can keep track.”

“Oh yeah, please do.” You felt him smile against the top of your head, “This city has been crime free for 2 days.”

“More like, this Spider-Man has been injury free…”

“This Spider-Man?” he poked you gently in the arm, “I am a complete original. There is only one of me.”

“In this universe,” you mumbled, words stifled by a yawn.

“What was that?” Spider-Man asked.

“Nothing,” you said, your eyelids growing heavy with sleep, “Just an old joke my parents used to make.”

Spider-Man didn’t reply. Or perhaps you just didn’t hear him as you drifted away into a deep and dreamless sleep, feeling safer than you remembered feeling in a long while.

-----* I also want to take the time to thank you all so much for the support you showed Part 1 of this story. I sometimes have a hard time with more complex plots, so I tend to stick to one shots or two-parters, but I'm in love with this story and can't wait to tell all five parts of it. A lot of the stuff on grief and death here is pulled from my personal experience, but these things are different for everyone so if you are feeling them or carrying them with you, take care xx

Taglist (tysm friends, for actually wanting to be part of this with me): @v1oletvenus // @violetrainbow412-blog // @veraocruel // @morgane--stark // @frannyyy03 // @nervouslaught3r // @the-newfistofhydra // @alijulia87 // @kdatthecastle // @di4na // @infp-t-rhi // @dreamer7black // @plutoneu // @equivocalshit // @yodelingzavia // @lewispool // @pinkybee926 // @can-we-meet-in-a-dream // @where-is-my-oat-milk // @lia-andari // @multiple-boxes-of-earthworms // @starkovsmarvel // @lucyysthings // @panicattheeverywherekid // @earthgirl616 // @huhurrr-r // @astoria-reads // @schmuckyschmarnes // @mypalbuck // @spider-starry

such a creative idea <3

𝚏𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚎 | 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚘 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

a/n: this took me over a week to write because i was extremely lazy. this has quite a few american references. huge thank you to @marcela6malfoy and to everyone in the hp event! i love you guys! enjoy! <3

summary: draco and y/n, famous actors, loathe each other for separate reasons. although both are on the fast track to become a-listers, you know what'd get them there quicker? a fake relationship for the publicity. in the end, will it still be an act?

warnings/content: make out sesh, mentions of alcohol and smoking (none done by the reader) one instance of sexual harassment, cursing, angst w/ fluff ending, fame au, fem!reader

word count: 8.62k

reading time: 34 min, 28 sec

masterlist | request | taglist

I. BUSINESS OR PLEASURE?

"Look, Y/N, do you know why I called you here?" Y/N's manager, Dusty, asked, lighting a cigarette.

Y/N snatched the cigarette, putting it out in his untouched glass of water - he would've gone feral had it been in his glass of wine. "No, I don't, D, but I suspect it has something to do with the fact that you told me you'd quit smoking?" She asked, scanning the menu for something high in carbs, like a nice grilled cheese.

Dusty rolled his eyes, leaning forward in his chair. "Look, sweetheart, this is your career. I don't call the shots. You do. So what you're willing to do to advance yourself in this dark, dark world of Hollywood is up to you." He said, pointing to her heart, making her roll her eyes. "With that said, I called you here, on your day off, with a proposal."

Y/N looked at her manager suspiciously, taking a sip of her tea. "A proposal?" He nodded. "What kind of proposal, exactly?" She said, wiping her mouth with her napkin.

"Think of it as a business one." He said, clearing his throat before continuing. "Now, your new movie's coming out next year." He said, carefully observing Y/N's unsure expressions. "What would you say if I could get you on the A-list by, say, the end of this winter?"

"I'm listening." Y/N said, ignoring one of the paparazzo's pleas for her to smile for the camera from the other side of the bamboo separating the restaurant and the sidewalk.

"Draco Malfoy-"

"And... that's where I go deaf." Y/N said, leaning back in her chair to show her immediate disinterest, as she quickly answered a text from a casting director.

"No, no, Y/N, wait." He said, pulling his chair closer to the actress, who was still aggravated by the mention of the blond's name. "Listen to me, Y/N. Mr. Malfoy not only has immense talent-"

"-but immense self-importance, too. I can't work with someone who's only going to criticize my every move! And besides that, Dusty, he's quite simply intolerable."

Dusty placed his hand on Y/N's shoulder, trying to calm her. "But you haven't heard the rest - you wouldn't be working with him, Y/N." He said, smiling as Y/N's eyebrows raised in interest. "You'd be dating him!"

"Oh, cut me a fucking break. This isn't a business proposal; it's your death wish." She sighed, holding her head in her hands.

Her manager looked down at the menu in front of him and back at Y/N. "This could mean the beginning of your career's legacy, Y/N. Don't do this for him. Don't do it for me. Do it for yourself."

"He stole a role that could have gotten me millions, Dusty!" She exclaimed, recounting their history.

Years before that day, Y/N and Draco had only brushed paths a few times, none of them interested in each other enough to make any attempt at a conversation with the other.

On one of those fateful days, a casting call took place. The casting director had been up to her elbows in stress. Both Draco and Y/N would have been perfect for the role. All there was left to decide was if the main character would be named Neo or Nova.

Draco ran to his father, infamous in Hollywood for buying (and sleeping) his way to the top. Draco's father bribed the director to give Draco the role, and the rest was history.

"You know what? I'll do it. Fuck. What've I got to lose, right? Just my dignity..." Y/N muttered to herself.

Her manager nodded, understanding. "Perfect! I'll call his manager and let her know right away!" He smiled, letting his foot rest on his knee as he quickly dialed a number. "Stephanie? Splendid! Listen, I've got good news for you..."

II. FIRST IMPRESSIONS

"And we're only meeting for..."

"Just a few minutes to discuss business matters, nothing too out of the ordinary." Dusty answered, licking his finger and fixing a stray strand of hair on his head. Y/N watched him in fascination, never having seen him primp himself before. He cleared his throat before speaking. "Hey, uh, listen, Y/N; I know you don't like the guy. But just try to be likable. This could mean millions for you." He said, causing Y/N to nod, watching as he swallowed some breath spray, coughing some of it out.

Soon after their short conversation, the elevator doors opened to a large penthouse - perfect for a bleach-blond diva like Draco Malfoy. It was one of the many estates he owned. Being British, he used his home in LA strictly for business. Still, his apartment was decently decorated and mostly gave the impression that he had good interior design taste.

A man in formal wear, presumably the butler, rushed up to the pair, taking their coats and storing them in the coatroom.

"Y/N, Dusty, you made it!" Stephanie announced, going in for a hug and kiss on both cheeks. "Stephanie Romano, Draco's manager, so nice to meet you." She nodded, shaking Y/N's hand before going on to greet Dusty. "Oh, Dusty, it's been so long!" She said, making Dusty giggle like a little girl when she held his face close, kissing each cheek.

Y/N went to greet Draco on her own, shaking his hand firmly. "Y/N Y/L/N, nice to meet you." Y/N said, trying to mask her disgust with the man in front of her.

"Draco Malfoy." He said as if he was stating the obvious - as if everyone should know who he is.

When everyone was acquainted, they walked to the living room, fit for a bachelor such as Draco. His oil portrait was hung over the wide brick fireplace, making his head seem as big as his ego.

"Champagne?" Stephanie fake laughed as she poured herself a glass, which Y/N shook her head to.

Dusty nudged her in the arm, muttering a "be likable" through a fake smile.

"No, thank you, Stephanie." She smiled, and through the corner of her eye, she swore she could've seen Draco roll his eyes. "Let's just get the ball rollin', shall we?"

"Right, well, I've already discussed with Draco. We're hoping with this relationship," Draco and Y/N grimaced at the word, Stephanie noticing. "partnership, that both of you can grow as celebrities. Like Dusty proposed, Y/N, I'm sure this will get you on the A-list by the end of winter."

"Hm," Draco scoffed. "won't take me that long." He said, his eyes fixated on the coffee table that separated him and Y/N.

Stephanie took a deep breath, realizing he was due for another social training. "Right, well, Y/N, I'm just going to need you to sign a few things so that we can have your agreement in writing." She smiled, pulling out her tablet, which held all her important documents.

"Have you signed these, as well?" Y/N asked Draco, who seemed like he'd rather pick his nose and eat his boogers than in this predicament. "Excuse me, I'm speaking to you." She raised her voice, annoyed by the childish act Draco was holding up.

"Mr. Malfoy has signed these papers, yes." Stephanie answered for her client, her skin crimson from embarrassment. "Just sign at the bottom of each page." She said, handing Y/N a stylus.

Y/N took a few minutes to read the rest of the agreements while Dusty and Stephanie flirted endlessly. "Says here I'd have to partake in physical affection." She interrupted, raising a brow.

"That's right." Stephanie said, nodding.

"Well, to what degree are you insinuating?" Y/N asked, looking down at the empty space that awaited her electronic signature.

Dusty cut in, clearing his throat before doing so. "Just the regular hand-holding, kiss, cuddling in public places, all that jazz." He said, bouncing his leg restlessly.

Y/N nodded, continuing to read the agreement. "And how long do you expect us to keep this act going on?" She asked. "Your contract doesn't give a deadline."

"Christ, it's a relationship, not a homework assignment." Draco stated, annoyed. "We're done when I'm at the top of the game."

"I wasn't talking to you." Y/N sneered, looking at Stephanie, who was frozen. "How long?"

"It's January now; let's just say the first of April?" She asked all three, who were mulling it over in their heads.

"Fine by me." Y/N said, sighing deeply as she signed her name on the last page of their contract. "So, when do we start?" She asked, looking briefly at Draco, who seemed to be wondering the same thing. She made a mental note of him always having his eyes on her, observing her - as if she was some kind of science project.

"Well, we need to ease into this." Stephanie answered, nervously picking lint off of her skirt. "Both of you have a very... possessive fanbase. We wouldn't want them to feel like we were just springing this on them."

"Right, and we want you to feel comfortable with each other first." Dusty said, taking a swig of the whiskey he had in his flask. "That's why you two are going out for coffee tomorrow morning."

"Coffee?" Y/N and Draco said in unison, glaring at each other.

"Coffee." Stephanie confirmed, nodding. "Something quick, won't tip your schedules off too much, and low-key. It'll give you a nice chance to get to know each other."

"Uh-huh," Y/N said, already not liking the idea of having to spend an hour with the blond. "and what about paparazzi?"

Dusty cut in. "Already taken care of. Tipped them that both of you would be on the other side of town tomorrow morning, so make sure you both are on time."

"Alright." Y/N smiled. "Well, Stephanie, it's been a pleasure." She said, shaking her hand. "Draco." She nodded, thanking the butler for her belongings. "See ya tomorrow." She said, her voice trailing off as the elevator doors closed in front of her and her manager.

Dusty grinned a toothy grin at Y/N, who shook her head. "Better hope that groundhog buys you another six weeks of winter." Y/N said quietly, shrugging on her coat. "Because I have a feeling this is gonna take a long while."

III. BAD DATE

"Hey, I've been waiting for you forever." Draco said to Y/N, who'd just arrived.

She gave him a flat look before speaking. "I fucking saw you get dropped off by your driver a minute ago."

Draco shrugged, opening the door for Y/N before walking inside.

"Hi, what can I-"

"I'll have a short black coffee." He interrupted, pulling out a couple of $50 bills and slipping them to the cashier. "Make it snappy. I got somewhere to be." He whispered to the teenage boy behind the register before turning to Y/N. "Well? Don't just stare at me, order."

Y/N picked her jaw up from the floor and turned to the dumbfounded boy. "Just a tall hot chocolate, please. Thanks." She smiled apologetically as Draco swiped his card to pay for their drinks. "We should probably find someplace to sit while we wait." Y/N said, still shocked at how easy Draco found it to be rude.

"I'll get our drinks, you go sit. I'm texting someone right now." He said, waving her off, his eyes stuck on his screen.

"God, you're like a teenager." She said, scoffing as she found a small booth in the corner.

She was about to text Dusty with an update when Draco came by with the drinks, almost spilling them by how roughly he placed them on the table. "This place is filled with idiots." He sighed, sitting down as he took a sip of his beverage. "I asked for a black coffee, and one of them asks if I'd like sugar." He scoffed, sipping his drink some more.

Y/N swallowed down yet another urge to punch him in the throat when she remembered her status in the celebrity world. "So, what do you do for-"

"Hold on, hold on, I have to take this." Draco said, holding up a hand as he answered a call on his phone. "Hey, man. Nothing, just drinking my morning coffee. Yeah, yeah, how's the wife?"

Y/N drank her hot chocolate, looking around the room for anything even remotely more interesting than Draco's conversation.

Three men, all dressed in business suits, an old lady ordering a Trenta iced coffee, and two young girls peeking at Y/N over their books, whispering to each other.

Y/N's brows furrowed until she realized what they were doing.

Ping!

Y/N's phone lit up with an Instagram notification saying that @y/ny/l/n and @dracomalfoy had been tagged at one of the Starbucks locations. "Oh, shit." She said, watching at how quickly paparazzi clamored outside the store, just waiting to snap a pic of her and Draco together.

Y/N took a look at Draco, who was still talking loudly on the phone, and touched his hand briefly to get his attention. "I'm just gonna go to the girls' room, be right back." She smiled as Draco nodded dismissively.

Little did he know she would not, in fact, "be right back."

"Hey, is this the back entrance?" She asked an employee, who seemed to recognize her.

The employee nodded quickly. "Yes, it is! Oh, my God, Ms. Y/L/N, I love your work, I-"

"Call me Y/N. Do you think I could get out through here without the paps noticing?" She asked, smiling, pointing at the entrance now flooded with paparazzi.

"Yes, you can! Y/N, wait!" She said before Y/N could turn around to leave. "Could I please just have your autograph? For my little sister, Tina." She asked, pulling out a sharpie from her apron and handing her an unused cup.

"Of course." Y/N nodded. "Tina." She said, quickly writing a thank you note. "Thank you so much!" She whispered, quickly slipping through the back entrance before any other employees noticed.

Draco had been drinking his coffee for a few minutes before he saw someone, who wasn't Y/N, come out of the single-stalled restroom. "Shit." He muttered, noticing the hoard of paparazzi outside the establishment.

He dialed Y/N's number, having to call Stephanie to ask for it first. It rang a second before being sent to voicemail.

Hey, it's Y/N Y/L/N! I'm not here right now, but shoot me a message, and I'll get back to you as fast as I-

"Bullshit." Draco said, hanging up before getting an idea. "Hey, Dusty, I was just wondering where Y/N is." Draco said on the phone with Y/N's manager. "She said she was going to the restroom, but she hasn't returned in twenty minutes. I thought everything was going great! We were talking about our careers and discussed a second date!" He lied with a shit-eating grin on his face. "Is there something I don't know? Do you think I did something wrong?" He asked, feigning innocence.

"Oh, God." Dusty said to himself, disappointed. "Yes, Draco. Unfortunately, Y/N's been at home for the past few minutes. I'm so sorry about this. I know it's extremely unprofessional," He said as if he were reprimanding Y/N through the other side of the phone. "We'll work this out tonight, I promise."

And they did - in marriage counseling.

IV. COUPLES' THERAPY

"For this to work, you need to trust each other." The shrink said, watching the two's mannerisms as their eyes flitted around the room uncomfortably. She held her hands in her laps as she spoke. "How about an apology to one another?"

Draco sighed while Y/N nodded. "Sorry." Draco said underneath his breath, causing Stephanie to shoot him a sharp look.

"Like you mean it." She said, intimidating even the shrink.

"I'm sorry, Y/N." Draco huffed, as Y/N said it back, with the same lack of enthusiasm.

"Lovely! Oh, we're making progress! Would it be a reach if I asked you two to hug-"

"Actually, we're not there yet." Y/N smiled, waving her goodbye and thanking her as Stephanie escorted her out.

Stephanie smiled, taking another sip of her champagne as she sat back down on the couch with her tablet. "Tomorrow, at 9AM, you two have an appearance at the Getty Museum. This was going to be your "coming out" as a couple. But, since the paparazzi managed to get photos of you today," Y/N grimaced at the mention of the coffee shop fiasco, embarrassed. "it'll be more of a confirmation to the press that you're together."

Dusty continued Stephanie's statement, subtly winking at her, which she blushed at. "Additionally, the designer brand Gli Astro wants to do a collaboration with you both and will be dressing you tomorrow. Stephanie and I will meet you here at 7AM. Don't be late."

V. THE MUSEUM

"Why'd it have to be him? Why couldn't it be, "Hey, Y/N, what do you think about dating Andrew Garfield?"" Y/N said, fiddling with her trench coat as her makeup artist put the last touches on her eyeshadow.

"Y/N, as much as I'd love for you to be Megan Fox-" Draco said from his pedestal beside Y/N.

"Shut up, both of you. Before Petro comes back." Dusty cut Draco off, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're giving me a grade A migraine." He said, helping Y/N step down from the pedestal she was on.

Petro, the fashion executive of the brand Y/N and Draco, were modeling for, spoke as he entered the room, wheeling a vast mirror behind him. "My genius is done. What do you think?" He asked, pulling Draco to stand side-by-side next to Y/N.

Y/N smiled, stuffing down a laugh at how different Draco looked wearing anything but black. "I think we look great. Don't you, love?" She asked, leaning her head on Draco's shoulder.

Draco looked in the mirror; his jaw dropped. He thought he looked horrible, especially in "gardenia cream." Draco threw an arm around Y/N, pulling her close to him, despite feeling her muscles tense at his touch. "I think you look beautiful, angel." He said, looking down at her before 'lovingly' kissing her forehead. He noted the warm scent of her hair while doing so, having to remind himself of his distaste. Y/N glared at him menacingly before shrugging his arm off, coming up with the excuse that he was pulling her coat off.

"My work always brings lovebirds together. I am brilliant." Petro said, swooning at himself. "You must go. It is almost time for my hard labor to be enjoyed by the public!" He said, ignoring the angered looks on the other stylists' faces. "Go, go, go!" He said, rushing Y/N and Draco into the elevator, even pushing the lobby button for them.

As the metal doors closed, their reflection chased them. "God, we look like fucking Fred and George Weasley." Draco said, referring to the twin jokester comedians, as he stared at the reflective doors in front of him in disgust. They wore the same color palette that, somehow, made Draco look washed out, but Y/N look like the star of the show.

"We don't look that bad." Y/N laughed, looking up from her feet to look into their reflection once more. "Well, I don't, at least." She said, snickering at the scowl that was still on Draco's face.

Draco grabbed Y/N's hand as they entered the lobby, interlacing their fingers together. Paparazzi and fans screamed at them in craze as they threw questions at them, praying one of them would catch them. "Smile, precious." He said quietly into Y/N's ear as she waved at the cameras, trying to stay upright as the lights temporarily robbed her sight.

"That ensemble is beautiful! Who designed it?"

"What's your exercise regimen like?"

"Can you confirm recent statements that say you and Draco are dat-"

"Ms. Y/L/N. Mr. Malfoy." A chauffeur greeted, opening the door for the two as they slid into the backseat.

"It's crazy out there." Y/N said to herself, adjusting her hair.

Draco sighed, ending it with a small laugh. "Your fans are crazy." He said, messing with his hair, which had been ruffled by a teen girl who wore Y/N's merchandise.

Y/N shook her head, fighting a smile. "You know where to go, right?" She asked the driver, watching his eyes through his rearview mirror.

"Yes, miss. We will be there in five minutes if traffic allows." He said promptly. "Would you and your boyfriend like some privacy?" He asked, his finger lingering over the partition button.

"That would be lovely, thank you." She smiled, watching the last of his eyes disappear before being covered up by a black wall. "Gotta act like a couple, right?" She shrugged, looking outside Draco's tinted window. "Seems like you've a big fan there." She said quietly, pointing to a young woman who held up a glittery and flashy sign.

"Marry me, Draco." He read to himself, half-laughing at the shirt she wore with a Photoshopped picture of him and her, holding hands. "You certainly must've broken her heart." He joked, his voice steady, as he took in the sight of Y/N. Despite his dislike for her, he'd admit it - she was gorgeous, especially in the colors Petro dressed her in.

She shrugged again, laughing very slightly. "Should've told her you have a girlfriend before you got involved." She teased, looking out her window, watching as the palm trees of Los Angeles swayed in the wind.

The pair sat in silence for the rest of the car ride. "We're here." The chauffeur said, opening Y/N's door for her as Draco slid out the same side. "Thanks." He said, handing him a $50 bill for his tip.

"Thank you, sir." She smiled, giving the driver $51, which didn't go unnoticed by Draco as he rolled his eyes at her. "Look happy!" She said in a sing-song voice, smiling again for the cameras and fans crowded around the main entrance.

"Y/N, Y/N! Are you and Draco together? Can you confirm?" One reporter asked, waving his microphone rapidly between the two.

Y/N nodded as Draco took the mic and spoke into it. "We can confirm we are together, yes." He smiled down at Y/N, who was beaming, swinging their hands. "Thank you!" He said, leading Y/N towards the entrance.

"Draco, just a minute of your time, please! How long have you and Y/N been together? Any upcoming projects?" Another reporter asked, ignoring Y/N, who stood right next to Draco.

"Uh, I'll let Y/N answer that question since I stole her question back there." Draco half-laughed, unable to hear himself over all the "who are you wearing?"' s.

"We've been together for a few months." Y/N smiled, giving a lovesick look at Draco. It was obviously fake to him, but others didn't need to know that. "Nothing in the works!" She said as Draco pulled her to keep walking, the crowd and flashing lights beginning to overheat the two of them.

"Thank you, Ms. Y/L/N!" was the last thing the pair heard before they finally made it inside, where there was a distinct absence of paparazzi.

Y/N and Draco made their way to the front desk. "Good morning. We're just here to redeem some tickets." Draco said, pulling out his phone.

"I have them ready and printed right here! Please enjoy your afternoon." The customer service said, handing them two laminated tickets.

"Thank you!" Y/N said before Draco whisked her off to the exhibit.

Draco turned to Y/N, their fingers still intertwined. "You know, you are so... fake." He said, shaking his head as he put their tickets in his pocket.

"Me?" Y/N emphasized, her eyes widening in disbelief. "You're one to talk. Looking at me like that with the press?"

"Like what?" Draco asked, using the exact same expression Y/N was talking about. "I'm an actor, am I not?" He asked, smiling, not wanting the press to make up some elaborate story about their "public fight" because they were caught scowling at each other.

Y/N shook her head, scoffing. "You really only care about yourself."

The pair stopped talking and instead watched art pieces together in silence. Draco let out a slow whistle, indicating he was bored, pulling Y/N's hand to go see the next piece, but she stayed planted, feet on the floor.

"Are we not going?" Draco whispered to her as she took a deep breath, continuing to look at the painting in front of her.

"No. This is my favorite piece they have here." She said, eyeing 'Irises,' painted by Vincent Van Gogh.

Draco sighed, guiding her to a bench that a couple had just left. "Well, since we're going to stay here all eternity, we might as well get comfortable." He said passively, making Y/N bite the side of her cheek in order not to let out a laugh.

Minutes passed of Y/N watching the piece, mumbling to herself. "You look crazy. You know that, right?" He asked, watching her tilt her head at the painting.

"I see you're not used to being left alone with your thoughts this long." She said, looking into Draco's eyes. "Just look at it."

Draco stared at the painting, both not noticing that they were getting closer to each other. "I don't see anything-"

"You think so much. What-"

"As opposed to you thinking so little?" Draco retorted, which caused Y/N to smile brightly, noticing another paparazzo in disguise behind him.

"Look at the painting again." She repeated. "What do you feel? What does it make you feel?"

Draco's eyes widened as he sat at the bench, finally understanding what Y/N was going on about, not wanting to admit it. "I feel... like I want to leave."

"Ugh." Y/N groaned. "Let's just go to the blue bed."

"The blue bed?" Draco asked, looking at her worriedly.

Y/N half-laughed, unconsciously squeezing his hand. "It's, um... well, you'll see." She said as they walked past halls to reach the room with a giant blue bed. It was an art piece composed of ostrich feathers, gilded iron, and silk.

"This is..."

"Cool, isn't it?" She asked, letting go of Draco's hand to get up close and inspect the details on the headboard. "This must have taken months..."

"It's... a bed?" He said, unable to have much appreciation for this art style. "I think you've officially lost your mind." He whispered to Y/N lowly, watching her in awe at how someone could be so fascinated with something so unimportant. "I can get something nicer from Ikea."

"Oh, my God. That's not the point, Draco. This is the kind of bed royals would sleep in back in the 18th century. It's art!" She continued, despite Draco rolling his eyes. "Did you know a bed like this was quite a status symbol? In fact, one French king owned, like, 400 of them." She said, looking back at the bed.

Draco raised his eyebrows in interest. "Hm. Maybe I'll buy one, then."

"Please don't. They're hideous." She said while Draco laughed at her comment.

The pair walked throughout the museum with the same dynamic seen previously. Again, one would be enthused, the other just hungry and ready to leave.

Despite Y/N's conscience, Draco wasn't as bad as she made him out to be. At least not at the near-surface.

And despite Draco's, Y/N was quite humble about her successes, not feeling the need to bring them up like him. Unfortunately, the reminder that some are more evolved than the blond sent him spiraling back into his aversion for the young actress.

"You can suck my fucking balls." Draco said, smiling in a way only Y/N and their managers could see through. A waiter walking by had overheard, her eyes widening in shock.

"Mm, always been the classy one, Draco." She responded back, smiling softly. "You're so uptight, the stick up your ass is nearly coming out your mouth." She said, delicately caressing his hair, twirling her fingers through some loose curls that covered the nape of his neck.

It felt nice to be touched like that. Even when Y/N was saying such vulgar things. It was almost like if her touch would be as soft as it was, he didn't mind it.

Dusty and Stephanie hid the urge to roll their eyes while in the company of each other. Instead, Dusty spoke up. "Enough, you two. You've stalled long enough. You owe the paps a kiss." He said, tilting his head towards the mounds of paparazzi outside the window.

Draco looked at Stephanie with a look she would've giggled at if it wasn't so immature. Y/N seemed as if she was about to throw up, and that wasn't saying much compared to how she'd looked for the past thirty minutes.

Y/N was the first to turn to Draco. She eyed his lips for a second before her eyebrows furrowed, and her eyes closed, pulling the back of his head towards her as she closed the gap between them.

Stephanie smiled, putting more sauce on her Caesar salad as they pulled apart. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?"

It really wasn't, not for Draco and not for Y/N. But both were too proud to admit that kissing each other wasn't an entirely utterly horrific experience like they were making it seem.

His lips were soft, warm. It's not like he was sloppy. He was the mere opposite, in fact. And Y/N was anything but uncalculated. Still, it seemed to Y/N that Draco would've rather gone broke than kiss her again.

The two sat in silence for the rest of the meal, stealing glances when they thought the other wasn't looking.

"So, tomorrow's the filming for the Super Bowl. Are you two excited?" Stephanie asked, fighting Dusty for the check.

Draco looked at Y/N in confusion, as if she ever knew what they were talking about. "What filming?" He asked, his cheeks turning red when his voice cracked with nervousness.

Dusty cleared his throat, slipping his credit card in the bill folder. "The Super Bowl has asked you to film a short commercial to get people excited for the game."

"Where are our scripts?" Y/N sighed, not in the mood to argue.

"Right here." Stephanie said, taking out her portfolio folder and handing each of them the one-page script. "It's a bit..."

"Sensual?" Y/N finished her sentence, going through the lines again, which included moaning.

She'd done scenes like that before. But always with somebody charismatic like Mark Ruffalo. Never with someone as stuck-up as Draco.

Stephanie nodded, shrugging her shoulders up. "It's the best I could do. People want to see you together."

Draco placed the script face down on the table. "Steph, half of my family's going to watch me practically dry hump Y/N." He said, making Y/N sink in her seat, embarrassed. "Isn't there any way-"

Dusty shook his head profusely. "This deal will get each of you $1 million. Just for a little bit of kissing that'll last about a minute, tops. Are you sure you're willing to pass up that offer?"

Y/N shook her head slowly, and Draco followed as if he was getting reprimanded by his mother. "Wonderful." Stephanie said, getting up, Draco following. "We'll see you two tomorrow." She said, giving Dusty a very long hug.

Draco drew Y/N close, eyeing the paparazzi, whispering something incomprehensible to them into her ear. "Pretend you're laughing and kiss my forehead." He said, rubbing her back as her arms were settled comfortably around his torso.

Y/N pulled away, mustering up a fake laugh that made it no wonder she'd gotten so many acting awards. "Bye, love." She said quietly, kissing his forehead. She'd realized the paparazzi weren't able to decipher what she was saying, especially not with her back to them. But between the warm affection and all the commotion surrounding them, she'd gotten caught in the moment.

Their managers watched them exchange sentiments with each other. Their jaws dropped at how they could be so close and tender, despite how they supposedly felt about each other.

"Uh… bye, Steph, it's always nice seeing you." Y/N smiled awkwardly, ashamed she'd let herself get so caught up in Draco's aura. His eyes bore into the side of her head.

"Bye, my dear." She whispered before pulling away, watching Y/N's ashamed expression as they walked away.

"Are you still acting, Y/N?" Dusty said, leading her to the car parked outside, waiting to take her home.

VI. STEAM

The director paced the room as Y/N anxiously pulled her shirt, trying to cover as much skin as possible before she had to get rid of her modesty again. "So, how about we do the kissing smooch smooch, blah blah blah, and the dialogue in between, then break the fourth wall?"

Draco nodded, still feeling awkward from what happened the day prior. Y/N nodded, too, afraid any word she said would come out wrong. It was the fifth take the director asked for. Any more, and you'd wonder if he was getting hot to it.

"Alright, let's do this, we got thirty minutes' till lunch, and I'm not stopping until it's perfect." He said, sitting back down in his director's chair. "And... action!"

Draco rolled on top of Y/N, his hand lingering up her torso under her shirt, as the script said. His wet kisses lingered on her skin as he began getting rougher, his grip on her tighter. "Good thing everyone's gone tonight." He whispered his lines, unknowingly over a spot Y/N felt dizzy for.

"What do you mean?" Y/N asked, suppressing a moan to save herself further embarrassment as Draco's warm hands squeezed around her waist even more.

"For the Super Bowl." Draco said softly as Y/N took her cue to switch their positions, so he was now under her. Draco moaned her name quietly, although both the microphone and Y/N picked up on it.

"Oh, right." She said, kissing down his chest, each kiss longer than the last. She moaned into his skin, sending vibrations lower than she'd planned. Then, she turned to the camera beside her and Draco, looking in the lens, as Draco followed a second later. "You are coming to the Super Bowl, right?"

"And... cut!" The director said excitedly. "That's it, that's a wrap! That was perfect, you two, really great work." He said, adjusting his pants.

Dusty, standing by, quickly handed her a pair of shorts, socks, and shoes as Stephanie gave Draco a shirt.

Draco nodded at Y/N and headed to the sound editor, who sat in a corner on his third cup of coffee. "Hey, man, could you fix the part where-"

"The part where you moaned her name? Already on it, Post can fix anything." He said almost robotically, his eyes glued to the screen as he typed at lightspeed.

"Thanks, man." He said, sighing as he headed out the building to his trailer.

Y/N retreated to her trailer soon after, having overheard the conversation between Draco and the sound editor. She looked at herself in the mirror, sighing when she felt something poking the arch of her foot. She took her sneakers off to reveal a silver ring engraved 'DM.'

This must've come off while he was touching my- Y/N shook the thought as quickly as it came, utterly afraid of herself and her feelings at the moment.

She walked out of her trailer, nearly tripping over one of the steps for focusing so much on what she was going to say once she got in. She knocked on Draco's door twice before walking in.

"Hey, Draco, you left your- oh, God." She said, covering her eyes. Some girl, who looked remarkably like Y/N (Y/E/C eyes, Y/H/C hair, and her same smile), gasped in shock. She removed herself from on top of Draco, utterly embarrassed that she'd been kissing a taken man. "I'm- I'm sorry." Y/N said to Draco, dropping the ring on a table. Beginning to step out, she took a deep breath, walking quickly back to her trailer.

"Y/N! Y/N, wait!" Draco exclaimed, pulling on his shirt quickly as he let himself into her trailer. "Y/N." He said softly, watching her pack up her belongings.

She sniffled very slightly, afraid he'd notice the tears pooling up in her eyes. "I should've waited for you to answer the door. It's my fault." She said, looking down at her feet. Never in her life did she regret having met him more than in that moment. She'd fallen for him - Draco Malfoy, the obnoxious, self-absorbed asshole. She'd fallen for him, and it felt like there was no way out.

"Y/N, please just let me talk to you." Draco said, holding her in place by her arms.

Y/N's lip quivered as she inhaled his scent, something she'd learned to miss when in its absence. "There's nothing to talk about, Draco. You're allowed to have a life. It's not like this is real, anyway." She said, pulling a sweater on.

"What do you mean this isn't real? Y/N, of course, it's real! We signed a contract!" Draco yelled, making Y/N shake from holding in her sobs. "For fuck's sake, you're an actress! Act like you love me back!" He said, making Y/N wipe several tears out of her eyes.

She took a deep breath, holding back everything she could, including her true sentiments for him. "Acting and lying are polar things, Draco." She said, a tear sliding down her cheek. Draco swore his heart had never been so sore. "We have to make a brief appearance before we go home. Are you coming?" She said, sniffling her nose once more, extending her hand for him to hold.

He grabbed her hand, holding it tighter than he ever had, as if to show his hurt, knowing she wanted nothing more at that moment than for him to just leave her alone. Then, as they made their way out of the building, where paparazzi were piled up, Y/N squeezed his hand as if to remind him to smile.

They waved to the cameras, ignoring the questions they would have usually answered under different circumstances.

"Y/N, are you and Draco going home together?"

"Draco, how's the girlfriend?"

"Don't touch me." Y/N said to a paparazzo who'd been getting very handsy with her. She continued walking, her grip on Draco's hand a little tighter, and her body a little closer to his, as she felt his hands on her hip again. "I said, don't touch me!"

"Who touched you?" Draco asked Y/N, whipping to the side, looking the man in his eyes. "You touch her?" He said, letting go of Y/N's hand to approach the reporter.

"Yeah." The unsightly man laughed in his face. "She felt nice."

Y/N looked at Draco with wide eyes, never seeing him look so... predacious. Y/N tugged on his jacket, pulling him towards the car that was waiting for him, wary of the people watching. "It's okay, love, let's just-"

"You sick piece of shit, what the fuck is wrong with you?" Draco said, punching the man in the face. Then, with a bleeding nose, the reporter brought his camera up to Draco's face, snapping a picture.

"Draco!" Y/N gasped. The paparazzi choked, and even the flashing stopped for a moment before Draco spoke again.

"Oh, I'm gonna fuck you up." He said quietly before he shoved the camera to the floor, holding the man by the collar and kicking him right where it hurt. "Don't you ever," He said, kicking his stomach. "think you can," Security had now come for both Y/N and Draco's safety, as both were being whisked away to the car. "touch my girl ever again." He yelled, flipping the cameras off behind the car window before driving off.

Dusty and Stephanie stayed silent in the car's third row, shocked.

Y/N's heart raced as she looked out the window, praying she wouldn't cry in front of Draco and their managers.

Dusty tried to reprimand Y/N for not doing more, and Stephanie tried disciplining Draco for getting involved in something "trivial to his career." But not a word got through to any of them. All they were thinking of now was how fucked they were.

There were no more snarky remarks from him. No sarcastic quips from Y/N. It was just silent.

Draco's fist clenched around his seatbelt, his knuckles white, clenching his hand every once in a while from how sore it was. Maybe if he had accepted that he was entirely entranced by the idea of Y/N, maybe if he'd seen how she could light up any room she was in with her smile, maybe if he'd known that he'd fallen for her, this wouldn't have happened. But, alas, we don't all get what we want.

"Y/N, your stop. Have a lovely evening." The driver said, stopping in front of her apartment building as if he hadn't seen what had gone down just a few minutes prior.

"See you." Y/N said to Draco quietly, kicking herself for even addressing another word to him.

Surely what she felt for him, he felt for her, too. Otherwise, he wouldn't have defended her the way he did. The thing was - Y/N would've given anything just to know how he felt about her. Even if he didn't feel a way about her at all.

VII. AFTERMATH

She'd been cooped up in her apartment for a week now, only answering to her manager, asking him to cancel various appointments she had planned for the next few days.

A knock at the door was all she needed to distract her as she played Jenga with herself in her dining room.

"Who is it?" She called, pulling a wooden block out the side.

"Guess." Stephanie said, knocking on the door again. "Let me in. We must talk." She said, tapping her foot against the carpeted floor.

Y/N stayed quiet, pulling one more block out before the tower collapsed, making her jump slightly at the sudden noise.

She sighed, rolling her eyes and getting up to tend to the woman at the door. Stephanie smiled promptly and strutted in, a lattice basket in hand. "Come in, I guess." Y/N said before shutting the door behind her.

She sat down in the living room, crossing her legs before taking off her gloves, spreading out multiple magazines over Y/N's coffee table.

"And this is?" Y/N asked, pouring Stephanie a glass of champagne, her favorite.

Stephanie sat back, taking a sip before answering. "All the news publications that have written about you and Draco's "tragic breakup" since you decided your feelings are more important than your career." She said, watching Y/N pick up a random magazine and read the cover to herself. "Oh, this basket is for you, by the way, my dear." She said, placing her homemade care package on the ground as Y/N's eyes scanned the article on the trashy magazine cover.

"Did he really say this?" She said, defeated, holding up a copy of Celebrity Worldwide.

"SHE'S AN UGLY COW WHO CAN GO TO HELL!" CELEBRITY DRACO MALFOY SAYS ABOUT Y/N Y/L/N ON PG. 20.

Y/N glanced at the magazine cover once more before shaking her head to herself, tears dropping out of her eyes.

Stephanie pulled her close, letting Y/N cry into her shoulder as she tenderly stroked her hair - the way a mother would. "Of course not, dear." She said quietly, humming a tune. "But maybe he'll have a similar sentiment if you don't come out of this cave." She said, smiling at the small laugh that escaped Y/N's mouth.

Y/N looked into Stephanie's gray eyes, sitting up, as she unwrapped the care package to take out a frosted treat. "Cookie?" She asked guiltily, her mouth full.

Stephanie shook her head as she sighed before speaking. "Y/N - Draco's got a good heart. He may seem like he hates you, but trust that he's hurting. You need to talk to him. In the ten years, I've worked for him, I've never ever seen him like this. He's torn up. Eating cookies and drinking hot chocolate," She said, pointing to the empty pack of hot chocolate mix Y/N had on her dining table. "as soothing as it is, it isn't going to fix the issue at hand. You need to talk to him."

Y/N sighed, afraid of the thought of confronting the tall blond. "He's going to hate me."

"Have you seen the way he looks at you? Come on." She smiled to herself, being reminded of Dusty. "He'd be crazy to hate you. And you'd be crazy not to notice how much he likes you." She said, making Y/N blush.

"I'll talk to him." Y/N said, shuffling through the rest of the contents of the gift basket Stephanie had made her. "Chocolate?"

VIII. MISUNDERSTANDINGS

The clouds loomed over California - an occurrence that felt a bit more depressing the longer Y/N and Draco were estranged.

Y/N stood in front of his door, mentally preparing herself for any possible outcome of this visit. She shut her eyes, cracking her neck, before knocking on the tall double doors that marked Draco's apartment.

Draco opened the door, shirtless, messy-haired, his sweatpants stained. He eyed Y/N, who looked like she'd just seen a ghost, up and down, taking in a sight he'd missed for as long as he'd been away from it. She nervously fiddled with a belt loop on her jeans as she gnawed down on her cheek - one of her nervous habits, Draco had noticed.

"Can we talk? Please?" She asked, searching for a glimmer of the same desire she held in her eyes for him.

Draco nodded, tilting his head towards the inside. "Come in." He said, closing the door behind him as they made their way onto his loveseat couch. Draco quickly put on a shirt to hide that he hadn't worked out in days.

The two stared at each other, heartbreak in their eyes, with neither of them knowing it. "I'm so sorry, Draco." Y/N said, feeling her face heat up. "I made you lose deals, your reputation lowered because of me, and I just-" Draco sat up quickly, pulling her in for a hug - the first sincere embrace they'd shared, despite being so affectionate in front of the public so many times.

"Don't cry." His low voice rumbled as he rubbed her back, attempting to soothe her as her arms wound tighter around his neck. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I'm the one who should be sorry."

Y/N separated herself, fixing her hair behind her ears. "What?" She asked, her brow unconsciously raising itself in confusion.

"I wasn't being fair at all. This whole thing was blown way out of proportion by me, and I was being so stupid. And the truth is, I was really only kissing that girl in my trailer because… well, she looked like you. I don't," Draco sighed heavily, wondering if his apology was getting through to Y/N at all. "I don't deserve you as a fake girlfriend." He said, making Y/N laugh, shoving his arm.

The two smiled at each other in a light-hearted silence before Draco asked a question that'd been bothering him since they'd stopped speaking.

"So you didn't say all those things in the press?" He asked, hope evident in his blue eyes.

Y/N shook her head, remembering what foul things she'd apparently told J-14 magazine. "You know me better than that, Draco." She giggled at him, who was swiping fake sweat off his forehead. "You're not too bad, I don't think. I was wrong about you."

Draco smiled through his words as he spoke again. "You know, I never said you were an ugly cow or a clay-brained robot incapable of feeling."

Y/N's body sprung up as she looked at him in confusion. "I didn't read that last one."

"Ooh. Stay away from People magazine, then." He said quietly, making Y/N giggle again. "You're actually quite…" Draco looked at Y/N, her eyes slightly red, skin clear, and lips puffy from crying. "Beautiful."

The word caught Y/N by surprise. Talk show hosts and interviewers and fans had called her that before, but it had never made her so speechless the way it did when Draco said it. "Me?" She asked, pointing to herself.

"I don't see anybody else here." He said, eyeing her lips again.

Y/N smirked, subtly inching closer to Draco, although it didn't go unnoticed by him. "You're not so bad yourself, I suppose." She said quietly, gasping before Draco pulled her to his lips.

It started out soft and innocent. They'd kissed before, but never like this - never in privacy.

Her warm lips traced his soft ones as they glided across each other as if it were a dance.

Y/N giggled at the thought that she and he were really doing this. Draco chuckled, continuing to kiss her through the haze. Their noses bumped against each other the more into it they grew, Y/N's fingers pulling Draco's ends. Even when they'd finally pulled away to allow each other to breathe, Draco rested his forehead on hers, licking his lips before giving her one more kiss.

"I can't get enough of you." Draco whispered, panting against Y/N's mouth, the corners of her lips quirking upwards.

"Well, I'm right here." Y/N answered, having gained enough breath to continue their kiss, tasting subtle mint notes on Draco's tongue.

"I fell for you first." Draco bragged, feeling his body relax as if the world had no stress or worries.

"You did not." Y/N said as Draco began kissing down her neck.

"Did, too." He said, coming back up for just one more kiss.

IX. EPILOGUE

Draco babbled with one of Dusty and Stephanie's twins in his arms, making funny faces, trying to amuse the small boy. At the same time, his girlfriend, Y/N, answered a fan's question at a film promotion for their new movie together.

"His sense of humor." She answered, bouncing the other twin on her knee. The crowd smiled at the babies, their adorable chubby faces lighting up at the sight of the audience.

"Oh, one more question." The same person from the previous question said. "Draco, what was your favorite scene to film?"

Draco chuckled into the mic, letting the baby in his arms play with his rings. "That one's easy. The scene where Y/N wore a pregnancy belly." He said, feeling himself glow red as the audience let out "ooh's." "It's not- come on, it's not like that, guys!" He said, making the audience laugh. "It was just endearing to see her like that." He said, gawking at the pretty girl sitting next to him, who was looking at him with the same lovesick eyes. "Alright, alright, next question?" He said jokingly.

"This one's for Draco - um, what was the best part about working on the film?" A young girl asked, clearly nervous about speaking in front of such a large crowd.

"Probably being with my girlfriend all the time. I'm sorry, I know I'm making all these answers about her, I can't help it." A chorus of "aw's" escapes from the audience. Draco grins, nodding, as Y/N playfully shoves his arm.

It only takes one person in the crowd to say it before everyone else is influenced: "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" The audience said, each chant louder than the last.

"What do you say? Should we give the people what they want?" Draco smirked, covering their mics as the chants kept getting louder.

Y/N smiled, nodding as she closed her eyes and leaned in for a kiss, but not before Draco covered the twins' eyes, their feet kicking to see what they were missing.

"No one I'd rather be with than you." Draco said, pecking her lips one more time, admiring his world.

"Ditto."

---

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pirates >>>>

The Devil of the Seas — Prologue

Pirate!Sirius Black x Navy Captain!reader

Word count: 795

Series Masterlist

(y/n) sighed softly, adjusting the jacket of her uniform as she stood outside the throne room. Even after being ten minutes early, she had ended up waiting for over half an hour for the king to let her enter, all the while under the watchful eyes of the two guardsmen positioned on either side of the large wooden doors.

Her gaze flitted around the hallway, landing on the portraits adorning the walls in her pointed efforts to look anywhere except at the two burly men. Detailed portraits of kings and princes, most of them long dead, yet all brought back to life in these works.

She was in the midst of examining the current king's portrait when the heavy doors were thrown open and Lord Snape stormed out of the throne room, face like a thundercloud and nearly knocking her over in his haste. Before she could react to his rudeness, however, the two guards finally shifted from their statue-like positions and gestured for her to enter.

As soon as her foot crossed the threshold, they announced her presence. Loudly.

"Captain (y/n) (y/l/n) of the Royal Navy!" And with that, they closed the doors behind her.

She was exceedingly aware of the sound her boots made as she crossed the distance between the doors and the steps before the thrones, despite the thick red carpet beneath her feet. Head held high, she knew not to look down before she had reached the bottom of those steps, where she bowed deeply. Bowed, for women with her profession did not curtsy.

Not that there were many.

"At your service, sire."

"Ah, captain." The king smiled. "I trust you have been informed about the reason for your summons?"

"Partially. They mentioned a mission, but didn't specify what the task would be."

The king hummed, rising and ambling over to the window. "Tell me, captain, have you ever heard of the man they call the 'Devil of the Seas?'"

"Indeed I have, sire." Aside from following the monarch's movements, (y/n) didn't budge.

"Good. Your assignment is," he paused, turning from the window to look at her, "to capture him. Alive." 

The sudden shock broke through her composure and her eyes widened. "Me? Capture the Black Devil?"

"Indeed. Unless you believe you are not up to the task."

That lit a fire in her. (y/n) (y/l/n) was never one to pass up a challenge, and she certainly did not plan to start now. There was a reason her fellow sailors dubbed her 'Artemis,' she thought to herself, right after reminding herself to get rid of the determined crease in her brow.

"Oh, no, sire, my crew and I are most definitely up for it. Though if I may ask, he has been active for years, nearly a decade, and as far as I am aware, this is the first time you express a desire to send someone after him. What changed, your majesty?"

"What changed? What changed?" His Majesty flew back to the thrones, eyes boring into hers as his voice raised nearly an octave in his agitation. "Do you not recall the day His Highness, the Crown Prince, returned from his journey to the continent? Attacked, robbed by those vicious pirates, they were! Look at him," he cried, waving one arm about wildly, "the poor boy's scarred for life!"

(y/n) snuck a glance at the prince out of the corner of her eye. His Highness sat calmly on his own throne, no longer a boy but a capable young man, preparing to someday take over the kingdom. He glanced up from the documents he was studying to see the scene unfolding before him, with a neutral expression that only showed how unperturbed he was by the whole event. Naturally, he must have gotten used to his father's eccentricities by now. His eyes met hers for a brief second before he returned his attention to his papers and she returned hers to the king.

"I… see, sire. And you wish for him to be brought back here?"

"Naturally, captain. Where else?" The king's features now wore a pleasant smile, and she made a mental note not to forget again how quickly and how easily the moods of royals could change.

"Understood, my liege. Is there anything else?"

"Only that you are to begin preparations at once. That will be all, captain. You are dismissed."

(y/n) made another low bow, and with a murmur of 'your Majesty,' she marched out of the throne room.

As soon as the doors clicked shut behind her, the confident smirk she had been suppressing spread across her face.

It was time to catch the most elusive pirate sailing the seven seas.

this was honestly so wholesome. mia sounds caring but at the same time hey id be annoyed too. you're making me fall in love with pin even before i watch the series jenni 😂

and the horsey divider was a nice touchh

SECRETS TO KEEP | PIN HAWTHORNE

Summary: Mia doesn't want her little sister Y/N ride and forces her into stopping. Pin is there to stand up for Y/N, and certain things about Y/N's past come to light, showing the situation in a new light. Idea by @misssociopath (we built her idea further with my ideas though)

Fandom: Free Rein

Pairing: Pin Hawthorne x fem!MacDonald!reader

A/N: I hope you like it Hadleigh!

Warnings: mentions of death/near death situation, cringy title 😅

Word count: 2.2k

(gif is mine)

You loved these moments. The moments when you could sneak away and prepare Dusty, walking him to the arena and mounting it, feeling like you became one with it.

You just felt so free when you were on Dusty, wind blowing on your face, feeling like you were flying over the obstacles...

"Y/N, get off that horse!" Mia's voice pulled you away from your utopia, and you saw her marching towards you and you pulled Dusty to a stop.

"Mia-"

"How many times I have had to tell you that you simply. Won't. Be. Riding," Mia scolded you and beckoned you to come down.

You lowered your gaze in shame, getting off Dusty and Mia took his reins the moment you had let go of him, starting to walk him out from the arena, laying one last disapproving look at you.

You knew that Mia didn't want you to ride, and you knew the reason for it, too. But despite that accident, you loved riding and wanted to compete one day, so you had ridden when Mia was busy with other stuff, hoping she wouldn't catch you. But she did every once in a while, more than often actually, and it always ended with her scolding you all the way back home, saying it over and over again that what if, what if. You wanted to tell her that if you would leave things you dreamed of undone and fear everything, you wouldn't be able to live at all, but Mia was stubborn and you knew she wouldn't listen.

After a while of it going on, you decided to wake up every single morning before anyone else did and make your way to the stables. Fortunately Sam didn’t mind people riding horses or doing stable work even if it was five at the morning, because that was exactly what you were doing. The sun hadn’t even risen yet when you arrived to the stables and put Dusty ready.

You kind of knew it was foolish, if something would happen, nobody would help you, but Dusty was reliable and had never even stumbled when you were riding it. You could just sink into your own world as you rode, and after a while you grew accustomed to it, and didn’t even notice when sun rose and a certain stable boy came to lean on the fence, watching you ride.

It was only when you pulled the reins to stop Dusty and dismounted him, Pin spoke up. “I didn’t know you could ride so well.”

You were startled by his voice, abruptly turning around. “Pin! How long have you been standing there? You scared the heck out of me.”

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “But I meant what I said. Have you thought about applying to any competitions?”

You frowned and then shook your head. “No, um… no. I really can’t, or I’m not interested. Or I’m interested, but uh…”

“Are you too shy to apply?” he asked, and you offered him a nervous smile, just simply nodding. You felt awful for lying, but you knew that if Pin knew the real reason, he would go straight to Mia and confront her and that was the last thing you wanted. Her nagging would never end if that happened.

“I just… it’s really nerve wracking to ride while some old dudes are watching me,” you told him. It was partly true, which was probably why it went through with Pin.

“I understand, competing isn’t for everyone,” he replied, and you nodded, starting to walk Dusty back to his stable before Mia would arrive to the stables.

“Did you know Y/N can ride?” Pin asked Jade while they were at the tack room together, and she frowned.

“No? I’ve never seen her ride. I didn’t even know she’s into riding-” Jade began, but then Mia popped in to the tack room, her forehead wrinkled in visible confusion, and Pin and Jade turned to look at her.

“You saw Y/N ride? When?” she asked, and Pin cocked his head, Mia’s tone wasn’t snappy for once. She sounded… worried?

“This morning. She was out there with Dusty already when I came to work around six thirty. Didn’t you know Y/N rides either?” he asked, but Mia disappeared from the doorway without another word.

“You rode again this morning,” Mia’s voice interrupted your thoughts as you brushed Dusty, and you froze before you quickly composed yourself again and tried to seem innocent.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t lie to me, I know you rode this morning. You clearly won’t listen to me, so you won’t be coming to stables at all anymore, starting tomorrow,” Mia announced and your mouth dropped open, you certainly didn’t think it would go this far. You took a few steps towards her, but her stern expression didn’t change at all.

“No, Mia, please, I won’t ride anymore, I-”

Mia shook her head, interrupting you. “You have promised it before too, and still you’re breaking it over and over again. You do realise that it could happen again, don’t you? And still, you’re risking it all over again.”

“I’m a much more skilled rider now! It won’t happen again, it’s-”

“You can’t know that!” Mia raised her voice, attracting some attention outside Dusty’s stable. “You won’t be coming to Bright Fields at all anymore, that’s final.”

She stomped away from Dusty’s stable, almost bumping to Pin who had just come to the scene. She glared at him. “Watch it!”

“What’s up with your sister?” Pin asked you when he leaned against Dusty’s stable door and frowned when he saw your tear-stained cheeks. He opened the door quickly, walking over to you, taking a hold of your biceps as you threw the brush on the ground. “Hey, hey, Y/N, what’s the matter?”

“Mia said that she won’t allow me to come into stables anymore, she had heard somewhere that I’ve been riding even though she has forbidden it and she said that since I won’t listen to her, she won’t let me to come here anymore,” you choked out, sniffling and wiping your eyes to your hoodie sleeves.

Pin frowned. “What?”

“Riding has been the only thing that has made me happy, dad doesn’t really care about me or Mia, he’s always working and he’s never got time for us… Mia copes with it by being mean to everyone but I’ve coped with it by riding Dusty, and now she’s going to take it away from me,” you continued and Pin rubbed your arms.

“I’ll talk to her, don’t worry,” Pin told you and you couldn’t help but choke out a mocking chuckle.

“No offense, but do you really think he’d listen to you? She holds some personal grudge against you and your dad because of the Raven case.” you shook your head, but Pin wasn’t one to back down.

“I can be very persuasive if the situation needs that,” he assured and left Dusty’s stable and you standing there, a stripe of hope and admiration flashing through in your eyes. “Don’t worry, she’ll listen or I’ll make her listen.”

He didn’t have to look for long before Mia appeared from the tack room, and Pin tried to hold himself back from raising his voice on that moment. He absolutely hated seeing you cry, and the reason for it being your own sister who wasn’t very kind to anyone just boosted him.

“How can you be like that?” Pin asked Mia and she turned around in surprise.

“Like what?” she asked and rolled her eyes, “I’m not interested in your opinions about me, Hawthorne.”

She turned, but before she could walk away, Pin spoke again, “Your sister is crying because of you.”

Mia sighed and Pin knew she rolled her eyes again. “She came up to whine about it to you?”

“She said that riding Dusty is that thing which she uses to cope when your dad is always busy with work. That’s a lot better coping mechanism that yours is,” Pin crossed his arms and stared at Mia.

Mia looked down at the ground and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Y/N has no right to tell about our family business to random people here at the stables.”

“Why won’t you just let her ride? Or is she better than you? You can’t take it that someone is better than you in something?” Pin pressed on and Mia looked like she’s thinking and glanced around, before she opened the tack room door again and Pin followed her inside before she could close the door. Mia pressed her lips together and glared at him, but then took in a deep sigh.

“Fine,” she mumbled, clearly tired of avoiding the situation. “You want to know the reason why Y/N can’t ride?”

“Other than your jealousy?” Pin raised his eyebrows and Mia groaned.

“I’m not jealous! It’s just that… something… happened when we were just two little girls on a riding trip. It was stupid, but we thought it was an adventure,” Mia began, looking down at the floor as she recounted that day. “We had been watching this cartoon show where two teenager girls were detectives on horses and they always found some artifacts from the forest near their house. I got this great idea that we could try to find artifacts like that too, so we jumped on our ponies and didn’t even check the weather.”

Mia took a pause, sitting down on a stool as her eyes were still glued on that spot on the floor.

“Misty, Y/N’s pony, threw her off as a lighting struck suddenly. She was catapulted straight against a tree and fell unconscious from the impact. I managed to get her on my pony and walked myself in the pouring rain, all the way back to our house. Once we were there, dad called an ambulance.”

Mia swallowed as shee took a break, and Pin noticed her hands were shaking.

“She got hurt,” she choked out, and Pin frowned, she had never cried in front of him. “Really, really hurt. They said it was a miracle that her neck didn't snap from the force of the impact. And at first, doctors thought that she’d be attended into a wheelchair for the rest of her life, but it took just a few years and she could run again like nothing had happened. And she still wants to ride. But the problem is that we all want things we can’t get, and I can’t risk Y/N hurting herself like that again. I managed to save her once, but I can’t know if I can do it twice.”

Pin stared at Mia for a moment before turned away from Pin to wipe her eyes, and then sighed. “Y/N is a really good rider, I don’t know if you have seen her ride now. I think she even could have skills to compete.”

Mia sniffled as she turned back to Pin, frowning. “She can’t be that good.”

Pin smiled slightly. “Give her a chance to show you. By forcing her to stay out of the stables you’ll only ruin your relationship.”

Mia thought for a long moment, which was a good sign, before she finally sighed. “Fine. But I’ll hold you responsible if anything happens.”

Soon, you were at the arena, riding skillfully, even though nervously as Mia and Pin watched. Mia didn’t really show it, but Pin knew she was secretly impressed by your skills. After you pulled Dusty to a stop and carefully approached Mia, ready to hear that she still doesn’t want you to ride, you were met with her sighing.

“Fine. Y/N, you can ride. But Pin, you’re responsible of her. If something happens, you’ll be held on account for that,” she told him strictly, and you looked between the two before Mia left the scene. You stared after her for a while, before you turned your gaze to Pin again.

“How did you get her to listen?” you asked, sitting beside Pin on the fence. He smiled slightly at you.

“I got her convinced that if she takes away things you love, she’s ruining her relationship with you too. She cares about you more than you think," he replied, and you blinked at him.

“Are we talking about my sister or some fictional version of her?” you asked, but Pin just chuckled.

“I was surprised to see her like that as well, I didn’t think she would even be capable for feelings,” he shrugged and then turned to look at Dusty who had smelled that he had an apple in his pocket. He gave a little laugh and let Dusty take a bite, making you smile too. “But really, Y/N, you’re an awesome rider and person, I’m only happy to help you.”

You smiled and Pin and then carefully leaned your head against his shoulder, partly expecting him to clear his throat and pull away, but he just wrapped his arm around you and pulled you tight against him. You couldn’t help but smile wider as your heart started to beat faster.

Maybe everything would turn out even better than you expected.

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