D. M. Brightwell

Cold-hearted woman who writes only romance stories in hopes a Mr. Darcy, Simon Riley, or Draco Malfoy will come and sweep her off her feet. Website: delaneybrightwell.wixisite.com/dmbrightwell

[mentoskova]

"Have you seen that bigboy with a skullface??"

[daily-spooky]

[ghosts-cyphera-deactivated20240]

Solace

╰﹒from his lips you found solace; from the way that he backed you against the kitchen wall, something familiar. / playing house with pornstar!ghost.

warnings/content: 18+, mdni; fem!reader, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected vaginal intercourse, warm and fluffy domestic themes with a touch of bittersweetness, implied audience—but also filming porn so actual audience, lol. words: 2.9k.

the kitchen of the townhouse was warmly lit: dim lights above the cooking area created an inviting glow in the evening. the piles of dog-eared cookbooks, pots and spatulas, and a row of herbs reminded you that this time you were not on set.

you were home.

with your fingers intertwined with those of ghost, you slipped into the kitchen. on your faces played the warmest of grins, and you tried your best to bite back your laughs and your giggles.

simon's shushing was rushed as his hand cupped your cheek and led you into a deep kiss.

from his lips, you found solace; from the way that he backed you against the kitchen wall, something familiar.

to kiss with lips brightly smiling was not an easy job, the clanging of your teeth together only brightening your joys. 

"there’s no way they won't hear us," you managed through your laughs and kisses, your twinkling eyes finding him. "they know. they have to know—“

"if you’d come up with a better reason for us to sneak off—," his laugh was low, voice deep as he tried to keep it only slightly above a whisper. "'we need to check the a/c'? it's fuckin' freezin' out there, my love."

you laughed with a shake of your head. "you know I've never been able to lie."

"so maybe you should've told the truth," he raised an amused brow. 

"sorry friends, ghost wants to bend me over the kitchen counter while you dine in the next room ov—," his lips on yours cut your sentence short: a warm moan sliding from your lips as you felt your body submitting to him. 

for who were you to deny it, when your own skin was burning with your need for him? when his voice, his touch, his scent: his love for you was what fueled you? 

when ghost—you smiled only brighter as he forced himself to break the kiss—was all that you had ever wanted.

"I did not drag you with me to bend you over, my love," his chuckle was warm: the back of his hand caressing your cheek, and his eyes darkened with playful mischief. “no, darlin’. fuckbuddies get bent over. and—let’s see—girlfriends get bent over. maybe hookups from pubs, and—“

with a laugh, your hand moved to cover his mouth. “if you think I want to hear a list of everyone you’ve bent over in the past—“

"but you—," his fingers on your wrist were gentle, as he freed his grinning lips from your hold, “are not just a girlfriend or a casual fuck. no, you—,” he smiled against your lips, warm and bright, “are my wife, darlin’. and wives get fuckin’ worshipped.”

“even with our entire group of friends in the next room over?” not even the slightly nervous knit of your brows could hide the burn in your eyes as his thumb brushed against your bottom lip. 

teasing: his eyes dark, as he spoke. “if our friends think for a moment that I don’t fuck you every night, and wake you up each morning with my mouth on you—,” he planted a kiss on your lips. “it’s about fuckin’ time they get it right.”

god.

"ghost—," your laugh was warm as you watched him kneel before you on the floor of the townhouse kitchen—of your kitchen—the sight alone enough to coax a soft breath from your lips. 

it was the hunger in his eyes. the twinkle in them as his fingers rested on your ankles and he began to trace his way up, and up, and up your legs: his touches burning through your sheer stockings, held up by a garter belt.

each touch was getting you only more breathless: each of his kisses planted on your thighs full of adoration.

ghost knew it too: you could see it in his eyes as he looked at you, the man downright grinning between his kisses. "breathe, darlin'."

"stop teasing me and I will."

"stop teasing and do what, instead?" 

as much as you wanted to curse him for making you plead and beg, you felt the heat rising to your cheeks with your smile. "need to feel your tongue on me, ghost. please—"

"this tongue?"

yes, that fucking tongue: the tongue of which tip ran up your slit, covered only by the ridiculously thin material of your panties. the kisses he pressed on your heat were warm and soft: there for no other reason do but to tease you, and fuck, did it work.

"ghost—"

"that the tongue you want to come on, sweetheart?"

"yes, please—"

he laughed against your heat: the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine as his gentle hands guided you to spread your legs for him. 

and even as you felt the subtle squeeze of his hands on your thighs—impatient—he did not rush his movements. even though you knew him to fight back his need to taste you, ghost took his time sliding his hands to your hips and kissing your lower stomach.

chuckling as you gasped from the soft tickle. 

"that's it, darlin'. I wanna hear every fuckin' sound passin' 'em pretty lips of yours, eh?"

"what if they—"

"even if that means that our friends will fuckin' hear us," he laughed against your skin, lips pressing kisses sloppier and sloppier onto your skin. "they don't wanna hear me fuckin' my wife, they can leave."

and action.

"sounds a bit dra—" his fingers hooking around your panties drew the fabric aside, and your words got cut off by your moan as his mouth found your clit. "fuck, ghost—"

whatever patience the man had managed to muster for the moments that he had spent teasing you now flew out the window, as his hands on your hips drew you to him. he breathed in your scent, his tongue sliding between your lips from your clit to your entrance and to your clit again.

flicking and sucking, goddamn devouring.

and you lost it.

head tilting back against the cool wall of the kitchen, your eyes blinked shut as you submitted to his licks and caresses: his kisses and his groans.

his praises, as the sweetest of moans and gasps: of cries and pleas passed your lips.

"that's it, darlin'. good fuckin’ girl—"

from his tongue, you found the death of a single thought that had ever existed in your mind. from his fingers moving to circle and tease your entrance, you found the gates of heaven.

"fuck, sweetheart—," he laughed against your heat, "you're fuckin' clenching around nothing. that fuckin' needy for me, yeah?"

"ghost, please—"

"that all you have to say?"

god—

"I need your fingers."

"good fuckin' girl."

two of his digits slid into you. first knuckle, second knuckle.

by the time the third knuckle was pressing against your opening, your own fingers had tangled around his hair and his mouth found contact with your clit once more. 

you could hear just how drenched you were: your arousal surely dripping down his fingers and coating his hand, too, as he curled his digits inside you. 

knowing exactly how to touch you.

how to kiss you.

how to get your thighs to begin to shake on each side of his head, as his tongue continued its steady pace on your clit. its movements were exactly what you needed from him: the pressure and pace driving you closer and closer to your orgasm with each flick, lick, or circle drawn around it.

you were so close, so fucking close that all you needed was—"fuck, ghost!"

a third finger slid into you, yet this time it was not only the thickness and length of his digits that made you cry out. not only the pace, or the way he curled them inside you that made you buck your hips closer to him.

this time, it was the feeling of something cool at the base of his finger.

his wedding band: the one that showed his love to you, and you alone. his adoration, so visible in his eyes as you glanced down at him. so proud of you, so encouraging.

come for me, his eyes told. come on, sweetheart. I got you. I fuckin’ got you.

and that reminder—that promise was all you needed.

with a desperate call for his name, you stumbled over the edge: your thoughts clouding and your body trembling as you came shaking on his fingers and tongue, the man glowing from the sight.

from the sounds.

from the feeling of you clenching around his fingers as he made your orgasm last and last until you were squirming away from his touch, breathless yet glowing. 

"so fuckin' beautiful—"

to have him between your legs was one thing. to have ghost standing up just to draw you into the deepest kiss—to taste yourself on his lips and tongue—was a whole other kind of divine.

"did so fuckin' good, darlin'," his words were chuckled against your lips between his kisses, the back of his hand caressing your cheek. "made me so fuckin’ proud, yeah?"

in his eyes, you could see it all, and as you beamed from the sudden surge of happiness—from the adrenaline rush of your orgasm or the softness of his gaze, you did not know—ghost beamed with you.

happy.

“I fuckin’ adore you.” 

genuine.

"what d’you think, my love? think our guests are keeping themselves entertained?"

with a warm laugh, you slipped from between him and the wall, your fingers in his drawing him with you as you hopped on the kitchen island—glowing with your eagerness as your fingers moved to fumble with his belt. "fuck the guests."

"no," ghost chuckled against your temple, grinning lips kissing your forehead as he freed his cock, the tip glossy with his precum. "no, darlin', but I will fuck my wife."

your laugh was bright and the roll of your eyes playful. "smooth."

just as smooth as the flick of his wrist was as he drew your panties to the side.

just as smooth as the push of his hips was as he eased into you.

"oh, god, ghost—"

"fuckin' 'ell, darlin'—," his voice was a low rumble, his forehead leaning against yours. hands grabbing your hips to slide you closer to him on the counter. 

greedy.

so goddamn impatient, and not for a moment could you blame him. not when you were clenching around him, your lips parting in the deepest of breaths and moans just from the feeling of his weight in you.

"bloody hell, sweetheart—"

it's like you were made for each other. his length, his girth, the way he seemed to fill you up in a way no one else ever had. in a way no one else ever would, you were sure as he bottomed out with a deep curse and a breathless laugh.

one, that your own lips parted in as well. for you had learned to recognize the way that his cock was twitching inside you. you knew that his patience was being tested: the patience of ghost who you knew wanted nothing more than to—

his fingers placed on your throat were gentle, yet his lips finding yours for a kiss were everything but as he picked up his pace. 

no one.

each thrust of his cock, hot and heavy and fucking pulsating inside you coaxed moans and breaths and whimpers only more desperate than the previous from your lips.

no one could ever fuck you like he fucked you.

"ghost, please—"

"you're so fuckin' beautiful like this—," he grinned against your cheek, lips pressing sloppy kisses onto your skin as he fucked into you. "my darlin' hiked up on a fuckin' kitchen counter. pretty little dress messy from your juices, fuckin' stained when I come in you. gonna pull 'em panties back on and make you go back to the guests, yeah? entertain 'em like the good little host you are, with my fuckin' cum dripping out of you—"

his movements inside you were ruthless: his cock hitting the exact right spot to make you cry out his name again and again, so fucking fast and deep—

"gonna take you like this every day for the rest of our lives, my love—," his lips were brushing against your ear, his fingers bruising your hips through the fabric of your dress. "wanna be mine forever, yeah?"

please.

fuck, if it wasn’t the only goddamn thing you had ever wanted—

"yours," you managed, your brows furrowing as you felt the familiar heat building up and up at the pit of your stomach: your desperation for him audible in your voice. "I want to be yours. fuck, ghost—I fucking love you. I love you—"

the words passing your lips were all that it took for the orgasm to rush through the body of—

ghost.

with a deep call for your name and a breathless curse, ghost's forehead fell against yours as his cock twitched inside you: ropes of hot cum filling you up and coating your walls.

too early.

too fucking early.

trying your best to collect yourself: to bite down your surprise, you moved to arch your back in trying to keep the scene from falling apart. yet it was the deep and low laugh that rumbled from ghost's chest that made you stumble. "that goddamn fuckin' line."

"and cut!"

"the I love you? you knew it was in the script!" despite the audible amusement in your laugh, it was nothing but soft and warm: your gaze gentle as it found that of ghost.

"it not the fuckin' same to read it on paper and to have you lookin’ at me like—," ghost laughed, shaking his head as he blinked his eyes shut. "guys I’m fuckin’ sorry, yeah? just give me five, and I’ll be ready to go again—"

from the clap of price's hands, you turned to the director who was now shaking his head with a deep laugh. "just keep your position, yeah? they'll check the details for continuity. we'll go through the footage and—you both good to keep going?"

you nodded your heads with soft chuckles.

"good work," price called out with a grin. "can't blame you for the slip. it's an easy fix with a camera pan around the flowers, so no damage done. take a break and we'll keep going, yeah?"

and just like that, your domestic little bubble had popped. 

suddenly the cozy townhouse kitchen was filled with the sounds of your crewmembers talking and shuffling around. the boom mic above your heads was pulled back, and the camera crew—now calling out warm jokes and laughs to the two of you—moved out of the way as someone rushed to you to document your positions. the way the hem of your dress fanned around you, and the position of his hand on your cheek; the angle of your head, and the way his hair was pushed to the side.

yet not even after the perky woman had given a thumbs up for you to move, did ghost step away from you. it was something the two of you had agreed on beforehand: the consent given for him to stay inside you between scenes. 

to help you, and to help him. 

just work.

"you did so fuckin' good, love." ghost's gaze, warm, found yours.

the set around the two of you began to quiet down once more. somewhere behind your back, you could hear price and the writers going through the last minutes of footage scene by scene, yet suddenly it was just you and him again.

this time friends.

costars.

just costars.

"you too," you smiled at him. "I loved—," you laughed, soft. "this is a little stupid, maybe. but the way the ring felt inside me was—"

"oh yeah?" he grinned, a hint of something bright waking up in his eye. "is it a ring kink or just the idea of gettin' fucked by your husband that gets you goin'?"

god.

"probably a bit of both," you laughed. his fingers were caressing your cheek gently, and to feel him still inside you—

just work.

"wouldn't mind filmin' more shit like this with you," he then spoke with a smile. "domestic, y'know? it feels—real. I mean, bloody hell, that's why—" he laughed, the sound a low rumble, and the warmth of it only brightened your smile.

"I think we might be," you wet your lips. "they built this set for us. just you and I. it hasn't been used in any other production before, because they wanted it to feel more real. more special for the—"

"fans," ghost laughed. "right. fuckin' A. they include that library too you want so bad?"

you furrowed your brows. "why do you think I—"

“come on, love.” the twinkle in his eyes was playful as he quirked a brow. "with the amount of romance porn you read—"

"romance porn?" your laugh was breathless as your hands moved to push him gently. "it's not—"

"sweetheart, I've seen the fuckin' twinkle in your eyes. the way you squeeze your fuckin’ thighs when you browse away on your phone." his grinning lips planted a kiss on your forehead, the man now shaking with his repressed laugh. "you say it isn’t what I think it is and I believe you. but after all this time knowin’ you—"

his arms closed around your upper body to draw you into his embrace, his chest muffling your laugh.

he was warm, and he was familiar.

"you’re the worst,” you managed a gentle chuckle.

"thought you loved me."

he was safe.

"that was just a part of the script."

"no yeah, fuckin' of course," ghost chuckled into your hair. "as much as me lovin’ the idea of you bein' all mine was."

and there, in the kitchen of the townhouse that was built for the two of you and you alone, he was home. 

a/n: I am SHAKING so bad from my excitement and love for this part that trying to edit and format it has been the hardest thing I've ever known. I love them. that's it. I love them so much my heart hurts. oh and also, price is now their go-to director! we don't know 'greg' anymore. greg is now price, lmao. / pornstar!ghost masterlist / as usual, my inbox is open for all your ideas and thoughts about him, eek! 💌

[gulistan-blog]

㋡🥀

[daily-spooky]

[autumncozy]

By magicinsalem

[seishue]

[daily-spooky]

[hyperactively-me]

break in, break down

"You're stayin' with me tonight," he declares, voice firm and unwavering. You open your mouth, nearly telling him no, I'll find a hotel, but the look he shoots you suggests that you go with him. With a nod of agreement, Simon leads you away from the scene, his hand on your back firm and reassuring.

this has been sitting in my drafts for like, ever. it's not the best cause its super old, like months old and i lowkey forgot i even had it, but it'll do for now while i'm in this writing rut.

happy reading <3

warnings: home invasion, panic attack reaction (i think that's it? lmk if i missed anything please!)

A loud bang reverberates through your apartment, your peaceful sleep interrupted.

You open your eyes with a start, the volume of the sound causing your heart race and your breath catch in your throat.

You're silent for another moment until the sound of glass shattering causes you to jump. You sit up now, dumbfounded for a brief moment before unshakable anxiety takes over.

There's no way this could be happening to you right now.

You immediately leap out of bed, grabbing a stray hoodie off the floor, slipping it over your thin pajamas. Next, you grab your phone with shaky hands, trembling from the adrenaline and anxiety coursing through your veins. The sounds from outside your bedroom are starting to get louder. You swipe your car keys from your drawer, shoving them into the pocket of your hoodie.

In a frenzy, you grope under your bed for a baseball bat, struggling to steady your shaking hands as you grip it tightly. The rattling of your doorknob nearly makes you pass out in fear. Simon had told you multiple times to keep your door locked when you sleep, stressing to you that it wasn't safe to leave it unlocked, especially at night.

There was no way you could escape through the hallway. Lucky for you, your apartment is on the first floor of the building, meaning that you would be able to safely jump out of your bedroom window without injuring yourself.

You place all your things down quickly, unlatching your window from its locks. You heave it open with all your might, grunting as you hold it up to lock it into an open position. Grabbing your baseball bat first, you throw it out the window and onto the grass below you. Could never be too safe.

Suddenly, the person or people on the other side of your door start kicking at it, the flimsy wood shaking from the impacts. You bite back a scream, prompting you to jump out of your window, dropping onto the grass below you clumsily.

You don't bother looking back as you sprint to your car in the adjacent parking lot, throwing yourself into the drivers seat unceremoniously.

Without another thought, you dial 911. Running on pure adrenaline, you tell the operator your address and the urgency of the situation. The kind voice on the other end tells you that the police are on their way before you hang up.

You bite back a sob as your shaking hands type in Simon's phone number. You hold your phone up to your, chewing your finger as it rings once, twice, and the line picks up.

"Hullo?" a scratchy, sleep-ridden voice on the other end of the line rings out. His Manchester accent sounds particularly thick.

"Simon," your voice breaks, the adrenaline now worn off, leaving you a wreck.

"What's wrong?" he asks immediately, now sounding more awake. You hear shuffling on the other end.

"I- I think my apartment got broken into," you sob, fat tears now freely falling down your cheeks. "I'm so scared," you cry, bawling like a baby.

Simon's voice takes on a sharp urgency. "'M coming over right now. Where are you? Are you hurt?"

"I'm in my car, in the parking lot," you say tearfully, trying to wipe the tears from your face unsuccessfully.

"I've already called 911; they're on the way—" you add, clutching onto your phone.

The sound of a door opening and slamming shut crackles through the phone. "Be there in ten. Stay on the line, love."

"I'm scared," you cry again, your free hand trembling as you reach to make sure your car door is locked.

"I know, love, I know. Just hang in there. 'M on my way," Simon reassures you, his voice gentle. The ten-minute wait feels like an eternity as you sit in your car, sniffling every so often as you look out your car windows to make sure no one is coming towards you.

Sirens wail in the distance, the police clearly arriving on scene. Despite the growing fear gnawing at you, Simon's voice provides a source of comfort.

"The police are almost here," you breath into the phone, pulling your knees up to your chest.

"Good, I'm here," he grunts. You look up and see his truck hurtling through the parking lot, stopping abruptly right behind your car. He slides out of his car, rushing to the drivers side of your car.

The moment he reaches your car, you throw open the door and practically fall into his arms. Simon holds you tight as you fall into him, sobs wracking your body.

"Don't cry," he soothes, pulling you tighter against him. "'S alright, 's handled."

He cradles you in his grasp, running his hand over your hair as you sob into his t-shirt, fists bunching up the fabric. You cling to him as if he's your lifeline, the scent of his t-shirt grounding you ever so slightly.

"I've got you," he murmurs, rubbing your back.

Your sobs gradually subside into quiet sniffles, and you take a deep breath.

The distant wailing of sirens grows closer, indicating the police are here. Simon releases you just enough to glance over his shoulder at the approaching vehicles. "The police are here," you whisper, your voice shaky but relieved.

The flashing lights of police cars illuminate the surroundings as officers approach. Simon steps back, maintaining a protective stance beside you.

Two police officers approach you and Simon, asking for details about the break-in. You pull at the hem of your hoodie, trying to cover up your practically bare thighs from your tiny pajamas. Simon settles his hand on your lower back, encouraging you to speak to the officers. You recount the events timidly, telling them as much as you know. After providing your statement, the police assure you they'll investigate your apartment, but advise you that it's not the best to stay there tonight. For obvious reasons.

Upon their insistence of you spending the night somewhere else, before you could even open your mouth, Simon is insisting, no, demanding that you stay with him for the night.

"You're stayin' with me tonight," he declares, voice firm and unwavering.

You open your mouth, nearly telling him no, I'll find a hotel, but the look he shoots you suggests that you go with him.

With a nod of agreement, Simon leads you away from the scene, his hand on your back firm and reassuring.

As you approach his truck, Simon opens the door for you. He helps you up into the passenger seat, making sure you're settled before closing the door with a determined thud. Simon then strides around to the driver's side, the scent of him lingering in the air as he gets in. The engine roars to life, and you find comfort in the steady hum of the engine.

The drive to Simon's place is mostly quiet. He occasionally glances at you, concern etched into his features. You stare out of the window, the events of the night replaying in your mind. You shiver in your seat, thinking about what could have happened if you hadn't escaped through your window. Simon's hand finds yours, a silent gesture that makes your heart ache with gratitude.

As you pull into Simon's driveway, you're met with the warm glow of his porch light. The familiar sight brings a new sense of relief. It's not the first time you've been to his quaint home. Simon turns off the engine, and without a word, he's at your side, opening the door for you again.

He leads you inside, the click of the door shutting behind you echoing in the quiet house. Simon heads to the kitchen, rummaging through cabinets. Moments later, he appears with a mug of tea, a small but comforting gesture. He hands it to you, the warmth seeping into your cold hands.

"Drink this. It'll help calm your nerves," he says, his voice gentle.

You take a sip, the familiar taste of chamomile offering a small respite. Simon sits across from you, watching as you try to steady your trembling hands. The silence between you isn't uncomfortable; it's a shared understanding that words might not be enough to mend the damage that's been dealt.

After a while, Simon breaks the silence. "I'll make up the spare room for you. Take your time. We'll deal with everythin' in the morning."

He disappears down the hall, leaving you alone in the living room. You look around his living room, eyeing his front door for a brief moment. You finish the tea and set the mug on the coffee table, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over you.

When you enter the spare room, you find it tidy and pretty bare. The scent of clean sheets and the comforting atmosphere of his home a stark difference from your own. You watch as he double checks the windows to make sure they're locked tight. He also shows you the lock on your own bedroom door.

"Everythin' is secure, 've triple checked it all," Simon states, turning from the window to look at you. His concern is evident in his eyes, and you nod in response.

"Thank you, Simon. I appreciate all of this," you say, your voice quiet.

He moves over to the wall, crouching down to plug a night light into the wall. He taps it a few times to make sure it works. When it flickers on, he grunts, satisfied. Pushing himself up to standing, he walks over to you.

He gives you a reassuring smile. "No need to thank me. 'S the least I can do. You get some rest. 'M right across the hall if you need anything."

With that, he leaves the room, gently closing the door behind him. You make sure to lock the door behind him as he leaves. You crawl into bed, pulling the covers over your weary body, exhaustion settling in.

You close your eyes, hoping that sleep will offer some reprieve. As you lay there, the events of the night replay in your mind. The fear, the vulnerability, and the violation of your home weigh heavily on you. Slight sounds make you jump in fear, and all of a sudden you start to breath heavily. You can't be in here, not alone.

You stumble out of the room, practically falling into the hallway. The dim glow of the nightlight casts long shadows, and you feel a shiver run down your spine. Determined, you make your way to Simon's door and knock softly.

The door opens, and Simon appears, concern etched on his face. "Everythin' alright, love?"

You can barely form the words, your voice barely a whisper. "Can't stay in there alone."

Without hesitation, Simon opens the door wider, gesturing for you to enter. His room is dark, all lights off. You step inside his room, tugging your hoodie tighter around your body. You settle onto the edge of his bed, wrapping your arms around yourself as if to ward off the residual fear.

Simon shuts and locks the door behind him, plunging you both into darkness, save for the slight shine of the moon pouring through between a crack in his curtains.

Simon stands in front of you, looking down with a mix of empathy and concern in his eyes. "You're welcome to stay as long as you need. I don't mind."

"Thank you," you manage to say, the vulnerability in your voice more pronounced in the darkness of the room.

Simon hesitates for a moment before flicking on a small bedside lamp. The soft light casts a warm glow across the room, revealing a space that's both lived-in and comforting. You feel a bit more at ease.

He pulls a chair from his desk and sits across from you, leaving a respectful distance. The silence between you is filled with unspoken words, the weight of the night's events hanging in the air. Simon's gaze is unwavering, and you find solace in the fact that he understands what you need without the need for words.

As the minutes tick by, the atmosphere in the room becomes less tense. Simon breaks the silence, his voice a gentle murmur. "I don't want you to go through this alone. You deserve to feel safe, love."

You manage a weak smile, touched by his sincerity. "Thank you, Simon. You really don't have to be doing all of this for me--"

"Don't say that, I want to," he cuts you off gruffly, offended as if you would even suggest that you weren't worthy enough of his care.

His response hangs in the air, and you notice a flicker of something in Simon's eyes—a hint of frustration or something deeper. The unspoken tension lingers, causing you to shift slightly.

"I just... I don't want you to feel unsafe," Simon adds, his voice softer this time. He leans forward, resting his arms on his knees, his gaze fixed on yours. "Or alone. Fuckin' hell, if you hadn't been able to get out of there..."

He stops, jaw ticking as he thinks. He can't even say it.

The room feels charged with unspoken emotions, and you sense a vulnerability in Simon that mirrors your own.

"Simon," you say softly, your voice a gentle reassurance, "I feel safe with you."

"I've... 've cared about you for a long time, maybe more than I should," Simon admits, his words hanging in the air like a fragile confession.

The vulnerability in his admission tugs at your heart, and you find yourself pushing yourself up off the edge of the bed, cupping his face in your hands.

"I've cared about you too," you confess, the weight of the unspoken finally lifted.

He looks up, meeting your eyes with a mixture of relief and adoration. Simon's hand reaches up to grasp your wrist lightly, his thumb tracing gentle circles on the back of your hand, his eyes searching yours for confirmation.

"I never want you to feel unsafe or alone again. I can't stand the thought of somethin' happenin' t' you."

Your heart swells at the sincerity of his words, and you lean down, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek.

The conversation lulls, and for a moment, it's just the two of you in the sanctuary of Simon's bedroom. The emotional exhaustion begins to take its toll, and your eyes grow heavy.

He stands from his chair, grasping your upper arms gently, leading you towards his bed once again. Before he sits you down, he looks at you expectantly.

"Is this what you want?"

"Yes," you nod, "I've never wanted anything more."

With your permission, he lays you down on his bed, following you into the bed with a contained eagerness. He drags you up until you're settled on a pillow. Simon slides into the mattress right next to you, pulling the covers up and over the both of you. You turn on your side to face him, eyes searching his face just before he turns off the lamp, plunging you both into darkness.

Simon's hand brushes against your forearm, seeking permission yet again. You scoot over until you're flush against him, cheeks heating up at the proximity. You feel Simon's warm presence beside you, his hand finding its place on your waist before he pulls you up against him, cuddling you. Simon's fingers trace patterns on your back, a soothing motion that pulls you deeper into relaxation.

"Get some rest. I'll be right here if you need anything, love," Simon whispers, playing with the ends of your hair.

"Thank you," you whisper into the darkness, your voice barely audible but carrying a depth of gratitude.

He tightens his grip on your waist, a silent affirmation that he's here for you, that you're not alone. The warmth of his touch and the gentle rise and fall of his breath provide a sense of security that eases the lingering tension in your body.

. . . 

The morning light begins to seep through the curtains, casting a soft glow in Simon's room. As you slowly awaken, the events of the previous night come back to you in fragments. You turn slightly to find Simon still asleep beside you, his features softened by the morning light. His arm is draped protectively over you, and a sense of peace settles in the room. For a moment, you simply revel in the quiet stillness, savoring the moment.

As Simon begins to stir, his eyes meet yours, and a sleepy smile tugs at the corners of his lips. "Mornin’," he murmurs, his voice husky with sleep.

"Morning," you reply, a small smile playing on your lips. The air in the room feels different, more relaxed.

Simon props himself up on one elbow, his gaze searching yours. "How are you feeling?"

"Better than I thought I would," you admit, a genuine warmth in your voice. "Still kinda freaked out that people broke in to my apartment, but better."

He nods thoughtfully. "We should probably get up, check in with the police," Simon suggests, but there's a reluctance in his eyes to let go of the warmth of the bed.

You cuddle against him once more, hugging him tightly. His arm comes to wrap around your back, hand splayed across your skin.

"Yeah, we should," you say, pulling away gently as you push yourself out of bed.

"We're goin' together," he tells you. "And I will be installing a new security system in your apartment."

You manage a small smile. "I don't think you understand how much I appreciate you for this."

He sighs as he leads you to his small kitchen. "You never have to thank me for anything, love."

Before you can retort, he turns to you. "Let's get some breakfast in ya. How do you like your eggs?"

[autumnweeen]

Happy Birthday, Hermione!

Midjourney

[potterharryloves]

[dariaastrid]

A kiss for good luck 🤞❤️

[what-the-fawkes-writes]

Malfoy always comes for me 🖤

[toothfa-1-ry]

DOYOUWANTTOGOTOTHEBALLWITHME? draco malfoy

In which,

Draco just can't seem to ask you to be his date for the Yule ball

GENRE: fluff

PAIRING: 4th yr Draco x 4th year reader

FEAT: lee do hyun as Terry Booth!!

WARNING: none :>

A/N: A continuation of my Draco Malfoy is a loser agenda!! Also did I mention that Draco is a very DRAMATIC loser??

"uhm hi y/n" Draco said nervously as he turned to look at Pansy and Blaise who gave him a reassuring nod and a thumbs up

"ooh hi Draco"

"uhm so..y/n" Draco nervously chuckled as he played his his hand cuffs "uh..y/n haha.."

"Draco-" Pansy hissed "you already said her name, there's no need to repeat it again"

"right- sorry. Uhm so y/n!"

"oh god he's a lost cause" Blaise muttered to Pansy who just shook her head.

"I can hear you, just in case you didn't know" Draco angrily muttered towards them, shooting them both a dirty look

"uhm are you talking to y/n or are you talking to us?" Blaise questioned, his eyebrows raised

"oh bloody hell" Draco sweared "uhm anyway y/n uh so like I'm pretty sure you heard the announcement today- during breakfast because like you have ears uh I have ears too! So I heard the announcement too- ha" Draco awkwardly continued.

"ofcourse she has ears dunderhead and ofcourse she heard it! Everyone heard the announcement" piped Lorenzo from a corner "just try to charm her won't you?"

Theodore shook his head in amusement as he watched his best mate Draco act like a complete fool. Actually he always acted like a fool except most of the time he didn't make it this obvious.

"right- right my bad my bad" Draco shook his head "so! Y/n!"

"yes Draco? What is the matter?"

"I thought you could do the er honour of er taking me to the Yule ball y'know" Draco smirked as he attempted to charm you like Lorenzo said

"I mean cause like I could go with anyone but I thought that I'd give you the first chance of going with me!" Draco quickly rambled and then flicked his hair "so what do you say?"

Theodore and Lorenzo tried holding in their laughter as Pansy groaned and Blaise muttered curses under his breath.

"oh bloody hell" Matteo mumbled

"mate that was horrible and I'm not even y/n! I'm just pretending to be her!" Matteo exclaimed as he took of the wig he was wearing

"if your gonna be this bad with me pretending to be y/n, how are you actually gonna face her!?" Matteo shook his head and turned to Pansy "he's totally lost!"

"it wasnt that bad was it?" Draco cringed at himself.

Oh he knew how bad it was

"it was HORRIBLE" all his friends shouted at him, especially Matteo who was honestly tired of wearing the wig and pretending to be you for the 9th time now.

"c'mon mate! This is the 9th time I'm pretending to be y/n. Just ask her out NORMALLY PLEASE" Matteo shouted

"oh shut up okay! I'm trying" Draco hissed his face turning pink

"well try harder" Theodore said from a corner "if you don't ask her out soon, someone else will"

"what?" Draco whisper shouted "you mean- there's a chance that she'll go to the Yule ball with someone else whose not me?"

Theodore rolled his eyes at his blonde friend, "incase you haven't noticed, many guys in Hogwarts likes her. And now you have double the competition with Durmstang and Beuxbaton"

Draco went pink in the face again "oh fuck"

"yup!" Lorenzo patted his cousin in the shoulder "so you better hurry up cuz!" He cheerily said as if Draco wasn't going through a mini panick attack

"ugh whatever!" Pansy groaned "you! Get your act together" she pointed at Draco "we're gonna practice this one more time! Matteo wear the wig"

Matteo grumbled as he begrudgingly wore the wig " on merlins beard why do I have to pretend to be y/n"

"okay! In 3-2-1" Pansy hollered, completely ignoring Matteo "action!"

"y/n hi! Uh I have to talk to you! Uh about uh something" Draco awkwardly grinned

"ooh yes Draco! What is it?" Matteo said in a high pitched voice that sounded nothing like you.

"uhm so-" Draco stammered

"yes Draco? Hehe" Matteo let out a giggle and twirled a strand of the wig

"uhm!..I have a collection of chocolate frog cards!" Draco squeaked, the word Yule ball being unable to form in his mouth

He heard all his friends groan and he became redder then a Weasley

"oh god not again..that's it. I'm going" Matteo threw the wig on the ground shaking his head "all the best" he patted Draco and walked away

"oh c'mon- wait one last time let me try one last time!" Draco whined as he watched all of his friends walk out of the dorm "oh wait- guys wait!"

-

"you can do this. I believe in you" Lorenzo gave his cousin a thumbs up

"well I don't" Matteo snorted which caused Draco to give him a dirty look "what? I'm being honest"

"she's right over there. Just go to her, say hi, maybe compliment her and then ask her out" the caramel haired boy ignored Matteo and gave his poor shaking cousin some tips

"what? What kind of compliments to I give her?" Draco whispered back in a sort of panick

"geez. Just tell her that she looks pretty today, and that you'd be honoured if she would go to the ball with you" Theodore cut in and shrugs "works like a charm"

"okay.. alright I got this" Draco mumbled

"yea you got it..now go" Pansy ushered the boy "c'mon now go ahead" she pointed towards the courtyard where you were.

Draco walked up towards you and a bunch of third years who were talking to you. Suddenly he felt very intimidated by those small scrawny third years and immediately turned away and walked back to his friends

"I can't do this! You lot are right, maybe I am hopeless" Draco sulked as his friends let out another sigh

"did he just call himself hopeless?" Matteo peered at the sulking boy "oh dear, y/n really did a number on him huh?"

"not helping Matteo" Pansy said sternly, hitting Matteo in the arm.

"listen, your Draco Malfoy and your going to go and ask y/n the girl who've been crushing on since forever to go to the ball with you" Blaise said giving Draco a light shake

"and if she says yes all is good and if she doesn't, well- it's kind of embarassing but it's gonna be alright" Pansy adds

"yea so go and ask her out now before she goes to the ball with Terry Booth over there huh?" Theodore nudges Draco towards your direction as the smiling ravenclaw keeper approaches you

"oh bloody hell- no way in my watch is y/n going to go out with that crow" Draco fumed under his breath as he immediately rushed towards you

"yea go get'em tiger!" Draco could hear Matteo whooping and the constant shouting from his friends, all hyping him up but that could hardly matter right now

Dracos hands were going all clamy and he could feel his heart racing. He wanted to run away from you but he wasn't going to let Terry Booth ask you out right infront of him!

"y/n" Terry approached you with a smile

"Terry" you greeted the Korean boy with a grin "anything's the matter?"

"oh yea uh I wanted to ask you if-" the keeper then abruptly stopped mid sentence as another person had joined their conversation

"y/n! Y/n!" A frantic Draco appeared, his eyes widened and his hair a mess

"Draco? Are you alright?" You ask the Slytherin boy who seemed to be in a bit of a mix

"mhm m'fine- I have to talk to you" Draco grabbed your hand which took you by surprise

You look at a awkward Terry and a frantic Draco, unsure of what to make up with this situation

"oi Booth can you bigger off for a second?" Draco coldly dismissed Terry who simply raise a eyebrow before shaking his head

"er- alright, I'll talk to you later y/n" Terry mumbled before walking away

"Draco! What was that. You can't just tell people to bugger off" you begin scolding Draco, unaware that his hands were still holding yours

"y/n I have to tell you something" the boy gulped, he could feel the way your hands felt against his and the close proximity the both of you were in. His heart racing even faster

"what is it?" You ask him, your brows creased up in slight worry. The blonde Slytherin boy who was always so put together, confident and full of himself was now nervous and quite frankly not behaving like his usual self

"Draco are you sick?" You immediately raise your free hand to his head and Draco swears that his temperature rises by a hundred degrees probably.

"uhm y/n" the boy begins, he could feel his sweat dripping and his mouth going dry

"oh dear Merlin Draco your turning redder than a tomato! Let's go to madam Pomfrey" you usher him, pulling him into the hallway "c'mon let's go-"

"wait y/n listen- I have to tell you something first"

You look at Draco in confusion. What did he have to tell you so much that he was acting quite frankly out of his personality

"er- okay..can you tell me when we're in the infirmary?"

"no! I have to tell you now" Draco pressed on. He had to ask you right now when he was full of adrenaline or else he won't be able to ask you later

"oh okay, okay" you say a little taken back "what is it?"

Draco bites his lower lip and mumbles something

"what Draco? I didn't quite catch you"

"uhm...I think uh- I think you look very nice today!" Draco suddenly exclaimed

"o-oh!" That might have taken you back by surprise even more, a slight blush forms in your face "thanks..uhm"

"actually I think you look nice everyday" Draco continues his eyes looking down, his grip on your hand tightening.

You look down and realise that the both of you were holding hands and you feel your face getting hot

"that's really sweet of you to say Dray" you said before you could stop yourself

Draco looks up at you, his eyes widened at the sudden nickname you called him

"Dray?"

You eyes widen and you the undying urge to slap yourself across the face as you see the way Draco's eyes twinkle with mischief.

"did you just give me a nickname? Dray?" Draco grins smugly, completely forgetting the real reason why he was with you

"oh shut up" you huff "I'm never gonna say that again"

"oh no please do say it again" Draco teased you, watching your face get red

"r-right, what did you have to tell me Draco? Do say it fast I don't have all day" you quickly try to change the subject causing Draco to remember the real reason why he was talking to you

"er-" Draco immediately felt all his confidence and smugness fading away

"oh dear Draco your getting red all again" you worriedly said, peering into his face "are you sure you don't need to-"

"not Draco" Draco mumbled

"what?"

"not Draco, don't call me Draco" Draco mumbled a bit louder

"well, what do you want me to call you then-"

"Dray, you should call me Dray" he says softly

Your eyes widen "Dray... I don't understand what-"

"doyouwanttogototheballwithme?" Draco squeaked

"what?"

Draco cleared his throat and looked around, he beckoned you to come closer to him and leaned towards you

"do you want to maybe perhaps go to the ball with..me?" He whispered into your ears filling your stomach with butterflies

"oh- Draco I-" you stammer, unable to form sentences "uhm I would really actually like that" you whisper back in surprise

"really?" Draco asked you back, his voice in equal surprise

You give a shy nodd

"really?!" Draco asked again looking at you eyes widened "I'm not going to stop saying really unless you give me a proper answer l/n"

Your roll your eyes "yes really...Dray I would love to go to the ball with you"

"oh my god I think I'm gonna pass out" Draco said feeling faint

"I think that's a little but of a exaggeration- oh my god Draco!" You shout out, trying to catch the boy before he fell on the ground

"oh dear- he actually passed out" you grimace slightly as you make him lie down in one of the stools in the courtyard after dragging him all the way from the hallway

You softly brush his blonde hair away from his pink face

"how quite adorable" you laugh to yourself

-

"Hey Berkshire!" Terry greeted Lorenzo who along with all his friends were trying to see what Draco and y/n were doing just as they got dragged to the hallway

"ugh we cant see them anymore!" Pansy whined as she stretched her neck, only to get a glimpse of blonde hair

"uhm s'everything alright?" Terry asked

"yea everythings fine" Lorenzo smiled at the tall boy "what's up?"

"oh uh- I did what you told me too" Terry grinned as all of Lorenzo's friends looked at him with a confused face

Lorenzo laughed "great chap you are my friend" giving him a pat in the back

"I'm guessing you told me to pretend like I'm asking y/n to the ball just so that Malfoy would make a move first?" Terry winced as he asked Lorenzo who just seemed to grin even brighter

"my god- you do catch on quick don't you?"

Terry let out a laugh and blushed at the sudden compliment. He was never really good with compliments

"you did what?" Matteo asked eyes widened

"sneaky snake" Pansy squinted her eyes at him and grinned 'your a genius!"

Lorenzo simply shrugged

"so whatdya think? He asked her out yet?" Terry peered out from where Pansy was standing

"maybe if Draco finally got the guts" Pansy snorted

"oh I think he did" Blaise said hesitantly

"what?" Pansy and Matteo asked eagerly

"it appears that our little prince has..." Theodore paused not sure whether he was supposed to laugh or be embarrassed

"he has what?" Pansy questioned

"oh hell!" Matteo shouted with laughter "the bloody wanker has fainted!" Matteo exclaimed with glee all across his face

Pansy covered her face with embarrassment as the boys roared with laughter. Only Terry wasn't the one laughing along.

"oh dear" Terry shook his head sadly "now how would the poor boy be when he dances with her?"

[dariaastrid]

flying together

[redeemingvillains]

sweet disaster - draco malfoy

pairing: draco x f!reader

summary: you and draco are inseparable friends, but deeper feelings come to light when you're asked on a date with someone who is determined to take advantage of you.

words: 7.3k

warnings: reader is put under the influence unknowingly; unwanted advances and affection (nothing more than kissing).

You were snuggled into the edge of the largest couch in the Slytherin common room closest to the fireplace as it crackled. The warmth was welcome against the damp cold that lingered in the dungeons this time of year. You were covered in a quilted blanket reading against the soft light, but you found your attention wavering between the book in your lap and the boy next to you on the couch.

Draco Malfoy had been your closest friend for several years now. First year you had fallen into a fast and easy friendship, clicking right from the very start. You were like two halves of a whole, complimentary in ways other people didn’t quite understand. You could finish each other’s sentences, anticipate each other’s feelings, make each other laugh, even at the most nonsensical things that befuddled your other friends. You had a casual intimacy, your head resting on his shoulder, or wearing his jumpers when you were cold, him always adamant about having the seat next to you whether in class, in the Great Hall, or tonight in your respective spots on the couch.

In many ways your relationship intimidated those around you, who simply assumed that you were dating, though in reality you had never crossed that line. You didn’t even see Draco that way, truthfully… at first. But the more time that passed, and the older you had gotten, you found yourself more and more attracted to him. You were distracted, suddenly, by the way his grey eyes glinted like the cloudy night sky, the way his muscular frame filled out his suit jacket, the way he smelled, like leather and expensive cologne, and the warmth that radiated from him whenever you were pressed close together like you were right now. 

You’d lost count of the number of times you had nearly let slip how you felt, only to bite your tongue at the last minute, too afraid of rejection and of ruining the relationship you already had. But that didn’t stop you from daydreaming about twining your fingers into his or feeling his lips pressed softly against your own. You ran your fingers absentmindedly over your lips now, lost in that same thought as you stared at him when your daydream burst like a bubble as Pansy Parkinson sauntered into the common room, leaned over the couch and flung her arms around Draco.

“Pans” he acknowledged, his eyes never leaving his book as she pressed kisses to his cheek. The whole scene turned your stomach, disappointment, hurt and jealousy roiling in equal measures.

Their relationship was a new development over the last few weeks. He had never said anything to you about her, then all of a sudden she was following him around, hanging off of him, kissing him. You squeezed your eyes shut to keep them from welling up. You had been completely blindsided by their relationship and the pain in your heart felt like a fresh wound every day. What made her worth pursuing, but not you? What made her so much more attractive to him? Your mind raced with your own insecurities as you closed your book and stood to leave, unwilling and unable to sit and watch the two of them.

“You’re leaving?” Draco asked, surprised at your abrupt movements, at the lack of warmth he felt as you left his side.

“I’m going to get something to eat, good luck at practice” you said, forcing a smile on your face as you exited the common room as quickly as possible before your tears overflowed.

Draco’s eyes followed you the entire way out of the room. He was disappointed that you never wanted to hang out anymore. He missed you, but he couldn’t figure out how to tell you. Even when you were next to him, it felt like a chasm had opened up that he wasn’t able to cross. He was trying to work it out in his head as Pansy chattered in his ear… It couldn’t be Pansy, could it? He knew you weren’t her biggest fan, but did she really bother you that much? And if so, why hadn’t you said anything? It wasn’t like things were serious with Pansy. Truthfully, he didn’t even know why he had agreed to be with her in the first place. His head swirled as he stood up, pulling away from her.

“I’ve got to get to practice” he said dismissively amidst her whines of protest as he stormed out of the room.

You had absolutely no appetite, but you made your way to the Great Hall anyway, knowing most everyone would be eating dinner and hopeful your friends could help you take your mind off of things. You were nearly there when you heard someone shout your name. You turned to see Cormac McLaggen of all people waving and jogging over to you. You were in the same year and had a few classes together, but the rivalry between your houses and between him and Draco was no secret as competing captains of their quidditch teams.

“Cormac” you said cooly as he approached you.

“Y/N, you’re looking beautiful as ever” he cooed, ever the flirt. You rolled your eyes in response.

“What can I do for you?” you asked, eager to move this conversation along.

“You can go out with me tomorrow night” he said, point blank.

You couldn’t suppress the laughter that came out of your mouth. “And why would I ever do that?” you replied mockingly.

His cheeks blushed and he managed to look bashful for a moment, which caught you off guard.

“Because I fancy you. Have for a while, but I always thought you and Malfoy….” he trailed off. “Now that he’s with Pansy, I thought I’d have a shot. I know we don’t know each other that well, but I’d like to get to know you, if you’d give me a chance?”

You truly could not believe the words coming out of his mouth. You had always written him off as a flirt, well aware of the trail of girls he left in his wake, but he sounded so genuine, so sincere, and just the mention of Pansy’s name had your stomach churning again and your heart beating in your chest. If Draco didn’t see you that way, then why cling to something that was never going to happen? Not to mention a small part of you reveled at the idea of Draco hearing that you were going on a date with Cormac. You knew he’d be furious.

“Fine” you agreed.

“Yeah?” Cormac said, the surprise and joy written clear across his face.

“Sure” you shrugged, a smirk on your face.

Draco was deep in his own head, trying to work out how to make things right with you, while simultaneously trying to focus on his plan for practice as he suited up in the locker room. They’d agreed to share the pitch with the Gryffindors for the evening, both teams eager to get in as much practice as possible before the Quidditch Cup and he gritted his teeth as he listed to the annoying chatter of the opposing team nearby, namely McLaggen, with his obnoxious drawl, going on about whatever girl he had managed to sack that week. Draco was just about to tune him out when he heard something that made his breath catch in his lungs.

“That’s right boys, I’m taking Y/L/N out tomorrow night. Now accepting bets on how long it will take to get her in bed. Ten galleons says we leave after one drink!” Their side of the room howled with laughter and eager cheers and jaunts.

Draco’s side of the room began to spin.

You were going out with McLaggen? Since when? And of all people, why him? Suddenly his uniform felt too tight around his neck, like he couldn’t breathe. He tugged at his collar and found that his hands were shaking. He was furious. Furious at the way McLaggen was talking about you, like you were any other girl. His mind raced with mental images of you two snuggled in a booth at the Three Broomsticks, walking hand in hand down the corridors, you wearing a jersey with his name on it and he felt a wave of nausea wash over him. No, he definitely didn’t want you going out with McLaggen. But, the more he thought about it, he realized he didn’t want you going out with anyone…

You were right that spending time with friends at dinner had been a welcome distraction and you felt calmer as you trailed your way back to the common room. You were about to go to your room to study a bit before bed when the door flung open behind you and Draco marched in, his eyes scanning the room wildly before landing on you. You had never seen him this angry before, and certainly never at you as he grasped your arm firmly and pulled you into the corridor, away from the prying eyes and whispers of your fellow housemates.

“Ouch – Draco – that hurts! Let go of me! What’s the matter with you?” you demanded as you tried unsuccessfully to wiggle out of his strong grasp.

“Is this some kind of joke to you?” he asked. “Because it’s not funny in the slightest.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, genuinely confused.

“McLaggen” he said, breathing heavily, “you and McLaggen.”

Oh, you realized. News travels fast.

You pulled out of his grasp and straightened up, meeting his burning gaze with your own.

“Not sure what difference it makes to you who I choose to go on a date with” you said smartly.

Draco let out an aggravated sigh and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. Of course it made a difference to him. It made a massive difference to him, he realized, but he couldn’t coherently say what he wanted to say through the white-hot anger he felt pulsing through his blood, through the mental images of you with McLaggen that had plagued him all night.

“McLaggen, really?” was the only response he was able to muster.

“Oh, piss off, Draco!” you said. He didn’t have the right to be angry. He didn’t have a say in the matter. He was the one with a girlfriend to begin with.

Realizing what a mess he was making of the situation, Draco tried desperately to backpedal, to see if he could change your mind, to buy himself some time to figure all of this out.

“Look, he’s not a good guy. I heard him talking about you in the locker room, the things he was saying–”

You held up a hand in response, silencing him. “Just stop, Draco. You don’t get to do this” you said as you brushed passed him, back into the common room, leaving him alone in the corridor as he cradled his head in his hands.

You eyed yourself in the mirror the next evening, taking in your stylish sweater, short skirt, tights and heeled boots. It felt nice to be wanted, to be seen by someone, even if it wasn’t the person you wanted it to be. You felt a familiar ache in your chest as you thought briefly of Draco and how deeply you wished you were getting ready for a date with him instead. But you quickly dismissed the thought as you remembered every painful moment you’d watched him and Pansy; instead, you grabbed your coat and headed to the common room.

You tried to make your way quickly to the door when you realized Draco and nearly all of your friends were there. You could feel Draco’s eyes on you like a hex, could feel the weight of his stare, distinct from everyone else’s and you hazarded a glance his way against your better judgement. His arms were crossed and he had an angry scowl on his face. You met his eyes and amidst the palpable anger, for just a moment, you thought you could see a sparkle, a glint that said stay here, with me, please don’t do this. It nearly pulled you back in, but you turned away quickly, unwilling to acknowledge how those eyes, how this boy made you feel.

Your date went as predictably as you could have imagined. Revenge had felt sweet as you thought back to Draco’s reaction to your date, but now you were certainly paying the price. Gone was the bashful, blushing Cormac that had asked you out and in front of you was the self-flattering egotistical boy you had heard so much about. He bragged about himself relentlessly and he laid it on thick, inching closer to you every minute as you wiggled further and further away.

Your first butterbeer went down without any effort, proving to be a sweet distraction and a clear obstacle in front of your lips, which Cormac continually eyed.

“Another?” he asked eagerly, as you set down your empty glass.

“Sure” you said, smiling, looking forward to a moment of peace as he walked back to the bar, though he returned all too quickly.

“Here you are, beautiful” he said cheesily as he took a big gulp of his own.

You reached for the mug, happy to drown in the sweet liquid, but the first sip you took tasted awful: bitter and metallic, like the batch had gone bad.

“Gosh – I think something’s wrong with this” you said as you set the drink down, wincing.

“No, no I asked for another shot in it. It’s just stronger than you’re used to” Cormac said, winking as he pushed the drink back towards you.

Well, thank Merlin for that I suppose you thought as you choked down another sip and he renewed his efforts of bragging and flirting. Before long you felt a fog settle over your mind like a thick blanket. You felt yourself zoning in and out on his words, your thoughts wandering aimlessly.

“Gotta take a piss” he said abruptly, bringing you back to reality as he stood up. You looked down at your near-full drink and tried to think of a way to end this miserable date. You saw a large potted plant beside you, and took the opportunity to dump your drink there, hoping that Cormac would think you’d finished it and take the hint that it was time to leave.

Sure enough, he registered your empty glass immediately. “Whoa! I’ve got to catch up!” he said, as he chugged the last of his.

“I think I’d like to head back, if that’s alright with you?” you asked.

“Of course!” he said eagerly, rushing to help you out of the booth and wrap an arm around you possessively. You tried to create some distance between you but upon standing you realized the foggy feeling in your brain had wound its way to each of your limbs, making you sway slightly, so you relented and leaned into his strong frame.

You walked in silence for a while, your feet crunching on the frost on the ground. It was dark now and the street was illuminated only by the ambient light from the storefronts. Suddenly, Cormac surprised you by pulling you close to him in a small alleyway. He began kissing your neck, his lips working their way to the spot beneath your ear. “So beautiful” he murmured against your skin. “Never thought I’d see the day Malfoy’s girl took up an interest in me, but you are a slithery little minx aren’t you?”

His words, his lips, his everything felt so wrong and you struggled, scraping against his chest, trying to push his weight off of you fruitlessly; each of your limbs felt heavy and clumsy, uncoordinated.

“Sstop, Cormac” you managed weakly.

“What’s that?” he muttered, his hot breath making you feel feverish, flu-like.

“Sstop!” you said more forcefullyas you moved to push him off of you.

“What’s gotten into you?” he asked angrily, pulling back.

“M’going backt’castle” you slurred, stumbling slightly as you made for the main road.

“No! Come back!” he said, reaching for you and grasping the back of your jacket strongly, nearly knocking you to the ground. “You can’t come out, dressed like that, then spend all night making eyes at me just to shut me down.”

“Leggo of me!” you said, your voice rising. You wiggled out of your jacket, leaving him empty handed as you forged forward into the cold. A few people walked by, muttering and eyeing Cormac suspiciously, keeping him grounded in place.

The walk back to the castle felt like it took years, like one of those dreams where you’re running but no matter how fast you move your legs you don’t make any progress. It was undeniably cold as thick snowflakes began to fall from the sky and gather at your feet. You could feel the cold on the outside of your body, but your insides were hot, like you could feel the blood running through your veins slowly, weighing down your movements, your thoughts. You could have cried when you finally reached the castle doors nearest the astronomy tower. You were shivering violently, you were uncomfortable and you were desperately confused.

If anyone would have asked, Draco would have said he was reading. He’d even brought a book with him as an alibi, though it remained unopened in his lap as he sat in the window in the astronomy tower, hoping to catch a glimpse of you and McLaggen headed back from your date.

He didn’t know why he was so determined to put himself through the punishment of seeing you with him, perhaps because he knew had to see it with his own eyes to believe it, to believe you were truly happy with him, truly enjoying yourself. He thought about how beautiful you had looked tonight, your short skirt, your rosy cheeks, and he felt his heart squeeze as he ran his hands through his hair in frustration for the thousandth time, permanently mussing his normally slicked back locks. He let his head fall back against the cold stone wall when he saw erratic movement out of the corner of his eye and leaned forward in the window to get a better glimpse. Even between the thick, heavy snowfall and the dim light he could tell it was you, could see the color of your hair and your outfit and when he realized you were alone he was on his feet and moving before he knew what he was going to say. He dashed through the door and into the gathering snow.

“Y/N!” he called as he approached you.

You were hunched over hugging your arms to your body and he realized, suddenly, that you weren’t wearing your jacket. Merlin he was going to kill McLaggen.

“What’s wrong, where’s your jacket?” he asked, frantically, pulling off his own suit jacket to wrap around your shoulders.

You looked up at him and blinked slowly, searching his face like you were trying to figure out who he was, like you’d never seen him before.

“Y/N?” he asked again, as his heart began to quicken its pace with concern. “Are you okay?”

You looked confused at his question and as you stared at him, he took the opportunity to examine you properly. Your pupils were dilated wide and he could tell you were breathing heavily and shivering at the same time. He pressed a hand to your forehead and could feel you burning up despite the freezing temperature.

“Come on, let’s get you inside, alright?” he placed an arm around you gently and you melted into his embrace as he guided you up the stairs and into an empty classroom.

“What’s gone on, then? You’re all sorts of out of it. Where’s McLaggen?” he asked.

You shook your head in reply but didn’t offer more than that as your eyes fell to the floor.

“What were you drinking?” he tried.

“Butterbeers” you whispered.

This is helpless, he thought, yet he couldn’t ignore the feeling deep in chest that something wasn't right. He knew you better than anyone, better sometimes than he knew himself, and it wasn’t like you to go out and get drunk with a lad you hardly knew, and it wasn’t like you to wander around aimlessly without a jacket in the middle of winter, something was definitely wrong.  

“Tasted funny” you murmured quietly, pulling Draco out of his thoughts.

“What?” he said, wanting to make sure he’d heard you right.

“Tasted bad, so I didn’t drink all of it.”

Draco’s heartbeat thudded harder. He had read about a potion that was circulating around bars in London, intended to disorient and take advantage of people. This couldn’t possibly be it… McLaggen wouldn’t…. would he? Draco tried frantically to remember what he’d read as you swayed precariously on your feet and he caught you just in time, pulling you into his chest, too worried about you to enjoy the sensation of you pressed against him. He remembered the potion had a distinct taste, which made it difficult to mask. Sour? Tart? Bitter? Licorice, that was it. It tasted like black licorice.

“What did it taste like?” he prompted. “Your butterbeer, did it taste like something?” he asked, praying he was wrong.

“So gross” you murmured into his chest before you turned your head to face him as he looked down at you.

“Please, darling, try to think, did it remind you of something? A food? A candy maybe?” he tried.

“Yeah” you said quietly, thoughtfully. “Bertie Botts – what’s the ones we always pick out? The black ones?”

Fuck he thought.

“Licorice” he said sullenly.

“Licorice” you agreed.

His mind raced. He was going to kill him. He was going to bloody murder McLaggen with his bare hands. He was in utter disbelief that he would do something like this, to you, the most important person in Draco's life. As he thought about it, he pulled you further into his arms and you let out a contented sigh.

He needed to focus on getting you better. While it didn’t have long term harmful effects, he knew this potion was wreaking havoc on your body. From what he remembered the effects came in two stages, the first being disorientation, sluggishness and confusion and the second being a complete loss of inhibitions, making the drinker say and do whatever was on their mind, whatever their heart desired. It was no secret that Draco was good at potions, and he was hopeful he might be able to spare you the rest of the symptoms if they hadn’t set in yet.

“C’mon then” he said, urging you towards the door. You could barely stand on your own, nearly sinking to the floor again. Without wasting a moment, Draco scooped you into his arms, bridal style, one arm around your back, the other under your legs, your head resting in the crook of his neck as he carried you back to the common room.

He moved quickly, his mind working in overdrive thinking of the ingredients he needed for the remedy. You stirred in his arms, winding your own around his neck and pulling yourself closer into him. Your proximity sent a small shiver down his spine and he unconsciously gripped you tighter.

You murmured something against his neck, your breath tingling his skin.

“Hm?” he asked, struggling to understand you.

“Smell so good, you always smell so good, Draco” you said.

He smiled to himself and let out a small laugh, blushing. “Thank you” he whispered quietly.

You giggled back and he was glad to see that you were still conscious and coherent.

You wound your fingers into the hair at the base of his neck and nuzzled into the tender spot just below his ear. He all but dropped you when he felt your warm lips against his skin, pressing kisses to his neck. He was grateful you were near the dungeons, nearly to his room, unsure how much longer he could be steady on his feet.

He tried to wiggle away, his mind and his body fighting each other in their reactions. He knew this was wrong, knew you had no idea what you were doing, but your lips were absolutely sinful against his skin, warm and wet and he couldn’t deny that the sensation stirred a reaction in every inch of his body, especially as you worked your way across his jaw, towards his lips.

He fumbled with the doorknob to his room and quickly ushered you both inside, kicking the door closed behind him as he set you down on your feet. Though he’d let go of your legs, you clung to his neck and pressed your body into his, your face inches from his. He swallowed deeply as he looked at you – you were very much coherent now, your cheeks a rosy red and your eyes, though still dilated, shimmered at him. You bit your bottom lip seductively as your eyes trailed to his lips and you leaned forward.

For half a second, he considered it. You were right there in front of him, the subject of his every waking thought for the last two days, and frankly for the last three years if he was honest, and you wanted him, that much was clear. He imagined sinking his lips to yours, feeling their wet warmth pressed against him, the velvet taste of your tongue.

He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, using every ounce of strength he had left to pull away from you. You let out a small groan that should not have affected him the way it did as he grasped your hips firmly and walked you to the bed.

“You don’t want to kiss me?” you asked, the pout on your face nearly bringing him to his knees.

“Not like this, not tonight” he managed, his voice husky as he kept his eyes averted from yours. “Sit” he said, gesturing to the bed.

You relented and he made his way over to a small cabinet in his room, pulling out the ingredients he needed to right this unbelievable situation.

“It’s because of Pansy, isn’t it?” you said behind him.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, trying to find the words to say in response.

“I think she’s terrible, Draco. I hate seeing the two of you together.”

He hazarded a glance in your direction, shocked at the truth of your words. You were laying back on his bed, eyes tracing the ceiling as you spoke. This was a conversation that needed to happen, he had loads he needed to say to you, but not like this. He remained silent as he sped up his efforts, mixing the ingredients in front of him; he was grateful that you remained silent for a while.

He had nearly finished when he heard shuffling behind him. He turned to see that you had pulled off your boots and you were pulling your sweater over your head.

Merlin you were going to be the death of him.

“Whoa whoa” he said, running to your side and trying to get you to stop just as your sweater hit the floor, leaving you in a dark lace bralette that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. He peeled his eyes away, searching for a shirt, a towel, a hoodie, anything he could to cover you, finding one of his hoodies on a nearby chair just as you grabbed his wrist, pulling yourself into his arms again.

“Should be me and you, Draco” you muttered against his lips. You ran your hands up his chest and then ran one palm slowly downward, across his ribs, his stomach, his belt until his hand shot out and grasped yours firmly. His heart was beating so hard in his chest, he was having trouble breathing. He swallowed deeply before taking your face firmly in his hands, as much to get your attention as to keep himself from kissing you.

“Please listen to me. I’m begging you. You are absolutely beautiful, Y/N, breathtaking. And I would truly love nothing more than to have my way with you right now. Really. You have… no idea” he said, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“But you’re not okay, you drank something you shouldn’t have and you have to focus on getting better, alright? Then we can talk about… all of this.”

You looked confused and more than a little disappointed, a pout set against your lips again, but your eyes traced his face, met his own and it was like a deeper part of you understood that he was trying to protect you.

“Okay” you sighed, relenting as you took the hoodie and pulled it over your head.

“Drink this” he said, offering the remedy he had made.

You eyed him warily but took the cup he offered you, sniffing it before taking a sip.

“Tastes good” you said, smiling at him, and he felt the first sense of relief since he’d found you that night as you finished the rest eagerly.

His eyes could have been deceiving him, but he swore he could see your pupils return to normal size as you blinked slowly.

“M’tired” you murmured. “Can I sleep?” you asked, glancing at his bed.

“Of course” he said, without hesitation as he helped you crawl under the sheets. You were out in a matter of minutes and he sunk into the couch next to his bed, exhausted, as he looked at you, trying to comprehend what the hell had just happened.

It had to have been the potion. But the potion didn’t make people say or do things they didn’t mean… it removed their inhibitions, allowed them to relax and pursue the deepest desires of their hearts, things they wouldn’t say or do otherwise. Was that it then? You were really attracted to him all this time? He thought about how long he had agonized over telling you how he felt, how he didn’t want to ruin your friendship and never felt any inclination that you saw him that way. It had driven him mad and was ultimately the reason he had agreed to start dating Pansy, hoping to distract himself from something he never thought possible.

He sighed, leaning his head back against the couch and running his hands over his face.

There was no way he was going to be able to sleep tonight, between wanting to make sure you were okay and reliving over and over and over again the way you looked at him, the desire in your eyes, the pout on your lips and your hot breath against his neck. He pulled off his shirt and pulled on a pair of sweatpants as he settled into the couch, thinking what a perfect vision you were in his bed, your hair splayed out on the pillow, wearing his sweatshirt, your chest gently rising and falling.

Your first thought was that you felt like you were on a cloud. You were immensely comfortable and you burrowed further into the sheets that were soft and silky and warm. You sighed deeply, breathing in a familiar scent that made you smile. You rested a moment longer before your brain slowly came to life; these sheets weren’t your sheets, and that smell was… Draco?

Your eyes fluttered open slowly as you tried to take in your surroundings. You were in a large four poster bed in a sea of emerald sheets; Draco’s room you thought. You looked down at your outfit, an oversized Slytherin sweatshirt you knew well; Draco’s sweatshirt. You looked to the other side of the bed and found it empty and you were surprised at how disappointed that made you feel. You stirred and turned to see Draco’s sleeping figure splayed over the small couch in his room, his frame much too large for it, making you smile. You let your eyes wander over his sleeping form, shirtless with a pair of sweatpants slung low on his hips. You looked around the room to see various articles of both of your clothing strewn on the floor. Oh god you thought. Did we…? You frantically tried to remember the night before and felt a sharp ache behind your eyes.

“Ahh” you said in pain as you sat up and rubbed your eyes, seeking relief.

The noise stirred Draco out of his sleep. It took him a moment to register the scene in front of him, you, in his bed, wearing his sweatshirt, him on the couch, and it all came back to him. You were hunched over and rubbing your eyes, your face squeezed in pain and he pulled himself quickly to his feet, making his way over to you and sitting on the bed next to you.

“Are you alright?” he asked, placing a hand gingerly on the side of your head.

You dropped your hands at the feeling of his. You had always been close, but this felt like a new level of intimacy as you met his eyes and saw them clouded with concern for you. His hand moved to cup your face, his thumb tracing your cheek tenderly.

“I’m f-fine” you managed, your skin warming under his touch as you desperately tried to piece together what had happened between the Draco that had scowled at you on the way to your date and the Draco in front of you. It was like a massive black hole existed where your memories should be.

He registered the look of confusion on your face.

“Do you remember... last night?” he asked, pulling his hand back. You wanted so desperately to remember, to understand what had him looking at you like that, his closeness and affection.

You closed your eyes, forcing yourself to try but were only met with the same sharp ache behind your eyes.

“I’m sorry, I can’t… I don’t…” you trailed off and it was silent for a moment. “Draco, did we…?” you let the question linger unfinished as you met his gaze.

His eyes widened, panicked. “No! No. I promise you. Nothing of the sort” he said, trying to reassure you. He smiled at you and you registered an uncanny pink in his cheeks as bobbed his head from side to side “…Despite your very best and most persistent efforts to the contrary.”

Now it was your turn to blush as you covered your mouth with your hands.

“WHAT?” you asked, astonished, humiliated. “Draco, I am so sorry, I—” you paused. What was there to be sorry for? The truth had clearly come out and the way he was smiling at you made you think he wasn’t unhappy to hear it. He wasn’t angry, he wasn’t confused, he wasn’t demanding an explanation. In fact, he was looking at you in a way you had only dreamed of, his eyes full of tenderness as they traced your hair, your face.

“You have absolutely nothing to apologize for you” he said quickly, his signature smile on his face.

“Okay…” you said, trying to feel out this new situation. “Are you going to tell me what happened? And why I don’t remember anything?”

His smile faded and he looked away from you. You could see his Adam’s apple bob as he took a deep breath, silent for a while.

“Draco… you’re freaking me out” you said, your voice wavering as panic rose in your chest. “W-why don’t I remember anything?”

The pain and fear in your voice squeezed his heart. “Hey, it’s alright, you’re okay, come here” he said, pulling you into his chest. You curled into him, letting your heart beat against his, like it was the most natural thing in the world, your body seeming to remember something you couldn’t as it instantly relaxed.

“I don’t want to upset you, but you need to know the truth” he murmured against your hair. You pulled back to look at him, but he didn’t let you fully out of his grasp, his arms remaining circled around you as he took a deep breath.

“McLaggen – Cormac. You went out with him. From what I can gather you were at the Three Broomsticks and had a few drinks, a few butterbeers, but he put something in them. I’d read about it, it’s a potion that’s meant to…” he grimaced. “It’s meant to take advantage of someone, to make them confused and then drop their inhibitions. It’s said to taste awful, like—”

“Licorice” you said, a memory bubbling to the surface at the tart taste on your tongue, the greedy look in Cormac’s eyes as he encroached on your personal space. Your stomach roiled at the recollection and you scrunched your face in pain, the memories coming fast like flashes of a movie in your mind: you dumping your drink in the plant, Cormac pulling you into the alleyway, his lips, the weight of his body on you. You were breathing heavily and didn’t realize that you were crying until you felt warm wetness on your cheeks.

“No, no, no” Draco muttered as he pulled you back into his arms. “M’sorry. I’m so sorry. Please tell me he didn’t hurt you, didn’t take advantage of you, please. I’ll kill him. I’ll fucking kill him.”

He let you cry as the weight of what could have been washed over you, rubbing circles into your back, murmuring calmly against your hair. “You’re safe now, it’s okay. I swear on my life I will never let anything like that happen to you, ever again.”

Soon your cries turned to ragged breaths. “It’s not your fault, Draco. You couldn’t have known, neither of us could.”

“I should have known, I told you I heard the way he was talking about you, like it was such a sure thing you were going to hook up with him.” You could feel Draco physically tense as he talked about it, every muscle taut. “I let my anger cloud my judgement. I was furious at the way he was talking about you, furious that you’d agreed to go out with him.”

You pulled back to look at him, wiping the remaining tears from your cheeks. “Yeah, I gathered as much when you berated me” you said, shooting him a glare.

“I-I shouldn’t have done that. I mean, I meant it, but not in the way it came out. I wasn’t mad at you for going out with McLaggen. I was mad at you for going out with… anyone… anyone that wasn’t me…” he said, letting the truth linger in the air.

“W-what?” you said, your heart beating wildly in your chest.

He smiled shyly and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve fancied you for… a long time, but I didn’t want to ruin what we already had. You’re so important to me and I realized I would take having you in my life as a friend over not having you in my life at all should my feelings not be reciprocated.”

“But you’re literally dating Pansy!?” you replied, overwhelmed, exasperated.

“Was” he said.

“What?” you replied.

“Was dating Pansy. The minute I realized what a fuck up I’d been, I broke up with her. Yesterday, actually, just before you left for your date.”

You pouted at that and the familiar look of frustration on your face made him smile as he relived the same look on your face from the night before.

“Well, I obviously didn’t know that” you said, blushing deeply.

“Obviously” he agreed.

Your eyes fell to your lap and he reached over to tangle his fingers in yours reassuringly. You took them hesitantly at first, then eagerly, the warmth from his palm sending warmth to the rest of your body as well as you smiled, blushing.

You looked up to find Draco already staring at you, his eyes sizzling with warmth as they met yours before flitting, nearly imperceptibly to your lips and suddenly you were awash with another flood of memories from the night before.

You and Draco, just centimeters apart, him breathing heavily as he glanced at your lips.

The feeling of his taut chest underneath your fingers, your palm running over his abs.

His hands firm but tender on your cheeks. His words…“You are absolutely beautiful, Y/N, breathtaking. And I would truly love nothing more than to have my way with you right now. Really. You have… no idea.”

Curling into his bed, surrounded by his scent, and warm lips against your temple as he pulled the sheets around you.

“I-I remember” you said quietly.

His eyebrows quirked up accompanying a surprised look on his face.

“And?” he said, treading carefully, not wanting to get his hopes up that last night was more than just a side effect of a potion.

“And...” you started, blushing deeply and tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, squeezing his hand as you met his eyes, shrugging bashfully, “I meant it, Draco, all of it. Not the way I imagined telling you, but gosh I’ve fancied you too, for a long time.”

He reached out with his free hand and pressed it to your forehead.

“What are you doing?” you giggled.

“Need to make sure you’re not still talking jibberish. You’re feeling okay? You mean it?” he said, moving his hand to various parts of your temple.

You reached up to pull his hand off of you. “I mean it, Draco” you said, smiling as he looked at you and laughed before the familiar look of desire crossed over his face again.

“Then please, for the love of Slytherin, can I kiss you?” he asked, his voice barely louder than a whisper; his boldness and sincerity setting your body alight.

You nodded, smiling widely.

He leaned forward, closing the distance between you as his hand moved to cup your face locking you into him. Your body moved automatically, gravitating to him as his lips hovered over yours, ghosting them, tickling them with the barest touch of his own, savoring the anticipation of the satisfaction to come, the way you had wound your arms around his neck, the way you were breathing erratically against him, reveling in your desire before relenting. He kissed you sweetly, softly but deeply, with a passion that electrified every inch of your body. He pushed you backwards gently, laying you in the feathery softness of his bed as he rested his body comfortably atop you, tracing your bottom lip with his tongue, as you opened up to him immediately. Your kisses were like a dance you both already knew the steps to, effortless, beautiful, natural, your bodies so in tune to each other as your tongues tangled and he grasped you firmly against him.

He pulled away to look at you, breathing heavily and you couldn’t help the whine that escaped your lips at the lack of contact. Never wanting to disappoint you again, he pressed his lips to yours and you wound your hands into his hair, trying to pull him impossibly closer. You could feel him smiling against you as he pulled back again.

“Wait, wait” he said, pressing a kiss to your pout.

“What is it Draco?” you asked, breathless and impatient, his name on your kiss-swollen lips stealing his heart.

“Be mine?” he asked.

“It’s taken you long enough to realize it, but I’ve always been yours, Draco” you replied.

He hung his head in regret before meeting your eyes. “Trust me when I tell you--” he said, pressing a quick, warm kiss to your lips.

“I’m going to spend--” a deeper kiss.

“Every day” deeper still.

“Making it up to you” he said, sinking into you in earnest.

[daily-spooky]