Description: With the dream well here early, the Reader must rush to the Asgardian gardens as fast as she can. Upon arriving, her world starts to spin. When touching the Well’s golden waters, her past flashes before her eyes, getting faster and faster as the truth begins to come to light. Little does she know, the longer she waits, the deeper she sinks.
Notes: This is LONG as BALLS but it’s pretty good! I really like the feedback this series is receiving!
Characters: Loki, Sif, Thor, Peter Parker, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff, Tony Stark, Sam Wilson, basically everyone lol
Ships: Avengers x Superpowered!Reader, Peter Parker x Superpowered!Reader
“It’s here?” Raakel questions, raising her curved eyebrows in alarm. The guard gestures outside hurriedly, nodding a frantic yes.”Well, come on then, you buffoon!” Loki rolls his eyes and shoos at you,”Go on! It could disappear any moment now!” With a determined nod, you skirt around Loki and break into a sprint down the hall. You’re lucky the stylist for your dress including sandals instead of heels. Natasha is truly amazing if she can fight of all things in a pair of stilettos.
The Asgardian palace gardens are just as beautiful as the city, if not more. The bushes are trimmed to perfection, the centering oak tree’s leaves overhang the mushrooms and give shade, flowers burst from the rich soil in neat rows and colors, the stones paving the way around the flora flawlessly fit together to create an even path. Vines wrap around the columns bordering the garden, which support rows of arches entangled in roses and lilies. There’s a plant that has been perfectly cut to look like a goddess—possibly of foliage—and she’s so realistic you feel she’ll get up and move. Flowers grow down her face like tears and trail into the grass.
A group of servants scatters as you rush into the sanctuary, the others following closely behind you. The water features, which consist of a fountain bubbling towards the back and emptying into a pond, are no longer the clear and dreamy color they had been on your previous visit. Instead, the water is gold, and the circle of stones pressed into the dirt below the oak tree is no longer empty and bottomless.
The gold liquid shimmers, almost like apple juice but for the way it reflects light. You kneel before the well. It’s as wide as a kiddy-pool and is as deep as infinity. In its waters you see your reflection, and Peter’s right; you’re glowing, and the light radiating from your form pulses… unrestrained and smoky. Your abilities are stronger than ever before when you are on Asgard, so much so your power is simmering off your gold-glowing skin.
The well is begging for you to touch it, and somewhere far off Loki and Thor are giving instructions as to how to confront the well and see your past. But you already know. You already know and no one has told you. Gently, Peter places his hands on the armor layered on your shoulders. His expression flickers with worry and yet also with assurance. Carefully, his hand slides down your dominant arm and guides it into the water.
The second your hand even ghosts above the well’s mystical waters, you collapse. Peter holds you upright to keep you from tumbling within the depths, but his mind is suddenly sharply pulled into your daydream without mercy. He’s still conscious, but all of his mental energy is glued to your visions, and with Thor’s call, he starts to recite what you’re seeing.
2017: The Battle for Earth — The Avengers vs Thanos
You can feel the bruise forming on your face already; the infinity stones are going to be carved into your jaw for weeks to come… if you survive this. You look around you in a daze. The sand disturbed by the battle flutters in the wind and makes your world hazy and dreamlike. You see shadows of the others in the dust storm, but the only colors you see besides the orange mist the sand creates is the pulsing of the stones against Thanos’ shadow.
Wanda’s energy floats through the air, making the air a deeper red. Dancers spin around your head, and her energy seeps into your skin as your mind begs you to sleep. But it suddenly encourages you to rise, it begs you to protect her brother, her family, it begs you to protect Peter. The blast’s of Tony’s repulsors ring in your ears, the whine the device screams every time it charges up is similar to the noise your bones make when you move.
You raise your hands from the dirt, your back heaving. You’re the most powerful one here, you have to get up. You have to do something. Your knees bury in the sand as you press against them, and despite your body’s wails of protest, you manage to raise a leg.
And that’s when you feel it.
Due to the pain vibrating through your system the tingle in your skulls feels more like pressure added to your brain, or another ounce of intensity poured into your headache. But it’s not, as it surges forward. Something trickles down your lip. Every beat of your heart is painful. And it’s not the way Peter makes it beat, but the way it works when you’re… you don’t know. You’ve never felt this before. Your heart forces oxygen charged blood through your system. It’s just as tired as you, and you’re ready to give in. Until that something trickles down your lip.
You raise your hand to your lip and swipe to collect what you think is blood. You expect red. But it’s not. It’s gold, and it glitters in the bare sunlight like real gold would. You know it is blood. It is blood. It’s also a reminder that you’re not just a normal kid. You’re not a normal Avenger, either. You’re Lumin. You’re Starling. You’re powerful. You’re you.
You urge yourself to your feet. The pain is no longer physical but emotional and mental, and your heart truly starts to beat this gold into your system. You aren’t normal. You’re Starling. You press back your foot and bend yourself into a takeoff stance. The shadows in the dust are slowing down, but for one. And that one is circled by six glowing stones.
The breath you take in is fresh. It fills you, it completes you.”You’re Starling.” You whisper to yourself. Digging your shoes into the sand, you nod to yourself,”I’m Starling.” You huff. Your takeoff clears the sand in the air for at least a mile, and the crack! of Thanos’s jaw is the most satisfying sound you’ve ever heard. It sings with the sonic boom your takeoff created. You’re Starling.
2017: Before the Battle for Earth
“We don’t have much time before he arrives. We’re lucky we know Thanos is coming.” Natasha pulls on her gloves, the orange dust kicking up around her. The desert is about to become a war zone. Your vision is shaded with a (color) lens as you pull on your goggles, and the sand finally stops whipping into your vision,”No we are not,” Gamora argues, unsheathing her sword,”Regardless of if we know or not we are doomed.”
“Geez, ‘Mora,” Starlord speaks up, pressing the button behind his ear and blinking as his mask retracts over his face. He looks to his teammate pointedly,”Lighten up a little. We got this!” He bobs his head, trying to reassure himself and the other’s, but even Tony is deadly serious. Groot grumbles,”I am Groot.” Which probably means,”We’re going to die.” Rocket slaps Groot’s leg,”You said it, pal.” Dr. Strange rolls his eyes, closing the spell book in his hands and placing it on a bookshelf on the other side of a plate-sized portal,”Keep your guard up, everyone.” He suggests.
“Hey, Y/N.” Peter’s hand falls onto his shoulder, and you smile is tight-lipped and strained,”Hey, Petey.” You whisper. His eyes shrink and expand as he stares off into the distance at the hazy sunrise, the wind whistling as it moves the sand. Awkwardly, he turns his head away from the wind and pulls his mask up over his nose,”I know this is a weird time,” He starts.
You don’t bother to let him finish, and cup the back of his neck, feeling the webbing on his costume catch on your fingers, and kiss him. It’s short, and desperately tries to convey how much you love him. The message gets across. Peter smiles crookedly,”I love you.” Your hand rises from the back of his neck to his jaw, lovingly stroking his cheek,”I love you too, Peter.” You promise.
“We have company.” Thor informs the group huddled in the sand, breaking your gaze with Peter’s. He pulls on his mask as the sand’s fight against your faces starts to hurt. The engine of a Quinjet whirrs to a stop, and it settles into the nearest hill. You grin, and Tony looks at you confused,”Kid, did you call a ride to get out of here?” He jokes. Maybe you were wrong about him being serious, but you know he’s scared if he’s joking. That’s how Tony covers up his fear, and most of his other emotions. Now that you think about it, most of the team does the same.
“Nope,” You shake your head. Pressing your thumb into the ring on your opposite hand, the Avenger’s “A” digs its logo into your skin. You gently open the ring, and inside is a simple button that you received a few months ago, and pressed a few hours ago. It’s in the Saffron, you remembered. You lift your goggles and wipe the tears escaping your eyes with your fists,”That’s not my ride home. It’s ours when we beat this bastard.” You grin.
The hatch opens and… there they are. Steve’s suit is dark and his beard his tangled and his hair is a mess, but he looks like the happiest man alive; Bucky’s at his side, new enhanced arm glittering in the sun and image wavering in the heat. T’Challa is among them and you can hear the collective face-palm as the team realizes where they’ve been all this time: Wakanda. Wanda’s eyes glow pink when she see’s you, and her grin is brighter than the sun as is her beauty. Scott is picking at his new costume, suddenly sweaty and completely unaware of the weight of this moment, or even that the hatch has opened at all. Sam’s wings extend with a chorus of clicks that sounds so familiar your ears practically bleed with happiness.
Clint speaks up first, pulling an arrow from his quiver and notching it in his bow,”Someone call for backup?” He teased, winking at you proudly.
You cry out and break into a sprint, shouting so loud Thanos can hear you from space,”It worked! The button worked! You’re here, you’re really here!” You sob. The smile on Steve’s face is so incredible you’re sure that alone could help you win the battle about to take place. You jump at him, arms falling over his shoulders and sobs dying into the space where his star used to be.
“Of course it works,” Steve laughs, squeezing you tightly in response,”We wouldn’t leave you without it, Y/N.”
“I missed you so much! I’m so sorry.” You sob as you pull away. Wanda puts a hand on your face, wiping a tear as it travels down the slope of your cheek,”Do not dare apologize, Starling. Ve vill alvays come back.” She promises sincerely.
“And hey,” Steve’s grin settles into a soft smile, and he glances back at Bucky and Sam, and then T’Challa, Clint, Wanda, and Scott,”We missed you too.” He chuckles.
2017: Starling’s Identity Reveal
Their shouts and praises echo in the cafeteria, and tears blur your vision as you stare back at the students. A chant starts, and you breathe a heavy breath; it clears your being, they’re chanting your name. Their voices chime together in unison, at least a hundred or maybe two hundred voices praising you in thanks for their lives. Even Flash is cheering, and Ned is cheering, and Peter is cheering your name so loudly his voice is a giant in comparison to the other student’s calls.
You gently land, and they rush forward as the emotion grabs you and wraps its hands around your heart. A girl is the first to approach you out of many, her face wet with tears. She pulls you into a tight hug, and over the clapping, you hear her say,”Thank you, you saved our lives.” Her heartbeat is intense in comparison to yours, and she disappears in the waves of students coming up to you. Your pulse is steady and in control. You aren’t scared of an encounter with a bully, fearful for your hold on your books or even nervous to be in front of so many people. You’re calm.
A hand clasps your shoulder, and the boy who pushed you that morning says,”Thank you.”
“I’m so sorry!” Cries (ex-friend’s name), weeping and clutching both of your hands,”I should have never taken the money Flash gave me to prank you, you saved me! You saved us!” She exclaims.
Her voice echoes as she repeats,”You saved us!”
2016: Avengers Civil War
“I am not helping!” You explode, slamming your hands on the table. Tony and Natasha jump. The table’s glass accents shatter, and the walls around the room shake with the energy in your voice. Your visage shimmers with anger, and both the heroes feel your power take hold of the air and choke it. The aura around you is sizzling with rage and worry and longing.
At the sound of the shatter multiple agents outside the room put a thumb to their gun holsters, but falter as they realize that bullets don’t work on Starling. General Ross glares at Tony through the glass, who avoids his gaze as he already understands what Ross is trying to say; you are their most powerful asset, and if he is too harsh you will automatically side with Steve. And if you do, they will lose. But if you join the fight, as Tony is asking (really only because Ross wants you to) then they will win.
You shake the glass from your fingerless gloves, the feeling painless as it is impossible for your skin to be cut. Shoulders shaking, your voice stutters as you pull out a particularly large piece,”I love you. I really do. But I love them too.” You weep firmly. Your eyes are clouded and your form shivers to match the pace your eyes deliver; you are an ocean storm, one wet with tears and quivering with pain.
“I will sign the accords,” You spit, closing your eyes and cursing yourself for getting into this situation,”But I will not side with either of you. Just like if Thor or Banner did, whatever side I am on will win. So I won’t play the game, I won’t fight my family.” You hiss, ripping your bag off the chair and rushing toward the exit. With a final glance at the two, you force out,”Being at home with my mother is even better than this.” And you leave, slamming the door behind you. It shutters with the collision.
Tony sighs, rubbing at the arch reactor as he settles into one of the seats not covered in pieces of glass. Natasha stands as Stark says,”My left arm is numb. Is that normal?” She puts her hand on his shoulder and gives him a firm shake of assurance. There’s a breath of silence as Nat stares at the agents milling around outside. She glances down at Tony from her peripheral vision,”You alright?”
Tony smiles tightly,”Always.”
Nat crosses her arms, trying to steady her expression into something strict so Tony can’t see how worried she is. Both for Steve and Sam and the others, and then you.”36 hours…geez.” Tony groans to himself, massaging his temples,”36 hours to bring in Captain freaking America. God, this would be so much easier if she helped.” Nat gives a nod of agreement, but says nothing else. They both know it’s wrong to try and include you. It’s wrong to fight in the first place.
“We’re seriously understaffed.” Natasha acknowledges, glancing back at the shattered remains of the table. Tony sits up straighter,”Yeah.” He raises his eyebrow at Natasha and leans back in his seat again,”It’d be great if we had a Hulk right now. Any shot?” He questions. Natasha gives a tight-lipped smile as she shakes her head, pointedly raising her eyebrows as her faux smile releases,”You really think he’d be on our side?” Tony shakes his head; if someone as kind and soft as you is staying neutral, then Bruce would side with Steve.
After a thought, Natasha looks to Stark,”I have an idea.”
“Me too…” Tony nods, narrowing his eyes at the opposite wall,”Where’s yours?” He asks, meeting her expression. Natasha gives him a strange look,”… Downstairs…” She murmurs. Cocking her head to the side, she raises a slow eyebrow,”Where’s yours?” She says, furrowing them.
Tony’s face is conquered by a smirk, and when the look on Natasha’s face falls—she knows what that smirk means—Tony reveals simply,”Queens.”
2015: Ultron Offensive
“So!” You yell over the wind. The brown haired girl next to you curls her fingers in intricate ways, bending with the energy extending from her as she tears apart an Ultron with her mind.” I don’t think we’ve met!” You call to her in your squeaky fourteen-year-old voice. She smiles at you as she moves, eye’s widening ever so slightly as you blast an Ultron soldier dead-on without looking.
“I’m—” You pause, frowning as a blast from one of the Ultron’s fires straight into your chest. Huffing, you fire harshly at that one in particular. You turn back to her,”I’m Starling! Or Y/N, Y/N’s okay too.” She chuckles,”Vanda.” She answers, nodding as she deals a blow to another three sentries,”But they call me the Scarlet Vitch.”
In one swift movement, a wave of energy extends around her, red rippling in every direction. Although it’s a short distance, it ends the soldiers around your swiftly.”Woahh…” You whisper. Enthusiastically, you smile at her,”Your powers are so cool!”
Wanda pulls an odd expression. No one has viewed her Psionic Energy Manipulation in such a way before. Teasingly, Wanda raises a hand and let’s the reddish current flow from her fingertips,”Thank you, Y/N.” She smiles softly. With that, she turns on her heel to face the battle. When you don’t follow, she pauses and glances over her shoulder at you. Encouragingly, Wanda nods forward,”C’mon.” She smiles.
Quickly, you jog after her to assist with the infinite flow of Ultron’s army,” Coming, Scarlet Witch!”
2014: 14th Birthday
Hey, (N/N)! It’s Peter Parker, from school! Is this the right number? - Unknown Number
Your heart jumps upon reading the text, and your face reddens. Shifting your grip on your umbrella, you add him to your contacts and smile to yourself, your birthday crown tilting off your hair. You adjust it and send him a message.
Yep! This is me :D - You
Happy Birthday! - Petey
Your conversation carries you up the stairs to your home, your typing so fast-paced you nearly crack your phone’s screen (literally). Pausing at the front door, you bite your tongue. Maybe if you went to the tower, she won’t notice you. At least there, someone would be there for you. Even if it was just a small thing, like watching a movie with Steve or training with Natasha. Eating with Thor for your birthday would be fun, too. He makes good deserts.
You listen through the rain with your advanced senses… there’s no one in the house. Using your key, you enter your home and quietly step into the kitchen. No one is inside. In the middle of the counter is a note, left by your mother. Your breath hitches as you take it.
We’re out for your brother’s award ceremony. Don’t eat the leftovers in the fridge, those are for him.
There’s no “happy birthday”, or even a P.S. That’s it. You curse under your breath as tears threaten your senses. She spent hours in labor to bring you into the world, and then three days of her life were, apparently, wasted in the hospital. And she won’t even bother to write two words.
Tossing your wet umbrella aside, you race into your backyard, pulling on your goggles as tears pull at your eyes and then take off for Avengers Tower. Avengers Tower, where your real family is.
2013: First Team Party
Tony stirs his drink with his straw, watching the Iron Legion go around and sweep up things with other helpers. Steve is among them, and Stark looks up at Rogers as he scrubs the bar Tony’s sitting at,”You know, we have bots for the cleaning, Capsicle.” Tony reminds pointedly, slurping his drink to either annoy the Captain or make him laugh.
Steve shrugs, smiling to himself as he remembered. His ma would hand him the dish towel after they did the dishes together and say,”Steven, why don’t you scrub those counters?” He never wanted to disrespect his mother, but he had to ask, and Steve does so politely as his mother raised him to,”But ma… it’s just going to get dirty again…”
“Things are going to get dirty, Steve. But isn’t it nice just have it be clean for awhile?” She said,”Besides…”
Steve echoes the rest of her response to Tony without breaking his rhythm with the scrubs,”It’s nice to look back at your work and know that you did it. Makes you feel productive.” Steve pauses his movement and shrugs at Stark,”And it’ll go faster if there’s another person to help.”
Tony shakes his head at the old man, raising his hand as Clint passes. He’s clearly trying to live up to his role as bartender, so much he’s stretching it out to the after party and cleaning a glass with another rag.”Another one of these?” Tony shakes his empty glass, making the ice gently clatter together. Clint takes it with a huff,”You should be paying me to do this, Stark.”
“That’s not what you said when you asked me to be the bartender for tonight.” Tony exclaims in response. As he and Clint begin to bicker about paychecks, Steve casts a glance around the room. An hour ago it was bustling with donors, all men and women of high-families that donated over a $800 to the charity funding the cleanup for one of the Avenger’s battles. Each Avenger had attended, even you, with your secret identity. Steve still chuckles every time he hears you say it; it sounds like Bucky after he told him he was “Captain America”.
Speaking of you, where are you? Steve scans the remains of the party. Natasha, Maria and Agent May are chatting at one of the rounded tables. Nick is whispering with a pair of agents near the entrance to the room. Thor is having a hearty one-sided discussion (unbeknownst to Thor) with a passed-out Banner at the other end of the bar. Clint and Tony are still bickering beside him, and the drones are whizzing about working on cleanup. Some of the kitchen staff are packing up the buffet, and a pair of S.H.I.E.L.D agents dance on the dance floor without music. The air is calming, and yet, where are you?
“Oh, hush, Steve! I can totally stay up after the party!” You scoffed tiredly, holding your “(favorite soda) on the rocks” to your chest. You sipped it, pointing at him with a spare hand,”Watch me, Captain.”
You’d been training literally all day, and after using your powers for a long extent of time you became very tired. That didn’t pair well with your constant need to keep up with the rest of the team, and that meant you trained day and night. You fainted or collapsed so much that whenever someone in the tower hears you fall, they have to yell “Timber!” to alert the closest person to get you. This was usually Steve, since he mother-henned you constantly. An hour ago was no different—there you are!
Steve chuckles, setting down his cloth and striding over to your table; tucked into the corner of the tower’s main “party” floor, as Tony liked to call it. You’ve got your head resting on your folded arms, drooling down the sleeve of your dress and murmuring in your sleep. He pulls out your chair as gently as he can, and carefully lifts you up bridal style. You pout in your dream and nestle into him, and Steve’s heart melts… did you whisper bro in your sleep?
You’re weightless in his arms, young form an easy fit. If he can lift Stark in the suit then you’re just a puppy in comparison. He approaches the trio of women, and they all pause and stare at your sleeping form.”She was talking about staying up all night two minutes ago. What happened?” Maria whispered. May rolls her eyes and takes a sip of her drink. Steve looked to Natasha, nodding to Clint and Tony at the bar.
“I’m going to put Y/N in her bed, can you keep an eye on Clint and Stark?” He murmured. Natasha nods, glancing at Y/N with a look Steve guesses is loving. Adjusting his grip on you, Steve turns and takes the elevator up to your floor.
He enters your (super-secret) passcode into the panel on the wall, and the doors pop open. Your room is very you, with it’s (color) drapes and furniture, crammed bookshelf, and the assortment of knick-knacks. Steve settles you onto your bed, gently undoing your hairstyle for the night.
Pulling the (color) comforter over your form, Steve plants a kiss on your brow,”Goodnight, Y/N.” He smiles. Before he leaves he changes the temperature on the thermostat to your liking. Just before the door to your bedroom closes, his ears perked to catch your murmured words,”G’night, Stevie.” He chuckles, keeping his eyes on your form for as long as he can before the door closes. Now he knows what Bucky felt like, taking care of a kid who wants to fight and challenge everything that moves.
2012: After the Battle of New York
“So, photoenergy manipulation, flight, super-strength, super-speed, super—okay, I get the point.” Tony swipes your file to the side, and an array of videos of you using your powers appears on the holo-screen. He watches security footage of you lifting the engine of the Helicarrier when Loki and Clint brought it down. There’s a lot of strain on your face, and the wind is whipping your hair about, but it’s working. Tony glances back at you with a smirk,”You’re pretty super, kid.”
“Thanks.” You respond happily. Tony returns to the video, replaying it with a curious look on his face,”Y’know, with the other engines working, you’re lifting nearly 427 tons there.” He points at the screen, before furrowing his eyebrows and turning back to you,”Is that the heaviest thing you’ve lifted?”
“I think so.” You jogged your legs casually, holding the edge of the counter. Doctor Banner approached you with a needle,”Can I take a blood sample?” He questioned. You offered your arm and he went through the usual procedure, Tony’s eyes observing you,”How are you not crushing that counter right now, kid?”
Bruce gently applied the needle to your arm, but as soon as he tried to break the skin, the needle snapped off. You turned back to Tony as Bruce stooped to pick up the needle’s tip in awe,”Practice. Lots of practice.” You chuckled.
“And what? You got laser eyes, x-ray vision, microscopic?” Bruce guesses curiously, flashing a light in your eyes. You blink it away, nodding slowly and avoiding the light,”Um, technically, yeah. I can shoot my blasts from anywhere on my body, I just usually do it from my hands. And I think I do, I just haven’t mastered it yet.” Something in your eyes changed, maybe the width of your pupil or the color of your iris.
“And, I think—” You take in a surprised breath as the transition works. Carefully, you raise your hand and wave it through the air. The particles and molecules part and dance with the wave, and you can see every single one.”I can see it all.” You whisper, gingerly trying to grab what must be an oxygen.
“Holy shit,” Tony raises his eyebrows in surprise. Turning to Banner, he grins cheekily,”We have a mini Supergirl on our team.”
“Superman.” You correct easily. Tony makes a face like he’s about to disagree, but Banner nods,”She’s more like Superman. Supergirl can’t control her powers as well.” Upon seeing the strange look Tony gives him, Banner furrows his brow and shrugs,”What? I read comics in my spare time.”
You enter your room at home, closing your door as quietly as possible. You can hear your younger brother bragging about something he did at school today; your stepfather and your mother, in particular, are cooing at him proudly. Your stomach churns. He’s only talking about something minor, when the honors algebra test in your hands has a bright red A+.
It’s a little ironic, you think, since you’re an Avenger now. “A”s are appearing more and more every day in your life. You set your Hulk backpack down (Tony bought it for you since Bruce helps you with homework so much) onto your desk, breath hitching as a shadow jumps out at you.
Hand charged with a ready-to-fire blast, flashes of reptilian faces and Chitauri armor light up behind your eyelids. You lower your hand, your weapon, when it’s just a stack of books on your bed. But that stack isn’t the only thing on your bed. There’s a bag, labeled with (surprise!) the Avengers “A”.
You settle onto your bed, mattress creaking with your excitement as you pull apart the paper. The first thing inside is a note from Tony (it’s an Iron Man post-it-note, there’s no way it’s not him), and you whisper the note’s words to yourself.
Went shopping, saw these! Needed to get them for you. Enjoy, Starkid - TS and PP
You pull a Starling action figure from the box, then a pair of socks with your insignia, a Captain America war-bonds poster, and a phone case with the first picture taken of Starling on it. There are a few other little things, too. But the action figure… you gently hug it against your chest. The logo on the bag shares a staring contest with you. You, an Avenger.
2011: Before the Battle of New York
Natasha hates her stance; off to the side and watching as you weave around the training dummies like a dance, her hands folded behind her back and clicking a pen against her thumb. It’s reminiscent of one of her old instructors. So Natasha relaxes her pose and crosses her arms over her chest,”Perfect, Y/N, you’re doing wonderfully.” The praise is another change, too. Every time Natasha completed a task it would always be you did this incorrect and this was exceptional, but you could do better. She tries to be different with you.
“Woah.” You stop suddenly, clutching your head. Natasha rushes forward as you fall against one of the targets, which is steaming with your most recent shot,” Ms. Romanoff… I’m not…” Your figure sways, and Nat gently takes hold of your shoulders,”Okay. Maybe we should take a break.” You nod slowly and sleepily in agreement, and Natasha guides you to the nearest bench.
You grapple for your consciousness as Natasha hands you a water bottle. You take it quietly, the S.H.I.E.L.D insignia on the opposite wall blurring and doubling in your vision. When you open the water bottle the top cracks like an egg and the water falls all over your training uniform. Looking down at your mistake, you curse your powers. You’d spilled some of the water on Natasha, too.”I’m sorry, Ms. Romanoff. I’ll go get—”
Nat shakes her head, offering you a towel,”It’s okay, Y/N. We’re just overworking your powers, you deserve a break.” She then smiles crookedly, beginning to dry the water from her shorts as you do the same,” And what did I say about calling me Ms. Romanoff?” Natasha chuckles.
You smile blearily, patting down your black tank top as it sticks to your chest with the water,”Sorry, Natasha.” You apologize again. Natasha settles her hand on your back, and bites her lip in thought. After you open another water bottle, Natasha smirks,”Can I tell you a secret?”
“Sure.” You smile, eyes drooping. Natasha looks around the empty training room to see if anyone’s listening, and then informs you,”I heard Fury wants to put you out on the field soon.”
You leap from the bench,”No way!” After doing a little victory dance, your eyes alight with joy and your figure glows with your powers,”Has he chosen my codename yet? Will I have a partner? Am I working with you?” You rush out. Natasha goes over your questions in her mind and answers each on in order,”No, I don’t know, and probably.”
You fist-pump the air, leaping up and hovering as you clap your hands excitedly,”Yes!” You land firmly, crossing your arms and humming in thought. With your exhaustion suddenly gone, Natasha senses you’ll be like this for the rest of the day—maybe even the week.
“Well, you’re partners codename is Hawkeye. And then they call you the Black Widow.” You point to yourself with both hands,”So I’ll need a code name too, right?” Natasha shrugs her shoulders,”Have anything in mind?” She smiles at your eagerness.
“Oh, dude, of course I do.” You laugh, but then it falls into slight fear as you realized you called the Black Widow… dude. But Natasha still smiles, so you brush it off and continue,”I was thinking… I can shoot energy blasts, I can fly like a comet… so maybe Comet, Lumin, or Starling or something.” You look to her for an idea.
“I like Starling and Lumin.” Natasha stands, nodding to the training course,”Why don’t you think about it while we finish up for today? You seem back on your game.”
You point at Natasha and strike a pose you hope is superhero-ey.”Starling is always on her game!” You laugh. Natasha rolls her eyes, and you follow her as she starts to instruct how to use your speed to your advantage.
As you lean over the well, your visions start to blur as the dream get’s deeper. You can barely identify dates anymore, and each dream speeds up. Flashes of your family pass by, Natasha’s smirk, the twinkle in Tony’s eyes, Steve’s smile, Wanda’s laugh. The images of Peter start to fade and the dreams lose their color and vibrancy. You fall deeper, deeper, deeper down the rabbit hole, until you hit the bottom and start to sink.
These memories you don’t recognise. This comes before you were born.
Summary: Namjoon wishes that one day you’ll realize that the happiness you’re looking for is sitting right next to you.
A/N: This was heavily inspired by Gorillaz’s “Melancholy Hill.” I’m currently in love with the song and with the part: “You can’t get what you want, but you can get me.” This has been sitting in my drafts for months so I decided to finally finish it up.
Word Count: 900
“I need you.”
Your voice was always fragile and desperate when you spoke those three words. The three words that held so much power over him. The three words that welcomed the familiar pang in his chest, because he knew something was wrong. The three words that had the power to make him drop whatever he was doing just to come see you, because his only wish was for you to be happy.
Coming to the secret place the two of you shared was second nature to him. With so many ups and downs in life, the two of you would often come to the hill and sit below the big oak tree to share your sorrows and joy. Many unforgettable memories sprouted there just as the dandelions and wild flowers during the spring did.
There was nothing special about the hill other than the intangible things. There was no magnificent view, no luminous stars. Nothing but the big oak tree and vast sea of grass. The sounds from the city were still heard and the bright city lights managed to illuminate the place with faint efforts.
Namjoon spotted your silhouette beneath the oak tree. He sat beside you, his palms resting against the cool grass to help support himself. He looked at you and frowned. You were hugging your knees to your chest, looking straight ahead. Although the lighting was poor, he could tell your eyes were puffy and red–a definite sign that you’d been crying for a long period of time.
He then noticed your attire. You wore a nice blue dress that accentuated your figure and was shorter than what you were normally comfortable with.Your feet were bare–black pumps strewn next to you. You had switched in your usual t-shirt, jeans and red converse high tops for fancy clothes that had the names of well-known brands attached to them. Everything about you didn’t scream you and the absence of your most treasured heart locket did not go unnoticed by Namjoon.
“Remember the time when I didn’t wear my glasses for an entire month, because the cool kid in class said ‘glasses are for nerds’ and struggled to see until you told me I was stupid for listening to an egotistical jerk like him?”
“How could I not? I was your eyes for that entire month.” Namjoon chuckled at the memory from your early years in high school.
The corners of your mouth turned up, forming a sad smile. “You’re always right, you know.”
“I’m still stupid.” You leaned your head down, using your hair as a curtain to
hide the tears that began to fall as you pulled your knees closer to you.
“Hey,” Namjoon said softly, reaching out to stroke your hair. He knew how soothing you found it, so he wasn’t surprised when you shifted closer to him. “You’re not stupid, okay?”
“Hard to believe when I find myself making the same mistake over and over again.”
“We accept the love we think we deserve.” Namjoon said, watching as the strands of grass strayed in the light wind. “And before you say it, yes I am quoting Perks of Being a Wallflower.”
You lifted your head up to look at your friend, the tears coming to a stop. The hand that had been stroking your hand moved to wipe at your remaining tears.
“You deserve so much better.” He told you, his eyes looking into yours with such sincerity that it made your heart melt. “Someone who knows your value and treats you like the gem you are.”
Someone like me, he wanted to add.
Namjoon has loved you for a long time. Perhaps, ever since he met you in freshman year of high school during one of your poetry club meetings. He was never obvious about his feelings, considering he didn’t fall under your ‘bad-boy’ type. But he also knew that he could make you happy, if you just gave him the chance.
“I’m breaking up with him.” You concluded, nodding to yourself. When Namjoon shot you a knowing look, you added: “For good this time.”
Still, Namjoon continued to look at you, not truly believing you.
“I’m being one-hundred percent serious!”
“Like you were one-hundred percent serious about being able to drive stick?”
You laughed, recalling the memory when you had convinced Namjoon you were experienced in driving manual cars. You weren’t expecting him to rent out a manual car for you that day, but not wanting to admit the truth, you went along with it. Long story, short: the two of you crashed against the entrance sign of the car rental company.
“But did you die?”
And that’s how the two of you immersed yourselves in your fake little world, where it was always just the two of you, free of any worries and troubles, sitting under the big oak tree. Your smile remained strong and confident and Namjoon’s expression mirrored yours as the two of you laughed at terrible jokes and at a few of the many memories the two of you shared.
It was without a doubt that you were always happy when you were at his side. The dull ache in your heart was long forgotten as Namjoon proved to be the perfect remedy. He was and will always be there for you. The two of you are best friends and even though Namjoon is in love with you, he always wants you to be happy.
Namjoon only wished you realized that the happiness you so desperately sought out for is sitting right beside you.
I love your imagines ! Can I request one? That Y/N is Negan’s daughter and
she’s dating Rick even though her dad hates him… thanks !! 😊😊😊 – Via @mrsnegan25
Rick Grimes x Negan’s Daughter!Reader (implied)
Warnings: Curses, Threats
was very protective of you, his daughter. You were his pride and joy and the
only thing that reminded him of your mother, Lucille. So naturally when one of
the men, Rick Grimes, at the conquered Alexandria Safe Zone started to show interest
in you, and you mirroring his interest, his natural protective instinct kicked
Negan wasn’t going to allow just anyone to get involved with his daughter, oh
no. They would need to have his approval before anything could happen. You knew
that but you still got involved with Rick anyway. This didn’t float Negan’s
boat. Not. One. Bit.
“Mr Leaves was here” – those were the first words
out of my daughter’s mouth that morning. I dismissed the chatter as normal for
a seven year old girl. It didn’t seem strange to me that she would develop a
new imaginary friend, especially under the circumstances; change can do that to
a kid, forcing them to create something to hold on to, making the world seem
We had decided to move away from the city, to find
somewhere a little less hectic, somewhere we could call home. As a doctor, I
had to wait until an opportunity arose and was delighted when an opening
appeared in the sleepy town of Windarm. It was a quiet place filled with
pristine cottages, sun-baked streets, and lush hedge rows; not too big, not too
small – perfect for the three of us.
My wife, Erin, and I had named our daughter Karen,
after an Aunt, but we always called her “Kip” instead. It was an old English
word my Grandfather used when he was going to sleep – Karen loved to sleep more
than most, and so “Kip” seemed to suit her just fine.
Our new home on the outskirts of Windarm town was
older than we were used to; a converted farmhouse dating back 150 years or so.
With a little bit of land thrown into the deal for good measure, we fell in
love with the place immediately. When we first pulled up outside, Kip rushed up
the rickety white stairs, through the wide double doors and disappeared into
the embrace of her new home. She was ecstatic, roaming around the confines of
the spaces inside. It was an adventure for her. Even at such a fragile age, she
understood the importance of the stories old places could tell. She didn’t mind
the dust, the shaky banisters, or the creaking floorboards – within ten
minutes, each of the three floors had been explored by her little seven year
old feet. Of course, there were sure to be nooks and crannies not yet seen in
the attic and cellar, but Kip was not interested in those places for now, she
was only interested in where she could sleep and play. I had naively told her
she could choose any of the bedrooms as her own, and of course she did – the
best one in the house.
Erin and I smiled at each other, watching happily
as Kip darted around her new room excitedly. She loved the high ceiling because
it felt grand and imposing like being a princess in a castle. She found the
groans and squeaks that the floorboards made under her feet hilarious, pressing
up and down on the loudest ones while giggling. Most of all she loved the
window. It was wide and sprawling, looking out to the farmland which bobbed and
weaved over flats and small hills below. An old oak tree towered alongside a
vacant barn nearby, and the summer sky bleached the world in blues, whites and
yellows; and yet, it was something much closer which fascinated my daughter. A
thick web of ivy roots had thrust out of the soil decades earlier, climbing a
carefully constructed wooden frame attached to the house, which rose as high as
the roof. The ivy had clawed and fingered its way across the wooden slats of
the farmhouse, almost entirely covering that side of the building.
The surrounding land was in full bloom, everything
vibrant and green. The fields were swathed in tall crops which poked out of the
soil like a million city dwellers standing still in the sun. Everything was
alive and vivid, that was, except for the climbing ivy. Its vines were spindly,
yet clung to the wooden frame of the house with deceptive strength. A vast sea
of leaves brown and withered reached up across the wooden wall, encircling
Kip’s window. There was something troubling about those vines, clashing
against, almost strangling the possibilities of summer. Kip didn’t mind, in
fact she was enamoured by them, having me open the window so she could caress
the “golden” leaves which touched the sill.
The first night in the house was like any spent in
a new place – unfamiliar creaks and sounds echoing out through the darkness. I
am often a deep sleeper, but the uncertainty of the old building left me
checking every bump and movement I heard throughout the night. I switched the
lights on, checked the doors, and then looked in on Kip. She slept soundly, but
I noticed that the window was still open, letting in the night’s cool breeze. I
tried to shut it, but it felt jammed or stuck, the old flaking paint and grime
freezing it into position after years of little use. I told myself I’d fix it
in the morning, after all Kip was two floors up and we were a quarter of an
hour by car from any other house. I felt she’d be quite safe with the window
I’m a jerk, anon. This typo made me giggle like an idiot and write you some nearly smutty archery-teacher Hiccup. Tearcher Hiccup.
(Get it? Like arrows.)
“Ok, I think that’s enough for today,” Hiccup steps up behind his student, taking the young woman’s bow away with delicate fingers. She glares at him and reaches for the bow, frowning when her new, stiff arm guard tugs at her bruised skin.
Colin savoured the coldness of the glass in his hand, the
condensation coating his palms. He looked at the droplets roll down his skin to
fall on the oak below. It was a dull ache of a night. He never liked to cry,
not that he felt like he wanted to, but more like he felt he was expected to.
It wasn’t that he hated his wife. It was quite the contrary. He loved her very
much. She was beautiful and kind and fun. She knew how to make him smile and
was an excellent mother, enough that she more than made up for him not being
around as much as he should.
He felt a small smile pull at his lips as he thought of the
past. They really did have a good run. It was just after a few years she
noticed something before he did, the pull to spend more time with his male
coworkers and friends. He would have her accompany on occasion, of course. Then
there was one night where she finally sat down with him. He was in the bathroom
and she was sitting on the bed.
I’m soooo into how these turned out! there are 2’’ Vanitas teardrops! I carved out a custom frames to fit the size, slapped some blue labradorite behind the frame, and riveted the inlay onto delrin teardrops. It’s going to be hard for me to top these. As you might imagine I can only use these specific frames for pairs 2’’-2’‘¼ but I have smaller version for sizes below that!
The Lady Cousland (Prince!Alistair x Cousland AU) Part 4
I’m a slave for this AU I swear, I’m so in love :3
All eyes turn to them as they enter, and her hand involuntarily clenches around the Prince’s arm, desperately fighting the urge to tear her skirts off and run, far far away from the extravagance that was the transformed main hall before them now.
Her mother hand spared no expense, the usual heraldry had been removed, now banners of bright gold and red stood proud, boasting the snarling Theirin lion. Torches glittered, the large chandelier above them stood stoic, candles glinting down, reflecting off the sea of jewelled fabric below. The old oak tables had been removed, replaced with mahogany ones that shone brightly, holding a plethora of foods imported from far and wide.
Elissa had not seen such a disgusting spectacle in all her life.
“This is ridiculous.” She hisses to Alistair, who chuckles under his breath and nods imperceptibly, nodding politely as the men and women around him dip into bows and curtseys. He cannot hide the slight curl of his lip from her practiced eyes, and she knows he loathes this as much as she does, being paraded around in all this pomp and ceremony for the amusement of others.
“Unfortunately, this ridiculousness is something we have to put up with for at least another two hours.” He laughs as she groans, her head tilting back towards the chandeliers, wondering how much trouble she’d be in if she cut the rope holding it to its bracket, and how quickly she could run from her mother.
She peeks another glance at him out of the corner of her eye, keeping a demure smile on her lips as she watches him talk with a lowly noble from the other side of Ferelden. His eyes are tight in annoyance, but she’d be lying if she said he didn’t entrance her.
How was it possible for him to go from the bumbling, stammering boy he’d been through his first days here, to this man now? His hair raked back from his forehead shows off the deep hazel of his eyes, and the noble set of his nose. Her blue eyes hover at his full lips, not realising as her tongue darts out to taste her own, hands clenching around the hard muscle of his bicep.
Elissa manages not to jerk too much in shock when Alistair turns from the nobles, leading them into a far corner near an empty table. She sits down with a sigh, propping her chin up with one hand, laughing as Alistair throws himself into the chair next to her, slouching over in a very un-princely manner.
“Why your highness!” She jests, her voice high and nasally, mimicking many of the snivelling ladies here tonight. “If I didn’t know any better, I would believe you did not wish to be here!” He rolls his head to look at her with a raised eyebrow, and she cannot help the way her stomach rolls in delight at the sight of him, broad shoulders stretching as he hangs his arms off the back of the chair, the muscles in his neck tensing as he stares at her.
“My ladyyy.” He drawls, his lips twitching as she snorts and giggles, clapping a hand over her mouth to still the loud sound. “This is by far, one of the better of these events I have ever attended, however, if a certain lady did wish to make her escape, I would not be oppoooosed!” She laughs again at the drawling tone of his voice, but can’t help the blush that stains her cheeks as he leans closer with a chuckle.
She sighs and takes a look around the room, watching the dancers swirl, swaying delightedly in their slippers as lords from far and wide twirl them about. She wouldn’t be caught dead admitting it, but dancing was one of the only things she enjoyed about these events - that and the unlimited supply of wine.
Elissa turns, seeing him sipping from a goblet of the very wine she’d been thinking of, snatching it off him with a wink when he makes a surprised noise, before his eyebrow raises as he watches her drain the rest of the very full goblet in one go.
She stands, the curls left out of her intricate hairstyle whipping across her cheeks as she holds her hand out to him quickly. “Come!” She cries, hauling him to his feet. “I want to see how Prince Alistair holds up against my dancing skills.”
He snorts, shaking his head as his fingers curl around hers. “I’m afraid then, My Lady Cousland, that I must warn you of the impending doom of your toes.” She grins broadly, feeling her heart skip as he grins back, before leading him out towards the floor, the sea of fabric parting effortlessly as the familiar tune of the Remigold starts up.
Laughing, she drags him into the dance, her long silver skirts swishing about her legs as she leads them into turn after turn, their sweaty hands clinging desperately to one another, imprints of his hands still burning into her skin from where he had grabbed her waist and lifted her high into the air, the contact gone much too soon as he sets her back down.
Dazed and breathless, they stumble back to the corner of the room they’d claimed as their own as the music moved into another fast song, the clapping of the dancers echoing through their ears as she snatches another goblet of wine, the first already gone to her head.
“Your warning for my toes was sorely misplaced your highness.” She grins as he blushes, watching as he quickly rubs the back of his neck, before taking the goblet of wine she offers. Elissa turns her eyes back to the crowd, scanning across the sea of faces, before gasping as she sees one she knows particularly well.
Alistair’s shocked eyes snap to hers as she grabs his arm. “We need to go. Now.” She whispers, her eyes never straying from Nathaniel’s head as he turns in the middle of the dancers, no doubt searching for her, having seen her dancing just a few moments ago.
Alistair doesn’t even question, merely nods and grabs her hand, yanking her from the seats as they dash across the stone floor, giggling and laughing all the while. She can hear Nathaniel’s cry of her name and the shouts of the guests as he elbows through them, but all she can focus on is the sway of Alistair’s shoulders, the way his hand feels wrapped around hers, and the breathless rush of elations she feels as they burst out of the main hall, sprinting away towards the kitchens.
They slam into the room, still laughing as he shoves the door closed. She strides into the room clamping her hand over her mouth to try to stifle her giggles, and sets to work on pulling out all of her favourites from Nan’s hiding spots.
“What… are you doing?” he asks when he turns to see her climbing up on top of the table, tongue between her teeth as she stands on her tiptoes, reaching into the hollow beam for the honeyed mead. She grabs it, and with a flourish, leaps off the table and presents it to him. He raises an eyebrow as he takes it, grabbing two glasses to pour them a glass.
“Nan likes to hide all of my favourite foods to ‘protect my figure’ “ Elissa raises her fingers into the air at this, quoting her beloved nursemaid. Alistair laughs, shaking his head as he gestures for her to continue.
She grins wolfishly, turning to shove aside a barrel, reaching into a sack hidden underneath a cart of apples to pull out a wrapped packet of Ostwick strawberries, as well as a block of chocolate gifted to her from Antiva.
She presses a finger to her lips as she deposits the items in front of a grinning Prince, before she jumps up onto Nan’s workbench, grunting as she hauls herself up onto a nearby beam, tucking her skirts between her calves as she quickly tiptoes across to the thick beam that they all connected to.
Elissa reaches out with nimble fingers to pry loose a thick block of wood, reaching in with a loud AH-HA! before she’s jumping, landing on top of the table before Alistair, holding a tightly wrapped package in between her fingers.
Alistair raises an eyebrow as she hands it to him, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth as she tries to fight her grin. He unwraps it quickly, his hazel eyes brightening as its revealed whats within.
“Sweet rolls!” He cries with a large grin, she laughs, sitting down right on top of the table, her skirt pooling around her like starlight as she reaches forward for a cup of the mead. He shakes his head at her, a disbelieving look written over his features as he chuckles breathlessly.
Elissa blushes under his gaze and laughs nervously. “I really enjoy sweets a little bit too much, I train quite a lot so I never really gain any weight, but Nan got it into her head that my eating habits would end up rotting my teeth.” Alistair bursts out laughing, and soon she’s laughing with him at the ridiculous situation.
“How…” he has to pause as he takes a deep breath, trying to combat the breathlessness of their laughter. “How did she even get up there?” He breaks down into laughter again, no doubt imagining the old woman trying to pull herself up into the rafters.
“She… she got the elves to get up there!” She manages to say through her persistent giggles. “They told me where they put them straight away!” He looks up at her in awe, his mouth agape as she laughs, taking another sip of mead.
“You really do have everyone in this castle wrapped around your finger don’t you?” He breathes, his eyes scanning her features as she looks at him curiously, hands on her knees and her head cocked inquisitively.
“Maybe.” She replies cryptically, reaching out to pop a strawberry into her mouth, humming as she bites down and tastes the sweet nectar on her tongue. She feels a slow drip across her lip and chin, but before she can even raise her hand, he’s leaning forward.
His warm hand caresses her chin, the rough pad of his thumb running across her porcelain skin, before it moves further, collecting the juice staining her plump lips. Her lips pop open with a sigh as he finally traces them, their eyes never straying from one another, his hazel burning into the deep sea of her own.
She loves the feeling of his calloused finger lingering against the soft skin of her red lips, but she loves it even more when he draws away, his own lips closing around his thumb to suck whats left of the strawberry she’d just eaten off of his thumb.
So I thought I’d show you guys The Trunk. This is where I keep all the items/books/oils etc. that I use the most or am currently using. Below it is the oak chest where I keep the things I don’t use that often. Everything else is scattered around the house (i.e. Non-poisonous herbs are in the kitchen or garden, books are in the library, candles are in the drawer of the sideboard…)
So yeah - a lot of you asked for me to show you my altar but since I don’t keep an altar I thought I’d show you ‘the witchy junk trunk’ as my sisters like to call it.
If the man-skirt is too far out of your comfort zone, then perhaps the apron is a safe baby step in testing the waters of new silhouettes. In the past few seasons, we’ve kinda been seeing a lot of this “new” territory in menswear and it appears as though it’s hear to stay. I mean the idea of apron front shorts or pants shouldn’t seem entirely too unfamiliar. Think back to the 90s when you left the strap of your overalls undone or tied that flannel around your waist for that kind of apron effect. Better yet, think back to when you actually had to wear an apron for that waitering job you had back in college. Keeping that in mind might help offset any “reservations” about the whole apron trend - uhm was that a pun? Okay so like I “get it” now but like why the extra fabric though? Well, for me it’s all about layering. It gives you another opportunity to add extra detail and achieve that fashun-y layered look to your outfit. I mean just look no further than Duckie Brown’s Spring 14 show to see the perfect example of the man apron in action and then share your thoughts below!