#mostly because she is a fucked up teen trying to stay safe in disastrous ways

[xivu-arath]

🍉 and 🍋 for the OC of your choice!

🍉: Does your OC have a particular piece of jewellery that they always wear or refuse to part with? 

okay this ask is cursed because not only did headaches get in the way of answering it, but then my browser crashed. anyways! (and then my internet went out and I had to copy and paste everything into a new inbox tab. life is not a fan of this one!!)

yes, meyrikh has a set of traditional sith jewelry - piercings, bracelets and necklaces - that was given to her by her master upon becoming a sith apprentice. this was a big deal for her, as due to unwise political bullshit, meyrikh’s family had lost everything and been torn apart. all she knew was that she was the child and grandchild of traitors

the gift acknowledged her to be part of a tradition, a lineage, and she’s very sentimental about it (and not nearly as good at hiding that as she would like to be)

🍋: What is your OC's most painful memory?

probably the day when she also tapped into her force-sensitivity for the first time. she had been found out for a relatively small infraction, but she could feel that it would go very badly for her this time. so she hid, knowing it wouldn’t matter... but it did. the guards searched and couldn’t find her. she was forgotten

but vanishing so completely draws a different kind of attention. not long after she resurfaced, it was figured out that she had hidden herself using the force, and that meant being sent off to a whole different set of traumatizing experiences

[fatbottombucky]

Stayed Till The A.M. *Peter Parker x Reader*

Summary: The third instalment of That Sobered Me Up & Aftertaste. This part happens straight after the last, it’s like a continuation. It also follows to when reader wakes up, reflecting on the events of last night.

Pairings: Peter Parker x Male!Reader

Rating: Teen [PG-13]

Warnings: Drunk reader, Peter being a dumb idiot! Slight fluff, kinda angst

Authors Note: I didn’t expect this to carry on tbh, I didn’t think I’d be writing a third piece to it 😂... you’re gonna ask for a fourth, I keep ending these on cliffhangers... ✌🏼- Rosalie🍑

Peter’s P.O.V

Peter blinked a few times under the mask, unable to comprehend what you just said. You love him. You really love him. No wonder you had been avoiding him, walking in opposite directions and taking the bus home everyday. You were hurting because of him.

Peter had never felt more foolish and... guilty before. He hadn’t realised or caught on to your growing affections for him, you’re good at pretending not to love him. He should’ve really guessed, to be honest. The fact you practically ran out of the room at the last party, then continually avoiding him after that incident, it all added up but he had been too ignorant to see.

He thought you were being dramatic, rude even. He thought that you simply didn’t want to be his friend anymore, figured you’d rather hang out with the popular, older, people than him. In actual fact you were hurt, you couldn’t be around him because of him. It sucked knowing he had caused you pain, knowing he had made you feel this way and resort to this.

“I’m going home,” You stand up on shaky legs, arms wrapped around yourself.

You look so broken, frail and weak, it makes Peter’s heart shatter. Your cheeks are wet from your silent tears, your hair is a mess, and just everything about you screams heartbreak city. Peter hops down, standing upright and walking up behind you.

“Let me take you home?” He asks gently, you aren’t even looking at him, eyes cast to the floor but you nod softly.

Your smaller than Peter, so it doesn’t take much to scoop you up in his arms, plus his super strength makes holding you and swinging around Queens a tad easier. With minutes he has you home, landing on your fire escape that’s conveniently outside your window and helping you climb through.

He hadn’t been in your apartment in weeks, your room looks the same. You’ve got a memory wall, photos of yourself and family tapped to the wall in a slightly organised layout, lots of photos with friends. The ones that contain Peter are Polaroid’s, your favourite type of photo. You’ve Sharpie’d dates on the bottom of them, he smiles at the fond memories.

Glancing over his shoulder your sat on your bed, swaying from side-to-side and staring blankly ahead. He sighs lightly and walks over to you, sitting beside you in silence.

“Guess now everyone knows,” you mumble, “totally not embarrassing.”

Peter frowns under his mask, hands folded in his lap as he watches you, not knowing what to say because he’s still trying to figure what happened tonight.

All because he got drunk. Wasted. He didn’t know what he was doing, he just followed Amelia upstairs and then he was kissing her and you walked in. He didn’t intend for it to happen, he didn’t even know what was happening that night, but he messed up.

He doesn’t even like her, not in that way, at least. She doesn’t like him either, made that clear the day after, but they’re friends still. If anything the kiss felt...awkward and weird, he doesn’t remember much, but he remembers it being nothing special.

“I’m too drunk to care,” you sigh and fall back against your bed and stare up at the ceiling. “I kissed a guy tonight, too. That’s... something, I guess.”

The weird itch crawls up Peter’s neck again, knowing you actually did kiss that guy in that closet makes his skin crawl. A big part of him wanted to rip open the closet and pull you out, tell you that you’re being stupid and too drunk to make those kind of decisions. Yet, he had done the same. Plus it’s your life and he shouldn’t be feeling like this.

“Did you enjoy it?”

Your silent for a moment, “No.” relief flashes through Peter’s body, “I think... I was trying to get back at him, like a whole; you can kiss Amelia, I’m going to make out with some dude.” You’re frowning, “kind of stupid because he wouldn’t get jealous anyway, plus he’s oblivious to literally everything. If Damian hadn’t said anything tonight he’d be none the wiser,” you shrugged and blinked tiredly.

“That’s true,” Peter agrees and nods slowly, “do... do you think that you two can still be friends?” Peter bites his lip nervously.

He doesn’t want to lose you, but he understands that you might need time. Knowing that you love him is... different, it makes things different between you both. He still wants you in his life, you’ve known each other for years and he’s always looked out for you and cared for you.

“Maybe,” You sigh to yourself. “I don’t know, things are different now that he knows, I was able to pretend I wasn’t in love with him and go about my life. We’ve known each other for years, he stopped Flash from bullying me, only to become his new victim... he’s just everything good, you know? Wish I could go back and unsee or maybe just not go to that party, things would be the same.”

Peter nods slowly, smiling at the fact you remembered how you became friends. Hardly forgettable, you were being picked on everyday by Flash, constantly made fun off and humiliated. Peter has always hated seeing you cry, even when he first saw you; a small boy sat on the swings alone and crying. His heart shattered then, as it had done tonight, and same as now.. he had to make things right, had to make you smile.

So, he went over to you and sat with you. Made you laugh till you cried, you still have the same loud laugh to this day. When Flash went to pick on you again, Peter had defended you, standing in front of you like some... superhero- ironically. He’s always stuck up for you, even when you went separate ways and drifted for a short time: he defended you when people talked behind your back. You’ve always been a constant in his life, you’ve always been reachable when others haven’t.

When his uncle died you had shown up at his apartment, ready to be the shoulder and a friend. You helped him. Brought him homework- even did most of it for him- helped May do small tasks around his place, you were there and willing to just listen and be there. You didn’t ask for anything in return, you listened to his rant and was there when cried till he tired himself out. You’ve seen Peter through his highs and lows, as he had with you. He was there when you came-out, he held your hand when you told your parents, he held you when cried at the fact they weren’t so... supportive of you.

But Peter has never entertained the thought of something more. It never crossed his mind, he just liked having you around, you make him feel happy and... safe. He hadn’t really ever looked at at a guy and wondered what it would be like to be with them. You’re attractive, that’s not a lie. You’re funny, smart, courageous and charming. A little flirty when confident, you also sing a lot to pass the time and always laugh at stupid jokes. You know a weird amount of puns, you reference vines with Mj a lot. You’re not the partying kind, but when you do attend ones you let loose, and you’re very good at karaoke.

You make Peter’s heart do that fluttery thing when you smile at him from across a classroom, or when you laugh at one of his jokes. When you’re having a confident day and smirk, plus add little playful flirty comments, it makes Peter heart pick up and he feels a little hot. But he also hates that you do the same with other guys, little quips and jokey winks. It makes that itchy feeling come back, his fingers twitching and skin crawling.

...Peter is in love with you. The realisation hits him like a truck, his head snapping to you, but your passed out on you bed. Light snores leaving you mouth, an arm covering your eyes. He sighs and squeezes his eyes closed.

“Fuck!” He exclaims quietly. Of, fucking, course. He’s in love with you, why does he have to be so god damn oblivious. “I’m in love with you too,” Peter sighs into your silent bedroom.

Normal P.O.V

You groan as sunlight shines directly on your eyes, squinting them open and feeling a deep thumping within your skull. Your bedroom window is wide open making your blinds shake at the breeze, quickly shutting it and pulling your blinds. Your room being engulfed in darkness.

The headache eases at the low lighting, not going but it’s easier to handle. You feel grubby, the clothes your wearing stink of alcohol and sweat; horrible combo. You strip off, throwing them onto the floor and change into some sweats.

Your phone flashes with notifications all from various people, mostly Mj and Jess, asking how you are. You frown at their questions and try to remember what happened in your drunk haze.

Oh, yeah, Peter knows you love him.

You groaned and fell onto you bed. You’d have to face everyone and everything at school tomorrow, you can’t hide from it now. Unless you moved schools, and states.

Rolling onto your back, you state up at the ceiling and try to remember everything, but it all comes back foggy and unclear. Glancing to your bedside table a glass of water, plus some pills are left for you. A little note is on the glass, you sit up and pick up the piece of paper.

“Stayed till the A.M. to make sure you were okay. Sorry, you had a disastrous night. You should call Peter when you wake up, I know he’d be worried about you and want to speak to you! - Spider-Man x”

Right, Spider-Man had taken you home after you had an emotional breakdown in front of him. Always making a good first impression, he’s going to tell Peter what wreck you are. Tell him to stay away from you, probably, most definitely for the best.

You lay back down, closing your eyes and trying to silence your overactive mind. You needed to sleep this hangover off, actually get some rest, so you can face everyone tomorrow.

Then you remember something Spider-Man had whispered into the dead of night, into your silent bedroom.

Your eyes snapping open, “oh, my god,” you exclaim in horror. “Spider-Man is in love with me!”

(LOL)

(Next part) Night Changes

@thats-me-honey @giannakaylee @izaizme @superweeniehartjr @aquabrie @egzekiel @katshrev @incubimemories @thatdewdlesperson @astralexpansion @myfeetkeepdancing @theplacewhererobindied @faeriekiing @rainbowsandcats @lazyshortstack

[deathtouch]

💛 femfeb day 16 | my femfeb masterpost 🧡 xposted → ao3 | dw | pf.io 💖 Symmetra/Widowmaker | 1.7k | Teen and up 🧡 Soulmates, Colors, Past Relationship(s), Love at First Sight, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt, Loss, Sunsets 💛 au where you're colorblind until you meet your soulmate

The second time she saw color, it was like a sucker punch. Amélie hadn’t expected it, and worst of all she hadn’t wanted it. The world had faded to black and white the moment Gerard met his end, and she was fully prepared to live the rest of her life that way.

That was her fate; cold, empty, and grey.

Then she got eyes on their mark, spotted her through the scope of her sniper rifle, and it was like a fire work exploding in front of her face. All of a sudden, the world was in color again, bright and vibrant; painfully so. It was lucky she was only doing surveillance, or she would have missed her shot.

This was nothing like when she had met Gerard. The moment she laid eyes on him, all the colors of the world had filled in. Softly, slowly, muted in pastels at first. The soft olive tone of his skin, the champagne colored pocket square in his suit jacket. The sunset lighting up the sky behind him, blue and pale purple.

Amélie didn’t like to think about it anymore. She didn’t like to look at sunsets anymore, the maudlin grays blending together to make a depressing gradient from black to white. She didn’t like to think about color at all. It didn’t hurt, exactly, but there was something in her that felt disastrously empty whenever she tried to remember the brown of Gerard’s eyes, or the purple of the flowers she held in her wedding bouquet, or the golden color of sunlight on the beach during their honeymoon.

There was no slow fade this time. It hit her, slammed into her, forced her to jerk back and gasp for breath. For a moment all she could see was blue. Blue, blue, blue. The bright blue of the sky, the blue of her own skin. Then the shock faded, and she spied other colors in the haze of bright saturated chaos, and she didn’t know what to do.

She put a stop to the mission at once, infuriating both Sombra and Reaper by demanding they abandon their plans. She didn’t even have an excuse for them, and they weren’t buying her vague comments that ‘something felt wrong’. She was being honest, though. Something felt very wrong. She could see color again. This shouldn’t be happening.

She had half a mind to leave it, to flee from this, whatever it was. Talon wanted a Vishkar architect at their beck and call, but it didn’t have to be this one. It could be any one. Sombra could dig up dirt on someone else. They could black mail someone else. They could work with someone else.

Not her.

Not Amélie’s soulmate.

Unable to move forward with the mission, they were left trapped in a safe house in Rio De Janeiro. Sombra and Reaper bickered endlessly on what to do, where to go from here, how to salvage this excursion. They only stopped to turn their attentions to Amélie in order to berate her or demand an explanation from her.

She wanted to be alone, to find a place where no one could see or hear her. She wanted to scream until her throat was raw. She wanted to run far, far away from this woman and never look back.

She got lost in her thoughts, trying to understand how and why this was happening. Amélie found herself watching the purple glow of Sombra’a cybernetics as she paced the length of the safe house back and forth. It was so bright, that color. So vibrant. How did she ever manage to maintain stealth?

When she cautiously checked the time Amélie found that four hours had slipped right between her fingers, four hours that she couldn’t account for herself and any of her thoughts. Amélie felt only despair.

She resolutely did not want to know this woman, or anything about her, and yet she found herself saying, “I need more info on our mark.”

“Well what’s that fucking matter now, we blew our opportunity to make contact five hours ago!” Sombra snapped, coming to stand in front of her.

Amélie looked at her, at her oddly pale blue eyes and the garish fuchsia lipstick she was wearing. Whatever expression was on her own face must have been convincing, because Sombra suddenly looked disconcerted. She fished one of her data pads out of her jacket pocket and handed it over.

The information was already queued up. Satya Vaswani. There were pictures of her. Photos of her in official Vishkar uniform, long hair neatly pulled back, yellow visor covering half her face. She stood straight backed and serious faced at a handful of ribbon cutting ceremonies at different hospitals and education centers in locations all over the worlds.

The one picture that really struck her was a surveillance photo ripped from some kind of CCTV. Satya was dressed in a vibrant blue sari, with blue jewelry and a bright blue glow emanating from the palm of her artificial hand. Amélie swallowed, forcing her jaw to relax before she clenched it so hard, she broke a molar.

“I’ll bring her in,” she said, suddenly, words leaving her mouth before she really knew what she was saying.

Sombra and Reaper exchanged glances.

“Find where she is, I’ll bring her in.” Amelie said again with more force.

They both knew how dangerous she was, and that she wasn’t a person to be argued with.

Sombra cursed under her breath and took the data pad back. Already hacked in to the network of security cameras in the area, she just had to narrow down a facial recognition search and start scanning. It took a few minutes to get a hit.

“She’s at a hotel, the Imperial on Rua do Catete 186.” Sombra said, passing the data pad back.

On the screen there was live footage of a hotel bar. Satya sat away from her colleagues, all dressed to official Vishkar perfection. They were all smirking and sipping their drinks, Satya excluded. She seemed mostly bored with the proceedings.

Amélie felt odd looking at her, knowing that this was her soulmate and that this was what she was doing in real time. She had to pass the pad back quickly, not wanting any more to do with it. For a long moment she sat where she was, staying perfectly still.

She wasn’t sure she could go through with this after all...

Lest she lose four more hours of her life, and the opportunity to speak to this woman who could potentially be important to her, she stood. She left the safe house feeling numb, escaping back out onto the streets of Rio. The bright colors the world offered her were a bitter sweet taste in her mouth.

Without thinking, she navigated the busy streets with relative ease. Her feet carried her where she needed to go, knowing the way. She made a conscious effort not to ignore the invisible pull of her soulmate drawing the two of them together. She found herself at the correct hotel well before she was ready to face this, whatever it was.

She hesitated outside for a long time, standing in front of the building and staring it down as if it was Goliath and she were David with his sling. She had conquered love once. She could conquer this too.

Amélie forced herself inside, into the decadent hotel lobby. It was wrought in gold and marble, an impossibly expensive place for a town as broken and lost as Rio De Janeiro was. Ignoring the guests with their rolling suitcases, and the staff in their smart red suit coats, Amélie made her way to the bar.

She found the gathered group of Vishkar employees, considerably more drunk than they had been on the live footage of the data pad. They were still straight laced and smug looking, smirking over their martini glasses as they jeered with one another. Satya, however, was not immediately in sight.

Amélie felt relieved, at first. It was done. Satya was gone for the night, left, unable to be found and thus this problem unable to be solved. She was ready and willing to flee from it, and never think of this day or this explosive technicolor revelation ever again.

Then, Amélie spotted her. She had moved from the bar to a comfortable lounge chair by the window to stare out at the street and the setting sun. It was hard to force her feet to move, to walk in that direction. Somehow, she managed it, determinedly putting one foot in front of the other. She approached the empty chair beside Satya.

Amélie opened her mouth to speak, but wasn’t entirely sure what to say...

Saved from coming up with a comment, Satya turned to glance at Amélie all on her own without any prompting. She went suddenly very still. Whether the color had filled in slowly or all at once, it was impossible to tell, but it was clear that something changed the moment she laid eyes on Amélie.

She swallowed, throat shifting with the movement, but other than that she gave nothing away. Her eyes swept from Amélie across the bar, towards the glittering gold lobby, and then back again. She looked at Amélie a second time, raising up an eyebrow.

“Would you like to sit?” She offered, and her voice sounded dangerously seductive. The kind of voice Amélie could enjoy listening to, especially if it was whispering filth in her ear.

“I suppose I should,” Amélie replied, folding herself neatly onto the nearby chair.

Satya glanced out the window and her eyes lingered on the sunset, taking it all in. She was quiet for a long while, soaking in her first experience seeing color. She was handling it with remarkable poise and dignity.

Having avoided it until now, Amélie glanced out at the setting sun too. A part of her still expected to see a dull gradient of grey. It wasn’t grey, it was solid gold. Brilliant and bright, a reflection of Satya’s eyes. Yellow, orange, and red, blazing hot, warm toned in a way that warmed her heart.

“So, the sunset really is as beautiful as they say.” Satya murmured.

She was right. It was beautiful. It was so beautiful. Amélie felt something stirring in her chest. She never thought she would see this again. She never thought she would feel like this again. She was suddenly very grateful for Satya to giving this to her.

Amélie hadn’t expected this, and she hadn’t wanted it when it first happened but... maybe this was a good thing.

Maybe she could learn to love someone new.

i’m taking femslash february suggestions year round send requests or prompts ➝ here follow me on twitter ➝ here thanks for reading ✩°｡⋆