AND without her heart

anonymous asked:

Jess shanking Daud with a hair pin is truly the brightest timeline

IKR

I’m glad i saw that piece of historical info about deadly hat pins being an actual thing, because I’m only on my morning coffee stage and my day has already been made

I mean, it’s sad that Emily still had to be a witness to something this gruesome and it will take some time before she can approach the gazebo without her heart beginning to race, and remembering the blood spilled on the white marble and the dead bodies of the men who attacked her mom and her friend being dragged away. She never saw this much blood in one place before, only her nosebleeds and scratched knees and elbows, she could barely grasp the concept of so much blood being in one person and trickling from a single tiny stabwound in his neck. It was clearly not something for her to say and she could see a passing horro and guilt in the eyes of Corvo and her mom, because they woulkd shield her from seeing this if they could.

But everyone is alive and that’s what matters. 

Jessamine would still be shaking, the realisation of her life being so close to ending hits her like a heavy ocean wave, and she suddenly feels very weak, there’s blood all over her hands and the front of her jacket (ruined, probably, irrepairably), it’s grows dry, sticky and disgusting, and the air still smells of gunpowder from Corvo shooting the remaining assassins. But she’s the empress, she is not supposed to fall apart, she needs to put her mask of composure back on, because if she won’t inspire confidence and the sense of safety in her daughter, then who will?

Needless to say, the news spread with terrifying speed, the wildest gossip blooms on the streets and the most ridiculous details are added to the story as it passes from one person from another. Jessamine was known for a number of things, including the aristocracy’s disdainful “empress of the beggars” for her attempts at improving the lives of the lower class, but now everyone in Dunwall knows that she killed an assassin with her own hands, and…..may I say the aristocracy feels more than a little afraid of her now, seeing what this highly compassionate person is capable of doing.

I miss the girl I used to be; like her eyes that spoke of innocence and her mind that was full of wonder.But of all things , I miss her heart the most. The heart that loved ferociously without a hint of fear.A heart that loved so greatly the universe could burst in tears. How pure and unblemished. For she was a girl who has never been hurt. Carrying a heart that was pure love to the fullest sense. How I wish I could love that way again.
—  Innocence // Conee Berdera
4

Than any boy you’ll ever meet 

Sweetie you had me

I miss the girl I used to be; like her eyes that spoke of innocence and her mind that was full of wonder.But of all things , I miss her heart the most. The heart that loved ferociously without a hint of fear.A heart that loved so greatly the universe could burst in tears. How pure and unblemished. For she was a girl who has never been hurt. Carrying a heart that was pure love to the fullest sense. How I wish I could love that way again.

When former fat celebrities lose weight no one says “Omg look at how low her cholesterol looks” “Wow low blood pressure looks great on her” or “She looks so much better without a heart attack” that’s not what people care about. And for one you can’t tell someone’s health by their weight anyway.

But, the main thing people focus on is how they look. “She looks so good now!″ “Wow they look so skinny, they look amazing” “Omg they’re smoking hot now” that’s the only thing I see. Fatphobics don’t care about health, they care about looks. They’re obsessed with seeing how people look when they’re skinny, and that’s it because our superficial society is obsessed with thinness and beauty.

I’ve seen people do it, every time a former fat or a former really fat celebrity loses weight. They only care about how they’ll look once they’re skinny, they don’t care about random people’s health, no one does.

I damn sure don’t concern my life with what the next person does with their body, so people need to stop kidding themselves, when they know they’re just fatphobic.

All of it makes me angry.

3

Even if you could do all those things, but how could you be someone who could do that? The world would know that you were the one that betrayed every last one of our partners. Betray the memory of Charles Vane. 

Charles Vane is dead. I’d do it for us. It’s how it started. It’s how it’s going to end.

It gets harder every day
to answer her questions
about my love life;
to not respond with her name
when she asks me
who won the “main prize”.
With every second
that passes by
without her knowing,
I feel that the guilt
inside my heart
is alive and growing.
And each hour spend
admiring her from afar
instead of sleeping on her chest,
haunts me in the long run,
feeds all of my demons
and prevents me from getting rest.
—  // the unlucky ones that fall for a friend
j.d.m.
You’re In Love With Him But He Likes Your Best Friend: Part 2

A/N: This is a filler chapter. Meaning, this is much shorter than part 1. Do not feel dishearted, there will be a longer, more detailed part 3. 

Part 1

Masterlist linked in bio.



“Are you ever going to speak to me?”

Y/n freezes as she hears Harry’s voice ask her the question she’s been dreading to answer.

It’s been two weeks since she’s heard that voice. It may sound rougher now, more stern and harsh than it normally is as it growls behind her at the counter of Lexi’s bar, but it’s still the first time she’s heard it in two weeks.

After her sober confessions to a very tipsy, slumberous Harry, Y/n had to understand what it truly meant to move on.

At first, she thought she would still be able to be around him as she searched for ways to rid her feelings. She distracted herself, mostly. She would interact more with Savannah than she would Harry, and even started picking up new habits whenever she felt her emotions creeping in. Anything that reminded her of him was disregarded entirely so that the only time he was able to consume her thoughts was whenever he was near her.

For the first couple weeks, she was holding up quite well, considering the circumstances. She was able to contain her emotions and take her mind off of the raging heartache that kept burning in her chest.

But it wasn’t much long after that night when Savannah and Harry finally became official, and if Y/n wasn’t anguished before, she surely was then. She was forced to witness the transition of their relationship in hindsight. What was once casual flirting and innocent touches turned into secretive giggles and loving hand gestures.

It was as if her heart broke all over again. What seemed to be almost completely mended was destructed all at once. The chase between Harry and Savannah was over, and reality set in that Harry was happy and in love with someone that wasn’t Y/n.

Watching them together was Y/n’s most devastating nightmare, and the thought of that alone meant she couldn’t mentally handle being alone anymore. With all of the emotions built up inside of her, being alone for Y/n meant enduring the pain and suffering she didn’t want to feel anymore. She just wanted it all to end, everything.

The earliest hours of the morning wrecked her the most. With only the moon illuminating the room and the radio silence throughout her house gave Y/n no choice but to be alone with her thoughts. She wasn’t loved, and no matter how many nights she’s tried to convince herself that this wasn’t the end, it was.

She had to let Harry go, completely this time. She gave up on him entirely because she couldn’t keep loving him when he didn’t love her. Not anymore, not like that.

She keeps her back to him as he heaves heavy breaths, eyes sending daggers and teeth clenched from his crippling frustration. 

“It’s Thursday, I see,” Harry grumbles before giving her the chance to answer, jaw locked as his fingers grip harshly around a stray, unfinished glass of alcohol. “You never work Thursdays. ’S this where your Friday shifts went?”

There’s an unpleasantly rough tone in his voice that makes Y/n’s breath hitch in her throat. She’s never witnessed this side of him, filled with anger and exasperation. He’s always been so soft and gentle, never having the heart to speak down to someone. But here he is, eyes dark with anger and words spewing venomously from his lips.

And as much she hates to admit it, she can’t blame him for being so angry with her. She knows she means the most to him—even if it’s not in a romantic sense—she’s become such an important part of his life. Ever since they met, she took in the truth about his past, understood the feelings and thoughts he’s carried all through his years, and was able to provide him with anything she was able to when he needed her most. She was one of the very few people he trusted and felt most comfortable with in his life. She was irreplaceable, he’d always tell her, nobody could compare to her. She meant everything.

And then, she left him. She distanced herself so far away from him until it was as if she was never apart of his life. She ignored him and all his attempts to reach out to her again. It hurt her tremendously, knowing that what they had together was completely and utterly helpless, but she never questioned how Harry felt about it. She did what was easiest for her and never thought about it twice. She left him so that he can be happy, but as he stands so tensely and confused before her, she can’t help but blame herself what’s happened between them.

She nods her head softly, still refusing to look up at him as she gathers all the used glasses in front of her, making herself seem distracted so she doesn’t have to make much effort into speaking to him.

“I—uh, yeah. Friday nights were getting hectic and I couldn’t keep up with the late hours. I thought Savannah told you.”

It’s a lie. A shitty, impulsive lie that Harry almost finds humorous. Of course, Y/n switched her Friday night shift. She felt as if she had no choice. She couldn’t bare to look at him with Savannah another goddamn second, and he thought of spending Friday nights with Harry without being alone with him and going to the 24-hour movie theater together was enough to make her sick to her stomach.

“She did,” he clicks his tongue, eyes narrowing as he watches her scramble around the bar, “didn’t have to, though. I knew she was lying.”

Y/n’s actions halt for a moment, a feeling of dread flowing in her veins before she goes back to cleaning off the bar, disregarded his statement completely.

Harry knows Y/n’s been avoiding him, she hasn’t exactly made it as subtle as she thought. Their entire friendship changed, and Harry knows he wasn’t the one ruining it.

The morning after Y/n drove Harry back from the bar, all he could really remember clearly was falling asleep with Y/n. There were other bits he remembered, but that was really the only moment that came to him when he woke up. And he was confused when he woke up alone because, in all honesty, he was looking forward to waking up next to her. It was all his drunk mind thought of, and that terrified him.

When Y/n started distancing herself from him, Harry kept wondering what he had done wrong. She was fine with Savannah, keeping up with their lives as usual. But she was different with Harry—closed off, in a way, and it made him feel something he’s never felt in his life before.

He was confused, to say the least. Because when he was kissing down the bare chest of the woman of his dreams, he couldn’t stop daydreaming about Y/n, and how he hasn’t heard her voice and how he hasn’t felt her in so long.

He had Savannah wrapped around his finger, yet he still felt as if everything about it was wrong. He changed when Y/n left him, because even when he was around the most loving company, he felt alone.

He was helpless. As much as he tried to love Savannah, Y/n was always in the back of his head. She was there, all the time, trapped in his mind with no escape route. 

At first, he was confused—upset and lost without Y/n. He didn’t know life without her would feel so lonely, so empty and incomplete. It was strange, not knowing how to live his life without her. He’d never expected her disappearance to be such a hindrance to him, but it was. Oh, how it was.

Then, he was angry—angry because as many times as he tried to get her to speak to him again, she never came back. She was gone, forever.

Now, he’s hurt. So damaged by her leaving his side, so incomplete and destroyed without her with him anymore. His heart is heavy with sadness and he couldn’t let himself feel this way anymore. 

He needs her, no matter how wrong and pathetic it sounds, he needs her. 

“So you gonna tell me why you’ve been avoiding me, or am I gonna have to force it out of you?” he seethes, nose flaring as he tries to steady his uneven breath.

Y/n shakes her head ignorantly, a flash on innocence in her eyes as she does so. But she damn knows well what he’s talking about, and her oblivion drives him crazy.

“I don’t—I don’t know what you’re talking ab—“

“Oh, fuck off with it!” Harry spits, slamming his closed fist down on the wooden counter.

He doesn’t seem to care about how sudden the bar falls silent, or the glisten of fear in Y/n’s eyes when she finally looks up at him. All he can seem to care about is how much pain he feels, all over. All he can think about is how now, after the last two weeks of not being able to understand why he cares so goddamn much, he’s finally able to feel some sense of sanity being in front of her now.

“You know what you’re doing to me, Y/n! You know damn fucking well what you’re fucking doing and—“

“Harry, please.” Y/n whispers and she isn’t sure as to whether or not she’s begging him to lower his voice or begging for him to understand.

“And it’s not fair!” he cries out, tears of frustration overflowing from his eyes as he grips tightly onto his hair.

His breaking point is approaching, he feels it. He feels it with every breath he takes and every word that emits from his mouth. His heart twists and breaks as he expresses every feeling that’s been consuming him for the past two weeks. He needs her to know what she’s doing to him, needs her to know how he feels in this moment.

“I did nothing to you and you keep pushing me away and that’s not fair because I don’t know how to live without you. Isn’t that something?! I don’t know what to do without you, and you know that!”

Suddenly, his head falls in his hands as he begins to sob. Complete heart-wrenching sobs, making his chest tight and breathing shallow.

Y/n reaches her hand out for him, her fingers clasping harshly around his wrist. Her own eyes start to brim with tears as she watches him sob below her, his body shaking with undying cries. She swallows harshly when he grabs ahold of her hand, bringing her palm against his forehead. His lips reach to kiss her wrist softly, quickly refraining from keeping them there longer.

To touch her, for the first time, is every answer he needs. She’s the only one to make him feel this way—she’s the only one to drive him to the brink of insanity and resurface him back to clarity. She has power over him he never understood until now, after he’s lost her.

“I don’t know why it hurts this much, Y/n,” He cries, his eyes squeezing shut as he inhales sharply, “I’ve never been more confused in my life.”

She chokes on her cries as she nods her head softly, her free hand reaching up to rake her fingers through his hair. Her lips shake from their craving to touch him, watching as he weakens beneath her. 

She’s missed him, in the most desperate of ways. She’s missed every part of him, and every atom in her body yearned to feel him again. Whether it was to feel the warmth of him from a distance or to feel his skin ignite her, she wanted every part of him against her. If she wasn’t with him, she was missing him, and craving him with every breath she took. 

Her lips press tentatively to his forehead, her breath fanning through his hair as she does so. The action is quick, leaving just as quickly as it comes, but it carries sentimental meaning for the both of them.

Harry frowns, his heart thumping in his chest. He looks up into her eyes, filled with concern and sanity as she maps his features.

“It’s been ever since me and Savannah got together.” He mumbles, eyes watching her face as it pales slightly at his words. “You haven’t spoken to me since.”

Her eyes flutter shut as he speaks, finding it completely pointless to try and make him believe otherwise. He deserves to know, one way or another, and even if it’s now, she feels like she’s already lost him. There isn’t much she’d be losing now, anyways. He was never hers.

“Please leave, Harry.” She whispers.

She backs away from him, her touch leaving him was like a gunshot to his chest. It’s a feeling he’s felt all too much that he can’t bare to feel again. 

His heart breaks as he watches her begin to cry, her usual glistening eyes now filled with tears of sorrow. He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut as he tentatively takes a step closer to her.

He’s desperate, and he doesn’t care how weak he seems. He’s desperate to see where he’s missed it all along, to know how long he’s been making her feel this way. He’ll never forgive himself for all the pain he’s caused her, for all her nights alone when all she wanted was to be with him.

He could have done so much to change this. If he had just listened to his heart from the beginning, this would all be different now. If he hadn’t been so blind, they would both be happy right now.

“Love, I—“

“Don’t.” she whispers, her voice cracking as she speaks, “Please, don’t.“

She isn’t exactly sure what she’s saying—isn’t quite sure what she’s begging him not to do. Maybe it’s the nickname he’s always called her that makes her stomach twist a bit more, or how he’s trying to make her feel better that makes her eyes sting with a fresh new wave of tears, or how he looks at her now the way he never did before that makes her throat tighten around a sob. Whatever it is that makes her beg, she can’t  handle it anymore.

“I’m trying, Y/n,” He whispers, “please.”

“Please just—“ her eyes flutter shut as she speaks, “just leave me alone.”

Harry lets out an unsteady breath, his green eyes brimmed with red as he watches her begin to sob. 

He nods, because he can’t let himself keep doing this to her. If he keeps trying with her in her current state of mind, she won’t be able to think properly. She’ll be a wreck, more so than she is now, and he can’t find it in his heart to do that. Even if it means fighting for her.

“It’s not worth it, you know.” He whispers, his eyes staring lovingly into hers, “Being with her, it’s not worth it if it means losing you.”

4

I’m not angry.  You know?  You don’t work for me.  I’m worried.                                                I’m worried about you.

My thoughts on Helpless

Wow I have so thoughts and the majority won’t be super coherent so bear with me.

So upon listening to it again, I have a whole new appreciation for it. Eliza really has the most upbeat and ‘pop’ song of the musical. It’s easy to feel her energy and excitement when she is head over heels in love with Alexander at first sight.

Yet despite the peppy tune, the lyrics are darkly foreshadowing. She was 'helplessly’ in love in more than one way. Yes, she helplessly fell in love at once without any control of her heart.

And she was 'helplessly’ in love with him in another way. She was brought to a state of helplessness by him throughout the musical because of her love for him. Even the simple and repeated hook “I’m helpless” it’s a warning of things to come later that’s masked by the bubbling melody.

Another thing I found interesting when I looked at the lyrics is this:

-Hamilton: And long as I’m alive, Eliza, swear to God
You’ll never feel so…-

Alexander never finished his sentence. For some reason that really stood out to me. Whatever it may mean or if it was intentional, I don’t know. But it was definitely impressionable and his trailing off fits the narrative well. His promise to keep her from feeling helpless was never capable of being kept.

So my sum up of Helpless: a beautiful song filled with hope and new beginnings that is a foreshadowing look into the Hamilton’s lives. Underneath the lyrics, you discover more than one meaning to what she really means by the repeated refrain 'helpless’.

Sweet Like Candy (Bucky Barnes x Reader) Valentines One Shot! ❤

A/N: Hey y'all! This was requested by a lovely anon for Valentine’s Day! Tbh I got hella excited while writing this and wanted to go a slightly different route with the smuts! ENJOY - Delilah ❤❤

Sweet Like Candy: After planning an entire day to spend with you (and confess his feelings towards you) Bucky’s plans are disrupted when Sam steals all of his clothes.

Warning: Smut! Nudity. Humiliation.


Bucky was going to murder Sam.

By murder, he meant he was going to strangle him the second he saw him; also, the second Steve picked up his phone and brought him some damn clothes.

It was supposed to be a simple day. Bucky had planned a pretty decent night for the two of you. He made dinner reservations at your favorite restaurant, planned to take you go karting (which you loved), and even went as far as renting a really nice hotel room, where he currently had most of your little presents he bought for you a week prior.

Basically, Bucky was going to make you feel like you deserved to feel: special.

Because your scumbag of an ex sure couldn’t do that for you.

You and your ex had been together for nearly two years, much to Bucky’s dismay. It was great in the beginning but as time went on, things changed. Your ex was constantly entertaining other women, even in the same presence as you. The kindness he once showed was replaced by bitter insults and accusations of infidelity. The nights spent cuddling were replaced with you in bed alone each night, while he spent his nights doing god knows what.

When you became an avenger, or mostly, when you met Bucky, you became instant friends.

Somehow, the two of you just clicked immediately.
He enjoyed everything that your ex didn’t. And it took three long months for you to realize that love wasn’t supposed to be as hard as it was with your ex, it was supposed to be as fluid and carefree like it was with Bucky. He was the answer.

xxxxxxxxxx

You were currently away on a mission, which you’d return from that evening, giving Bucky enough time to shower and get everything ready.

But life loved to mess with Bucky.

As soon as he stepped out of the shower, dripping wet and glistening with water, he reached for the white towel on the rack, only to find that it had disappeared.

What. The. Fuck.

He was absolutely positive he hadn’t misplaced it, he specifically remembered placing it on the towel rack beside the shower a few minutes ago. Where the heck did it go?

He sighed. Opening the bathroom door, he walked into his room, leaving a small trail of water behind him. After getting to the dresser, he pulled open the top drawer only to find it completely empty. Furrowing his brows, he slammed it closed and opened the next two, only to find them empty as well.

What the hell?

Bucky made his way to his closet, throwing the two doors open. Empty. Where the hell did his clothes go? They certainly didn’t grow legs and take off. It wasn’t laundry day either. Steve usually did his laundry.

The sound of muffled laughter broke his thoughts.

Opening his door, he was met with the sight of Sam, howling with laughter as he clutched his sides. He was gonna die. Bucky swore on his dead childhood goldfish’s grave.

“What did you do with my clothes?!” Bucky spat, glaring at the younger man. Boy, if looks could kill.
It took him a second, but Sam composed himself, giving the super soldier a shrug.

“I dunno, man,” he feigning confusion. “Where’d you put em’?”

Bucky grabbed at him, only to be met with another round of Sam’s laughter. That little shit was dead meat when he got some pants.

“God damn it, Sam!” He hissed. “Now’s not the time for this! I’m supposed to be taking Y/N out in an hour!” This only made him laugh harder. The little shit. This was far from funny.

“Bucky?”

The two men froze.

“Y/N!” Sam greeted, sending you an innocent smile; one that you could see right through.

“What’s going on?” You crossed your arms. You were in your civilian clothes, but the evidence of a mission was still present. Nevertheless, you were going to get whatever Sam was hiding out of him.

“Y/N,” Bucky called from behind the door. “Sam too-”

“Bucky’s having trouble picking out an outfit for this mission he’s going on!” Your eyes narrowed. He was a lying little shit and you knew it.

Before you could react, Sam grabbed you by the arm and dragged you towards the door, against your very loud protests.

“Sam!” You shouted, trying to yank yourself free. But alas, Sam was twice the size of you, with twice the amount of muscle. He simply scooped you up with one arm and shoved Bucky’s door back, making the man shout as well.

In one swift move, Sam tossed you into the room and shut it.

“Hey Friday,” he called.

“Yes, Mr. Wilson?”

“Can you go into system 97?”

“Are you sure, sir? I won’t be able to open the door without Mr. Stark’s authoritizati-”

“I’m sure!” He called over his shoulder, walking down the corridors with a pep in his step. His plan was falling into place perfectly.

xxxxxxx

You couldn’t stop staring at Bucky no matter how hard you tried. You’ve seen him shirtless countless of times, but seeing him like this was completely different. He managed to grab one of the pillows from his bed and placed it over his crotch. Regardless, you could still see the V of his lower abdomen, and especially the really impressive happy trail.

It was then did you really notice how polar opposites Bucky was from your ex. You were way past bashing the latter, but it was completely objective to be honest.

Bucky was practically perfect in your eyes. Your ex tried so hard to be perfect, whereas Bucky was just natural with everything. He didn’t even have to try. But what you loved the most was that Bucky never bragged about himself, he was by no means arrogant or egotistical. And that was the most attractive thing to you.

Besides him being naked, of course.

“You know,” he began, shifting uncomfortably. “It’s really rude to stare, Y/N.”

You raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest. He was shy, you knew that, but damn he was really hot like this. You decided to mess with him a bit.

Stepping closer to him, you peered up at him and smiled innocently. “I wasn’t staring, I was admiring.” You placed a hand on his chest, feeling the warmth radiate from him.

Slowly, you dragged your fingertips down his stomach. His breathing became uneven, and you could feel his heart racing in his chest. He was really enjoying this, but nowhere near as much as you. When you got to the pillow, you slowly tugged on it. But to your dismay, he didn’t budge. When you looked back up at him, you found that he was closing his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, backing away from him. “I-I was just playing around.”

Before you could back away even more, his metal hand shot out and grabbed ahold of your wrist tightly, dragging you back to him.

“I didn’t want to ruin the surprise…” he trailed off, staring at your lips longingly. To say you were surprised was an understatement.

“What surprise, Bucky?” You ask. He sighs sadly before walking to one of his dresser drawers and pulling it open, revealing two small pieces of paper that looked like tickets. Turning them around, he handed them to you.

You felt your heart drop to your stomach.

They were go kart tickets! You loved go karting with every fiber in your being. Ever since you joined the Avengers, you barely had any time to sleep, let alone go out with friends. But what surprised you the most was that Bucky knew the exact place you’ve gone to since you were little. How did he know that? You’ve only talked about maybe once and that was on the phone with your parents.

“Bucky…” you gasped, placing a hand on your heart. “How did you know?”

He gave you a sheepish smile and avoided your gaze. “I may or may not have asked your mother a few weeks ago.” Your eyes widened. Your mother almost never approved of any of your past lovers. How the hell did Bucky manage to get something like this from her? She was as mean as a snake when she had to be.

“You talked to my mom?” you gawk at him. “And you didn’t get cursed out?”

He shrugged as if it were no big deal. But it certainly was to you.

“She’s really nice,” he said, smiling even brighter now. “She offered to bring me some of those cookies she sent you home with last christmas.”

You stared at him. Somehow, Bucky Barnes tamed the dragon that was your mother and even charmed his way into her heart. He was a keeper.

Without another word, you slowly backed him against the wall. “Doll, what are yo-”

You placed your finger on his lips, shutting him up once and for all. You trailed your hands down his chest, feeling the heated skin in your fingertips until they landed on the pillow. You gently tugged it away from him, revealing his large, thick cock.

And to your pleasure, he was already hard as a rock.

You placed a small kiss onto his lips before sinking to your knees, your eyes never leaving his.

You planet a small kiss on the tip before swirling your tongue around it slowly. Looking up through your lashes, you watch as he threw his head back; his torso still glistening with wetness. He looked so fucking handsome it nearly hurt.

“Fuuuck,” he sighed, his metal hand weaved its way into your hair, pulling it back for you. You let out a whimper, making his cock twitch in your mouth.

“Is this okay, baby?” You ask, batting your lashes. He looked down at you. You’ve never seen him so vulnerable and it was so hot. He nodded, thrusting his hips forward.

“I’ve wanted this since the first day I met you, Y/N,” You feel your heart swell at his words. Bucky had been so good to you, but now you wanted to be good for him.

You licked his shaft, all the way until it you reached his head again. “You’ve made me feel so good about myself,” you suck harshly, taking it into your mouth before pulling off with a pop. “I wanna make you feel good, too.”

Bucky smiled down at you sweetly, cupping your face with his flesh hand. You grinned and bent your head back down, finally taking him into your mouth fully. The hand that once cupped your cheek instantly flew to your hair, tangling itself in it. You moaned, sending little vibrations up his shaft. Relaxing your throat, you allowed him to go farther inside your mouth.

“Jesus fucking christ!” he gasped, closing his eyes. You placed your hand on his thigh, rubbing him softly. Even though it burned, you allowed him to go further in your mouth, stopping once you gagged, earning another sweet gasp from him. This was probably the first blowjob he’s had in seventy-something years. The thought made you want to laugh, but with his size, you chose not to. You just hoped you were making him feel good.

You began bobbing your head up and down, running your tongue over the head each time you came up for air. You peeked up at him again, only to find his eyes closed with bliss, his jaw clenched tightly. The sight of his chest rising and falling, glistening from the shower made you even more aroused. You were the luckiest woman in the world right now. Only you got to see him like this.

His breaths started becoming quicker, exiting his lungs in small puffs. His hips began thrusting into your mouth slowly in time with your bobbing.

“That’s it, honey.” he praised, thrusting his hips into your mouth faster. “Take all of it.”

You whimpered, sliding your hands into your jeans and into yourself. Bucky began gently pulling on your hair, lifting it in time with his hips.

“You’re so beautiful like this, Y/N,” he moaned, looking down at you. “I swear, your mouth was made for this. Made for me, just like I’m made for you.”

You inserted a finger inside your wet folds, thrusting them in and out rapidly. Your other hand released his cock and gently tugged on his balls. Bobbing your head faster, you began sucking harshly. His cock twitched in your mouth again, you could feel it pulsing on your tongue. He was close.

“…I….Y/N, I’m gonna…” He managed to say, before you felt the salty sweet taste of his cum in your mouth. Swallowing, you peer up at him and grin.

After catching his breath, he pulled you up to him and planted a kiss on your lips.

“That was,” he laughed breathlessly, resting his forehead against yours. “The most intense orgasm I’ve ever had.”

You wrap your arms around his, looking into his eyes. “There’s plenty more where that came from, baby.”

xxxxxxxxxxx

“Mr. Stark,” Friday chimed as the older man entered the building.

“What’s up?” There’s a moment of silence before he frowned, growing concerned. Concerned Tony did not happen often.

“Mr. Barnes’ room has gone under system 97. I suggest you authorize-”

“Jesus, Friday!” He panics, taking off down the hallway. How long had the poor guy been in there? Was he okay? Steve was going to kill him this time!

But as he neared Bucky’s room, the sounds of moaning echoed throughout the corridors. Curiously, Tony leaned forward, listening intently.

“-uck me, Bucky!” Y/N cried, followed by the sounds of skin against skin and Bucky’s grunts.

The older man grimaced, stepping away from the door as if it had the plague.

“Sir?” Friday chimed again.

“I think they’ll be a bit preoccupied for a few hours, Friday,” he says, staring at the door. With a shake of his head, he walked away, ignoring your screams of ecstasy.

-FIN. ❤
xxxxxxxxxx

P.S. If you’re reading this and you didn’t get a Valentines this year, you’re my valentines now! *does finger guns* ❤❤

Setting that intimate night in Karachi aside, and leaving any sentiment unaddressed, Sherlock Holmes and Irene Adler (as they were formerly known) began their collaboration during The Fall.

Their encounter with the first strand of Moriarty’s network, however, did not go quite as smoothly as planned. Shortly after they arrived in Montenegro as Mr and Mrs Wolfe, a gunfire-loaded incident had them both injured.

It also cost the late consulting detective his memory – he awoke in confusion, without the faintest knowledge of who he was.

Fortunately for him, his location was incredibly easy to deduce, as was his relationship with the only other occupant of the house.

No need to inform her of the slightly inconvenient detail just yet. He was confident everything could continue on as usual, without his wife suspecting a thing about his (hopefully temporary) condition. It was their honeymoon after all.


One of the first things he learnt about himself was that he hated being bored, hated being immobilised in bed by a leg wound.

He almost wished it was more of a challenge, who this woman was to him. But no, it was so painfully obvious even without their shiny wedding rings (only 3-4 weeks old, he estimated) immediately giving everything away, further corroborated by the state of this place (clearly not in their home country; they moved into the house a mere couple of weeks ago and were not planning to stay for much longer) indicating that they were on a holiday trip abroad.

He could’ve arrived at the same conclusion with significantly less information. From how she’d looked at him the moment he opened his eyes, for example. (It was as if he were the first rays of sunshine, heralding arrival of the precious British summer, after 11 long months of grey skies and rain.) She had since withdrawn any initial concern from her expression, maintaining a cool and collected demeanour instead. A smirk or witty remark here and there, not a single word of caring, though what was unspoken in the way she tended to his wounds was more unequivocal than any words would’ve had power to convey.

It was just as well that they weren’t a very outwardly affectionate couple. Eased his reacclimatisation to the relationship. He didn’t particularly feel an affinity for the saccharine, and if he was honest, he was even rather surprised that they were apparently the marrying type.

Whomever it was that he used to be, however, he did approve of this man’s choice of spouse. He..liked her, from what little he observed about her since he’d regained awareness of his surroundings (approx. an hour ago). The nature of their relationship might have been the simplest of deductions, but the woman herself was most decidedly not. She was highly complex and incredibly fascinating. Intelligent, competent, self-assured, gorgeous.. (Wait, where did that last one come from? That wasn’t a deduction! Beauty was just a social construct.) Although he was certain that the intense (and very distracting) attraction he was experiencing had a more profound basis.

He couldn’t pinpoint what exactly it was about her that conferred this singular sense of connection, familiarity layered with mystery. Merely that it was there as a result of something, something he frustratingly had no tangible recollection of – his current data was far from sufficient in providing him with any glimpse into their history.

She was standing to leave his bedside, and he instinctively reached out and caught her wrist. To gesture to her that she, too, needed to rest – it was likely already late in the evening when he awoke. He had to have been unconscious for days, judging from her lack of sleep (obvious, despite her efforts to conceal her mental and physical exhaustion).

Her reaction was one he hadn’t expected. Her eyes widened, and her breath hitched, as he was pulling her onto the bed. Shocked? But they were husband and wife, presumably sharing the same bed, it was only logical that she–

Oh. Oh. It hadn’t occurred to him that the specific physical contact he initiated could be interpreted as prelude to intimacy and..intercourse. A sudden adrenaline spike sent his own heart pounding frantically as he felt the mattress dip beside him when she did begin to lie down, her proximity increasingly alarming, and he turned on his side to face away from her, to escape her deep blue gaze (it wasn’t to hide his blush, and it wasn’t panic, he shouldn’t panic, that would be absurd).

“Sherlock, what–” And he stumbled over his interrupting response, “Not that. Not today. I don’t think I’m feeling up to it.”

The silence that stretched between them, taut as a violin string, told him that she was studying his demeanour, undoubtedly finding it unusual (right, so sex wasn’t something he’d normally deny her of; still, he was in recovery from what must’ve been a traumatic event, a reasonable excuse). Whatever comment she was most likely biting back (he couldn’t risk turning around to confirm this hypothesis), she didn’t say it.

Instead, he sensed her movement as she finally reached for the light switch after a long moment, and within an instant darkness was upon them. For which he was extremely thankful, because he then felt soft lips pressed to his cheek, immediately causing it to heat up.

“Good night, Mr Holmes.” Her warm body was inches away, her breathing a pleasant sound in the quiet of the night.

He tried to ignore the involuntary neuronal activity protesting for a change of mind regarding his earlier decision, his statement to her that he wasn’t keen to perform (you liarrrr), and forced his thoughts to focus on the newly acquired knowledge of his full name.

Sherlock Holmes awoke in the late-morning light, with an arm comfortably wrapped around his wife. Time to piece together the remainder of this puzzle that was his life. He hoped it wasn’t a dull one.

Don’t fall in love with a writer. Her words might be stunning enough to unwittingly lure you in, and her heart might be as pure as they come, but she’s got ink in her veins, a fire in her soul, and a maddening mind that never quiets. All she knows of being in love, she has picked up between pages, or from lines of poetry. She will write so much better than she speaks, and always be at a loss for words when they aren’t written down, when they matter most. And she’ll beat herself up over this…you will look on, helpless to save her from herself, trying to rip the pen from her hand that she’s stabbing into her flesh. And those hands will always be ink-stained and paper-cut, touching you like there are words hidden under your skin to draw out, to decipher. She will find the beauty in, and something to love about, anyone and anything…except, too often, herself. When you tell her she’s amazing, she’ll have a running list of why she’s not, compiled over the years and committed to memory, ready for recitation at a moment’s notice. She will rejoice when you rejoice, and sob when you sob…then try to cheer you up with corny jokes and self-deprecation until you groan. She will write you a book, without you having to ask…but beware if you purposely shatter her heart, because she has a great memory, a thing for truth, and she will write you out of her system unsparingly.
—  In other words, don’t fall in love with this writer
Without you.

Hii, Here is part 2 to ‘Give me a Break.“ I got so many great responses to it and I cant thank you enough. I hope you enjoy it.xxx

During the first week without him Y/N was alright. She busied herself with working and cleaning up the house and doing everything to take her mind off the fact that something was missing.
Or someone.

During the first week without her Harry was heartbroken. Just like every time he was away from her. It was worse this time though. He didn’t talk to her. And he had no idea where they were standing right now.
And he missed her.

During the second week without him it finally sunk in that he wasn’t there. Y/N finally realized what ‘taking a break’ really meant. It meant radio silence. Nothing. Nothing but her mind wandering to him and what happened. And how everything was so messed up.
And that was when she understood Harry’s doubts.

During the second week without her he got used to the empty feeling inside his heart. He got used to the sleepless nights and mornings filled with tears. He didn’t eat properly anymore. He hadn’t smiled ever since he left her standing in their foyer. He felt like he wasn’t able to breath. Like his lungs would collapse anytime.

When the day of his departure finally came he didn’t know what to do. He wanted to see her before he left for two weeks. He wanted a good luck kiss from her or else he was sure he would mess up SNL.
But when his finger hovered over the call button he hesitated. What if she didn’t want to talk to him? What if she didn’t want to see him?
He was scared.
No, terrified.
But he had to talk to her. He couldn’t take another second without hearing her voice.
So he took a deep breath and called her. And he waited. And waited. With ever beep his heart sunk lower and lower. Until finally it shattered when a female voice told him he could leave a message.
He tossed the phone onto the bed and gasped for air. Tears welled up in his eyes and streamed down his cheeks. Whimpers and silent sobs wrecked his body.
This can’t be happening.
She can’t be serious.
And again he began to doubt everything.

Two hours later his phone rang. When he saw her photo on his screen he closed his eyes for a second before he lifted his phone to his ear.
“Hello?”
“Harry, oh my goodness. I’m so sorry I didn’t pick up earlier but I took a nap and I didn’t hear my phone ringing. I’m sorry. Please tell me you didn’t leave yet.”
His eyes closed again when he finally heard her voice again.
“I haven’t.”
“Alright. Okay. Then I’ll come over. You want me to come over, right? Or maybe you just called to let me know you’re leaving and you don’t even want to see me. God, I want to see you, Harry. Or even worse you called to-”
“Love. I want to see you. Or course I do.” he chuckled quietly.
“You do?”
“More than anything.”
“You don’t hate me?”
“I told you I could never hate you.”
“Okay. That’s good, because I don’t hate you either. I actually love you and-” she stopped talking abruptly.
“And?”
“And I’m rambling.” she sighed out.
Harry chuckled and for the first time in weeks he smiled again. Because of her. Because she made him smile during the worst times.
“You want to come over now?”
“Yes. Of course. I’ll be twenty minutes tops. See you!”
“Drive safely.”
And with that they hung up.
He noticed that his hands were shaking and his face was burning up. Twenty minutes. Twenty minutes until he saw her again. God, he missed her.
He went into the bathroom and studied himself in the mirror. He had a bit of peach fuzz going on above his lips and around his jawline but he knew she liked that. His hair was messy but not too messy. He filled his hands with cold water and spritzt it onto his face to make sure he looked a bit more fresh.
He was wearing the yellow and black pullover from Gucci which Y/N absolutely loved. His legs were covered by black skinny jeans like always. On his fingers sat all the rings Y/N loved.
And she loved him.

Y/N was shaking too when she placed her phone down, her breathing heavier than usual.
She went into the bathroom to check her appearance. Her hair was straightened and framing her face nicely. Her makeup was natural but complimented every feature perfectly. She was wearing a dark blue V-neck pullover and around her neck she wore the golden necklace Harry gave her on their one year anniversary. Her legs were covered by blue ripped jeans and she knew Harry loved them.
But did he lover her?

When she finally arrived at Gemma’s house she was more nervous than ever. She didn’t know what would happen now. If she would only walk in, wish him good luck and then leave again. The worst was that she didn’t have a lot of time. Only an hour before she would have to leave in order to be on time for her dinner plans.
She took a deep breath before she got out of her car and made her way to the front door. She lifted her shaking hand and rung the doorbell. A few seconds later she heard footsteps making their way to the door. And then he opened it.
And he stood there in all his glory, looking even more handsome than ever. A soft smile grazed his lips and she heard him release the breath he was holding.
“Hello, lo-”
He didn’t get to finish his sentence because Y/N threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him tightly. She heard his surprised gasp and prayed he wouldn’t push her away, but he didn’t. Of course he didn’t. He only pulled her closer and nuzzled his face into her neck.
She smelled his familiar scent and tears sprung to her eyes immediately. His pillow lost his scent long ago and she missed it.
She smelled just like he remembered as well. Fresh and girly and so like home.
They stood like that for a few moments before Y/N pulled away and wiped the tears from her cheeks.
"Sorry, didn’t mean to jump on you like that. Just really missed you.”
Harry closed the door behind her and took hold of one of her hands.
“I missed you, too.”
Their eyes met and they both felt their hearts breaking all over again when they saw each others sadness.
Harry wrapped her in a tight hug again, his hands rubbing over her back in the way he knew she liked.
“You look very beautiful, my love.” he whispered into her neck.
“You look very handsome as well, Harry.” she replied and pulled back a bit so she could look at him.
Harry reached up to cup her cheek and stroked over her cheek gently.
“I cooked dinner. My legendary chicken that you love so much.” he smiled softly.
“I’d love to stay for dinner, but I can’t. I already made plans with someone.”
Y/N watched with horror as Harry’s face fell immediately and his hand dropped from her cheek. He took a step back and scratched his head awkwardly.
“A-Alright. Uhm, well-”
“Harry? Did I say something wrong?” she panicked, her hand reaching out for him but he took another step back.
“No. Everything’s okay.”
“Is… Is it because I said I made plans with someone?”
He looked at the floor, his fingers nervously playing with his rings. She sighed and shook her head.
“I made plans with someone new from work. His name is Tim and he needs some information and we thought it would be nice to do all that stuff over dinner.”
His eyes closed briefly when he heard his name.
Tim.
Y/N sighed again, closed the gap between them and threaded her fingers through his.
“This is a business dinner, Harry. Not a date. I don’t go on dates with anyone but if I would want to I’d only go with you. Tim is nice and we get along and he needs a bit of help. That’s all.”
“Do you like him?”
“I don’t know him so there’s nothing to like or dislike.”
“Do you want to get to know him?”
“Harry!” she exclaimed frustrated.
“What?!”
“I told you it’s a business dinner. You have nothing to worry about, alright? Believe me, I would love to stay here and eat dinner with you. But I don’t think that’s exactly what we should do during our break and I can’t just ditch Tim.”
His eyes snapped to hers and his brows furrowed.
“You think we can’t spend a evening together just because we’re on a break?”
Her eyes closed briefly and she sighed. She looked up at him again and lifted the hand that wasn’t holding his to his cheek.
“We said we needed space, remember? I don’t want to mess anything up just because we’re desperately missing each other.”
You said we needed space, not me.” Harry mumbled.
“Harry.” she all but pleaded and Harry sighed and nodded.
“So you don’t have that much time, hm?”
“No.”
“Well, at least you came. Wasn’t sure you’d want to.”
“Of course I wanted to. I missed you like crazy.”
The both stared into each other’s eyes for a few seconds before Harry sighed and leaned his forehead against hers.
“What are we doing, love?” he asked in a whisper.
“Let’s not talk about it now, yeah? We’ll do that when you’re back and we’ll have time.”
“Okay.”
Y/N reached her arms up again and wrapped them around his neck, pressing a tiny kiss right behind his ear.
“I’m scared, H.”
“Me too, love.”
They pulled back and both sighed.
“I think it’s better when I’ll leave now.” she whispered after a few seconds.
Harry wanted to shake his head and hold her so she couldn’t leave. He wanted her to stay with him and not go out with another man. She was his after all.
But he nodded anyway. Because it was for the better.
“Promise me to take care, yeah? And don’t go out without at least one bodyguard, you know how crazy the fans in New York are.”
“I promise.” he smiled weakly.
“And promise not to forget about me.” she whimpered and Harry was shocked to see tears falling from her eyes.
“Love, I could never forget about you. I love you so much.”
And now they were both crying.
“I love you too.”
“God, we never cry this much when I have to leave.” Harry chuckled.
Y/N giggled softly wiped her constantly falling tears away.
“You can still call me anytime you need to, okay? I’m never too busy and I don’t care about time zones.”
“Same goes to you.” she nodded.
“Can I get a good luck kiss? Or else I think I’ll mess up.”
She laughed softly and leaned up to press her lips to his. Harry moaned quietly at the contact and pulled her closer. She melted against him like she always does and opened her mouth so Harry could deepen the kiss, but only for a moment before he pulled away to breath. He held her in place with his hand in her hair so she wouldn’t pull away and pressed countless soft kisses against her mouth. He wasn’t ready to let go yet.
“Harry…”
“I’m gonna…”
“Be late.” she finally finished with a laugh when she pulled away enough that his lips didn’t touch hers anymore.
“Don’t care. That Tom guy can wait.”
“Tim.”
“Even if his name was Gustav, Rudolph or Theodor I wouldn’t care.”
Y/N kissed him through her smile and pulled him closer. She wasn’t ready to let go either.
“I really have to go now.”
He sighed, nodded and kissed her again.
“You’ll kick ass in New York, alright?”
He chuckled and nodded.
“I’ll try.”
They kissed again and again until she really had to leave or else she would definitely make Tim wait.
“You know that I love you, right?” he asked just before she exited the house.
“I do. I love you, too. We’ll get through this.” she smiled at him.
“Promise?”
“Pinky promise.” she nodded and slung her pinky around his.
“Bye.” he whispered.
“Bye. And let me know when you’ve landed, yeah?”
“I will.”
And after another kiss she left the house.

She made it to the restaurant right on time but Tim was sitting at the table already. She made her way through the room until she reached him and he stood up when he saw her.
“Hey.” he breathed and kissed her cheek.
“Hi, I’m sorry you had to wait. And I’m sorry that my outfit is so casual but I was a bit distracted earlier.” she blushed.
“Oh?”
“Yeah.” she nodded and sat down on her chair.

She made it through dinner without thinking about Harry every second. She was actually able to let go for a bit and enjoy it. Tim was fun and made her laugh a lot which she really needed for a change.
She decided that she liked him, he worked hard and was very interested in all the things she brought for him and he was also relaxed and cool. And she would be lying if she said she didn’t find him attractive.
If she didn’t knew Harry, she thought, she might go out with him again. But she knew Harry, and was his girlfriend. And she knew that no one could ever compare.
When they left the restaurant Tim insisted to walk her to her car just to know she was safe. The still laughed and giggled and the atmosphere around them was light.
“I really enjoyed dinner with you, I really needed some fun.” she smiled at him when they reached her car.
“Anytime.”
And something about the was he looked at her and smiled should have let her know that they weren’t on the same page.
He leaned in and Y/N thought he’ll only kiss her cheek but when she felt his lips brush hers her eyes widened.

I miss the girl I used to be; like her eyes that spoke of innocence and her mind that was full of wonder.But of all things , I miss her heart the most. The heart that loved ferociously without a hint of fear.A heart that loved so greatly the universe could burst in tears. How pure and unblemished. For she was a girl who has never been hurt. Carrying a heart that was pure love to the fullest sense. How I wish I could love that way again.
—  Innocence // Conee Berdera