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ghoulyghoulsblog · 4 months

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Y/N had always cherished the quiet moments with Bucky, the nights spent in each other's arms, the way he made her feel safe and loved. It had been a whirlwind romance, starting with a chance meeting at a cozy little bookstore in Brooklyn and blossoming into something neither of them had anticipated. They had faced challenges, of course, but their bond only grew stronger.

One particular night stood out in Y/N's mind. It had been a night filled with passion, a night where they had let go of all their worries and simply existed in the moment. The memory of Bucky's touch, his whispered promises, and the way he had made her feel was something she held close to her heart.

A few weeks later, Y/N noticed she was feeling different. There was a persistent nausea in the mornings and an overwhelming sense of fatigue that she couldn't shake. She tried to ignore it at first, attributing it to stress or maybe a lingering cold. But as the days went by, the signs became harder to dismiss.

One sunny afternoon, she decided to take a pregnancy test, more out of a desire to rule out the possibility than anything else. She bought a test from the pharmacy on her way home, her heart pounding in her chest. Back in the safety of her apartment, she followed the instructions and then waited, staring at the small window on the test with bated breath.

When the result appeared, her heart skipped a beat. Two lines. Positive. She was pregnant.

A wave of emotions crashed over her – joy, fear, excitement, uncertainty. She sank onto the edge of the bathtub, clutching the test in her hand. Her mind raced with thoughts of the future, of Bucky, of how this new life would change everything.

Y/N knew she had to tell Bucky, but she wanted it to be special. He deserved a moment that matched the significance of the news. She spent the next few days planning, trying to come up with the perfect way to surprise him. Finally, she settled on an idea that felt just right.

On the evening she planned to tell him, Y/N set the stage carefully. She prepared a cozy dinner at her apartment, filled with all of Bucky's favorite dishes. She decorated the living room with soft, twinkling fairy lights and lit a few candles to create a warm, inviting atmosphere. In the center of the coffee table, she placed a small, neatly wrapped box.

Bucky arrived right on time, as always. He walked through the door with a smile, his eyes lighting up when he saw her. "Hey, doll," he greeted, pulling her into a hug. "Everything looks amazing."

Y/N returned his embrace, her heart fluttering with anticipation. "I wanted tonight to be special," she said, her voice soft but steady.

They enjoyed the meal together, chatting and laughing, the warmth between them palpable. Y/N found herself getting lost in the moment, savoring the time they spent together. But throughout the evening, her gaze kept drifting to the box on the table, her excitement building.

After dinner, they moved to the living room, settling onto the couch. Bucky noticed the box and raised an eyebrow. "What's this?" he asked, curiosity gleaming in his eyes.

Y/N took a deep breath, her nerves tingling. "It's for you," she said, handing him the box. "Go ahead, open it."

Bucky took the box, his fingers deftly unwrapping the ribbon. He lifted the lid and pulled out a small, handcrafted wooden figure. It was a soldier, meticulously carved with intricate detail. He turned it over in his hands, a puzzled expression on his face. Then, he noticed the small, folded piece of paper tucked underneath it. He opened the note, his eyes scanning the words.

"You're going to be a dad."

For a moment, Bucky was silent, his eyes wide as he processed the words. He looked up at Y/N, his expression a mixture of shock and wonder. "Y/N, are you...?"

She nodded, tears of joy brimming in her eyes. "Yes, Bucky. I'm pregnant."

A slow, radiant smile spread across Bucky's face. He reached out, pulling her into a tight embrace. "I can't believe it," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "We're going to have a baby."

They held each other for a long time, the reality of their new future sinking in. Bucky pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers. "How do you feel about it?" he asked gently.

"I'm scared," Y/N admitted. "But I'm also incredibly happy. I know it's going to be a big change, but I can't think of anyone else I'd want to go through this with."

Bucky cupped her face in his hands, his touch tender. "We're in this together, Y/N. We'll figure it out, one step at a time."

In the weeks that followed, they navigated the ups and downs of pregnancy together. Bucky was by her side at every doctor's appointment, his protective nature coming to the forefront. He would talk to her belly, whispering sweet words to their growing baby, his excitement and love evident in every gesture.

They spent nights planning and dreaming about their future, imagining the kind of parents they wanted to be. Bucky would often wake up in the middle of the night, just to check on Y/N, his hand resting gently on her growing belly, a look of awe and contentment on his face.

One evening, as they sat together on the couch, Y/N felt a fluttering sensation in her abdomen. She gasped, grabbing Bucky's hand and placing it where she felt the movement. "I think the baby just kicked," she whispered, her eyes wide with wonder.

Bucky's eyes lit up, and he gently pressed his hand against her belly. A moment later, he felt it too – a tiny, almost imperceptible kick. He looked at Y/N, his expression filled with awe. "That's our little one," he said softly, his voice choked with emotion.

As the months passed, their excitement grew along with Y/N's belly. They prepared the nursery together, Bucky carefully assembling the crib and painting the walls a soothing shade of blue. They filled the room with soft toys, books, and little clothes, each item a testament to their love and anticipation.

One night, as they lay in bed, Y/N turned to Bucky, her hand resting on his chest. "I can't wait to see you with our baby," she said, her voice filled with tenderness. "You're going to be an amazing father."

Bucky smiled, his eyes shining with gratitude and love. "And you're going to be the best mother, Y/N. I can't wait to start this journey with you."

Finally, the day arrived. Y/N went into labor, and Bucky was there every step of the way, holding her hand and offering words of encouragement. It was a long and challenging process, but when their baby finally arrived, the room was filled with a sense of profound joy and relief.

Bucky held their newborn daughter in his arms, tears streaming down his face as he looked at her tiny, perfect features. He turned to Y/N, his heart overflowing with love. "She's beautiful," he whispered. "Just like her mother."

Y/N smiled, exhaustion and happiness mingling in her expression. "We did it, Bucky. We brought her into the world."

As they settled into their new life as parents, Bucky and Y/N found that their love only deepened. They faced sleepless nights and countless challenges, but they also experienced moments of pure, unadulterated joy. Their daughter grew, bringing laughter and light into their lives.

And through it all, Bucky and Y/N knew that they were stronger together. Their love had brought them this far, and it would continue to guide them as they embraced the beautiful, unpredictable journey of parenthood.

In those quiet moments, when the world seemed to stand still and they held their daughter close, they knew that they had found something truly extraordinary. A love that could withstand anything, a family that would endure, and a future filled with endless possibilities.

#bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes imagine

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slutforsilverfoxes · 1 year

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Polaroids & Promises

When your mother had first met your boyfriend, she had made two very astute observations: He was incredibly distinguished (read: much older than she’d expected) and he was definitely a heartbreaker. At the time she’d meant the latter as a testament to his devilishly good looks, but her statement had turned out to be true in a much more literal sense.

Letting out a sigh as you toed your shoes off by the front door, you settled your winter gear and house keys on their respective hooks before making your way to the kitchen. The contents of your fridge left much to be desired, a box of Chinese takeout and an unfinished bottle of wine sitting pretty on the second shelf, a sad cast of recurring characters in your post-breakup misery. Pointing at the Merlot, you declared, “I’ll be back for you soon.”

Although you wanted nothing more than to curl up with a trashy romance novel and the cheap wine, your career didn’t care how sad you were; work needed doing and therefore laundry needed washing. After shedding your work attire and scrubbing the day from your body with a hot shower, you carried the sizable buildup of clothes down the hall to the laundry room. You began sorting the delicates from your regular wash, pausing mid-squat at an unfamiliar shade of red peeking out from the bottom of the hamper. Tossing t-shirts and work pants aside, a traitorous prickle of hot tears momentarily blurred the stark white USMC before you. Releasing a ragged breath, you pulled the hoodie to your face and inhaled deeply, the fabric muffling your sob as the smell that you had come to think of as home overwhelmed your senses. Seven months of memories played in your head in the span of mere seconds, quiet nights on the couch, steaks cooked by the fire, the scraping of a sander against wood.

You missed Jethro more than words could describe. You missed his warmth, his touch, his teasing remarks. You missed visiting him at work, and sharing entire conversations with Tony consisting only of movie quotes, and nerding out with Tim over the latest Game of Thrones episode, and bonding with Ziva over a few hours at the range, and going to concerts with Abby, and trading interesting cases with Jimmy. You missed insightful talks with Ducky about life and opera and the enigma that is his friend and your lover. You missed the sight of matching keys on the hook next to yours and work boots in the hallway. You missed trading sections of the paper over morning coffee. You missed the quiet protest of the bed when he slipped in beside you well past midnight.

You missed having someone to come home to.

Swiping at your eyes, you abandoned the task at hand in lieu of moping in your bedroom, but first doubling back to enlist the company of your trusty red. You settled down on the floor at the foot of your bed and eased the cork out of the mouth of the bottle, taking a hearty swig as you pulled your wooden memory box into your lap. Running your fingers over the intricate pattern on top, you recalled the day Jethro had gifted you the handcrafted piece for all of those pictures you force me to be in, he had admitted with a begrudging smile. You took out the stack of Polaroids, spreading them out on the floor before you as you gulped down another mouthful of wine. Although the dates were printed at the bottom of each photo, you could easily track the progression of your relationship by the way Jethro’s visage grew less grumpy and more smiley over time. A teardrop splattered across the shiny surface of one of your pictures, and you were quick to wipe it off without smudging the writing on the bottom. You finished off the last dregs of red wine and with it, your crumbling resolve, and you dialed ten digits on your cellphone purely via muscle memory.

Jethro’s voice in your ear made your heart twinge, even if it was just to tell you to leave a message. Taking in a shuddering breath, you opened with a brilliant, “Hey, it’s me.” Cringing, you soldiered on. “You’re probably still at work, because that’s- that’s what you do, isn’t it? Work yourself to the bone, people who care about you be damned. Sorry,” you sighed, immediately reneging on the snarky comment. “That’s not fair of me to say. I admire you and the work you do, you know that, right? It’s just that, well, Ducky had warned me this would happen, that you have a hard time separating yourself from the job. I guess I thought I could stop it or delay it or something, but I couldn’t. And now it’s-” You paused to squint at the digital clock on your nightstand. “-a quarter after ten on a Wednesday night, and I’m wine drunk, and I miss you so much that I called just to hear your voice on a goddamn answering machine. I mean, c’mon, Jet, who still has a landline these days? Christ, this is fucking pathetic. Maybe I should get a cat or some-” The phone beeped at you, indicating that you’d reached the time limit on the machine. Dropping your head into your hands, you groaned out, “Oh my god.”

You heaved a sigh, then delicately returned your treasured memories to their keepsake box before replacing it on the desk. Deciding that the crisp winter air would do you good, you slipped into your coat and boots, locked up, and headed outside for a late night walk.

_______

“I mean, c’mon, Jet, who still has a landline these days?” Jethro chuckled softly at the incredulity in your tone, tuning back in to your message just as it got cut off. He poured himself another splash of bourbon, then downed it in one go, finger already itching to replay the rambling message for the third time in as many minutes just to bask in the sound of your voice for a few more precious moments. He heard the stairs creak and emptied out a mug of miscellaneous screws and fasteners under the assumption that Tobias was joining him to discuss their progress on the case. Instead, the voice he was so desperately craving to hear floated downstairs to him.

“You really should lock your doors. Never know what sort of unsavory character could wander in off the street.”

Turning to face you as you reached the bottom step, he rumbled out, “So that’s where my favorite hoodie’s been hiding.” There was a distinct edge to his voice as he silently took in your bleary eyes and slightly disheveled appearance.

“I took a cab,” you said softly, immediately recognizing the heat in his glare as concern at the thought of you driving in your current state. “Can I come in?”

“You’re already in,” he responded, not quite curt, but not exactly warm either. Still, he hooked his ankle around the stool beside him and pulled it out, simultaneously pouring two fingers of his signature bourbon into the awaiting mug on the workbench. You took that as an invitation to join him, closing the remainder of the space between you and accepting the amber liquid as you perched on the seat. Gathering your courage, you took a sip and offered, “I missed this gasoline with a side of tetanus.”

“I missed your unparalleled wit,” he shot back, the corner of his mouth lifting with mirth.

“Hey, so, random question,” you forced out through a laugh, “have you checked your messages yet today? Just wondering cause I-” Your words caught in your throat when Jethro suddenly framed your face with his hand, the familiar ridges of his callouses pressing against your skin as he molded his mouth to yours. He pulled back just as abruptly, eyes wide with the realization of the wounds he had reopened and muttered, “Sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” you whispered, entwining your fingers with his on the workbench. Not yet able to meet his gaze, you clarified, “Don’t apologize. Not for that, at least.”

“Y/N-”

“No, actually, you know what?” You finally dared to look up at him, taking in the scruff dotting his cheeks and the dark circles beneath his lower lids that no doubt mirrored your own. Hot tears brimmed at your water line as you continued with a ferocity, “You don’t get to turn those pretty blue eyes on me and kiss me and make me forget about the terrible month I’ve had without you. I’m so mad at you. So mad.” You punctuated this thought with a sharp prod to his firm chest. “I wanted you to fight for me. For us. But no! You decided the best course of action was inaction, and I had to be the bad guy. And you know what the worst fucking part about all this is?”

He bit the inside of his cheek, shaking his head before pulling you into his arms. You melted into his embrace, all of the fight draining out of you as you confessed, “I’m not really mad at you. I’m mad at myself for being so naive.”

“Oh, my love,” he breathed out, squeezing you tight until your tears subsided. “You deserve so much better.”

Pulling back so you could look into his shiny eyes, you huffed, “That’s just it, you idiot. I want you to be better.” Lifting your joined hands to your lips, you pressed kisses to his knuckles before whispering, “I need you to choose me, just like I choose you every day. I want to build a life with you, to grow old with you-”

“One of us is already old,” he cut in with a cheeky grin, forcing a laugh out of you.

“Fine,” you amended, “I want to grow older with you, grumpy.”

“I want that, too,” he confessed quietly, the intensity in his eyes stealing your breath away. “The thing is, angel, I did choose you. I just thought you would be better off without me, and that if you left you’d be angry instead of hurt.”

“You- what?” you spluttered. “I should smack you upside the head for that, you stupid, infuriating man. What kind of dumb reverse psychology is that, Jethro? I just thought you would be better off without me,” you mimicked in a deep voice. Jabbing your finger into his chest again, you repeated, “Stupid.”

Grabbing your outraged finger as leverage, he pulled you closer and pressed his lips against yours once more, hands coming up to cup your cheeks and thumbs rubbing soothingly against your skin until your righteous anger boiled down to a controlled simmer. You let out a sigh as his mouth left yours, then beckoned him forward again. “One more.” He placed a kiss on the corner of your mouth. “Another.” This time, the opposite side. “Keep ‘em coming.” He chuckled warmly before dotting gentle kisses all over your face until you graced him with a smile.

“Honey, listen,” Jethro said, growing serious as he guided you back down to sit across from him but keeping a firm grip on your hand, “I know I went about this in entirely the wrong way, and I’ll spend every day for the rest of my life making up for it.”

“Yeah, you’d better,” you grumbled playfully, squeezing his hand.

“And you know I’m not big on moon phases and star signs and all that-”

“We’ll work on it.”

Fixing you with a look and tweaking your nose affectionately, he continued, “But I’m pretty sure most people don’t get lucky enough to find two soulmates in one lifetime. Shannon would never let me hear the end of it if I let you get away again.”

“Oh, Jet,” you sighed, leaning forward to press your forehead against his. “The day I realized I was in love with you, I made your girls a promise that I would take care of you. Help me keep that promise, okay?”

“I will,” he whispered, two simple words, a solemn pledge. “Now let’s go upstairs so you can tell me what I’ve missed and call me stupid a bunch more times.”

“Deal,” you laughed, taking his hand so he could help you up. “Can I just check the answering machine real quick before we-”

“Nope,” Jethro cut you off, pulling you into his side and squeezing your hip as you ascended the stairs together. “I’m keeping that message forever. Maybe even quote it in my vows one day.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

#jethro gibbs #jethro gibbs x reader #jethro gibbs x you #jethro gibbs x y/n #jethro gibbs imagine #leroy jethro gibbs #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs x you #leroy jethro gibbs x y/n #leroy jethro gibbs imagine #gibbs x reader #ncis #ncis imagine #ncis fanfiction #ncis gibbs #ncis x reader #hurt/comfort

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th3-c0rps3-r0gu3 · 1 year

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hidden sadness.

pairings: Natasha X fem reader.

Warnings: depression, lots of sadness. Swearing. Thoughts of self harm. Yelling.

Happy ending tho.

A/n: this is a vent post. And Natasha is only a year older than y/n in this. Please do not mind me dumping my bottled up sadness here.

Y/n had joined the Avengers when she was 23. She had been hoping for a new start. And she had always been really good with daggers. Like exceptionally good. So she had gained the avengers trust quite easily.

The avengers would describe y/n as walking sunshine. She was always able to cheer someone up or just bring the happiness level up in general. It was a known fact that y/n was friends with every avenger. Every avenger other than Natasha Romanoff. For some inexplicable reason Natasha hated y/n. However despite Natashas dislike for her y/n was always kind towards her.

Natasha would describe y/n as a clingy childish girl who never experienced the hardships if the world and probably had everything handed to her on a silver platter. And the only reason that y/n was on the avengers was because her dad brought her a place and claimed she was good with daggers.

Nobody had actually seen y/n handle a dagger. But every mission y/n went on came out successful so they assumed she was as good as she claimed. Everyone but Natasha who suspected y/n just had someone else do the job for her.

Y/n however was far from either of the avengers expectations. She was a happy ball of sunshine on the outside but inside was a while nother story. In all reality y/n was sad. Desperately sad. Y/n found it hard to even get up of a morning. She forgot meals and basic health things. Luckily she could easily brush it off as simple forgetfulness as it fit her personality.

Despite y/n desperately wanting to tell someone, anyone, about her sadness she couldn't. Not the avengers. They had enough issues to deal with as well as their own sadness. Y/n's mother didn't understand. She tried to but she couldn't grasp her daughter's depression. And y/n's father had left for another woman a year ago. Not that that changed anything as he basically ignored y/n her whole life. So y/n bottled her sadness. Well she had one place she put it. A blog she had. There she could dump all her emotions under an alias where noone would recognise her and tell the other Avengers.

On social media y/n went under "inej". Her favourite book character whom she shared her dagger and knife skill with. Y/n's blog was her safe haven. The one place where she could be y/n y/l/n and not just "the silver blade" which was her hero name. Nobody but y/n's followers knew about y/n's depression. If it's even depression. Y/n don't know. All she knew was she was sad.

"hey y/n you think you could show us your daggers?"

Kate asked from beside yelena. The other Avengers turned to look at y/n.

"sorry Kate not today. Maybe another day."

Y/n responded shooting Kate an apologetic look. Y/n didn't like to show her daggers to others. They were special. Her grandma handcrafted them specially for y/n before she passed away. She had left y/n with twenty daggers in a wooden box with a glass lid. It was important to y/n as it was the last thing her grandma ever gave her.

"of course you cant. Because they don't exist. Admit it y/l/n you use your father's power to get your missions done."

Natashas voice broke y/n out of thought. It was cold and cruel but y/n was used to it.

"sorry to disappoint Natasha but I don't use my father's status to get missions done. I do have daggers but I can't show them to you. It's personal and I've said that."

Y/n gave Natasha smile. Natasha had always been y/n's favourite avenger. It saddened her more that Natasha hated y/n. Natasha simply scoffed at y/ns words and smile.

"what's personal about daggers. Their just fancy knives."

Natasha's insult hurt. Not that y/n would ever show it.

"leave it alone nat."

Steve said frowning. Natasha glared at him before leaving the room.

"sorry for her behaviour y/n."

Steve said then turning to y/n.

"it's fine Steve. I'm used to it. I know she'll eventually get over it."

Y/n responded calmly. She then hesitated.

"I'm gonna go to my room though. I feel awkward now. I'll see you all later ok."

Y/n then finished. The avengers nodded and y/n retreated to her room.

Y/n had a simple room in which no one but her was aloud in. It had bookcases lining two walls and a bunk bed with a study area underneath in the corner. There was a picture frame that held two photos. One of y/n with her mother and the other of y/n with her grandma the day she gifted y/n the daggers. Under said photos was the box contained the daggers. The daggers were intricately decorated with dragons or crows. Dragons because y/n adored them and crows as a reference to y/n's favourite book duology, six of crows.

Y/n climbed up to her bed and lay down grabbing her phone to dump her emotions on social media. Opening her blog she created a post. It just went on about how her friend group had one person who hated her despite her attempts at being friendly. And her slight struggles to deal with her depression and not being able to discuss it. After posting she turned off her phone and lay down sighing. Y/n didn't feel much better. She glanced back at the daggers. What if... No. She couldn't. She wouldn't. She didn't have the heart to do it. Let alone deal with her mother's sadness or the avengers sadness if she was caught. Besides her suit was sleeveless. Y/n buried the thought to the back if her mind.

A few hours had passed now. Wanda called everyone down for a team meal. Y/n wasn't hungry. She made the simple excuse of she wasn't hungry and went back to her room. Not after getting another snarky remark from Natasha though. This time a dig at her size. Y/n wasn't big but she wasn't skinny like the others either. It wasn't a bad thing and y/n knew that but it still hurt.

Once back in her room y/n turned in her music and as 'devil town' by cavetown came on she pulled out her sketchbook and drew. That was y/n's only other coping mechanism that kept her away from sh. Other than reading, drawing was one of the only things y/n legitimately enjoyed anymore. As the lines started to take a shape y/n realised she was drawing a realistic heart that was cracked open and bleeding. Disturbing but accurate to y/n's emotions currently. Mean while downstairs the other Avengers were arguing with Natasha.

"you can't say that natasha. It could really hurt her feelings y'know."

Wanda scolded. Natasha rolled her eyes.

"she's a cinnamon bun Wanda she's fine."

Natasha said. Wanda frowned at Natasha and was about to make another comment when Yelena interupted.

"can we not do this over dinner. You two can have your quarrel after food."

Wanda and Natasha sighed before sitting back down. Everyone ate in silence as the obvious tension between Wanda and Natasha was uncomfortable.

The next few weeks went by almost the same. Y/n continued her happy persona and Natasha continued to make hurtful jabs while the other Avengers disapproved. Y/n continued to act like it didn't matter. Then Natasha and y/n were assigned the same mission. It was simple. Break into HYDRA put the information on the hard drive and then blow up the place. Easy right. Wrong. Natasha was furious.

"why can't I do it on my own!?"

Natasha fumed at fury. Y/n stood there silent.

"I don't need some happy go lucky daddies girl bugging me as she fakes being an avenger!"

That actually hurt y/n and she flinched though nobody noticed.

"well there's obviously some drama between you both and you need to figure it out. Besides the other Avengers need a break."

Fury remained professional despite the red head yelling at him. Before Natasha could even think of a response fury left. Natasha whipped around to face y/n.

"you better not fuck this up or I will fuck you up got that daddies girl."

Natashas voiced dropped with venom at this statement and y/n simply nodded. The black widow proceeded to storm out of the room leaving y/n to mull over this situation.

The day of departure was the hardest y/n ever experienced. She felt so heavy. It was unbearable to leave the sanctuary of her bed let alone her bedroom. Despite all odds she managed to get up and grab her daggers and change in time to meet Natasha. Y/n had also grabbed a couple books and her sketchpad. This was not a single day mission and y/n knew she was gonna need some coping mechanisms or else things would go south.

Y/n met Natasha at the launch pad to board the quinjet. Natasha scowled at y/n and went on about her nearly being late. Y/n was early. They boarded and started the long flight to the HYDRA base.

The majority of the flight Natasha scowled at y/n and made harsh comments. Y/n simply read to drown it out. As soon as they landed and headed to the hotel they were staying at Natasha made almost silent judgements about the way y/n held and carried herself. Y/n simply sighed and tried to ignore it. They checked into the hotel and entered their room. Lucky for them it had two beds. Y/n set up to the one next to a window and natasha on the one closest to the door.

The first night y/n and Natasha needed to discuss plans if the break in. That was mostly Natasha telling y/n what to do and ignoring any statements y/n made before bringing them up later as if her own ideas. Y/n went along with it.

The next day they were to stake out the base. It went as well as one could anticipate from Natasha and y/n. Natasha constantly criticized y/n and said she was too obvious and how this was just proof of her faking her missions successes. It ended worse. Y/n had ended up in a trap and Natasha had to get her out before HYDRA agents found them. It was worse when back at the hotel.

"how could you be so stupid! Had I known you were this shitty I would've demanded a new partner till I got one! You jeopardized the whole mission you know that right!? Your not an avenger. Your a pathetic excuse who only got to join the team cos her daddy brought her a spot."

Natasha yelled. Y/n blocked out the rant. She had heard enough if Natashas rants to know the lines this one would take. Bla bla ball you could've got us caught. Bla bla bla your a failure. Bla bla bla daddy's girl. That was all Natasha's rants. Soon however Natasha ran out of air and stormed into the bathroom to take a shower. Y/n decided to make a post for her blog.

'inej':

-hey guys. I think screwed up again. It's all I ever seen to do now a days. I truly feel like a failure. I could've gotten my friend in trouble on accident. I've also been left alone with the friend who hates me. I keep fucking up and I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm trying. But sometime it feels like it's not enough. Stay safe.-

Y/n posted it and then turned off her phone before pulling out a book to read the rest of the night. Y/n knew sleep was not gonna be an option tonight. Sleepless nights were more common now.

Today was the infiltration day. Today was the important day. And y/n could only think about how she was gonna fuck up. Natasha got ready and y/n joined her outside. They were soon both outside the base again.

"ok I'm doing all the work as your incapable of doing anything right. Just follow my orders and maybe you won't fuck this up."

Natasha demanded. Y/n nodded. Natasha then lead y/n in.

At first everything was going smoothly. Till Natasha was downloading the information and it tripped a security alarm. HYDRA agents filled the room and Natasha and y/n were fighting for their lives while gathering the information. Y/n didn't have time to grab her daggers and she wasn't too good at hand to hand combat without them. That and the sleepless night and y/n was fighting terribly. Natasha obviously noticed and took it as y/n being incapable of doing the mission and a liar like she thought. Then Natasha saw the files were downloaded. She quickly went to retrieve the USB and turned to yell at y/n to ditch before g/n barged into Natasha and a bullet was shot. Y/n yelled at Natasha to grab the USB and run and that she had the bombs to blow it up. Natasha did run. She felt no obligation to help y/n. Soon after Natasha was out y/n got the time to whip out her daggers and soon the agents were dead. Y/n planted the bombs and exited the building and blew it up. Y/n met with Natasha at the hotel room.

"what the fuck were you thinking!? You nearly got me killed. Your pathetic attacks were useless! We could if failed because of you. Let alone you jumping at me!? And where are you stupid daggers huh!? I never even saw a blade in your hands!"

Natasha screamed. Y/n was tired and bleeding. Littlest did Natasha realise was y/n had take a bullet for natasha. Had she not jumped at Natasha she would if died. But all Natasha was doing was yelling at y/n for saving her life. No. She had enough.

"I jumped at you to take a goddamn bullet!"

Y/n finally gestured to the bleeding wound in her chest. Natasha shit up but before she could speak y/n began to yell this time.

"and the reason I didn't pull out my daggers was because I didn't have an opening to! I saved your stupid life and what I get is being screamed at!? I've tried so hard to get to where I am now. And you daddies girl comments sting y'know. And if you knew jackshit you'd know that my father left my mother for another woman a year ago. Even before that he hardly acknowledged my existence! I have tried so hard to be good at this but I can't! I'm just sad all the time. I struggle to get out of bed. Yet I try to keep you and the other Avengers happy because I don't want to bring down high spirits! Maybe this was a mistake and that being an avenger was a shit decision but I enjoy it! Or I did."

Y/n finished her rant and then looked at a shell shocked Natasha. The y/n pulled out her bloody daggers.

"and those non existent daggers are here."

Natasha now stared at the daggers. Then she eyed the bullet wound.

"i.. I'm sorry. I didn't know."

She said almost shakily.

"no. You didn't know. You don't bother to know. To know Ive been miserable near you. I've thought about self harming before but you have nearly made me actually do it! And y'know what. Maybe I should. Just to relieve the pain you cause me!"

Y/n shouted. Natasha looked scared at the mention of self harm.

"don't do that. Don't even think of that. Please I'm sorry. I didnt... I'm sorry. I am truly sorry."

Natasha said. Concern was written all over natashas face as tears streamed down y/n's. Natasha stepped forward.

"Please dont, cut yourself..."

Natasha begged. Y/n looked away.

"it's just so hard.. you making comments. Being judged about the fact I won't show my daggers because I'm not ready to face the fact that if I show them I'll need to say who gave them to me and then that leads to grandma's death.. I cant. I can't admit she's gone because if she is then I'm lost.."

Y/n practically sobbs. Natashas eyes widen at your explanation of why you refused to show your daggers. Natasha then wrapped y/n in a hug.

"I'm sorry. I was just jealous. I thought you had a privileged childhood and got everything you needed and was upset because that privilege was taken from me. I'm so sorry. I never meant to take effect in you like I did."

Natasha whispered. Y/n simply leaned into Natasha's arms.

The rest of that night was filled with, Crying, hugs, admitting troubles and making up. The two women then became friends and returned to the compound as such. They proceeded to confuse the fuck out of the other Avengers as they had departed basically enemies and now y/n and Natasha were arm in arm. Natasha explained everything and y/n was taken to therapy. Things soon got better. And eventually Natasha and y/n grew into more than friends.

A/n: the ending is shit but I didn't know how else to do it. (I redid it like 20 times). Lmk if it's shit or not. Not that I care this is just me emotion dumping lol.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x you #black widow #natasha x y/n #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #black widow x reader #wanda maximoff #avengers x reader #the avengers #mcu #steve rogers #kate bishop #yelena belova

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kalpanahandmadepaper · 20 days

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https://kalpanapapers.com/collections/handmade-paper-box

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fedzkun · 1 year

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Oh no! The merch villains are tormenting Izuku again!

#bnha #midoriya izuku #dadmight #yagi toshinori #gentry be like: ‘Fedz you sadist!’ and I am like: ‘Gentry my good friend you have no idea’#bnha poll

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fourseasonsfigs · 1 year

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Taolin Forest Wen Kexing (Handcrafted)

This beautiful figure showed up on the artist's Xianyu page as an immediately available in-stock piece, and I pounced on it. You can tell by my profile pic how much I like this costume, after all!

The artist works in ultralight clay, which has been a new medium to me, and so far I've been impressed. It is very light (as the name suggests!) and appears to be extremely flexible. I was initially very worried about her figures breaking in transport, as they all have very delicate thin little details, but everything seems surprisingly sturdy. It bends, but doesn't deform, and doesn't seem to break with careful treatment. I do baby my figs, but shipping / customs is always a wild card.

For something like this, I would normally absolutely air column wrap it to protect it from crushing damage. I don't worry about the fig breaking parts off - I worry about it getting squished! If this fig got crushed it would certainly destroy it, given all the thin, flat loops of clay making up most of this figure.

But, I didn't have to, because the artist packed it in a rigid styrofoam cooler box. This is of course deadly on the shipping fees, especially since my warehouse flags the wooden base as air freight only. But, the only thing worse than paying volumetric air freight charges is getting a crushed figure, so what can you do?

I too am deeply disappointed by my lack of quality unboxing photos. Why did I not remove this top layer of bubble wrap? NOBODY KNOWS.

This is an extremely tall figure, by far my largest figure by a wide margin. The full size, including base, is 27 cm, of which 2cm is the base. This makes the figure itself about 10 inches high for us Americans.

The fan is not clay but paper, which was a nice surprise. I would have been fine either way, but I like the paper. I'm also very appreciative that the artist included it in this rigid plastic box so keep it from getting squished inside the protective cooler. Box. Protective box.

Here he is without the fan. He's gorgeous! You can really see the detail on his belt and his long, elegant fingers.

In fact, here's a closeup of those hands and the beautiful detail on the belt. His fingers may look even a bit longer than you might expect, but that's because they need to hold the fan. You can even see the slight indent for the fingernails. This artist is just amazing. She says she puts her whole heart into crafting these figures, and you can tell.

Holding the fan as so. If you don't think I wasn't a little stressed out carefully wedging the fan in between those beautiful fingers, you have somehow (incredibly) missed all the other cases of my fig related anxiety on this blog. I'm not even a high stress person! Normally.

Alright, let's spin this beauty around, shall we?

My camera decided to focus on many things, but Wen Kexing's perfect face was not always one of them. So we'll get some closeups. But first, let's do our bottoms-up and top-down pics:

Please do note the beauty mark on the middle finger of his right hand!

For size comparison, here's Wen Kexing with his OG official fig counterpart:

You can definitely see what I mean by how big this fig is! Maybe I should call it a statue instead of a fig.

Alright, time for our close ups.

Just beautiful. I'll need to commission a matching A-Xu in the Taolin forest costume so I can have them heading off to Siji Manor.

This figure was an incredible price - less than $50 USD. An absolute bargain. I can't even imagine the time that went into this. This was less expensive than other individual figures or pairs of this size, so perhaps I just got lucky with the artist clearing space.

I had really wanted semi-realistic figures like this when Word of Honor was released and I watched it for the first time, so getting this now makes me really happy. The artist also had a snowy mountain set that I picked up around the same time, which should be arriving here relatively shortly. Please look forward to it! I can't wait myself.

Material: Ultra-light clay

Fig Count: 386

Scene Count: 26

Rating: Pure artistry

[link back to Master Fig Index for more posts]

#wen kexing #lao wen #word of honor #word of honor merch #gong jun #figthusiast #wenzhou

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izzyzalezbian · 1 year

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can you do one where link just takes one of revalis feathers and keeps it and Revali finds out

Ofc!!

Ok, Annon I won't lie to you, I don't think this is what you wanted, or what you meant when you sent this, but I hope you still enjoy it! Even if it's a little different than you wanted

______________________________

There's a small box hidden under Link's bed, pushed to the back, where only the box, dust, and darkness lived. It's wooden, with the most intricate designs of flowers and trees tracing every inch of the box's surface. It was handcrafted, painstakingly chipped at with a broken, old hand knife. At least, that's what the little old lady had told him when selling him the box, and he'd never be one to deny the possibility of him getting scammed by little old ladies.

The box, though small, and shoved into the farthest corner of his room, is priceless to him. It holds an invaluable weight to his heart, one that only the most vain and foolish of Hylians would try to measure.

But, when he's stretched on the floor, covering his freshly cleaned tunic in a thick layer of dust and dirt, all in an attempt to reach that box all the way in the back, he begins to doubt the truth of that statement. He loves his box, sure, but his tunic really is a pain to wash.

Despite this, Link keeps moving, inching towards his box. It is his box, and if it is a pain and struggle to grab, then it is his own fault for being so secretive that he couldn't even stand to keep his box unhidden in his own, locked, house.

It's a long minute Link spends on the floor, struggling to shove enough of himself under the bed frame to reach his box, but Link has done nothing else in his life than persevere, and that's exactly what he does now. With a hand wrapped around the box, he quickly shoots out from under the bed.

The bed frame shakes, and the wall he had accidentally kicked himself into groans. Link, however, pays no mind to either of those facts. Instead, he checks to make sure the box is in hand, and that he hadn't accidentally grabbed a rat (again).

The box is, fortunately, what he grabbed this time. The carved wood sits in his hand, the small golden lock on the front glinting at him.

He thinks he should pick himself up, sit on something other than the floor, when holding his box. But Link has never been a man to listen to reason or thought, and so he stays on the floor.

The tremble in his hand is not unexpected as he picks at the small lock. Despite that, his box and his box's hinges don't even creak the littlest bit when he opens it. The swell of pride that fills his chest is one that Link thinks shouldn't be there, but in this moment, he ignores it.

The feather that sits in the bottom of his box is a dark navy, one that gleems in the lamp light like flint against fire. It's mesmerizing, just as mesmerizing as it was the first time Link had seen it.

His free hand hovers over the box, but it never breaks the barrier, never moves to actually touch the feather.

He remembers how he found it, tucked into the farthest corner of Vah Medoh, somewhere where only the darkness, dust, and the feather lived. He'd never stopped to consider why, or even how, a feather, one an identical color to Revalis, had managed to survive even after a hundred years. Link had only seen it by chance through the corner of his eye, and known he needed it. He never thought of it past that.

It'd taken four tries, and more than one spear shoved into the tight corner to reach it. But he'd gotten it, and, like now, he'd held it like it was the most priceless artifact in the world.

The feather had been heavy then, heavier than the box that was currently laid in his hand.

The feather had been tucked away, hidden with the rest of the feathers that lined his Rito gear. It had stayed there, almost as if it was sewed in, through all his trials, and even during his fight with Wind Blight. There had been other feathers, ones that came with the Rito gear, ones that had been sewn in, that had flown away in the fight. But never his navy blue feather. Never Revalis.

As Link stares at the feather in the box, and as he feels the weight of Revali's Gale in his chest, he wishes he had at least tried to give it back. He wishes he could pretend he'd at least forgotten to offer, forgotten the navy feather, the only of it's kind on his belt. But, Link could never lie to himself, and he would not lie about the hand that had been expertly placed over the feather, deliberate in all the worst ways, to keep it the Rito's gaze.

Nor would he ever lie about the short moment after he'd received Revali's Gale, where his hand had flown away from his belt, and his feather. Of course, he'd never lie about Revali's icy gaze, capable of seeing things even Link himself could not. And he'd never deny the pinched look that had crossed Revali's face, an expression that felt both foreign and known to Link, an expression that Link had no hope of deciphering then, and had no hope of deciphering now.

Link would not lie about these things, because Link is not a liar.

But Link would gladly ignore it, because he'd never denied being a coward.

He shuts the box, silent once again. He wastes no time in sliding it under his bed, right back to its corner. Hidden, where only the dust, darkness, and his small, small box lived.

#botw #botw link #botw revali #revali #revalink #implied revalink #im so sorry 😭#anyway #keep the prompts coming!! im having sm fun!#loz #izzy writez

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mac-lilly · 9 months

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Alone together

Happy last Juke Jeudi of 2023!

(I'm still sick - so this doesn't make much sense.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆

When she climbs up the wooden ladder, Julie is not surprised to find the loft occupied. She has expected as much.

Luke’s hiding in the farthest corner, body mostly obscured by cardboard boxes and other junk. He’s awfully still. And that’s all wrong.

Luke’s never still. Not even in death.

With a sigh, she hoists herself up on the landing and carefully weaves through trash bags of clothes and Carlos’ discarded ghost-hunting equipment. The floorboards creak with every step. She rounds another box – this one has CHRISTMAS written across its front. Curious, Julie peers inside. It contains a golden star inside as well as a few plastic bags with handcrafted paper ornaments that she and her mom made a few years ago.

Julie frowns. Her dad gathered all the Christmas decorations the other day, but this one must have escaped him. Julie idly wonders if she should bring it downstairs. He’s surely looking for this one. But she’s come here for a different reason, which she needs to focus on first.

Shaking her head, she turns her attention back to Luke.

He’s the picture of misery. He’s hunched over, arms slung around his knees. His thick, worn flannel with the familiar plaid pattern is wrapped around his torso like a blanket. The lighting in the loft is terrible. But there’s a dusty skylight just above Luke’s head. The tears on his cheeks glisten in the hazy sunlight.

Julie’s heart shatters. Suddenly, doubts begin to creep into her mind. Maybe this is a terrible idea. Maybe she should just turn around and leave. There’s still the excuse of the forgotten box of Christmas supplies that she could use and …

But Luke has long sensed her presence. He shuffles in his spot, using the movement as a disguise to dry his tears and clean off his face.

It’s all Julie needs.

Squashing down the idea of abandoning him – now the very thought makes her feel pathetic and a bit nauseous – she takes another tentative step in his direction.

“Hey …,” she says, forcing a smile that doesn’t feel right. It just makes her cheeks hurt.

Luke rubs at his eyes with the sleeve of his flannel one last time before lifting his head, meeting her gaze.

“Hey,” he responds, voice raspy and raw. “What’s up, boss?”

He tries to smile back. But the outcome is abysmal. His smile is wary and doesn’t quite reach his eyes, which are puffy and red-rimmed.

Julie doesn’t comment on it. In fact, she doesn’t say a word. Instead, she settles down beside him, drawing her knees to her chest. As she moves, she feels his eyes on her, tracking her every movement. His brows are knitted together; concern and a hint of fear are etched into his features. The sight almost breaks Julie’s heart again.

Closing her eyes for a moment, Julie draws in a shaky breath, then …

“The second year is worse.”

Luke blinks at her, confused. He can’t follow her.

Julie swallows around the lump that is forming in her throat.

“Last year was my— our first Christmas without mom.” Her voice is low – like a whisper – but surprisingly steady. “But at the same time, it kinda wasn’t. We didn’t celebrate it last year. Not really. We didn’t put up any lights or decorations. We didn’t even have a tree. We did get presents, though.”

A tiny, sheepish smile steals on her lips at her last confession. But it wears off quickly, leaving an odd, hollow feeling in its wake. Hugging her knees tightly, she continues.

“It was all too fresh, I guess. There wasn’t enough time for the implications to sink in. But this year …” Julie pauses, unsure how to put it into words. “I know Dad wants us to feel normal this year. He wants to do Christmas the way we used to – when Mom was still alive. But that’s …” She swallows again, shaking her head to chase off the unwelcome yet familiar sensation of tears pricking at her eyes. “No matter how much time will pass, it’ll never be the same again. Because Mom’s gone.”

Julie’s voice cracks with emotion, and she has to take a few calming breaths to regain control. Meanwhile, she risks a glance at Luke to gauge his mood. She half expects him to be annoyed by her monologue, maybe a bit bored.

But all she finds is understanding. Compassion is shining in Luke’s eyes, and there’s even a hint of a genuine smile on his face. He’s been hanging on her lips the whole time.

It’s the reassurance she needs.

“You miss your mom; I miss mine. So I thought, maybe we can miss them together?”

There’s an edge to her voice, almost a plea, and then her voice is gone. Instead of words, a heavy sob flees her throat. Her tears begin to flow freely, and suddenly, her nose is clogged up. She sniffles.

Maybe she should be embarrassed. Under different circumstances, she certainly would be. But she isn’t. Not around Luke. Never around Luke. Luke, who seems surprised at her proposition. But only for a moment. His surprise fades quickly, and the look on his face turns into an expression of stunned awe. It's a sight that never fails to make the swarm of tiny butterflies in her stomach flutter with excitement.

Then, Luke's smile is back in place, and he reaches out, attempting to wipe her tears away. But his thumb phases through her skin, making her cheek tingle.

Luke groans in frustration.

“This sucks.”

It does. But Julie doesn’t mind.

Okay, maybe she does mind. Just a little. Or maybe a lot. Because she really, really wants to feel him.

Reluctantly, Luke withdraws his hand. Julie watches solemnly as he retreats, feeling like he's taking a crucial part of her with him. She’s yearning for more, not less.

Then Luke shifts his incorporeal weight, and suddenly, he’s leaning into her space, lips hovering by her ear.

“Thank you, Julie,” he whispers. His husky voice sends a shiver down Julie’s spine. And then he kisses his cheek. More or less. She can feel the ghost of his lips brush her cheeks – his breath is like a caress, surprisingly warm as it dries her tears.

Closing her eyes, Julie revels in the feeling.

“It’ll be better next year, I promise.”

Julie isn’t sure what Luke means. But when he retreats again, there’s a mirthful twinkle in his eyes.

And Julie believes him.

#this was supposed to be done by Christmas but well ... I struggled a lot #julie and the phantoms #jatp #jukebox #happy juke jeudi!

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