#Resurfacing Marble

[johnnystonework]

Enhancing Elegance and Longevity: Resurfacing Marble and Sealant for Marble Table 

Introduction 

Marble, with its timeless beauty and luxurious appeal, has been a symbol of sophistication and elegance for centuries. Whether adorning your floors, countertops, or your prized marble table, this exquisite natural stone can elevate the aesthetic of any space. However, to keep its luster intact and extend its lifespan, you need to pay close attention to its maintenance. In this article, we will delve into two essential aspects of marble care: resurfacing marble and using sealant for marble tables.  

Resurfacing Marble: Restoring the Glory 

Over time, even the most well-maintained marble surfaces can show signs of wear and tear. Scratches, stains, and dullness may begin to take away from the stunning appearance of your marble. This is where marble resurfacing comes into play. Resurfacing marble involves the removal of a thin layer of the stone's surface to reveal the fresh, unblemished layer beneath. This process rejuvenates the marble's appearance, making it look as good as new. 

One key benefit of resurfacing marble is that it can address a wide range of issues. From minor imperfections to more severe damage, the process can tackle it all. If you're considering resurfacing your marble surfaces, it's essential to hire professionals who possess the expertise and equipment to do the job effectively. Johnny Stonework, a leading name in the industry, provides top-notch marble resurfacing services that can breathe new life into your marble countertops, floors, and more. 

Sealant for Marble Table: Protecting the Investment 

A marble table is a statement piece that adds an air of opulence to your living space. However, marble is a porous material, making it susceptible to staining and damage from spills and regular wear and tear. To safeguard your investment and maintain the table's pristine appearance, it's crucial to apply a sealant for marble table. 

A marble table sealant creates an invisible protective barrier on the surface, preventing liquids and contaminants from seeping into the pores of the stone. This not only shields your table from potential damage but also makes it easier to clean and maintain. Johnny Stonework, the website we are writing for, offers a range of high-quality marble sealants that can ensure the longevity of your marble table. 

Choosing the Right Sealant 

Selecting the right sealant for your marble table is a critical decision. There are various types of marble sealants available, including penetrating sealants and topical sealants. The choice will depend on your specific needs and the type of marble you have. Penetrating sealants absorb into the marble, providing long-lasting protection without altering the natural look of the stone. Topical sealants, on the other hand, create a glossy finish and are ideal for enhancing the shine of your table while offering protection. 

Johnny Stonework provides expert guidance to help you choose the most suitable sealant for your marble table. With their extensive knowledge of marble care, they can recommend the best products that align with your preferences and the unique characteristics of your marble. 

Conclusion 

Marble is a precious natural stone that adds an element of luxury to any space it graces. To ensure the longevity and exquisite appearance of your marble surfaces, resurfacing and using the right sealant are indispensable. Whether you're looking to rejuvenate your marble or protect your marble table, Johnny Stonework, with its professional expertise and top-quality products, is your trusted partner in preserving the enduring beauty of this magnificent stone. Resurfacing marble and using the right sealant for your marble table are the keys to keeping your marble looking pristine for years to come. 

[oldstonerestoration0]

Natural stone restoration services Long Island NY

Experience the transformation of your natural stone surfaces with Old Stone Restoration & Installation's expert natural stone care services in Long Island, NY. Our skilled team restores their original beauty. Discover our services today!

[cornerstonerefinishing]

Elevate Your Space with Marble and Granite Resurfacing in Calgary

In the realm of interior design, the choice of flooring and countertops plays a pivotal role in defining the aesthetics of a space. For those in Calgary seeking to breathe new life into their homes or businesses, Cornerstone Refinishing emerges as the go-to solution. Specializing in marble and granite resurfacing, this trusted flooring company is here to transform your spaces with quality craftsmanship and unparalleled service.

Marble Resurfacing in Calgary: Marble, with its timeless elegance, has the ability to elevate any space. Whether you're looking to rejuvenate a tired-looking floor or give your countertops a facelift, Cornerstone Refinishing excels in marble resurfacing Calgary. Our locally owned and operated business takes pride in delivering top-notch craftsmanship, ensuring your marble surfaces are restored to their former glory.

Granite Resurfacing for Lasting Impressions: Granite, known for its durability and stunning natural patterns, is a popular choice for both residential and commercial spaces. Cornerstone Refinishing offers expert granite resurfacing services in Calgary, allowing you to revitalize your floors and countertops. Our commitment to efficiency and quality ensures that your granite surfaces not only look exquisite but also stand the test of time.

Quality Craftsmanship and Efficiency: At Cornerstone Refinishing, we understand the importance of quality craftsmanship and efficiency. As a locally owned business, our reputation is built on a solid commitment to delivering maximum value to our clients. Whether you're in need of new tile installations, marble resurfacing, or granite countertops, we've got you covered.

Tailored Solutions for Every Budget: We believe that enhancing your space should be a seamless and rewarding experience. Our team not only assists you in selecting the right finishes or coatings but also works within your budget constraints. With Cornerstone Refinishing, you can be confident that your marble and granite resurfacing Calgary project will not only meet but exceed your expectations.

Repairs, Stripping, and Finishing Services: Beyond resurfacing, our comprehensive services extend to repairs, stripping, and finishing. Whether you're dealing with minor damages or want to give an unfinished surface a polished look, Cornerstone Refinishing is your trusted partner in achieving exceptional results.

[essigpools]

Phone: (305) 949-0000

Address: 10111 Business Drive Miramar, FL 33025

Email: sales@essigpools.com

Dive into luxury with Essig Pools, your trusted pool partner since 1981. Transform your backyard into a lavish oasis with our high-end designs, crafted to stand the test of time. Let our expert team guide you effortlessly through your pool construction or renovation journey. Claim your free estimate today and take the first step towards your dream outdoor retreat."

[scary-lasagna]

Hi! Could we get more of the creeps bumping into someone they used to know before their incidents?? I love your blog thank you!!

Decided to go a negative route for this one to make it spicy

tw: bullying, trauma mention,

Toby

He tried so hard.

Even after the double take, he still wasn't sure about the man five feet away from him.

But he still smelled the same, that irritating wet-dog smell mixed with a shitty watered-down body spray.

Toby balled his fists, attempting to focus on the words of the shirt in front of him.

Standing in line at the bank was not where he expected his next breakdown, yet here we are. He wasn't even in his hometown; he was a few cities west of his origin.

Toby was mentally prepared to glance at a few familiar faces, but never the main culprit of the Devil of his school years.

With the stress of the situation, his medication seemed to nullify, and a quick snap of his neck caused a few heads to turn toward him.

Toby's cheeks burned, and he glared at the marble flooring.

"Ticci Toby?"

Fuck.

Toby tightened his jaw and slowly looked over to the man in the next line over, a redhead with dirt clinging to his oily skin, along with that same spotty beard Toby remembered from his school-days.

Then again, Toby probably didn't look his best after work either, with sweat still clinging to his bangs and dirty, non-bank-worthy clothes.

"Rick." Toby managed a cringeworthy grimace of a smile, "How have you been?"

At the moment, Toby felt like that pathetic excuse for a teenager again. A pathetic excuse for a human.

The memories of being shoved against lockers and brick walls and returning home with more bruises than he cared about resurfaced in waves of pain.

"I've been good. Been working." Rick nodded. He sniffed and glanced away, "You disappeared off the map, everyone thought you killed your dad and died in the fire."

What a fucking opener for small talk.

"He was not my Dad," Toby said curtly. And I'm still alive." However, Toby definitely wished he wasn't at that moment.

The pain of embarrassment and uncomfortableness was enough to make the brunette keel over.

"I bet you wished Lyra was still here after all of that, huh?"

A beat passed, and despite how hard Toby glared at the man in front of him, the line did not budge. Rick continued to stare at Toby.

"You think you're too good to talk to me now?"

Toby breathed. He sighed and rolled his neck.

A verbal tic followed closely after, at the best moment to call Rick a Cunt.

Whatever manilla folder Rick held dropped from his hands and dully fell against the marble.

Toby allowed himself to react out of pure fear and instinct, punching Rick directly in the jaw before he could even lay hands on him.

And, with Toby being much stronger now as a grown man, Rick was not expecting such a hit. The pressure radiated from his jaw and rebounded to whatever brain cells were left in his empty skull.

Toby didn't know what happened between that moment and when he was running from security guards and into the nearest wooded area.

But his hands were covered in blood, and his knuckles had been scraped open.

After returning home, he apologized to Slender for not depositing the check and decided not to speak of anything else.

[judebellenthusiast]

Where trust meets fear- Jude Bellingham

Content: Jude x fem!reader, slight mature language, not fully proof read, Angst!

w.c : 2.2k

summary: You struggle with insecurities and self-destructive behavior in your relationship with Jude. After a painful argument fueled by jealousy and past fears, you find it hard to accept Jude’s constant support.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Staring at the cellular device for the umpteenth time that night, the thought of smashing the screen against the marble floors crossed your fragmented focus.

Your thoughts drifted back to the slow-witted argument you had with your boyfriend earlier this morning, over a stupid blog post about his new companion for this month.

You knew Jude wasn’t the type to cheat—he did everything to make you feel secure in your relationship. But being an overthinker, you couldn’t quiet your restless mind. You dissected everything: the tone of his texts, why he chose you over the women he was often linked to.

His wild past wasn’t a secret, filled with women who matched his fast-paced world, while you were nothing like them. It made you uneasy, and you resented the constant questioning of his motives, knowing it wasn’t fair to either of you.

Harsh words slipped from your mouth, cutting deeper than you intended, as you watched the hurt ripple across your boyfriend's face. You said things you didn’t mean, questioning his integrity, throwing accusations that didn’t even make sense. The moment replayed in your mind—Jude reaching out, trying to comfort you, before you pushed him away, building a wall between you two.

the same wall he had worked so hard to break down, and despite everything, he had succeeded.

He left shortly after, leaving you wracked with guilt. — reminding you that he wasn’t the one walking away, it was you who was pushing him away.

Your self-destructive tendencies resurfaced in full force, catching you off guard. You thought you had dealt with them, convinced you had outgrown that sorrowful habit.

Mid-thought you hear the front door open, your clearly exhausted 6'1 athletic boyfriend walks in, tossing his training bag onto the counter avoiding your gaze. You walked up to him pulling him to face you which left you even more shattered as you gazed into his exhausted, hurt eyes, what hurt even more was knowing that you were responsible for inflicting that pain on him

"I'm so sorry for everything I've said." you started

"Baby-"

"No, Jude, I really mean it. I hate this—I hate that no matter how hard you try to make me feel safe, I always end up ruining it." You cut him off, your eyes brimming with tears as you refused to meet his gaze. He placed his large palm against your jaw, gently urging you to look at him, but you couldn’t. You felt unworthy of his attention, of his care, of him.

"Look at me," he said firmly, and you complied, locking your gaze with his. A wave of fear washed over you, the unsettling thought that you had finally pushed him to his breaking point, That this time, he might choose not to break down the walls you had already begun to build.

"Hey… hey, stop that," he added, using his fingertip to wipe away the glistening pearls from your cheeks.

The sentimental gesture only confused you more. You questioned why he was being so gentle when frustration radiated from him. It was evident in the way his eyebrows furrowed, and how his eyes darted back and forth across your face, yet he still managed to prioritize your feelings above his own once again.

"You’re doing it again. I can practically sense the thoughts swirling in that head of yours." He attempts to lighten up the mood, as a way to calm you down once again.

"Please, don’t be gentle with me, Jude. I said some messed-up things."

He brushed a strand of hair away from your tear-streaked face, his eyes seeing right through your bullshit. Deep down, he understood—you hadn’t signed up for his lifestyle. He knew this was your first time loving someone with that kind of intensity, and that kind of love made you do things you never thought you would. It pushed you to act out of character, to question everything. And despite your words, he secretly empathized with the weight you were carrying.

"I get it," he said gently. "I know you’re scared of losing us, so you push me away, thinking I’ll leave. But I won’t. You have to accept that I’m not going anywhere" he firmly stated

"I love you, Jude" you replied. Your chest tightened with the weight of the argument looming between you, and he looked at you with a mix of worry, fear, and disappointment in his eyes.

"And I love you, but you won’t let me." He whispered softly as he hesitated, finally letting go of your face. A breath escaped him, one he hadn’t realized he was holding.

The silence was deafening, every unspoken word hanging heavy between you both. You felt like the elephant in the room, foolish for letting things unravel with the one person who truly cared for you, who knew you inside and out. Once again, the realization hit—you didn’t deserve him. And yet somehow, letting him go seemed easier than admitting the depth of your feelings.

"I wish you could let me in, I wish you could just let me love you the way you deserve to be loved, But your fear is greater than what we have and that's something you need to figure out"

"Jude please-" You plead selfishly, knowing that this repeated pattern of you pushing him away and him chasing after you had finally reached the finish line.

His attempt to reach out to you is returned by you taking a step back, further proving his point

“You’re pushing me away when all I want to do is hold you. How long are you going to keep this up?” he replies frustrated with how you keep getting in your own way.

You felt like you were being examined under a microscope, your thoughts laid bare. The silence between you only intensified his frustration, pushing him to dig deeper with more questions in search of clarity.

"You still haven't forgiven me for my past," he states.

“Don’t -” you say, but he interrupts pressing further into your vulnerability.

"The women I've been with—part of you still believes that part of my life is attached to me." He delivers this like a fact, another unpleasant reminder that he knows you better than you know yourself.

He waits patiently for your reaction to his truth bomb, knowing that he is treading on thin ice and that his words aren’t kind. Still, he can’t bring himself to acknowledge how you feel at that moment—not when he constantly puts up with your antics and guards your feelings over his. He knows that this is something you need to hear. You know that too.

“It’s not that simple,” you reply, “You don’t understand what it’s like to constantly compete with ghosts. Knowing I have nothing in common with your lifestyle or the fact that I look nothing like them. How do you expect me to just let that go when that's the bane of my existence Jude"

He sighs, the disappointment evident in his eyes.

"I never asked you to be like them. I'm asking you to trust that I am here, I'm asking you to believe that you are more than enough for me - that I won't leave you."

You turn away, frustration boiling inside you. “How can I do that when it feels like I’m always one step behind, waiting for you to slip back into that life.”

“You’re not behind,” he counters, stepping closer, his tone urgent. ignoring the last sentence you blurted knowing that your vulnerability made you say shit that was insubstantial.

“You’re with me. But you have to let me in. You have to let go of the pain.”

“...And you need to stop feeling so goddamn sorry for yourself,” he said, tone sharp, words piercing through your fog of confusion, challenging you to confront the emotions you’d been avoiding.

He employed the same tactics as on the football field, assessing your vulnerabilities and strategizing. This time, it wasn’t about rivalry or hostility. He was in the same match, but instead of defending against you, he was charging into your thoughts, eager to show he was equally afraid of losing you just as much. To him, you being off the field of his life just wasn’t an option he was settling for.

Your lips trembled as you absorbed his words, your fingers gripping the thin fabric of Jude's shirt. His scent wrapped around you, offering a sense of comfort amid the chaos of the moment.

“I wish I could,” you whisper, tears clouding your vision. “But I’m scared...Scared that I’m not enough for you”

He reaches out, brushing a tear from your cheek with the gentleness you so desperately crave. “You are enough. You don’t have to be perfect. Just be honest with me. Let me help you through this.”

His eyes dart all over your face attempting to decipher your thoughts secretly hoping that you don't push him away; hoping that you'd comfort him.

"I need you to meet me halfway on this; Please, just allow someone to be there for you—for once in your life."

His fingers gently brush against your face, gliding back and forth across your cheek, silently urging for a response. He tilts your face upward, guiding your gaze to meet his, the intensity in his eyes pressing you to say something—anything.

It feels like an eternity since you’ve spoken, the silence between you heavy and suffocating. The tension hangs thick in the air, punctuated only by the faint, steady ticking of the clock bolted to the wall, each sound a reminder of how much time has slipped by without a word.

"Please don't give me space, that's the last thing I want with you." you finally respond

He lets out a sigh of relief, his eyes filled with gratitude. You’re still here, still willing to wait for him, to fight for him with the same intensity he’s fought for you. Without hesitation, he pulls you flush against him, holding you tight as though you were slipping away like quicksand, desperate to keep you grounded in his arms.

But as he holds you, something unsettles him. Your body feels rigid, like you’re pulling away, even though you’re standing in his arms. He brushes his hand gently down your back, tension slightly easing but not fully fading. It lingers, heavy and unspoken - Just like where the both of you stood —on edge

----------------------

Thought daughters unite!

This is my first fic in a very long time, so please be kind lol

I love angst so much and I overthink a lottttt hence this fic!!!, so please lmk what you guys would like to read next, my inbox/ asks are open <3

this fic is gravely inspired by Silver Springs - Fleetwood Mac. I’ve had that song stuck in my head for days!!

Huge thanks to @urfriendlywriter for the apology prompt, It truly resonated with this story

[writing-for-life]

Lupē

Finally, finally I manage a Calliope/Morpheus fic (the Sandman Rarepair Fest had to come along to kick me into gear). It’s just a short vignette, but I hope I did them justice because they will always be the OTP to me. The prompt is Hurt/Comfort.

You can read on Ao3 or here. And no matter where you read, your kudos, comments, shares and reblogs are so appreciated and help writers to get their stuff discovered 🖤

Lupē (616 words) by Writing-for-Life Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Calliope/Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Calliope/Dream of the Endless, Calliope & Dream of the Endless | Morpheus Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Reconciliation, Past Relationship(s), Rare Pairings, Canon Compliant, During Canon, Canon Related, Canon Rewrite Summary:

Calliope had wept for him so many times, and she felt the tight grip of grief resurfacing. She had mourned the laughter that would never echo through these halls again, the stories of his father he would never pass on to children of his own, the promise of a future shattered. […] And she was tired of mourning, of a grief that felt like it was hers alone to bear.

Lupē

The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery glow upon the twisted spires of the castle. She had not returned here since that fateful day.

The Gatekeepers stood before her, eyes like onyx reflecting the aeons they had witnessed. Last time, they had been impassive, their voices cold as they denied her entry.

But tonight, something had changed: They recognised her.

"Calliope," the wyvern’s voice echoed through the mist. "You seek the Lord of Dreams."

She nodded, and her throat felt so tight she could barely swallow. "I come to speak to him."

Calliope's fingers trembled. She remembered the bitter words they had exchanged—the accusations, the tears. Later, Oneiros had been unyielding, her attempts to speak to him ignored. She was not even sure what would have happened had he acted differently then; the thought of bringing forth an apology entered her mind and was as quickly dismissed. She felt her hands ball into fists, bitterness resurfacing.

No, this is not the time.

The guardians exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable. "Why are you here, muse?" the hippogriff asked.

She hesitated. "Our son's absence binds us, even in sorrow."

There was no more talk, no further interrogation. The gates just creaked open.

Calliope stepped across the threshold, and her footsteps echoed on the stairs and the marble corridors. With every step, her heart picked up pace until it was racing so fast she could hardly catch a breath.

The door was as she remembered—unchanged, the wood dark and polished, etched with symbols whose meaning she understood and yet didn’t.

Just like him.

But that wasn’t true. He had been changed when last they met. Familiar yet different, faint echoes of what once she loved—and hated.

Calliope pushed the door open, and the air itself seemed to hold its breath. For a moment, she wondered what she had expected to find. How she had expected him to greet her. And then she knew that this was exactly it:

His back turned on her, no sign of movement, frozen in space.

She crossed the room, her breath catching in her throat, unable to speak.

She didn’t have to.

"Calliope," he whispered, still not turning. There was a rawness to his voice, even in that whisper, that caught her unaware.

She reached for him, without any hesitation, and while it surprised her, it felt right. As her hand touched his shoulder, he flinched subtly, but he didn't pull away.

When he finally turned, his eyes held galaxies, and their shared history was etched on his face—the pain, the longing—it was all there, laid bare.

And it was hard not to see Orpheus in him. Hard not to remember how he had told him stories, his voice like a melody spun from darkness and light, stardust and moonbeams, while the boy’s laughter would echo through the halls of the castle, and his cries for more brought a moment of happiness to everyone who heard it.

And then it was gone.

Calliope had wept for him so many times, and she felt the tight grip of grief resurfacing. She had mourned the laughter that would never echo through these halls again, the stories of his father he would never pass on to children of his own, the promise of a future shattered.

She had sung dirges and sought solace in memories, but they only deepened the pain.

And she was tired of mourning, of a grief that felt like it was hers alone to bear.

In that moment, his eyes searched hers. “You came.” And perhaps, they were seeking answers and forgiveness.

“You called.”

And perhaps, they were also holding the faint glimmer of hope…

[lovesodakid]

sworn to secrecy 3

chris sturniolo x fem!reader

1 2 4 5 6

summary: chris and y/n have known each other, pretty much their whole lives. y/n has always had a crush on chris. chris always viewed y/n as ‘nate’s little sister’ until one day, he realized, she wasn’t so little anymore…which nate sees..in which. he does not approve of whatsoever. (“brothers best friend trope”)

warnings: heavy mentions of toxic household (pretty detailed). shouldn’t be anything else

____________________________________________

“Y/N! get your ass down here now!” i hear my dad yelling from downstairs.

i quickly run out of my bedroom, to downstairs. once i reach the bottom of the staircase, i see my mom, dad, and nate all in the kitchen.

as soon as he hears me, my dads eyes land on me the second my foot touches the kitchen floor.

“well well now,” he begins. “y/n…why don’t you tell your whore of a mother-what a slut she is.” he speaks loudly, body swaying back and forth.

my eyes widen as i look over to nate, who also shares the same look as me, but his eyes are directed to my dad, who’s holding my mom by her hair as her knees are planted on the floor.

“a-what?” i ask, tears threatening to form on my waterline.

“she’s too young to know what that means!” my mom’s voice breaks in sobs.

my dads eyes quickly shoot to mine.“well..y/n. it means your mother here, decided to have an affair with her boss.” he speaks, almost condescendingly as he slurs his words.

“i-“

i shoot up out of bed, sweating bullets as i pick my phone up to check the time: 4:32am. i set my phone down, letting out a hard breath as i rub my hands over my face. the memory i thought had been blocked out by my brain, resurfacing. i was 9 when it happened. that was the worse i had ever seen my dad, and he was of course, drunk that night. thankfully, it hasn’t been that bad sense. but he still has his moments. like tonight persay.

once i realize how excruciatingly dry my throat is, i push nick’s comforter off of me, taking a glance at his peaceful state. his lips slightly parted, letting out soft-quiet snores here and there. i smile softly, glad that one of us is having a good night sleep.

i place my feet on the flooring of his bedroom, making my way out of his room. causing the floor to squeak a couple times. once i turn my head back, making sure i didn’t wake nick up, i make my way to the bathroom.

after splashing my face with cold water a couple of times, i grab a towel and dry it while taking a couple deep breaths in and out. i stare at myself in the mirror for a second, before walking out of the bathroom, heading downstairs.

-

the second i reach the kitchen, i immediately make a b-line for the fridge, grabbing a cold water from the fridge, downing it.

“what are you doing up?”

“oh my-!” i quickly turn my body around, shutting the fridge door as my eyes come in contact with an icy blue pair. an icy blue i could stare into for hours on end.

“you good?” chris asks.

i quickly clear my throat. “yeah-sorry. just scared me, that’s all.” i say, realizing i didn’t even see him sitting at the island counter when i came in here.

“sorry kid.” he laughs. “but why are you awake?”

“i-um..i just had a nightmare. that’s all.” i say, slowly making my way to the island counter. once i reach it, i lean my elbows on it, as he sits across from me on a stool.

“ahhh,” he hums. “wanna talk about it?” he asks cautiously.

i quickly shake my head ‘no’ as i look down at the marble design of the counter.

we both sit in silence for a minute. it’s a comfortable silence. just both of us enjoying each others company, until chris clears his throat to speak again.

“well..if you ever wanna talk, just don’t forget im here. okay?” he speaks softly as he looks up at me.

i slowly nod as i return the glance.

silence takes over us once again. except this time, it feels a little different as we’re staring into each others eyes. neither one of us daring to look away. for a second, i think his eyes may have dilated, but its dark in the kitchen and im half asleep so, who knows.

although that’s quickly broken when we hear a third voice enter the kitchen.

“hey chris-y/n?” nate says. “what are you doing?”

im quickly broken out of the hypnotization from chris’s eyes, as mine make my way to my brother.

“i..had a nightmare.” i softly speak.

“what about?” he asks as he walks more into the kitchen, now standing beside me.

“um, nothing much.” i lie. “just one enough to wake me up.”

nate’s eyebrows furrow as he seemingly tries to read my face. “well, you should go back to bed. we have school in the morning.”

i nod as i tell both him and chris goodnight.

as i walk out of the kitchen, i make my way to the stairs. i hear chris and nate mumbling about something, but i can’t make out any words.

-

as soon as i’m back in nick’s room, i climb back into his bed, laying next to him as i let the warmness of the comforter coat my body, almost lulling me back to sleep in a way.

————————————————————————

a/n: this one’s a lil more deep, which i apologize. but we’re kind of getting somewhere 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️ sorry these chapters have been so short !!

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Hii! Hand her over anon here~

I'd like the same characters, skip the sex scenes (or not as you like), boys reaction after it happend with Mikey (worried husbands agenda)

ORDER UP SQUIDWAAAAAAAAAAARRRDDDDDDD

Hand Her Over (Part 2): Ran Haitani/ Rindou Haitani/ Kakucho Hitto/ Sanzu Haruchiyo x Fem!Reader

tw: nsfw, angst

wc: 1.3k

masterlist

Hand Her Over Megapost

Sanzu Haruchiyo

"Oi." Sanzu sees you flinch when he calls out to you. You're sitting on the edge of the bed, staring off into space. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," you reply, hurrying to close your robe and scurry into the bathroom. Sanzu stands in the bedroom, aloof, trying not to think too hard about what happened right in front of his eyes a mere fifteen minutes ago.

There's no remorse behind his musings. He's pleased and more than satisfied with the events. It's just that they made him so...

"Mind if we... shower together?" Sanzu wonders, peering at you as you let the robe slip from your figure. You nod a few times silently, then step into the already-running fixture. Sanzu follows close behind you, still rock hard despite letting himself go (all over the carpet) earlier.

You don't touch yourself with any of the washing instruments, but Sanzu sees this as a moment to show his tender side. "Would you like for me to wash you?"

"Sure," you breathe, the words barely a whisper over the shower sound. Sanzu's hands caress your backside, touching you carefully and sweeping over the hickies with reverence. Just a reminder of the gift Mikey was given and enjoyed thoroughly.

Sanzu doesn't ask if you liked it; he knows you did. The cum between your legs is evidence of your and Mikey's enjoyment. "Hold on," Sanzu murmurs, sinking to his knees. "Let me clean you here." Sanzu lifts your right leg, and - under the spray of the shower - he places his mouth against your cunt.

It's intoxicating - the taste of Mikey on his tongue - and he flicks his eyes up to his wife with a building sensation of utter contentment. He notices how you hold on to the shower wall and the quivering of your lip, but he says nothing about it.

He's too busy tasting every drop of cum left inside of you. His tongue laps at your hole greedily, sucking and flicking as much as he can to tease one last orgasm out of you. Sanzu's free hand wraps around his cock and strokes slowly, circling around the tip effortlessly before settling against his shaft and going back up again.

"Haru," you murmur, placing a hand on his wet hair. "Please..."

Sanzu continues to suck on your clitoris harshly, praying you'll cum before him. You cry out and push him closer, hissing while you cum on his chin. Sanzu moans and groans with you, cumming as he laps up whatever you give him.

"That's my girl," he whispers finally, licking his mouth and chin happily. "Always so good for me."

Ran Haitani

Ran is furious.

"I told him no!" He roars, swiping the vase off the foyer table, letting it crash against the marble flooring. Rindou is standing by, letting his brother rage wildly, destroy his own property, and tear apart the entire home.

"You heard what I said!" Rindou doesn't even flinch when his brother points at him.

"I heard what you said."

"And now..." Ran huffs, the rage leaving him in great gasps of air. Rindou watches his brother collect himself, push his loose strands away from his face, and readjust his dress shirt. Rindou supposes the worst is over, but Ran stalks into his bedroom, then comes out as he's pushing a clip into his gun.

"Ran, what in the hell are you doing?"

"I'm doing what I should have done a long time ago," he breathes calmly. The old baton resurfaces, too, and Rindou hurries to his side.

"Ran," Rindou whispers, holding his brother's wrist. "This isn't part of the plan."

"Neither was Mikey's little stint this afternoon," Ran mutters, shoving the gun in the holster. "But we can make it right."

"What are you going to tell y/n? She's waiting for you at the--"

"Tell her I'll see her soon," Ran answers, striding toward the front door. "I just have to tie up some loose ends."

Rindou Haitani

"Are you safe?"

"I"m fine," you whisper into the phone shakily. "Everything's fine."

"You're not hurt?"

"No, baby." Rindou shivers, feeling more relieved than worried. You could take care of yourself, and it wasn't unlike you to get yourself to a safe place should things get hairy.

"When are you coming home?" Rindou asks the question without thinking, but he hopes that when you answer, you'll be honest.

You pause, then reply softly, "I'm coming home tomorrow." Shock floods through Rindou's veins, and he smiles to himself. You're coming home early, for once.

"I'll be here when you get back."

"I would hope so," you chuckle. "Kind of want some cuddles from my favorite guy." If there was a way for Rindou to show his absolute gratefulness to the universe, he'd kiss the ground you walked on for the rest of his life.

"Lucky for you, I have tons of cuddles," Rindou teases, placing his arm around the back of the couch as if you were there. "Might be able to fill that need for ya."

"Okay, you ruined it." Rindou cackles, relishing in the secondhand embarrassment.

"You love me, just admit it, already."

"I do," you admit. "And thank you for warning me ahead of time with the whole Mikey thing." Rindou sobers up, not sure what he would do if Mikey actually assaulted you like he intended to.

"It's because I love you," Rindou murmurs, feeling his heart beat wildly. "And I promised to protect you. No matter what."

Kakucho Hitto

"Shh, shh, shh..."

Kakucho is stroking your hair lovingly like he used to right after you got married. He's lying beside you, holding you close and protecting you, like he should have before.

"I'm sorry."

You're deathly still, holding onto his arms in silence and breathing shallowly. Flashes of the confrontation rock Kakucho's brain, jostling it around like he's in a turbulent airplane. And they hurt, the thoughts. His skull must be bruised inside with how much his head aches.

"I'm going to run a bath for you." Kakucho knows that this is a temporary solution - not something that'll fix the real problem. His fingers shake violently as he tries to turn the knob for the tub, but he can't seem to get it right on the first, second, or third try.

And then, he's breaking down at the side of the tub, whimpering silently as he tries to figure out what to do next. "I need to leave," he chants, reaching up to turn the knobs again. "I need to leave." A hand comes down on top of his, and there you are, standing next to him. Crystalline tears slide down your beautiful cheeks, and Kakucho wipes his face quickly.

"I..." You turn the knob for him, and warm water gushes out into the tub.

"Don't," you hum, holding his chin. "Don't blame yourself." Kakucho leans his head into your round stomach, listening to the silence his child can thrive in.

"I let them," he croaks, voice raw from screaming and crying and trying to make Mikey stop. "I let them hurt you... I let them hurt our child..."

"No," you whisper, stooping down to his level and holding his face in your hands. "I love you. You didn't do anything. You couldn't." Kakucho's heart breaks, and he leans into your shoulder and bawls. You stroke his hair - and this feels wrong; he should be comforting you - and Kakucho tries to find his bearings, holding you incredibly close.

"I'm going to leave Bonten," he finally concludes. "I'm taking you and our child and leaving this hell." You nod, and Kakucho kisses your tears away before helping you up.

"Let's take a bath and talk about this," you urge him, leaning into his embrace. "I'll follow you wherever you go. I promise."

[oldstonerestoration0]

Revitalize your Marble countertops with Old Stone Restoration & Installation's professional cleaning services in Long Island, NY. We bring back the pristine beauty of your surfaces. Explore our services for a stunning transformation!

[seikkoi]

𝗞𝗔𝗥𝗠𝗔 | wanda maximoff x f!reader

18+ minors dni

𝗖𝗢𝗟𝗟𝗘𝗚𝗘 !𝗔𝗨

content: gay as hell, slight degradation, mentions of infidelity, thigh riding, slight dacryphilia,

genre: angst, sm*t, set in a college au

word count: 3,212

a/n: @nightprompts for the inspiration

“Wanda, please, what do you want me to do?” You’d promise her anything right now. Your eyes grew wet, filling with tears soon to fall. You’d promise to stay away from parties, other girls, tell the world you were hers- anything. “I just need you back, what do you need me to say, please.”, you continue to plea as tears start to flow. Another interlude of silence passes as you stare into emerald irises. “Begging is a good look for you.”

Fresh, white snow crunched under your leather boots. An even, steady sound like styrofoam splintered by angry fingers. With each tinted imprint left behind by your worn soles, you prayed. Prayed that this wasn’t a stupid decision. You kept your head down, watching your weight sink into the soles, guarding against icy winds. Gloved hands squeezed tight in your coat pockets. You said silent prayer after silent prayer as snowflakes coated your eyelids and wet your rosy cheeks. She had to forgive you, right? She’d see how sorry you were- Amidst the frozen landscape, your shivering skin and trembling resolve were symbols of your remorse.

Eventually, you recognized the stone pillar by her apartment, gray marble jutting from a pile of snow. You were close now, lifting your head to see the familiar red building’s ornate trim. The sight makes you nauseous. Less than a hundred yards separated you from the woman who had warned you of regret, who had sworn never to lay eyes on you again.

“How pathetic.” , you thought to yourself. To come crawling back like she said you would be. When you’d decided to do this, brave this frozen nightmare, pride was no factor- just getting Wanda back.

What were you even going to say? Would she even answer the door?

Amidst your inner turmoil, memories of sandalwood and jasmine on her skin resurfaced. The melodic giggles, the gentle touch that commanded attention.  You remember walking across this same campus and finally noticing and watching Wanda with awe. You reminisced about the feeling of completeness she brought, and how her absence had felt like the loss of your sanity.

You swallow your cowardice and continue on. 

Between the cold journey and rising anxiety, you make it through her apartment’s lobby with wobbly legs. The hours late, only the faint echo of televisions and Friday night parties gearing up as you make your way up the stairs. The warmth of the building doesn’t render you any less frigid by the time you reach Wanda’s floor. 

You can’t help but chuckle a bit when you hear the music and voices coming from her neighbor, Natasha’s apartment. Natasha was a graduate student, like Wanda, that had become something infamous around campus for her parties, even amongst the underclassmen. You’d started your senior year in college in the hopes that you learn to study more and go out less. It worked for the first week of classes, then you met Nat. 

You’d met Wanda initially at Nat’s, but at the time she hardly stood out to you. Over time, though, you saw her more and more, eventually outside of dark, crowded rooms. The first time this happens, you feel insanely oblivious for not noticing her sooner. Auburn locks, a captivating accent – the puzzle pieces had fallen into place too late. 

Like the idiot you are, instead of realizing how special she was, you decided to explore your options instead. You’d foolishly assumed in the beginning that she’d wait, that she’d always be there. The two of you were never explicitly exclusive, yet in the back of your mind you knew she wouldn’t be okay with you sleeping around. You subtly hid other girls from Wanda- only for her to find out anyway.

She found out from some post a particularly enticing sorority girl made. While you weren’t in the picture, it gave a clear view of your dorm bedroom with a caption that told Wanda everything she needed to know. Too bad it was from weeks ago- before you quit sleeping around. You’d awoke yesterday morning to a multitude of pissed off texts and calls. Any attempt to apologize or deflect in person just earned you more anger. Telling her it wasn’t recent didn’t help anything either. Ultimately, it ended with Wanda blocking you and swearing you out of your life. 

A wince passes through you with the memory of her harsh words. The rusted letters on her doorplate seemed to mock you, the reverberations of the neighboring party serving as an ironic backdrop .The bass does a better job at warming your bones than the heaters. 

“She can’t just ignore me.” , a final hope as you remove your gloves and give the door a heavy knock. The moment you longed and dreaded neared. A few seconds of quiet pass- you give another, louder this time. Inside, you can hear more music, this one much gentler, and something shuffling. 

Right as your nerves are split between knocking again or fleeing while you still can, the door swings open. 

Wanda stands in front of you, annoyance crossing her face. You notice how breath-taking she looks, dressed in a hoodie and simple shorts that leave little to the imagination. Just as you're preparing your plea for forgiveness, those gorgeous green eyes roll at the sight of you, and she turns to close the door.

You’re not leaving without getting a chance to make your case, sticking your foot out followed by your right arm to keep it open. Behind her, you can see textbooks and papers strewn about, the record player spinning softly. 

Her face is swirled in a mix of surprise and anger. For the sake of seeing this through, you decide to focus on the surprise. 

“Look, Wanda, can we talk, please, I’m really sorry about everything that happened I know I’m not suppose to be here-”

“What do you want?” She interrupts your rambling, crossing her arms and leaning about the doorframe. Her tone is dry, straight to the chase like you’d treat a salesperson. 

It throws you a bit, leaving you stammering on hopeless words.

“I want you to talk to me, let me explain.”, you plea.

“What is there to explain? What, one of your little flings cancel?” 

You’re the one rolling your eyes now, pulling the hood of your coat down as the snow on it starts melting. You shivered, not just from the cold, but from the iciness of her demeanor. You had come this far, endured the frigid journey, for a chance to mend what was broken between you two. She seems to take in your hypothermic appearance, eyeing your wet clothes and reddened skin. 

“You walked all the way here?” Wanda questions and you respond with a shuddering nod. The sympathy in her gaze was fleeting, replaced by cool appraisal as she eyed your wet clothes and rosy skin.

She takes enough pity on you to step away from the door, gesturing into the apartment. You’re the one surprise now, but you aren’t going to question progress. You kick your boots off at the entryway. Wanda waits by her kitchen counter until you’ve hung your coat up, watching you like a hawk.

“You didn’t answer me. Am I just your backup plan?” Whatever sympathy points you earned a moment ago are gone. Bitterness is all that coats her tongue. 

Your earlier nausea bubbles into guilt. How do you explain that at one point she was without completely tossing away any chance of winning her back. You really want to answer honestly, to bare your soul in the hope that she sees how much you need her. This morning, you’d tried moving on- hooking up with someone else. You couldn’t even follow through because it just wasn’t Wanda. Worse than that, now you feel like the largest piece of shit on the planet. Maybe you didn’t even deserve her forgiveness. Maybe you should’ve listened to Wanda and left her alone. 

Your head hangs silently and Wanda scoffs. You weren’t worthy of the thing you sought most. 

Out the corner of your eye, her silhouette pivots, heading for the disarrayed living room. Words jumble and mix like tangled cords in your throat. So many things to say and so little meaning takes form.

“Wanda, I’m sorry. I’m here because I fucked up, not because there’s someone else I’d rather be with.” You stress your apology, stretching rubber band syllables into a tangled sentence. 

It stops her nonetheless. When she turns back, there’s something else in her face. Every touch on every random girl- you’d take it back if it made her smile instead. 

“You think I’m that dumb?” She scoffs again.

You left pride at the door. “No, no, please, all I want is you.” you choke out.

You take the small steps across her entryway, shaking your head. Your hands finally feel warm once when they enclose hers. The desperation you had, the one that propelled you to walk through layers of snow, is only worsened at the touch. The silken skin under your fingers sparks a longing you didn’t think could get so big in one day.

Wanda’s expression becomes clear- it’s smugness coloring her face. 

Still, she’s silent, and the brief silence turns unbearable. 

“I-I was betting on you, just, I don’t know,” You suck in a breath, trying to find balance in your words.

“I just was hoping you never found out, never cared- waited for me.” you admit.

The soft skin is ripped from your fingers immediately after. 

“You know, maybe you should bet on something else instead of betting on someone’s fucking feelings.” Wanda glares when she speaks, her accent particularly derisive, piercing your gut.

“I know, I know,” you lament, reaching out for her hands the second they leave. “Wanda, give me another chance, just-please.”

The scarlet woman doesn’t move or make a sound. Her self-assured glare watches you plead aimlessly. You can hardly take it. It made more sense yesterday when she was cursing you in Sovokian on the phone. 

“Wanda, please, what do you want me to do?” You’d promise her anything right now. Your eyes grew wet, filling with tears soon to fall. You’d promise to stay away from parties, other girls, tell the world you were hers- anything.

“I just need you back, what do you need me to say, please.”, you continue to beg as tears start to flow.

Another interlude of silence passes as you stare into emerald irises.

“Begging is a good look for you.” Wanda’s voice eases, laced with smugness. 

You swear you see a grin twitching at the corners of her lips. One of the hands your holding moves to your head, gently stroking your nape.

“You’re cute when you cry. Does this normally get you what you want?” Wanda doesn’t give you time to answer, tugging your hair slightly. 

A  breath fills your lungs at the force. Her touch was always enigmatic in how it rendered you so wanting so effortlessly. You give into her pull, eyes closing slowly. She knows all your cues, and if she needs to capitalize on those to take you back, fine. 

“All I want is you.” An admission that comes without restraint. 

It seems to please Wanda, who brings her other hand to your shoulder. You feel a teardrop roll down your cheek, which Wanda quickly brushes with her thumb.

“I told you- you’d come crawling back,” She strokes your collarbone, tracing up your neck, heating cold skin. “Tch. Fucking your way through campus just wasn’t enough.”

“Wanda-” 

You want to tell her to stop, that you get it, but she interrupts you with a sudden kiss, fast and bruising. The sandalwood you were craving floods your nostrils. She holds you in place with the hand at your shoulder. It’s not like it's necessary, you quickly give into her lips, relief flooding your veins. 

Sooner than you’d like, Wanda pushes you away, breaking the kiss. While you’re panting, dazed by the taste of her lip gloss, she’s smirking. She releases your shoulder, bringing a hand up to cup your chin, thumb stroking the sheen on your bottom lip. 

It’s a dangerous tease, and you lean forward to try and kiss her again. Wanda pulls you away gently by your hair, sucking her teeth. You close your eyes, face turning red from shame at the arousal she so easily sparks. 

“I think I like you better this way- desperate.” she says, biting her lip. Her eyes are locked on yours when unbuckle the belt at your waist. In the next moment, her hand ducks behind your waistband. 

You suck in a breath at the touch, but don’t dare move on the off-chance Wanda takes that as a reason to stop. She knows how to make you weak, though, giving light strokes that make you pant all over again. 

“Darling,” Wanda drawls, fingertips gathering the wetness pooling in your underwear. “I’ve barely touched you and you’re a mess.”

You squeeze your eyes tighter, mind hyper focusing on every moment of her fingers. 

“Aw,” she taunts with a soft voice, gripping the hair at your nape harder. “Does that sorority girl make you feel this good?” 

You’re too blinded by pleasure to muster a response. She knows she’s right without you saying it, regardless. You mentally wished you could take your jeans off without Wanda stopping.

Still, Wanda needs to hear it from you. She pulls the hands from jeans, making you open your eyes to see her lust-riddled face. Her eyebrow is raised, waiting.

“No, no one makes me feel as good as you, Wanda.” You’re left panting and dying for her to keep touching you. You’ll tell her whatever she needs to hear- it was true anyway.

It’s exactly what she wanted, and you’re rewarded tenfold with another bruising kiss. It’s long and sloppy as Wanda guides you into the hallway, pressing your back against the wall.

When she pulls away, you're both gasping for air. Wanda rests her head on your shoulder, hungry hands fully undoing your belt and pulling your pants off your ankles. Your hands are just as occupied, twisting her hoodie in your hands to pull her closer. 

“Tell me again,” she purrs in your ear. You feel her fingers graze the wet fabric of your underwear.  The hairs on your neck are electrified. Charged and needy just like she wants. 

“You’re the only one who makes me feel this way.” Your head tilts back, thudding on the dimly-lit hallway. You can still hear the party next door, still raging. 

You sink into her touch, hoping that you’ll gain even just an ounce of friction. That Wanda will pull back the black lace, using those same elegant hands to-

As quickly as your arousal builds, it ends when Wanda promptly withdrawals. She smiles at your needy, confused expression. The scarlet woman steps away, moving past more scattered textbooks and papers.  She reaches her bedroom door, opening it before turning back and motioning you forward. 

You only feel a little pathetic at how fast you follow. Wanda’s bedroom comes into view, and she sits on the edge of her bed, looking more than dignified.  You cross the small gap between her door and her bed, and her arms open, allowing you to straddle her lap. You drape your arms around Wanda’s next, becoming enveloped once more at her warmth. 

You try to capture her lips, but she pulls you back another time. 

“Why are you being such a tease?” you huff, settling on top of her legs. 

“I don’t think you’ve earned it.” Wanda speaks with the same subtle grin, caressing your thighs. 

“How many more times you need me to say it? I’m sorry, Wanda.” You bring your lips to her neck, laying mild kisses along her collarbone. You know you’re weakening any restraint she had- feeling her squeeze the subtle flesh on your legs. 

“Sorry, darling, not good enough.” Wanda shifts you, bringing her leg between yours. Her hands leave your thighs for your hips, pressing your center against her thigh. You bit your lip at the pressure to your aching core, dampness spreading from your lace to Wanda’s sweats. Far too worked up, you go for a second attempt at kissing her- which fails. You’re determined though, going for the loop on her pants- to which she swats your hand away.

Worse, she laughs at your impatient desire, making the redness on your cheeks spread anew. 

“Wanda, c’mon,” You're certain you’re gonna explode if she doesn’t let you at least kiss her.

In response, she presses her thigh harder, pulling a groan from your lips.

“I’m not gonna help you get off, darling.” You meet her eyes and they’re clouded, pupils dark. It makes the heat in your core even more insufferable. 

“It’s this or nothing.” you watch her eyes trail down your figure as she speaks.

Wanda’s completely serious, however, to your dismay. It wasn’t enough to make you beg- now she wouldn’t even give you what you wanted.

“You want me so badly, show me.” Her tone is riddled with well-placed arrogance- you didn’t just want Wanda, you needed her like oxygen. 

You’re too far in and too desperate to protest when she presses into you further. A whine escapes your lips, hips instinctively rolling against her. The coarse fabric of her pants drags along your center in a teasing pleasure. 

It’s not long before you're moaning softly, riding Wanda’s thigh with little shame. It’s not enough, though, rendering you a whiny, shaky mess above her. Wanda takes great joy in the visible dark spot on her sweats, watching every scrunch of your face and twitch of your body. 

“Aw, look at you darling,” she scoffs, “Dying for me to touch you, but you’re just happy to ride my thigh, aren’t you?” 

Her words taste like kerosene, lighting fire after fire in your nerves. This was karma, the best that you deserved, and nothing more. Despite that, your body needed more. It was pitiful, how you must look-  begging for so much and being grateful for so little. 

Your hips turn frantic as you frustratingly try to pursue your end, knots tying in your stomach. You wouldn’t know it from her words, but Wanda’s eyes never leave you- fully infatuated with your whines and moans. 

Every brush of your clit along stretched fabric is painfully good. You try shifting, centering yourself differently to get that extra pressure right where you need it. It doesn’t work, with every movement being so close to just enough. You think your mind might split into two at the sensation, nails digging into Wanda’s clothed shoulder. 

“Please, baby,” you whine, hips still rolling. You were so, so close if she just-

Your ceaseless begging puts Wanda in a rewarding move, pressing back into you to give you the right amount of friction to send you over. The high you’d been so exasperatingly chasing sneaks up on you. You swear while your vision blurs, legs clamping around her. Your hips jerk involuntarily, sending the final wave through you, clinging to Wanda like a life raft.  

Wanda lets you ride out your orgasm to its end, running her finger through your hair. When you come down and meet her eyes again, she looks much too pleased with herself. Still, her face is flushed, inviting lips parted. The recently extinguished fire is re-ignited in your core just from the sight. Wanda would always have this effect on you, you wished you’d realized that sooner.

“Please tell me I can kiss you now.” You drape your arms back over her shoulders.

A grin plasters it way onto her face. “Sure, you’ve earned it.” 

You don’t waste a second to do so, bringing your face to hers. You’re slow and intently, taking in the taste on her tongue. You rest your forehead against Wanda’s when you pull away, sighing. The air feels warm and light between you, listening to her heady pants. Maybe you didn’t deserve to have Wanda back, but you do anything to get this feeling.

You’d walk through a million snow storms for her, without question.

[testingthewatersss]

Kissing Trigger warnings for PTSD, mentions of war, torture,  etc. this one is actually pretty tame tbhBucky Barnes x F Reader Oneshot 3000 words fluff, angst, comfort & kissing. 18+ MDNI  Bucky can't stop thinking about kissing. Reader is Tony’s sister, a non-enhanced shield agent who recently resurfaced.

Kissing is something that Bucky has been fixated on for months, now.

He’s been out of the grips of HYDRA and settled into the tower for just long enough for his mind to be wondering away from the terrors that have been plaguing him ever since he’d first been dragged out of a cryo tank with blood that was on fire, and an arm that wasn’t his own.

At first, the breaks from panic had been so far and few between that he’d quarantined himself in his newly renovated bedroom and only dared to let himself within one metre of Steve, in case he suddenly forgot where he was and caused some kind of irreparable damage, but then, he’d met her…

He hadn’t meant to. He’d made every effort to avoid running into Tony’s younger sister, but then, when he had finally decided to eat, he’d snuck out of his room at three am, and he’d found her, messy haired and sketching at the breakfast bar, he’d been too stunned to run, so he stayed, and despite his initial reservations she’d rapidly become one of the only people in the world that he genuinely trusts.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” she coos, beaming at him from across the counter, “you’re starring.”

He is starring— She’s beautiful, kind, and patient, and her face is being lit by the sunlight that is just starting to pour in through the big glass windows, and despite himself, he’s been utterly captivated by the way her mouth is curling around the white coffee mug she’s drinking from.

She quirks a brow, and Bucky feels his cheeks burn red and hot as he averts his gaze from her lips.

Kissing, isn’t something he gets to do, no matter how badly he might want to.

They’re alone in the room. It’s early, and, they both know they have a couple of hours until anyone else starts to surface.

Even though he’s blushing, Bucky can’t help but let his eyes roll back up to Y/N’s face, he settles a little when he notices how her attention isn’t on him, it’s split between a book that’s propped open on the counter top and the coffee she’s holding in one of her hands.

Her teeth tug at the corner of her mouth, and he finds himself imagining what it would be like to let his thumb hover against the pink-

Stop it, Barnes, he thinks sternly, starring at a dame without her knowin' is creepy enough.

She goes to take another drink, but this time her gaze catches his. She offers him a smile, but he misses it, suddenly overwhelmed with the horrible sensation of being caught doing something wrong; He blurts out a “Sorry” that he hopes might spare him a scolding, and he makes a point of averting his eyes, focusing intently on the grey, marble surface before him.

When a soft hand lands on his cheek, he jolts back, throwing the stool out from under himself and stumbling into the wall with a crash that only startles him further.

He can’t breathe- He can’t think- The sound of something breaking is fresh in the air, and all he knows is that he’s done something wrong, that something bad is coming—

“Hey…” she exhales, calm, “You’re okay, it’s just me, alright? I’m gonna come closer”

Just like that blue eyes are wide, and once again insanely focused on Y/N’s face, though his thoughts are significantly less pleasant, this time around -

“You’re alright, I promise”

Bucky barely hears her, with the way his ears are suddenly thrumming with his panicked pulse, but still, he forces a jerky, obedient nod as the woman takes a cautious step towards him.

“I’m sorry,” she tells him next, “That was my fault- I shouldn’t have touched ya’ without askin’-”

He’s panting, his eyes are wild, and Y/N can see the way that his metal hand is scratching at the smooth surface that he’s backed himself up against.

“Bucky” she calls, a little firmer now, “Can you take a deep breath for me?”

“Y-Yeah” he gasps, “Yeah — I- I… I’ll— I-” Don’t hurt me, he thinks desperately, I’ll do whatever you want—

A single deep breath is hardly much better than the way he’d been hyperventilating before, but, she thinks, It proves he's listening.

She almost wishes he wasn’t so focused on her, though, because the look on his face is devastating to see—

He’s barely blinking, so she offers him a comforting smile, before showing him both of her hands and taking another, slow, step towards him,

“It’s just me, okay?” she purrs, “Can I touch you, sweetheart? I’m not going to hurt you, I promise”

I’m not going to hurt you

He’s heard that before, more times than he can count, and it’s almost always been followed by cruelty. But this, this is Y/N, and she’s promising him, and she’s never lied to him before.

The nod he gives her is slight, but, definitely there so, she compromises by reaching out slowly, leaving a centimetre between his cheek and the skin of her open palm.

“It’s alright-” she whispers, seeing the conflicted crease in his brow, “-You’re fine.”

Bucky can feel the heat of her hand, he wants to lean in towards her, more than anything, but he’s so used to stillness meaning safety, that he decides not to risk it.

“Shit” he gulps, voice cracking with adrenaline, “I-I didn’t mean to— t-to break anythin’…”

Don’t be angry, he pleads internally, I can't even offer to pay to fix it, I could try, I guess-

Y/N throws a glance over her shoulder. She hadn't noticed anything breaking. Not that it matters. The stool is still lying on the ground, at worst she thinks there might be a crack on the bar, from where he’s grabbed it in his panic, but she can have it's nothing that couldn't be fixed in a matter of hours. She just smiles as she looks back over at him, shaking her head and re-thinking her approach by opening her arms in invitation;

“You're fine-” she repeats, beaming as he starts to move, tentatively shuffling into her embrace, “-C’mere, Buck— did you have a rough night?”

The second he surrenders and lets his brow drop to Y/N’s waiting shoulder, he crumbles. Tears are suddenly burning behind his eyes, so he shuts them, gritting his teeth so hard that his jaw aches in his frantic attempt to stop himself from crying.

She feels the change in his posture, and wraps her arms around him, stroking his back slowly, as he fights to control his breathing.

“Did you get any sleep?”

Her question makes his heart stammer urgently. He doesn’t want to lie, but the idea of being honest in with his answer is just as sour somehow.

“I- uh,- tried—” is what he whispers, urgently, into the crook of her neck, “—I swear, it's the beds or, or something, they don't feel like they used to-”

Her heart aches at the crack in his voice, she nods, and whispers out an “I believe you” that works at easing the tension. Something in her tone, whether it’s the gentle lilt of affection, or just the way that she is really not freaked out by this whole encounter is unclear, but it's there and he loves it.

He really just loves it.

“C’mon,” she purrs, pulling back a little, “Wanna eat somethin’, with me?”

Without meaning too, Bucky clings to the fabric of her t-shirt. The idea of losing a fraction of the contact she’s giving him so readily is painful.

She’s not oblivious to the way he’s holding on to her like his life depends on it— she’s known him for long enough to know that he flickers between states of total self-inflicted isolation, and a genuine need for the skin on skin.

It makes sense, really— He’s been touched-starved for god knows how long. He’s been locked up and tortured, and worse for a lifetime, and even though everyone had been warned about his status as HYDRAs ‘attack dog’, she’s always thought that from the second he’d started to trust her, the transition to ‘lap dog’ had been awfully fast.

“I-“ Bucky whispers, “I’m—‘m not- not r-eady” I’m not ready to let go, he thinks urgently, not yet.

“Alright, sweetheart” Y/N replies with the same gentle voice he likes so much, “We've got nowhere to be”

Bucky has no idea how she always seems to know what he needs to hear, but he takes it all the same; and she doesn’t try and draw back again, not when there is no reason for her to rob him of whatever small facet of comfort he’s managing to find in her arms.

She’s more than happy to remind him that he’s with friends, now, and not strangers who hurt him for no reason.

“You got plans for today, Buck?” she asks, once the rise and fall of his chest start to regulate, “Or are you a free-agent?”

“I… t-told Steve I’d check in… he’s— he’s been worryin’ about me”

She laughs at that, quiet and soft against the side of his head.

“He’s been worryin’ about you since 1942”

That makes him crack a smile, it’s small and unsteady, but it’s there, and as he unveils his face from her shoulder, Y/N sees it, and she can’t help but reach up to stroke his cheek—

Just like that, his focus is back to kissing.

His eyes are watching the soft curve of her lips, the pressure of her fingers against the skin of his face is drawing him in, and he can almost feel her mouth on his—

Y/N doesn’t question his obvious distraction this time, she just watches patiently as he stares at her with an expression she can’t quite place;

“So…” she exhales, “…Once you’ve let Cap’ seen you’re not in mortal peril, you wanna come hang out with me in my lab?”

“Yes,” he bursts, eager to agree, “yes, p-please I— I’d… I’d like that a lot—”

Bucky loves Y/N’s lab.

He loves the way that it’s full of incredible things that she makes an effort to explain to him, over and over again, even though he barely ever understands it anyway. He loves the way he knows where he can go, and what he can touch, and how it never feels like he’s going to get into some kind of trouble for existing in there, but more than any of that, he thinks, he loves her. He loves her being there, beside him, chattering away like he’s not broken, and touching her hand against his like he hasn’t murdered people twice her size—

“I was hopin’ you might…” Y/N coos happily, snapping his attention firmly back to her face, “…You never know-” she adds, “-You might even manage to get some rest on one of the couches-”

He shoots her a longing glance and hopes earnestly that she doesn’t know how infatuated with her he is. He suspects that she does know, though, when she leans in and presses her lips against his brow.

Kissing.

Y/N is kissing him.

It only lasts a second, but it makes his breathing stop all the same.

When she pulls back, grinning and still stroking his jaw with her thumb, he feels whatever had been left of his resolve shattering.

“If you're breakin' out the puppy dog eyes” she coos, genuinely concerned by the way tears are suddenly filling his eyes, “you must want somethin'... huh? what? You wanna head down right now?”

That's exactly what he wants.

He nods, sniffing lamely as he tries not to blink in case any more emotion spreads across his face. Y/N doesn’t say anything else, she just looks over at the elevator door and waits for him to pad away from her hands, towards it.

It doesn’t take long for them to make it to her laboratory. She scans them both in, and when FRIDAY makes her usual offer of preparing the space for their use, she dismisses the AI politely, with a single request regarding the heating being turned on.

To Bucky’s initial dismay, Y/N doesn’t even look at him— she heads straight for a cupboard, where she proceeds to stand up on her tiptoes in order to reach something that he also can’t make out.

When she turns on her heels, holding a thick, dark, blanket, he’s sure he’s seeing things.

“C’mon then, sweetheart— Pick a couch, any couch”

What?

He blinks at her dumbly, still feeling tears stinging behind his eyes.

She tilts her head and chuckles, before looking around the room at the three, different loveseats;

“Do you have a preference?” she reiterates, “or-”

“I want to stay with you” he bursts, unable to hold back, “I… I mean, I— I- I like, I-“

Y/N feels her heart swelling with flattery, he’s so sweet, so hopelessly hungry for affection and companionship that the idea of anyone hurting him makes her almost irrationally angry.

“Come on then” she exhales, reaching out a hand towards him, and opening and closing her fist in invitation, “Dealers choice”

His chest stammers nervously as he lets his flesh fingers close around hers. He can’t even begin to understand why she’s being so kind to him, but she is, and he needs it. So he doesn’t ask, he just follows behind her as she leads him to a dark leather sectional that’s tucked away in the corner of the room.

“FRIDAY, can you send Cap’ a message please?-” Y/N purrs, folding down on to the plush cushions, “-Tell him that Barnes is fine, and that he’ll catch him for dinner or something later on”

“Sure thing, boss”

She’s still holding his hand, watching him with an expression so lovely that he can barely handle it.

“I-I— I-” he mumbles, “I’m— uh—“

“Exhausted” Y/N cuts in, patting the space beside her, “C’mon, sweetheart, I’ve got some readin’ to catch up on, you can curl up right here and keep me company”

That little burst of encouragement is all it takes for Bucky to fight past the embarrassment he’s feeling and settle himself on the couch, before, he very, very slowly, begins to lie himself down, with his head in Y/N’s lap.

“There” she coos, approving, “lets just-“ she adds, throwing the quilt up, over his body, “That’s better, right? nice and warm”

He can barely comprehend the niceness of his position. He’s staring up at her, wide-eyed and vulnerable, and before he knows what he’s doing, he’s bringing their tangled hands up to his lips, so that he can press a kiss against her knuckles.

The gesture is so, so lovely, that Y/N can’t help but smile down at him, reaching across with her free fingers to start to stroke his hair back, away from his brow.

“You” she whispers, “Are the sweetest guy alive, y’know that?”

He doesn’t, he doesn’t know anything close to that. So he shakes his head and feels his eyes spilling over, down across his cheeks as he lets himself close them.

Everything feels too raw. He’s tired, exposed, and in love and he hadn't realised that morning, and now he can't stop realising it and it’s too much, right now, because he doesn't know how or when it happened, but she is one of the most important people in his life, and he’s just kissed her hand, and he didn’t ask first, and he’s sorry, and he’s scared and tired, and—

“Well you are…” she says, making his frantic thoughts slam to a halt, “…You’re lovely, and charming, and handsome—”

Suddenly, he’s staring again.

“I’m sorry” he gulps, “I- I really am, Y/N/N-”

That isn’t what she’d been expecting to hear.

She shakes her head, slipping her hand down, so that she’s stroking his cheek with her thumb;

“I… I mean it” he counters, “I- I shouldn’t h-have kissed you- I-”

“What?” Y/N asks, genuinely confused, “What are you talking, about Buck?”

“Just now… I— Y-your hand, I— I, I couldn’t help it, darlin’— I- I- I’ve been thinkin’ a-about kissin’— about kissin’ you, and I— I shouldn’t have— I- I just couldn’t— I-“

He’s getting so worked up that his nostrils are flaring. It’s painful to watch, so she wastes no time in slipping the hand she’s holding up to her own lips, where she kisses his knuckles this time, effectively silencing him instantly.

“You’ve been thinkin’ about kissin’ a lot, huh?” she wonders, after a moment of silence,

Oh, god.

His face is on fire.

His eyes are full of tears again, but he can’t tear them away from her face.

She’s smiling, and he can’t help but think that she looks like an angel-

He nods, too mortified to make his confession aloud.

“and is it just me you’ve been thinkin’ about?” she presses, a lilt of humour in her tone, “or is it Natasha, too?”

“No” he bursts, “No, Y/N/N.. it…uh, it’s just you…”

Bucky knows he’s caught. He knows that no matter how humiliating this whole thing might be, that lying is only going to make it worse.

“Well” Y/N exhales, expression thoughtful, “It’s been a long time for you, sweetheart, it’s only normal that you’re gonna think about things like that-”

A strange kind of bravery washes over him for a minute, and he shakes his head, looking right at her, as he speaks,

“It’s not that, doll, it’s-” he inhales, “It's you, I didn't get it but, I, I do now and I know it’s— it’s crazy and I- I shouldn’t be tellin’ ya but I- I just want ya to know that you— you mean the world to me, and I- I-” “It has been a while, though, right?”

The teasing in her voice cuts through the intensity of the atmosphere, and despite himself, and his crippling anxiety, Bucky finds himself scoffing.

“Yeah..” he agrees, “Yeah it… it’s been a while.”

Y/N beams at him, before kissing his hand again.

“I know I just got FRIDAY to make you dinner plans with Rodgers,” she says, “But he's had plenty of chances to third wheel already- how would you feel about givin' him a rain check? that way we can talk about our feelings for each other somewhere more romantic than my lab—”

His breath catches in his throat. His fingers tighten around hers and for a horrible second, Y/N worries that she’s totally misread the situation;

“W-what do you mean ‘feelings for each other’?”

It’s her turn to blush now, even though Bucky thinks he’s never seen anyone so perfect;

“Well I…” she murmurs, “I might’ve misunderstood you, sweetheart, but it- it sounded like you were sayin’ you-”

“I do” he’s quick to assure her, “Y/N/N, I— I mean… but you— you-”

“Am kinda sweet on you too”

The man in her lap offers her a smile that splits his face- She thinks it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen, even if he’s blatantly exhausted.

“So…” she sighs, beaming back at him “…You get some rest… I’ll finish some work that I can’t make Tony’s problem and then…” she purrs, stroking her free hand through his hair, “Then we’ll see about the kissing…”

Masterlist