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chaashni · 10 months

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Piercings

A/n: A little something on Bucky because I was feeling soft. This is pure fluff. Reblogs and feedback are so appreciated here❤

Word count: 1.5K ( its tiny )

“You know man, there is only so much I can handle. Stop. Staring.” Sam grumbled, obviously frazzled by Bucky who had been glaring at him non-stop, not even allowing himself a second to blink his eyes.

In Bucky’s defense, Sam had really done it. The little kind-hearted-epitome-of-soft-energy shit had actually got the nerve to suggest that Bucky could use a ear piercing, and the bionic staring machine had taken that to heart.

“See she would probably like you more if you got something shiny on you.”

“I’ve got a vibranium arm.”

“No something a little less flattering than that. Thats for the bedroom. We need something for foreplay.”

And that was when she had walked in, her creme suit jacket doing little at hiding the tiny not-so-formal bralette top she insisted on wearing to work, strips of her soft skin visible. And Bucky froze once again. That was six minutes back. He hadn’t blinked once, determined to somehow acquire the powers of telekinesis and gorge Sam’s eye balls out.

“Or you could just ask her out.” God, after Hydra, did he have Sam infesting his head? He had been spending a little too much time with the flying jukebox, which was why he was hearing his words ring over his subconcious.

You need better company.

Like the girl who was the actress starring in his dreams these days- much better ones now that he saw her smiling that cute little smile or smack Sam at the back of his head- good dreams those were.

She had heard Sam suggest about Bucky getting his ear pierced.

The mischievous smile spreading over her face, which didn’t take long to spread over his lips because she is too damn cute, his glare go fuck itself somewhere. Bucky wanted her to keep smiling at him.

So he still glared at Sam, eyelashes unwavering when his pretty girl, even though she wasn’t really his, came into his direct line of vision. Standing some two feet from him, she looked once at Sam, the hints of a smile on her lips, eyes twinkling. She then caught the eye of Bucky, knocking his breath out and crushing the intensity of his glare under one sunshiney beam.

“You’d look nice. Not that you don’t already, pretty boy, but damn, Wilson has got some good suggestions.”

He loved it when she called him pretty boy. Anybody else beeping so much as even the first syllable of ‘pretty’ his way and rule number tow would be scratched out and their teeth knocked into their tongue, but she could call him anything she wanted.

“Yeah. Give him the edge and everything. The finishing touch.”

Stupid fucker.

Ofcourse, Sam swoops in and ruins the mood.

“Bucky,” His doll chimed out, her lashes fluttering towards him from behind your computer. Fuck, she’s so pretty. Her fingers tapped away on the keyboard with some complicated code he would never be able to understand but very often indulged in, and Bucky found himself wishing he could ask her out. Or if Sam actually got fed up to the point he asked you out for him.

Wait. What the fuck? When did he, James Bucky Barnes, need somebody’s help in asking a girl out? Maybe because it was this one girl, who could be the death of him, but he would die of blue balls or a stroke from being near her-whichever took him out first, before he asked Sam’s help.

“You’re listening here?” She drawled out, and Bucky knew, he knew that she knew what every little quip about her did to him, and she relished in it. Bucky, well he relished in the fact that she was relishing this. If somebody could derive a meaning out of whatever his brain had just fired his way. Nope sorry, that was a shortcircuit. No more functions for the day.

“It doesn’t have to be your ears that you get pierced. You know, if you are into that.” She winked, waltzing out of the room with that confident stride, Bucky’s eyes glassing over at the swing of her hips.

Sam gasped. “Holy fuck. Yes Bucky you can get your co-”

He zoned Sam out, not even sparing a glance as he followed hot at his girl’s trail, pushing the door of the office they were at, and following you to wherever you were off to. Thank fuck Fury was stuck in some ridiculous interrogation of a suspect who in Bucky’s opinion was as useful as Sam’s suggestions, because he could use that as his excuse to hang around in his Doll’s office.

“Doll,” he started, pushing the glass door to the cell Y/n had ducked into, the rest of his words dissolving with the sharp gasp he took at he sight of her. Her jacket peeled off, she was gathering her hair up to tie it into a messy ponytail. Her black bralette, emboldened by the golden hoops attaching the straps to the base clung to her torso, making her look absolutely ravishing.

She looked delicious. So much that Bucky had to shift and turn to the side, hands stuffed in his pocket to adjust his length before he spoilt his brooding-bad-boy reputation.

“Hey pretty boy. Watcha doing?”

Scratch the brooding bad boy part.

“Ugh, Sam, he just-” Bucky could kick himself, or use his vibranuim arm and try that punch.

“Little too much?” His doll offered, and then he had a part of his mind screaming that she wasn’t his doll even if he wanted her to be, and another part pushing him to ask her out. But James-stubborn-stupid-Barnes, he just nodded, eyes zeroing in on the elevated surface of two hoop marks striking against the fabric draped over her chest.

Bucky willed his eyes to move, but sometimes your instincts don’t work with you. Or maybe she wanted him to look, because she had this self satisfied smirk plastered over her face and -this is ridiculous- Bucky couldn’t just keep ogling at a woman’s chest, he wasn’t some sex crazed twenty first century teenager for fucks sake.

Damn, whatever that was, it was hot.

Or Bucky was just a stupid creep with communication issues. Maybe he could ogle at her chest all he wanted if he asked her out.

And she was walking towards him. Stop. Stop. Don’t panic. Don’t superspeed away. Don’t mumble or be ridiculous. Just be normal.

“Like something you see, Sargeant?” She asked, a sultriness in her voice which made his pants so uncomfortably tight. Fuck, she is so enticing. Bucky could eat her whole if he could.

He just wanted to touch her.

She was so close, closer than the last time she had him so flustered. That was a eek back, when she was fixing the straps of his jacket as Sam stood with this smug grin on his face, Bucky’s heart almost palpating out as how soft her fingers were.

This time, Bucky’s hands moved before he could think, his fingertips sweeping over her jaw lightly. She trembled, like she hadn’t anticipated him taking the lead, like she wanted to toy with him a little more, but Bucky had had enough.

“Who knew that’s what would get you to break, sarge.” Sultry and edgy, her confidence was back as she leant into his touch, a bold hand running along the neckline of his tee.

What a brat.

“Those are piercings, aren’t they?” He rasped, vibranium hand looping around her waist and tugging her to his chest. Fuck it, he wanted her so bad.

“A nicer option than ear piercings,” she mused, looking at him from under your lashes. “See if they can convince you to get one.”

Bucky was grinning too, all of the charisma he had pouring with his next few words. “I would need a closer look before I can decide. See if someone volunteers to show me.”

Two can play this game.

And then she beamed, the same glow which had him fall for her in the first place. “That can be arranged, Sargent.” She pushed her hips against his, gasping a little when she felt his pulsating cock under his jeans. “If you try-hard- enough.”

Chuckling, Bucky pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth, smirking at the gasp pushing out of her lips. He arched an eyebrow as she pressed herself further to him, the curvature of her loops now right against his pecs.

“Better?” She mumbled, a breathiness in her voice which he knew he would look forward to very soon.

“A little more. Gotta feel it nice-” he brushed his lips against hers, swallowing her moan as she wond her arms around his shoulders. “-and proper.”

“Is it now?” She was breathless, leaning into him, and Bucky couldn’t remember anything better than his.

“Just a little more,’ he whispered against her mouth, faint traces of her breath swiping his lips. She jutted her tongue out, giving a testing, tiny lick at his cupids bow before she pushed he fingertips against his pecs, leaning back to look him in the eye.

“That will be arranged.”

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chaashni · 10 months

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Don't go out with him.

Why not? You are leaving me, us behind anyway, why stop me now?

I can't risk you liking him more because, because-fuck- he is worthy.

You deserve someone like him

Every man who leaves says that. That's a heartbreaker's punchline, its like you putting a bandage to a bullet hole.

You deserve the world, my love. And I can't-just- please. I can't ask you to wait for me if he comes to the picture. Not if you have someone like him ready to give you all that I can't.

You know I am not going to wait for you.

I know, but if you become his, there will be no way for me to come back and and win you all over again.

Goodbye, Bucky.

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chaashni · 10 months

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I know nobody asked but this is rockstar! Harry.

He keeps the band with him, the obviously does, following you around backstage and fiddling with the already popped buttons of his shirt, pretending to have met you for the first time and being enamored by you.

"In so many years that I have lived, I've never seen someone more pleasing to look at."

"And exactly how many centuries have you lived, H?"

"Just a few..." He would chuckle, a lopsided grin on his face, dimples denting bright on his cheeks, the sparkles on his shirt glittering in the light which filters in from the crack of the door. "You giving me nicknames already, babe? Getting sweet on me already? I've been thinking...Harry's old fashioned anyway, innit? Gonna change to H."

You pursed your lips, smacking his hands away from where they were sliding down the collar of his shirt. You curled your fingers around his suspenders, pulling him into you, brushing your lips against his as he spoke. "Legally or just for the stage?"

Harry chuckles, swiping his knuckles over your cheekbone and cursing. "Legally. You got me hooked babe. I change it and you- go on a playdate with me."

"Gimme a better offer." He laughs out this time, capturing your lips in his and sucking on your tongue for a hot second before he's retracting again, playfully pinching your butt. You squeal, eyes flapping open in indigantion as you shove at his chest, creating a respectful distance between the two of you.

"You little fucklet- " you wheeze, you hair flying around as he playfully whines, shaking his head and making grabby motions at you. He swipes his tongue over his lips as you curse, rolling his eyes at your foul language and you brace yourself for some action, because your dirty mouth always sets him going.

"I'm sure you'd be begging for this little fucklet to fuck you till your back breaks in the next forty minutes, so I'd recommend being a little gentle to me." Large ringed hands slide under your dress to cup your ass, the bands of his rings digging against your flesh.

You expect him to kiss you again, or atleast suck on your lips till they were swollen and your lipstick tampered, but he pressed his nose to the side of your neck, his tongue swiping your collarbone in the tiniest of a kitten lick, leaving you starved for more.

With a shrug he pulls the band off his head, placing it on you and bopping your nose, his other hand squeezing your ass.

"Lets get high first. Then we'd do something about you being my good litten kitten."

#rockstar harry

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chaashni · 10 months

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Hi lovie, how’s rockstar!harry doing on this fine day

Rockstar! Harry?

The one who is sitting on the table of his balcony, shirtless, strumming a guitar?

He's doing fine, really. The hundreds of marks lining up his body- no, no they are not tattoos- show that he has had a good night, and that his cardio routines are doing great. The bright eyed look on his eyes mean he has been having good sleep, and the hand which is currently palming him through his flimsy boxers- oh thats his girl, Y/n.

He has been playing for her all morning. Y/n wanted him to sing some ABBA for her, and who's Harry to ever deny his babe. He had just one condition- for her to play with him while he plays for her.

Fair enough.

Harry starts by pulling you to his torso by the hoops of your shorts, pressing a messy kiss against your neck.

"Play with me, baby." He hums, carelessly biting into your shoulder before he is reaching behind you to pick his guitar, throwing a pillow on the floor and gently pushing you down till you are kneeling on it.

"Can't risk your pretty legs ya know. You comfortable there baby?" And Harry would strum down a few times, twisting the pegs to get the tuning right while you caress the laurels inked over his waistline. He doesn't react, biting his tongue and keeping his expression unwavering, your determination to get a reaction out of him increasing.

So you start raking your palms over his juicy things, pressing your lips along the thick insides as you settle on the pillow, ready to slowly make your way up and take him all in. The first few chords of 'the winner takes it all' begins, Harry's hands a little too steady for your liking.

Does he remember the time he made you ride him till he cried?

You bit over the tattoo drawn on his thigh, biting back a smirk at the sharp intake of breath and the change in tempo. The jump in his cock and the tightening of his boxers under your fingers had you going faster, your thighs clenching and pussy walls throbbing involuntarily at the thought of him cumming in your mouth. You tilted your head to the other side, pressing a messy kiss to the inside of his other thigh, tongue stretching out to sketch a heart shape over his skin

The playing stops.

"You think you paid enough attention to my tattoo there, babe?" Harry sneered, cocking an eyebrow at you before resuming to play again, pointing to his tattooed leg. "Because I sure didn't feel anything. You sure you're game for playing this morning?"

Oh, fucker.

"I am." You nodded, pressing your lips in a thin line before shifting, turning entirely to face the meat that was his legs. "I haven't even started."

You looked up to find your rockstar smirking at you, pick in his mouth and hands fiddling with the ends of your hair. Harry dug his fingers into your roots, pressing your cheek to his thigh and bending down till his nose was touching yours.

"Then buckle up babygirl. Step your game because I've started already- " the pick pressed against your lips, digging down your cupid's bow and descending downwards till it was denting your bottom lip, his breath warm on your face.

"And its gonna be really, really hectic for you and your sweet little pussy if you don't play your part well."

Holy fuck.

#rockstar harry #aaahhhhhh #this menace!!!!

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chaashni · 10 months

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Reblogging my old shit, I'm back peeps!

Happy Man, Sleepy Man

Staying the night at Steve’s would include:

The first time you agree to stay over, he’s flustered. Adorably. His cheeks are flushed and hair a little tousled from the multitude of times he has run his fingers through it, a pout on his cheeks as he pulls out the comfy blankets he had recently purchased, keeping you in mind.

You don’t know how, but he has managed to find out all about the skincare products you use, and stacked them all in his shelves. When you threaded your teeth over your lips and quirked a teasing eyebrow at him, he groaned, hands stuffed in his packets and eyes landing on everywhere but you.

And you can’t stop ‘awwing’ at how sweet he is, hands coming to rest on his thick biceps as you try to catch his averted eyes, humour all over your face.

“Okay, okay.” He looks up at you finally, raising his hands a little. “I might have asked Nat to help me out on this.”

Bless him.

Fee shots to Nat for the next few weekends too.

He’s a heavy cuddler.

You don’t have to get into bed and spend the night, sleep next to him to find out, because Steve has this habit of pulling your elbows and tugging you to his chest randomly at any point of the day, but its makes your chest warm and fuzzy when he instinctively wraps you up in his arms the moment you collapse against the mattress.

He tucks his head into the crook of your neck, nuzzling his nose delicately on your skin when your fingers card through his hair.

Steve holds you through the night. Or atleast, that was what you both intended for. Soft. Warm. Comfy.

But who takes responsibility for flailing limbs and stirrings and posture currents while sleeping?

Certainly not a romantic soul, which Steve is.

So he is a little disappointed when he wakes up in his back, the mundane ceiling and his old fan sputtering and jerking as it moves, greeting him a good morning. You are tucked to the side of the bed, body curled in a fetal position, your hair sprayed out over your head and your oversized shirt- his shirt, falling off of your shoulder. You look adorable.

That faint tinge of disappointment-of not having to wake up to you in his arms- that is scampered out of his mind within seconds.

You stir in your sleep, whining low in your throat before you are turning, eyes still closed and sleep still consuming you, but you move, almost like you’ve got some magnet pulling you to a certain destination.

Steve’s face breaks into a huge grin when you settle on his chest, your leg wrapping over his hips, both of your hands sandwiched between both of your bodies.

He stretches his arm out, allowing you to rest comfortably on him.

All comfortable and soft, little crinkles on your brow which he pecks and brushes out.

Soft strands of your hair pillowing on his skin.

Your little puffs of breath caressing his skin.

And Steve is a happy man

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chaashni · 1 year

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My Everyday

Pairing: College Athlete!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes was aggressive, annoying, and—worst of all—a hockey player. Not your type. At all. But, unfortunately, your roommate.

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: Minor injury, idiots in love <3, some angst, pining

a/n: My first fic in a century!! Thank you so much for reading if you’re still here. Depending on how this does I hope I’ll have motivation to write more! College athlete Bucky never fails to get me inspired :)

Masterlist

“What’s this punks name again?”

The breath you let out was long and excruciating. “I am not repeating myself.”

“C’mon, y/n,” Bucky whined, knocking his head back on the couch. He watched you bustle around the kitchen from his inverted vantage point. “How the hell am I supposed to swoop in and save the day if I don’t even know the kid’s name?”

“Okay, well, first of all—” the fridge door clicked shut with a swift motion of your hips “—he’s not a ‘kid’. I’m pretty sure he’s a few months older than you.”

“Semantics.”

“And second of all,” you stressed, pointing a butter knife in his direction. “There will be no ‘swooping in’. I’m going to have a nice date and you are going to go hang out with your puck rabbits or whatever they're called. There will be no thinking about me and no swooping in my vicinity.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, kicking up from the couch and rounding the kitchen counter to pick at your sandwich. You knocked his hand away several times, but you both knew it was futile. In the months you’d been living with the hockey player—who was far too big for the small, shoebox of an apartment you leased—you’d learned that food was non-negotiable for Bucky Barnes.

There were many other things you’d learned about him as well. He sang in the shower, but only when he thought you weren’t home. He had an annoying penchant for using your $30 lotion—again, when he thought you weren’t home. And he loved to throw his massive, smelly gear just about anywhere it would land right when he got home from every practice.

He didn’t really care if you were home for that last one.

Bucky was the last person you thought you would be rooming with when you posted that ad last summer. A small, quaint room previously occupied by your now engaged (and traitorous) best friend, you assumed someone like-minded to yourself would have taken you up on your offer. The price point wasn’t egregious and the building was relatively close to campus.

But weeks ticked by, and you started getting desperate. Your landlord wasn’t a nice lady, something you were positive she took pride in, and she decided that a rent increase was the perfect way to ring in the new school year. You were on the verge of destitution, and as it so happened, the only other person as desperate as you was the starting center for your college’s hockey team.

You hardly got along. It had taken weeks for your eye to stop twitching every time he tumbled through the front door at three in the morning, and even longer for you not to feel an infuriating aggravation at his random, nighttime smoothies. You supposed he probably felt the same about your cleanliness rules and your incessant reminders about trash days. Because Bucky was in charge of bringing the trash down those long, apartment steps. Not you.

But you’d be lying if you said things hadn’t gotten easier as of late. Conversation flowed more smoothly, things that made you seethe before were only mildly annoying, and Bucky was being… considerate? You weren’t quite sure what to call the random cups of coffee he brought home on occasion. Or his sudden urge to warm up your car when he had a morning class before yours.

There was also the case of that party last weekend. A frat party with far too many drunk men and not enough common sense, you had had the urge to leave the second you got there. But Wanda had dragged you along for the sole purpose of driving her home after she got hammered, so you were essentially stuck.

It was fine at first. Hot and crowded and loud, but fine. You kept a general eye on Wanda and scrolled aimlessly on your phone in the armchair you claimed. And then it wasn’t fine, because a man twice your size was encroaching on your space and unrelenting.

“What kinda girl comes to a party and doesn’t even wanna talk to anyone?”

“You want to come up to my room and watch a movie or something?”

“Hey, I’m talking to you, bitch.”

You weren’t even aware that Bucky had been at that party. It wasn’t surprising—the line between fraternities and sports was blurred at your college—but the space he took up as he intercepted the man in front of you was.

“There a problem here?” Bucky posed, crossing his arms over his chest, his presence looming above your seated position. His weight shifted to his toes.

The man didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, you. Move.”

“Wanna fucking tell me what to do again?”

“Fuck you, man.”

A harsh shove to Bucky’s chest was all it took for a right hook to echo in the living room of the frat house. There was chaos. Grunts and screams from the drunk people surrounding the unnecessary fight created a cacophony of unpleasant sounds that seemed to get the attention of someone in charge. The man—Brian, you had now learned based on screams—was pulled back from Bucky and getting chewed out by some president or manager of something.

And Bucky was seething, chest rising and falling laboriously as he wiped at the new bruise forming on his face.

Fights were not uncommon. But this one had been about you. For you.

“Bucky?” you asked when the crowd calmed and Brian was no longer in the room.

You watched his back release its tight coil. He turned. “Are you okay?”

The words were almost lost in the noise of the crowd, but he was close enough that they created a tactile vibration across your skin. His pupils were dilated and he looked so disheveled it would have been charming if there wasn’t also a cut forming on his brow.

“Y/n.”

It took you a moment to realize that you hadn’t answered him. Your response fell out of you as if you’d been shoved. “I’m—I’m fine.”

He grunted, but it was more of a puff of air. “The fuck was that guy?”

“I don’t know,” you replied, realizing by the way you swayed that you had stood up at some point. “He just—”

“We’re going home.”

“What? I can’t, I’m here with Wanda. I’m driving her, Bucky, I can’t just leave.”

He grabbed your wrist, the grip achingly soft compared to the blows he was landing minutes before. “She left with that British guy she’s been on and off with. Asked me to tell you.”

That explained his random appearance. Your brows pinched as you took in the information, eyes cast down to the angry red marks marring Bucky’s knuckles. He’d been in fights before. So many fights. On the ice.

This was different.

“I haven’t been drinking—I can drive myself home. You don’t have to leave,” you shouted over the music now bumping in the room.

He didn’t respond, not verbally. He pulled you to his front instead, leading you through the impossible crowd until cool night air began melting into your skin. His silence was strange. Bucky’s favorite activity was talking your ear off until you told him to shut up, but right now… nothing. Even his earlier words had been clipped.

You felt responsible for easing the tension in the air as Bucky continued to guide you to your car. You hadn’t told him where you parked, but he seemed to know the exact location anyways.

“You really don’t have to leave with me,” you mumbled. “It wasn’t a big deal or anything.”

“It was a big deal.”

The drive home had been silent. The walk to the door had been as well. Bucky spent a few minutes appraising you in the overhead light of the living room when you got inside, but after that there was nothing. He went to his room and you went to yours.

There was no discussion about it the morning after, either. Bucky apparently wanted to pretend nothing ever happened, so you respected that. Even now, you ignored the fading cuts on his hands as he shoveled food into his mouth.

Bucky’s next words were muffled by a mouthful of bread. “Well where’s this dude taking you at least?”

“Ice skating.”

The cough and sudden exasperation was very expected out of the man next to you, Bucky’s next words hardly containing syllables. “Huh?”

“We’re going ice skating,” you reiterated. You picked up your lunch and headed for the living room, ignoring the slightly heaviness in your chest. “It’s winter and ice skating is festive. The rink on campus has decorations.”

“Without me? Y/n, you’re gonna let some guy who probably doesn’t even know how to skate—”

“Bucky—” you attempted to interrupt.

“—drag you around the rink like a rag doll?” he continued, holding his hand up to mute your incoming speech. “I’ve asked you to come by the rink, like, a ton of times. You’ve never shown any interest.”

You rolled your eyes and shot him a cross look as he picked your feet up from where they rested on the couch and dropped them into his lap. He went on with his rant for a little while longer, knocking his head back against cushions and accusing you of being a bad roommate. You had a few rebuttals of your own, but there was a reason you had never accompanied him to the rink.

A good reason.

You didn’t date athletes.

It was true that simply going to visit Bucky at a practice, or letting him be the one to drag you around the ice like a rag doll, wouldn’t mean you were in a relationship by any means. But it would be an extra step. And if you were being honest with yourself, it would only take a few of those extra steps for the irritation you felt towards Bucky to melt into something else.

And you didn’t date athletes.

You did not.

You didn’t have the time, nor the patience, to put up with the cheating, the anger issues, or the crazy schedules. And there wasn’t a single athlete you’d met at your sport-centered university that was willing to compromise on any of those subjects. Especially the cheating. You’d learned that the hard way after dating a lacrosse player for approximately one month before receiving the dreaded DM from a girl you had never met.

The man hadn’t even given you the courtesy of pretending he didn’t know what she was talking about. He just admitted to his wrong-doing and shrugged. Shrugged.

So athletes were not exactly in your good graces when it came to dating.

“Are you even listening to me?” Bucky cut through your thoughts, patting your shin in impatience.

You blinked and reoriented yourself, focusing on the hairs that fanned across Bucky’s face. “Of course I am,” you lied. “But my answer is still the same. I’m going on my date and you are not going on my date.”

He groaned, apparently giving up as he cradled your legs closer to him to lean over and grab the remote from the coffee table. He flipped the channel to ESPN—typical—and you ate your sandwich, silently cursing him. He had a TV in his room.

“When is it?” he suddenly asked, breaking the silence that had knitted itself into a comfortable blanket over the room.

“Tonight,” you answered plainly.

The arms atop your legs tensed.

The dichotomy of the man sitting beside you was impressive. On one hand, he was so full of himself that he had missed almost all of your conversation starters due to being so transfixed by his reflection in the rink’s glass. He had yet to ask you a single question about yourself and had insisted that the four other girls skating tonight were in love with him.

On the other hand, he was, quite possibly, the most uninteresting person you had ever met. You were usually very quick to laugh, but every word out of his mouth was almost painful. He wouldn’t stop talking about his ex-girlfriend, gave you one word answers about anything other than baseball, and was honestly really terribly at ice skating. You were no pro either, but you found yourself on your back every time he tried holding your hand.

The tumble five minutes ago had you seeking out the penalty box on the side of the rink. You needed a break, you had told him, hoping he would continue on making a fool of himself and give you a moment alone. But he followed you instead, and was now sitting beside you, talking about baseball.

You supposed that was better than making you fall while talking about baseball.

“I bet we could do that,” he remarked, pointing out onto the ice and catching your attention. A couple who clearly had more experience than you was twirling each other around. “We definitely could. I pick up good speed.” You cringed. “I really don’t think we should try, Sean. My tailbone is already pretty bruised.”

“Oh, c’mon! I won’t try the throwing part, just the twisty stuff.”

“We are literally on rental skates. You will kill me,” you deadpanned. You were tired at this point and seriously questioning why you thought ice skating was a good first date idea.

Well, there actually was an answer for that. But you were not going to think about the hockey player that popped into your head when Sean asked you on a date in the dining hall last week.

Definitely not.

“I’m not going to let my date think I’m boring,” Sean groaned, yanking you up from your seat.

You gave a few tugs and words of resistance but they were ultimately useless. You figured it would be just as useless to tell the guy you already thought he was boring. He probably wouldn’t even hear you.

On unsteady skates, Sean guided you to a mostly cleared corner of the rink and gripped your forearms. He squinted as he surveyed the area, the corner of his mouth turning up in a way that made your stomach roll. This entire date had been a bad idea.

“Maybe we should just watch them do it,” you tried, words wavering.

“No!” he grinned. “No, we got this. It’s gonna look so cool.”

And then you were spinning. You’d never been spun against your will before, but it sucked. Your skates kept getting stuck in the divots in the ice and the grip on your forearms was close to bruising. You were starting to get dizzy and Sean showed no signs of caring. God, he really was dragging you around the rink like a rag doll. Bucky was going to get a kick out of this.

“Okay, ready?” Sean called, an unwarranted jubilation in his tone.

“What?” you yelled.

He didn’t answer you. Instead, he let go, and you went flying in another direction without a clear path. It only lasted a moment, but the sound of your head smacking onto the ice signified the end of that movement. You landed on your arm next, and then your back. Again.

This time felt different though. Your head was spinning and there were muted pinpricks trailing up to your wrist. The ache there was dulled compared to the biting iciness in your back, but as soon as you tried leaning on it to get up, it became sharp.

“Oh shit!” came Sean’s laughter-filled gasp. “My bad. I really didn’t mean to let go.”

You blinked a few times to clear the blurriness from your vision but it proved unhelpful. “I think… I think my arm’s broken.”

“Wait, seriously?” he asked, wobbling down to a seat beside you.

“Yeah, it’s—”

“Everything okay over here?” a voice interrupted. You tried blinking again to take in the man that towered over the two of you, but the lights overhead washed him out.

You recognized him…maybe? You felt like you were going to throw up.

Sean answered for you. “Yeah, man, we’re fine. She just fell.”

“Y/n, are you okay?” the man asked, ignoring your date completely.

“Do I know you?” you slurred.

You thought you heard a curse. “What made you think throwing her around was a good idea?”

“Dude, it wasn’t even that fast. Or my fault. She just couldn’t keep her feet under her.”

“Well, dude, maybe you should go home.”

Sean scoffed. “Right, and who’s going to take this one home?”

Your head was starting to hurt with all of the back and forth. The man that just joined, the taller one, kneeled down beside you. His blonde hair cast a harsh glare that had you squinting again.

“You want me to call Bucky?” he asked.

Bucky? How would he know Bucky? Blonde hair began morphing into a man in your memory, and you reached for the material of his shirt, looping it between your fingers.

“Steve Rogers?” you mumbled.

The man, now identified as Steve, sighed. “I’m calling him. Go home, Sean. Her roommate is coming to get her.”

There was more discussion, something about Steve having the authority to kick him out and Sean not understanding what all of the fuss was about. Steve warned him about something and Sean scoffed as if the situation was beneath him. And then he left.

Steve was then in your line of sight again, brows pinched together and a bright orange vest covering his shoulders. His hands hovered in front of you as if you’d break if he touched you and you almost found it funny. Steve was a huge guy with a lot of authority on Bucky’s team, but right now he looked like a scared animal.

“Why are you dressed like a construction worker?” you asked.

A small smile graced his face. “I’m working at the rink today. Everyone on the team has to take shifts during the holidays.”

“Hmm,” you hummed. “I think my arm is broken.”

“I know. I’m pretty sure you have a concussion too. Let’s get you off the ice, yeah?”

You tried to nod, but that hurt too much so you let Steve assist you in shakily standing up. He guided you to the seats by the rental skate counter with a soft but sure hand on your back, asking some guy named Antonio for an ice pack. Everything around you felt like a fever dream.

Gentle touches rolled the sleeve of your sweater back to reveal a swollen wrist that Steve immediately covered with an ice pack.

He cursed again. “Well he’s gonna be pissed.”

“Who?” Your head swayed with the question.

Steve looked up to meet your gaze, lips parting to answer, when he was replaced by a different face. Your brain was having trouble keeping up with everything, obviously, because Bucky was in front of you now. He was kneeling between your legs with his hands on your face and you had no idea where Steve went.

“What the fuck?” you blurted out.

“Hey, y/n.” Bucky spoke your name low and soothing, his fingers moving to your eyes where he pried them open one at a time and looked for something you couldn’t see. His next words were directed over his shoulder. “Maybe a concussion. Tell me what happened again?”

“Sean Marcus was being an ass. Flung her all over the place,” Steve replied.

“Why are you here?” you interjected, trying to focus on one thing at a time. “I told you not to come on my date.”

Bucky moved his assessment to your arm next, shifting the ice pack. “Never really agreed to those terms.”

He turned back to Steve after that, having another discussion that you barely understood. Bucky absentmindedly fiddled with the material of your jeans as he spoke, and you put all of your energy into not face planting on the ground. This past week had truly been a series of terrible events with terrible men.

After some amount of time elapsed, you were walking to the parking lot with a jacket thrown over your shoulders and Bucky continuously jutting a hand out each time you took a step. He was very well versed in concussions, apparently.

“Okay, in you go, killer,” Bucky prompted, opening the passenger door.

You eyed the front seat, scrunching your face up. “My arm hurts.”

The man in front of you seemed to soften, his shoulders dropping on a long exhale. “I know, sweetheart. But we gotta go to the hospital to fix that. I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“I should just call Wanda. Or Nat. You don’t have to be the one to take me.”

“I can take you just fine.”

“Why do you want to you? Aren’t you busy?”

Another long sigh, this one accompanied by hands on your shoulders, fingers at the base of your neck. “Get in the car.”

His eyes were boring into yours, searching for something, or maybe already finding it there. You still had your arm cradled to your chest and you titled your head to the side as you observed him. There was something else to his gaze that you couldn’t quite describe. It reminded you of his expression after he came home from a rough game. Angry. Discontent.

“You’re being weird,” you commented, breaking the silence you had created.

“You broke your arm and smacked your head on the ice,” he simply replied, as if the statement was an explanation.

“Yeah, but—”

“And then that douchebag did nothing about it,” Bucky interrupted. “So please, y/n, get in the car so I can help you before I find him and kick his ass. Because you know I’m not above fighting people.”

You blinked, and then slid into the front seat.

The drive was quiet. You’d never been in Bucky’s car before, but the spinning in your head didn’t give you much space to inspect it too closely. You caught hockey gear in the back, a keycard to the rink dangling off the rearview mirror, and a small collection of hair ties in one of the cupholders. One caught your attention.

“Hey, this one’s mine.” You picked up the purple band and rolled it between your fingers. “Thief.”

Bucky snatched it back. “Mine now.”

He made a sharp turn that had you sucking air between your teeth and repositioning your arm. Bucky sent you a quick, achingly apologetic look.

“Sorry, almost there.” A long beat of silence and then a mumbled, “I should keep your hair tie. You won’t be able to do your hair alone with a broken arm anyway.”

Your wrist was fractured, not broken. You also only had a minor concussion. This was all great news to you, especially since they told you after administering a hefty amount pain reliever. To Bucky, this was apparently terrible, life-altering news.

After practically body slamming into the front door of your apartment, he chucked his wallet and keys down on the kitchen counter and began grumbling to himself as he opened and closed kitchen cabinets. You watched from a distance, half amused, half concerned for the rusting hinges. He finally found what he was looking for—a cup—and continued to mutter to himself as he filled it with gatorade.

“Are you… okay?” you asked tentatively.

Bucky ripped the freezer open and manhandled three to four ice cubes. “I’m fine. You are not.”

“I’m okay now,” you assured. Bucky stalked over to you anyways, pressing the sports drink into your hand that was not wrapped in a cast.

You looked down at the glass and sent him a baffled look. He nodded at it and raised his brows, a silent demand for you to drink.

“Okay. And why do I need to drink gatorade?” Your words were slow.

“You were just on the ice and haven’t had any water for at least three hours.”

“Bucky,” you began. “I was ice skating recreationally for about thirty minutes. I don’t need to replenish my electrolytes.”

“Will you just… will you just drink the damn drink?” he groaned, gesturing to it with a firm hand. “Jesus, I can’t take care of you when you go and get yourself hurt by idiots. So just let me do what I know I can do, alright?”

“You don’t have to take care of me.” You were beginning to raise your voice, matching some of the frustration in the room.

Bucky threw his hands in the air, tugging at his roots on the way down. He moved further into the kitchen and leaned against the counter with stiff, rod-like arms propping him up. And then he sighed, long and profound as if this was the hardest conversation he’d had all year. His head hung heavy between stiff shoulders and you felt the environment shift.

You almost wanted to intervene on his thoughts again, to make some comment about the dishes in the dishwasher or pretend you were going to go take a nap. But he had something to say, something you needed to hear, and so you stayed. You blinked and clenched your fist in the uncomfortable silence, but you stayed.

“Y/n, I want to take care of you,” Bucky breathed out, words still directed toward the floor, almost too low to make out. “I’ve been tryna get you to see that for weeks now, but you’ve either got no clue or you want absolutely nothing to do with me.”

You stopped blinking, stopped fidgeting, stopped breathing altogether. You watched as Bucky drummed his fingers against the counter and still refused to look up. You swallowed hard because you weren’t clueless, but also because you wanted everything to do with Bucky Barnes.

And nothing at the same time.

“Bucky…” you began, with a tone of surprise you weren’t sure was believable.

“Don’t do it yet,” he stopped you. “Don’t…don’t tell me no yet. I’m still pissed as hell that you got hurt and you shouldn’t be alone with a concussion. I don’t need you avoiding me when you can’t even drive a car.”

“You’re being presumptuous.”

He snapped his head up, his eyes rushing back and forth between your own. The drumming on the counter ceased, instead replaced by balled up fists turning white under days old cuts and fading bruises. He didn’t say anything. You searched the empty air for a reply.

“I wouldn’t avoid you. I don’t know if I could avoid you—not anymore. You’re sort of a big part of my life now.” A good start, you thought. Not a real answer, but not a rejection.

Bucky bit the inside of his cheek and eyed the drink still perspiring in your hand. You set it down at his observance, moving closer to his slumped posture in the kitchen.

But Bucky stood up straight at your movement, becoming guarded, stiff. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Bad timing, just forget it. You should try and get some sleep.”

“I don’t want to forget it,” you softly spoke, shaking your head.

He clenched his jaw. “And I don’t want to hear that you don’t feel the same way about me that I feel about you. Not right now. I feel like I’m going insane, watching you go out on dates and having my best friend tell me that my girl—that’s not really my girl—is all banged up on the ice because of some asshole.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but Bucky kept going, now pacing in the kitchen. “I mean, y/n, you’re my everyday. I wake up and you’re making coffee. You text me in class to ask what I need at the grocery store and then I call you after practice to make sure you got back to the apartment. I think about you so god damn much and I can’t believe there was a time in my life that I didn’t get to end my day in a home that has you. And you’re just my roommate. You want nothing to do with athletes, I get it—” he added, catching your eye in the middle of his rant, “—but, shit, I haven’t even looked at another girl since… well it doesn’t even matter.”

“Tell me,” you whispered. There were a million other things you could’ve said, a million explanations that would have made sense. But the two soft words stopped Bucky from tracking holes in the ground. They shoved him from his shallow breaths and made him look at you.

And, god, did he look at you. You must have been worse for wear. A hospital visit mixed with one too many tumbles onto solid ice probably had your hair in disarray and your face pressed with exhaustion, but his gaze was revering. Candy-coated red with soft blues melting below brows that fluxed with the movement of his lips; Bucky was beautiful, and he was looking at you as if you matched.

His tone confirmed as much, light and saccharin as he said, “That dumb movie a few weeks ago, the one about the superheroes. Your friends wouldn’t watch it with you so you made me. You were so excited even though it was awful and you were out like a light within the first hour. You rolled over onto me and I wasn’t gonna wake you up so I sorta just held you.”

He paused, trailing his eyes up to the light fixtures. “At the risk of sounding pathetic, it felt like I had you, you know? Like we were going through all our usual motions, but after I annoyed the hell out of you and you told me off, you were mine. I can’t… I can’t really picture that with another girl.”

There were very few times you had considered yourself speechless. But with Bucky Barnes standing in front of you, red-faced and vulnerable and still wearing the stupid hospital nametag they made him put on in the waiting room, you had no words. There was none of the arrogance you usually associated with him, no short-temper or pestering taunts. It was just Bucky, and he was pouring his heart onto the kitchen floor. For you.

“You get why you can’t tell me no just yet?” he asked, trying to get something out of you. Anything. “You can break my heart, but let me just make sure you’re okay first. And I can’t beat the shit out of Sean if we aren’t on speaking terms.”

The laugh that left you was one of disbelief, but the breathiness and accompanying tears fit the heaviness of the room. Your glossy eyes met Bucky’s and something flashed on his face, but it was soon out of your line of sight because you were kissing him. You were kissing him hard and your bodies were too close for the cast between you but it didn’t matter.

He didn’t respond at first, hand hovering at your back. But then he did and the cold linoleum of the kitchen floor was gone from your bare feet. He sat you on the counter, so gently, as if you were glass, and you let your hand brush against the cracks and divots of your home. The one that Bucky came back to every night to see you.

The one that had housed so many nights of confusion and longing and denial.

The one that had Bucky kissing the life out of you on the kitchen counter.

He pulled away first, forehead pressed to yours. “Didn’t think I’d ever get to do that.”

“You can do it again.”

“Oh, I will, baby.”

Laughter met in the air between you—sweet, short, intertwined. There was so much you wanted to tell him, so many instances like the one he shared before where you were left questioning boundaries and feelings and lines. But, you figured, there would be so many opportunities to tell him. So much time together.

“I texted Wanda that night,” you shared, interrupting the kisses he was pressing to your cheek. “After I woke up and you had taken me back to my room.”

He smiled against your skin. “What’d you say?”

“I told her I was an idiot—that I was falling for the enemy.”

Bucky ran a soft hand along the back of your head, a smirk lighting up his face. He was slotted between your legs and kept his other hand firmly pressed onto the kitchen counter, caging you in, making sure your arm didn’t hit the cabinets.

“And is that true?”

“I don’t know,” you hummed, connecting your foreheads once again, wanting to stay impossibly close. “Try to cure my broken bone with gatorade again and we’ll see.”

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chaashni · 1 year

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A/N: here’s the requested dom!Harry blurb from MATILDA. I just wrote it in an hour so I hope it’s not awful. Let me know what you think!

warnings: smut, dom!harry, a bit on the rough side so read with caution. ——

“And, you’re sure about this?” Harry’s brows quirked upwards, a self-satisfied smile on his face.

“Yes, Harry! Quit asking me that. A promise is a promise. I told you.”

“I get to do whatever I want with you….all night long?”

“That is our agreement, isn’t it?” I shrugged.

“Well, don’t look so enthusiastic!”

I rolled my eyes.

“You’ll go along with everything I tell you?” He related his questions for the billionth time.

“Yes! Isn’t that how this whole dominant/submissive thing works with most people?”

“You, my dear, aren’t most people.”

“I- know. I’m just saying. I’m trying to be normal. Can we just- get it over with already. I’m tired of this guilt looming over us.”

I’d volunteered this arrangement as a gesture of apology, to prove to Harry that I trust him, after the argument we’d had over my so-called ‘Jealous’ behavior. If it were up to me, we would have gotten this done that very night, but Harry insisted on taking a couple of days to “cool off” and “avoid putting his hands on me in anger.” I knew he was doing the responsible thing, but I have to say, the guilt of waiting it out, and the anticipation of this moment, almost killed me. I just wanted to even the score and wipe the slate clean. Plus, I wanted to SHOW him that I trust him, since, when it comes to telling him, I seem to be fundamentally incapable of finding the right words.

“Coulda just left it at ‘I’m sorry,’ woulda forgiven you anyway.”

“Wait, really? Oh, fuck!”

Harry’s laugh echoed in his chest. “I’m just messin’ with you.”

***

Harry’s light-hearted openness often balanced out the edge to my personality; it was probably part of the reason we worked so well together. But something about that night was different. Perhaps tying me up, spread eagle, and covering my eyes reminded him of the reason that we were doing this in the first place, causing anger to fester back up inside of him. Or maybe it was my nerves. Not knowing what he was going to to do me at any given moment, and having to submit to his every demand right on the spot, made my head fuzzy. The mix of emotions was confusing. On the one hand, a part of me remained on guard, attempting to anticipate his every move, on the other hand, the urge to surrender my body was difficult to resist, especially when he’d literally tied me to the bed.

Harry made me repeat my hard limits and safewords back to him for precaution, assuring me that, even though I said he was free to do whatever his heart desired for the night, he still had no plans to cross any of my boundaries or hard limits. Repeating, for the thousandth time since we’d met, the promise that I could tap out at any moment, that he’d never do anything to hurt me, that he wants me to stay safe above all else. If anyone deserved my trust, it was Harry. I hope I can one day get to the point where I am able to trust him. He doesn’t deserve my paranoia and jealousy. Not, when, at every opportunity, he’s shown me nothing but respect and kindness.

Harry kissed my lips sweetly and asked if I was ready, something he did every time. I nodded.

“What am I gonna do with you tonight? Hmm?” Even though I couldn’t see him, I could tell from Harry’s footsteps that he was pacing around the bed. Leisurely taking his time planning out the evening.

After what felt like an eternity, I felt his breath against my ear as he whispered, “you look so beautiful all naked and laid out for me like this, do you know that?” Though his words were meant as a compliment, his tone made it seem more like a threat.

Placing himself between my legs his lips kissed up my thigh, getting closer and closer to my center. I jerked up at the sensation, my cuffs holding me in place. “Shit!” I could hear him chuckle at my reaction.

“It breaks my heart when you doubt my love for you.” He stated matter of factly before licking into my wet folds. I gasped and jolted again, but this time, his strong hands, wrapped around my thighs, assisted the restraints in holding me down. A few strokes of his tongue later, his lips moved to focus on my clit, unleashing a string of moans and incoherent sounds from me. He was relentless in his touch, delicate, precise, he knew exactly where to touch me and how, and just when he’d started to feel my limbs trembling and my walls clenching, he pulled away with an obnoxiously loud slurping noise. Announcing that he thought I tasted so good.

“Fuckin drives me insane when you ask me if I’ve been with anyone else. Like I could possibly have eyes for someone other than you? Hmm? Is that really what you think of me?”

“I’m sorry- oh fuck!” His mouth went back to fucking me, effectively severing the thread of thought that I’d attempted to verbalize in my apology. My response long gone, I was now panting and begging.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do to prove to you that I love you. I love you. Only you.” Harry replaced his lips with his fingers, his thumb rubbing circles against my clit while his index and ring fingers found the perfect rhythm, pumping in and out of me.

“Harry- I - oh my god- I’m - fuck!”

My writhing against the sheets barely seemed to register to him, he went on scolding as if it was nothing. Which, I hate to admit, made it slightly more humiliating to be turned on by the situation.

“I mean, do you really think I’m out there doing this with other people?”

I swallowed, my throat dry and my whole body shaking. Then nodded in response.

“Yes?!! Did you just say yes you think I’m fucking other people?”

“I- just- fuck!” Catching my breath, I yelled out “we’re not a couple!” My frustration wasn’t so much with Harry’s lecturing, but with the fact that I really wanted to cum.

“Cum for me, my love.” Was all he said in return.

That was the one of the more intense orgasms I’ve ever had. Even with Harry. He pulled his drenched fingers out, leaving me feeling empty inside. He brought out his fingers to my mouth, tapping my lips to signal for me to open up. He stuck his fingers in, straight to the back of my throat, making me gag instantly.

“Suck. Taste yourself on my skin.”

That alone could’ve made me cum again.

Before the ringing in my ears, or the tingling all over my body could subside, Harry brought up the crop and reigned pain down on all of my sensitive spots. From my nipples, to my stomach, thighs, armpits, then squarely in the middle of my cunt, the frequent hits, so soon after my orgasm had heightened my senses, felt unbearable. I screamed and pleaded with him to please stop, please go easy on me, but my begging fell on deaf ears. The blindfold prevented me from seeing his face, but I imagined it cold and lacking in expression.

By the time that Harry tossed the crop onto the side of the bed, I was a sobbing mess. I felt his hand reach over to my cheeks, and wipe my tears away. I flinched, not expecting his gentle touch, and assuming he was going to slap my face, but when that didn’t happen, I leaned into his hand as much as the handcuffs would allow me.

“It’s okay, dalirn’. Did so good for me. So good.”

Confident that I was alright, Harry got back up snd retrieved my vibrator, and placing it against my center immediately. It didn’t take much for me to cum, having already been wet and high off the mixture of pain and pleasure that he’d me through. Harry wrapped his fingers around my neck, squeezing lightly

“Cum.” Was barely out of his lips before I went over the edge again.

“You don’t wanna be with me, that’s fine. That’s your choice. But when you throw a fucking tantrum and accuse me of things, it hurts. It makes me feel like you don’t believe me when I tell you how much I love you and want you. No wonder you don’t want to give us a chance if you think I say these things so easily!”

Wave after wave of pleasure courses through my veins and wrecked my body head to toe. Harry never once removed the vibrator, even as I shrieked in pain and begging him to give my sensitive body a break. Gradually, his words of anger and disappointment faded away into incoherent background noise and I began to lose the feeling in my extremities and float in a sea of bliss.

I don’t recall much after that, but I do know that when I came to, I was in Harry’s arms, he was caressing my hair and kissing the sides of my face, whispering into my ears. He offered me a glass of water at some point, not trusting my shaky hands with it, he held it to my mouth and watched me take small sips with a look of pure admiration in his eyes. It might have been only a momentary flicker of hope, but in that moment, I felt the resolve to work on being better for him. I wanted to give him the trust and openness that he deserves.

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chaashni · 1 year

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UPDATE! Chapter 27!

Cover Art 📷: KassieSketches

Excerpt: She swallowed thickly. "You know you don't have to drag us into a classroom every time you want to talk?"

A sensual chuckle passed through him, surpassing her defensive shields and going directly to her core. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't have more than talking in mind—" she gasped as he pulled her closer, "—and I don't particularly want an audience."

Read it here:

ffn:

Ao3:

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chaashni · 1 year

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DRAMIONE FIC RECS: A COMPREHENSIVE LIST

HOGWARTS ERA

***isolation by bex-chan: a classic. here’s the rundown: draco goes into hiding at hogwarts. hermione is the only one who can take him in. there is drama, there is violence, there is pride, prejudice, blood, pain, angst, drama, and love. isolation is a masterpiece. 279k words, 48 chapters, complete.

***silencio by akashathekitty: THIS SHIT MADE ME CRY. hogwarts!fic. draco and hermione have a secret relationship. 92k words, 15 chapters, complete.

***difficult by provocative-envy: the forbidden relationship trope is so real tbh dead about this….. 87k words, 30 chapters, complete.

***beautiful things can come from the dark by yesterdayschild4: this is so sad and beautiful????? it’s very dark, though. (rape tw) 138 words, 17 chapters, complete.

vitrius et iudicium by anjalimalfoy: i love the writing style of this one!! 78k words, 13 chapters, complete.

presque toujours pur by shayalonnie: pureblood!hermione is a trope i generally don’t like, but i’m completely enamored with this plot!! after bellatrix tortures hermione, a secret is uncovered, and it changes everything. there is so much going on in this fic, i highly recommend it. 180k words, 38 chapters, complete.

the virgin conundrum by akashathekitty: hermione wants to get rid of her virginity. she makes a list of suitable candidates. 57k words, 10 chapters, complete.

what the room requires by alydia rackham: hermione is the one who finds draco crying in myrtle’s bathroom. he runs away to the room of requirement, she follows him, and they get locked in. 111k words, 26 chapters, complete.

the bracelet by akashathekitty: honestly i didn’t like this one at first, but you get into it after the first few chapters. hermione and theo nott are heads. she and draco make a bet. 303k words, 103 chapters, complete.

linked by philyra 912: potions assignment gone wrong. fun, hogwarts era. 61k words, 24 chapters, complete.

and we all fall down by rumaan: the spring term at hogwarts starts with a bang with the return of draco malfoy, back for his eighth year after a stint in azkaban. but all is not right when draco and head girl hermione granger can’t help but get involved. 127k words, 30 chapters, complete.

the serpent, the witch, and the broom closet by bitchywitchy: draco and hermione get stuck in a broom closet during winter holidays. 106k words, 30 chapters, complete.

if it kills me by hidge: 8th year fic. canon compliant through DH. head boy/head girl dynamic. 101k words, 31 chapters, complete.

love thy enemy by alphaLMN: honestly kind of basic, but the story is fun. head boy/head girl. hermione transformation. 27k words, 35 chapters, complete.

temptation by jodielove: hermione is intrigued by draco malfoy. hogwarts fic. 70k words, 26 chapters, complete.

inverse by elesrea: EVERYONE IS RAVING ABOUT THIS FIC and for good reason! dumbledore gives hermione the task of helping draco malfoy see the light. it starts off in fourth year and goes from there. 109k words, 20 chapters, WIP.

WAR/SPIES

***seven times by kerriclifford240879: this is one of my favorites. draco goes insane after watching bellatrix torture hermione, and switches sides. beautifully written. 16k words, 7 chapters, complete.

***when the bell tolls by everythursday: this is honestly my favorite dramione fanfic of all time. draco is in azkaban, hermione’s working for the ministry, they need to hatch a plan to catch old death-eaters. everyone needs to read this. it’s long and wonderful and thrilling. 148k words, 20 chapters, complete.

***static by galfoy: I LOVE THIS. voldemort turns on draco and lucius, so they go to the order for help. hermione has to take them in. she’s just suffered a nervous breakdown. 75k words, 21 chapters, complete.

***the fallout by everythursday: a classic, everyone recommends this one. the storyline is perfect, the characterization is perfect, everything is perfect. romance is perfect. hogwarts era dramione, during the war. 310k words, 49 chapters, complete.

***bad faith by morrighan256: another one of my favorites, war!fic with reformed draco. i love. 56k words, 24 chapters, complete.

***cruel and beautiful world by lena phoria: i loved this one. it has some darker themes than most of the other stories on here, so beware. voldywins!au. 422k words, 50 chapters, complete.

unanswered by kyra4: he dove in after her. angst. angst. angst. 8k words, 3 chapters, complete.

we learned the sea by luckei1: beautiful. draco offers to be a spy for the order. 201k words, 37 chapters, complete.

the ones who ran by colubrina: a lighter take on the voldemort wins trope. i love the dynamics here. side blinny and thuna!! 69k words, 27 chapters, complete.

sugar water by everythursday: draco is on the run and forced to supply information to the order through hermione. 60k words, 7 chapters, complete.

the boy in the hammock by galfoy: amazing. basically canon compliant through DH. hermione and the trio are on the run, when they get separated. hermione makes a startling discovery at her new location. 61k words, 18 chapters, complete.

turncoat by elizaye: draco switches sides and acts as an informant for the order during the war. he has one condition: he wants hermione to be the liaison. 256k words, 101 chapters, complete.

MINISTRY

***ambition’s end by hanako a: i don’t generally like marriage law fics, but this is good. ambitious ministry!fic. 255k words, 37 chapters, complete.

***a pale and pointed mirror by musyc: hermione is working at the department of magical law enforcement, trying to figure out who’s been murdering former death eaters. draco’s been on house arrest since the war, and when he’s put at risk, they find they would do anything to protect each other. I LOVEd this? 43k words, 10 chapters, complete.

***the politician’s wife by pir8fancier: ahh this one is so brilliant, draco and hermione are both trying to rise in ministry ranks, and find that they need to work together in order to accomplish their goal. featuring manipulative!hermione and ambitious!draco. 67k words, 14 chapters, complete.

***the nietzche classes by beringae: this fic changed my life. hermione is assigned the task of helping reform death eaters and pureblood sympathizers. 45k words, 15 chapters, complete.

***hunted by bex-chan: ministry!fic. draco and hermione are hunting down a killer. good read, i promise! 191k words, 36 chapters, complete.

the case of the creature kidnappings by frostykitten: draco and hermione make a good team. ministry!fic. 102k words, 32 chapters, complete.

find your way back by musyc: draco and hermione working on a case for the ministry. 76k words, 25 chapters, complete.

everything changes by inadaze22: “thank you for cheating on me, ron. it’s the best thing you could’ve done. thank you for stopping me from making the worst mistake of my life.” draco and hermione ministry!fic. looove. 76k words, 17 chapters, complete.

the ends of the earth by silverstar24: love this one. 112k words, 21 chapters, complete.

flickering flames by akashathekitty: infidelity!fic. ooooh. 27k words, 8 chapters, complete.

MARRIAGE

***when love and hate collide by RZZMG: written kind of ooc. draco and hermione are compelled to be together. 205k words, 39 chapters, complete.

***picture retribution by eirawen: this one’s nice and long, tells a dramione story across a decade. 97k words, 8 chapters, complete.

a marriage most convenient by annem. oliver: hermione lost everything when she divorced, draco would lose everything if he didn’t marry before he turned 30. 184k words, 54 chapters, complete.

the essence of life by cklls: astoria can’t conceive, draco has to turn elsewhere to find an heir. 56k words, 3 chapters, complete.

the dragon’s bride by rizzle: draco and hermione wake up naked in a hotel room, married. oh shit. the beginning has some non-con, so don’t read if you’re not interested in that. 225 words, 61 chapters, complete.

how hermione granger got her ring by drcjsnider: this one is fun. basically hermione is trying to get draco to propose when he doesn’t think he wants to. 23k words, 6 chapters, complete.

seven days in april by inadaze22: they were still the same people with the same problems on either side of a bathroom door. angst. 40k words, 7 chapters, complete.

OTHER

***it’s all uncharted by redhead414: this one is quite fluffy. hermione comes back in town, draco and harry are friends, she stays at draco’s house. babies are involved. 232k words, 38 chapters, complete.

***the revenant by atalanta85: i love this one! story about second chances. 69k words, 10 chapters, complete.

broken by inadaze22: “he felt something close to pity for the woman in front of him. and while that disturbed draco to no end, what really disgusted him most of all was the harrowing fact that someone or something had broken hermione granger’s spirit beyond recognition.” i haven’t read this one in a while. brilliant, though. 368k words, 36 chapters, complete.

the accidental malfoy by rumaan: hermione is sick of being left behind, so she takes matters into her own hands in order to have a child. 86k words, 21 chapters, complete.

beneath your window by crookshanks: hermione decides to leave, but apparently draco has, too. 90k words, 24 chapters, complete.

an illustrated guide to torturing house-elves by captainraychill: funny two-shot. kind of weird and ooc, but fun. 11k words.

the gates of istanbul by pagan: there’s a death eater attack and draco and hermione are both in turkey. 18k words, 5 chapters, complete.

switch by RZZMG: this is really smutty. BDSM stuff. hermione’s looking for a sub. 44k words, 18 chapters, complete.

ONE-SHOTS

***creatures of the wind by everythursday / 15k words.

***silhouettes by bex-chan / 11k words.

***with teeth by provocative-envy / 5k words.

***graveyard valentine by bex-chan / 9k words.

***the mind trap by lainella fay / 5k words.

***little, fragile toys by bex-chan / 12k words.

a little something extra by rumaan / 1.5k words.