#I think my Strengths are pretty accurate | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

carpkoinobori · 3 months ago

Text

[†] thursday girl — giselle x reader

[𖤐] 1/1 [please be aware this is all fiction! none of this is real and idols behavior is not accurately represented.]

summary: you debut in SM’s newest girl group. The industry isn’t what you thought it’d be. It’ll be fine, right? or , more accurately: a girl’s guide to breaking all ten commandments.

pairing: giselle x aespa member!reader

to be honest the dynamic is more like the apple x the snake x eve

tags: angst, happy and open ending, literally just angst though, reader is raised catholic

wc: 7.3k

cw: dieting, eating disorders, religious trauma, catholic guilt, homophobia, internalized homophobia, comphet, mild implied sexual content, creepy variety show hosts and fans mentioned, the mortifying ordeal of being a girl

ex: not beta read, reader is third oldest/youngest - middle of five. reader’s stage name is Eve.

a/n: leaving this warning here. I was raised catholic. if you find negative mentions of organized religion upsetting, this one isn’t for you. NOT BETA READ ONCE AGAIN

psalm 32:1-5 Blessed is he whose transgressions are forgiven, whose sins are covered. Blessed is the man whose sin the Lord does not count against him, and in whose spirit is no deceit. When I kept silent, my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long. For day and night your hand was heavy upon me; my strength was sapped as in the heat of summer. Then I acknowledged my sin to you, and did not cover up my iniquity. I said, ‘I will confess my transgressions to the Lord’— and you forgave the guilt of my sin.

——————————————————————————————————— debut.

that’s what you’ve been working towards your entire life, what you hungered for, what you wanted.

since your early teen years, you’ve dreamed of debuting. You loved to perform, to sing, to dance— that’s why you were in your church’s choir group. The advent show, the way of the cross, everything— you were there.

did your parents approve of you being an idol? Absolutely not. They tried to convince you to settle down with one of the nice churchboys, the son of one of their friends. He was.. nice, okay looking. But you just didn’t like him. You dreamt of falling in love, being swept off your feet into happily ever after— but for most of your life, you had never even had a real crush! You must just not have found the right guy yet. It only counted when it was with a boy.

you auditioned for SM, and miraculously, you got in. Your days were spent training, dancing, weighing, singing, dancing, showcasing, singing, training, dancing, weighing— a cycle, really.

you met Yu Jimin and Kim Minjeong pretty early on, and you got along great with Jimin. She was catholic, and so were you! She wasn’t as dedicated as you, of course, but it was nice to have something in common.

you all didn’t get the chance to talk with Ning Yizhou a whole lot, even if she did share a dorm with minjeong. You dormed with jimin, but there was an empty bed.

that bed would be filled by one Aeri Uchinaga.

and from that day, your life would also be filled by aeri uchinaga.

The five of you were called to a meeting. You were a little worried, of course, clutching your silver cross chain and pressing the tip of it into your chest. A nervous habit.

“Hello girls,” the man began, the five of you sitting and fidgeting nervously.

“I have good news for you all. You five will be debuting as SM’s newest girl group, Aespa. Congratulations,” he smiled, and it felt like your world had just crumbled and rebuilt itself, three times over.

“We’ll begin thinking of your stage names soon, so feel free to give us some ideas. We’ll be waiting,” the man continued, and like that, the meeting ended.

you all had to celebrate, right?

The five of you met in your dorm, as minjeong didn’t want to bother the other trainee living there. You all begin thinking of stage names, and your eyes drifted to the figurine of Mary that sat on your nightstand. Jimin was thinking of using Katarina, her baptismal name, anyway! Your confirmation name could also work, but you weren’t sure.

“What if I used Mary?” You thought out loud, the other four girls turning their heads to glance at you, and the figure just behind you.

“Mary?” Jimin began. “Like, the Virgin Mary? Our Lady of Naju?” She questioned.

“Yes, I quite like the idea, don’t you?” The other girls knew you spoke a little formally, never really speaking in slang or impolitely in the slightest. It was your parents, after all. You had grown up in a secluded, small town in America, but your parents had taught you Korean, along with your own interest, reading books to perfect grammar. Sadly, that didn’t really teach you many informal words— not that your parents would allow that. You had to be a lady, of course.

“It seems a bit.. outdated, doesn’t it?” Aeri voiced, tentatively, and the other girls agreed with her. They began giving suggestions.

“What about Lily?” Jimin offered.

“Eden— no, maybe Eve?” minjeong hummed.

“Lilith!” Ning exclaimed, much to the amusement of the other girls.

“Ning, that’s similar to Lily, though, isn’t it?” Minjeong gave an amused half-smile.

“I guess so,” she sighed.

“I like Eve,” Aeri voiced, and the other girls all mostly agreed, although more name suggestions were given out, for everyone.

You debuted with the names Karina, Giselle, Eve, Winter, and Ningning.

you said a prayer every morning and every night, with the rosary that was around the figurine. A small Our Father, a Hail Mary, an Act of Contrition— no matter what, you never missed your morning and nightly prayers, no matter how small. You attended mass on Sunday, and while you usually couldn’t go in person, you’d try to listen to it in the morning, before it was time for practice, or at night, before bed— it didn’t matter how much sleep you gave up for it.

You were moved into a group dorms a bit after debut, Black Mamba being a sensational hit. You dormed with aeri, while ning and minjeong dormed together, karina having pulled the leader and oldest card to secure the single-room.

You and aeri weren’t exactly close. There was no animosity, of course, you two just never really got the chance to talk. It was definitely by chance. Not because she made your heart beat just a little faster, your steps a little more uncoordinated, your words fail. It wasn’t that. It wasn’t that at all.

you just admired the other girl. It didn’t help that you two had more than one language in common— aeri had gone to an international school, you were raised in america. You just hadn't gotten the chance to approach her, that was all.

well, the first night before the debut stage, you couldn’t sleep. You tossed and turned, finally sitting up, when—

“Can’t sleep?” aeri’s voice was low with sleep, and she was speaking in english. You felt an uncomfortable skip in your heart.

“Oh, yes, I’m just a bit restless,” you laughed, definitely not nervously. “I am, too. Just a little,” she replied, making a pinching gesture with her fingers, and a smile.

“Why?” You asked, even if it was kind of a dumb question.

aeri was silent, for a beat. At one point, you started to wonder if she was even going to respond.

“I’m just kind of.. scared,” she admitted. “We’re gonna be on display to the whole world, and who knows what’ll happen?” She chuckled, throwing her arms up just a bit. “I’m just.. worried. And.. I mean obviously, I miss home,” she added.

you looked at her, slightly, turning your head just to glance at the dark haired girl. “I know,” you murmured. “I miss home too, even if it wasn’t.. the most exciting place. I just miss it,” you continued. You were just a little afraid you were speaking too quickly in english, but aeri seemed fine. “I mean, I understand. I miss my parents,” she agreed.

you wished you could say the same. It’s not that you didn’t love your parents, but they were a little.. much. They didn’t like the fact you hadn’t found a guy yet. They’d ask you if you.. liked girls. You denied it, you didn’t! You were steadfast in your faith, dedicated, you didn’t like girls. You couldn’t.

“I miss my friends, you know. Sometimes I worry I’ll forget english,” you admitted.

“Well,” aeri gave a grin. “I’ll talk to you in english all you want if you promise to talk to me in japanese,”

you didn’t even speak japanese, but for her? you’d learn.

You smiled. “Of course,”

the two of you tried your best to sleep, after that, but it was mostly you two continuing to talk about anything and everything.

You could tell aeri was going to be one of your best friends. A reminder of home, if anything.

the debut showcase went great, the song was a hit, everything was good.

you and aeri spoke before going to sleep every night— you’d even bought a book about japanese grammar, how to read, write and speak it. You tried your best, but aeri had a nice time correcting you. It was.. nice. You always loved to learn languages, and for some reason, having someone who spoke it already help you was.. a bit comforting, in a way.

you still prayed every night, and aeri would sometimes give you a look, but she never said anything.

everything was going great.

until the hate began

Every little thing you or your group did was criticized, nitpicked, blown out of proportion— and the stress was getting to you.

you had never handled stress very well. You didn’t have a reason to. There was really nothing for you to ever stress about— other than following god, of course, but that wasn’t stressful to you. You had no reason to be stressed about something like that! You were a good person, you hadn’t ever wanted to sin.

some of the comments were about your appearance. It started to chip away at you. The company was always happy when you lost weight, so why not just a little more? It’s not like it would kill you. you were three months into an eating disorder that you called a diet.

the second you got up, you’d pray as your sustenance, head to practice, do your schedules— the other girls would order lunch, you’d ask for a salad. No dressing, of course, you didn’t like the taste. then, as you’d all get to the dorm, again, if there was even an hour of free time, you’d head to the company gym. Sometimes, when you were just in a waiting room, or you couldn’t work out— you’d pace. Anything to keep moving, you just couldn’t sit still. It was taking over your mind.

you couldn’t even eat normally. Any food given to you on a variety show, any drink, anything— mentally, you were counting. You liked to be in the negatives, you liked to skip meals, anything to be better. This was for yourself, so people couldn’t comment on you. You started to come up with even more elaborate ways to prove you were okay, to be better, you practiced more, you stayed late, you slept in the practice room, at times. You begged the vocal coaches to tell you whether or not you were actually good, and as much as they said you were, you just couldn’t believe them.

it was starting to destroy you.

“y/n?” Aeri called, as you prayed right before bed. She stood by the open room door, looking at you with a concerned expression. Why would she be concerned?

“Yes?” You answered, setting down the rosary, putting it back around the statue of Mary that watched over you so carefully. Sometimes, you wondered if you’d made her proud. Maybe if you said the suffering was in the name of god, he’d forgive you. He’d forgive you for the things you had thought and done and wanted to do. He’d forgive you. You could punish yourself, already. You could pray for him to fix you quickly, maybe you could give up eating for lent entirely—

“You.. haven’t been sleeping here, lately. We haven’t gotten.. to talk,” aeri began, sitting down next to you, looking down at you from where she had sat on your bed, right next to where you knelt.

you had completely forgotten your promise. It had just slipped your mind, you never really were awake enough for it, lately, and—

“Are you okay? You’re kind of.. pale, and you have dark circles, and-“

“Oh, I’m fine,” you smiled, quickly. “It’s just.. lent,” you lied, quickly. “All catholics fast and give something up for lent, don’t worry,” you assured, waving a hand dismissively. While it was true, it didn’t call for someone to starve themselves. You were lying. That’s a sin. But it’s just a white lie, so they won’t worry, right? It’s okay, you told yourself.

“We’re worried about you,” aeri frowned, putting a hand on your shoulder, the weight making you go from a kneeling position to sitting with your legs crossed. “I’m worried about you,”

god damn aeri, and her kind personality, and her need to care for others, and she was just so good- she was such a good person, and here you were, about to ruin her, damn her to hell. You were a horrible, filthy, disgusting person. For some reason, your eyes grew hot, but you couldn’t cry. You simply stared at her, with wide eyes, like seeing god’s light, it blinded you. You wished she didn’t care about you. You wouldn’t blame her. Vaguely, you remembered the first commandment.

the first commandment. Exodus 20:1 I am the Lord your God. You shall not have other gods beside me. You shall not make for yourself an idol or a likeness of anything in the heavens above or on the earth below or in the waters beneath the earth; you shall not bow down before them or serve them. For I, the Lord, your God, am a jealous God

“Aeri, I-” your voice cracked, and you were so determined not to cry, but you could feel your resolve breaking, because you were weak, you were weak to your vices and weak to aeri, you were so pathetic. The older girl let out a small sigh, sinking down onto the floor next to you, taking you into her arms. She was silent, for a bit, while you choked out words that were mostly incomprehensible. She ran a hand through your hair, and was a bit unsettled to feel how cold you were to the touch, but she pointedly ignored it.

“Y/n, you can’t let the words of those people get to you.. they won’t do you any good, and.. I know that’s hypocritical of me, I’m learning to ignore it too, but.. you can’t let it kill you like this,” she continued, voice soft. It made you sick how much you liked her comforting you. What would she do if she knew that you were so disgusting. You wanted aeri, you realized as you held her shirt, with some sense of finality hitting you. You didn’t want her to leave. You wanted her to hold you, and she wasn’t even aware of what you felt towards her. You were taking advantage of her. You were so disgusting.

“I’m sorry,” you croaked out, voice a little choked as you bit the inside of your cheek, trying not to cry. “I’m so sorry,” “It’s okay,” she said, a little confused on why you were apologizing, look of worry on her face. Not that you could see it. You had your head in the crook of her neck.

that’s why you were apologizing, really.

you were sorry that you loved her. You were sorry she wanted to help you. You she couldn’t fix you, no one could. you were defective, and wrong, and oh so selfish. Aeri was such a good person.

the presence of the statue on your nightstand caught your eye from the corner. You turned away. She shouldn’t have to see this.

you could feel the tears stinging at your eyes, the shame, the guilt, the hate— it was all too much. You needed to push aeri away, to get as far away from her as possible, to save what little integrity and goodness you had left—

but you didn’t.

you clutched her shirt tighter, breathed her in desperately, and let out a choked sound. You wanted to cry, but you screwed your eyes shut and bit your lip. The blood was heavy and sharp in your mouth.

You woke up the next day beyond exhausted, but in your bed and off the floor. You surmised that aeri had put you there. You held your head, and got down on your knees in front of your bed. You prayed.

“Mary, mother of God, please guide me away from sin, as you have for so many others. Help me to continue being steadfast in my faith, and to follow all commandments well. Allow me to be worthy of your son, and continue to protect me from sin. These thoughts have been given to me by the devil, as a challenge of my faith. Guide me out of temptation, and forgive my actions, in the Lord’s name, I ask for this mercy,”

you stood up. Your knees ached. Aeri was up, sitting cross legged on her bed, watching you with a concerned expression. “Why are you praying to Mary?” aeri asked, voice light but expression still a bit worried, if not a tad curious.

“Catholics pray to saints as well. Especially depending on their patronage— I mean, if I lose something, I usually pray to Saint Anthony,” you chuckled, explaining the concept.

“What’s Mary the patron Saint of?” aeri asked, softly, curiously.

“Many different things, depending on which version of her you choose to pray to. Our Lady of Lourdes is Mary, but when she appeared in Lourdes. She’s the patron saint of the sick. There’s Our Lady of Loreto, the patron Saint of pilots,”

“Which one do you have, then?”

“Our Lady of Sorrows,” you murmured, glancing towards the figure on your nightstand. The rosary was draped around her carefully. Her downcast, frowning face, her hands clasped together, the feeling of her porcelain eyes boring into your back nearly burned.

“What’s she the patron Saint of?”

“Sinners,”

the second commandment. Exodus 20:1-7 You shall not invoke the name of the Lord, your God, in vain. For the Lord will not leave unpunished anyone who invokes his name in vain.

practice that day went on for a long while. You were all practicing for next level. At one point, you took a small break, drinking water— your heart had been beating quite fast, that day, and your throat had been dry the entire practice.

during the beat change, it was nearly impossible for you to keep your eyes off aeri- or should you start calling her giselle, now? maybe it would be best to separate the two.

you shouldn’t be looking at aeri like that— but giselle was an idol. giselle was not your friend— she was someone untouchable, unattainable. It was okay to like her, to find her pretty, to want- no, no. You didn’t. You just envied her appearance, was all.

Your eyes were glued to her, the way she moved, her expression, everything, it was-

“Oh my God,” you mumbled, eyes locked onto her movements, before you heard the instructor call for you to get up and were immediately snapped out of your haze. You didn’t even remember the event before you went to sleep.

the third commandment. Exodus 20:1-11 Remember the sabbath day—keep it holy. Six days you may labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is a sabbath of the Lord your God. You shall not do any work. For in six days the Lord made the heavens and the earth, the sea and all that is in them; but on the seventh day he rested. That is why the Lord has blessed the sabbath day and made it holy.

It was Sunday. It was always a toss-up whether or not you’d have a schedule that day, and today you did not. You watched the six a.m. mass, while aeri slept a few feet away. You knelt when they knelt, stood when they stood, prayed when they prayed.

but you did not sing, no. That would wake aeri.

the girls usually used their rest days to sleep. You always woke up early. You were restless. You hated to sleep. In your dreams you’d see images of a life you could never live, of things you shouldn’t— couldn’t— do. You’d see aeri. No, not aeri— giselle. Aeri didn’t look your way on the stage, hold your gaze for a moment too long, send a wink. The company didn’t order aeri to hold you closer, smile at you more, intertwine your hands.

aeri would never look at you that way.

but giselle would.

you went to the practice room after you prayed. You rehearsed until you felt the world spin, your skin too hot- until you forgot about aeri, and giselle, and the figurine on your nightstand, and the pastor’s homilies, and the way your parents would never love you the same because of what you had done. You danced until your vision became blurry, so you couldn’t see your hands, so whatever or whoever you touched wasn’t your fault, so you couldn’t see their face. More likely, so you couldn’t see yourself, and the body you lived in. You danced until your ears rang, so you wouldn’t have to listen to the sounds, to how your members pleaded with you to stop doing this to yourself. Till you couldn’t hear the people telling you it wasn’t enough.

till you couldn’t hear yourself telling you it wasn’t enough.

till you couldn’t hear your parents words resounding in your head, the endless comments of it being unnatural, of being sent straight to the hellfire, to how it was the most hideous thing in the world.

till you didn’t hear the way fans leered after you, and your members— the stares they’d give you, as you walked, the way they’d clamber for you, so many hands reaching, reaching for you, to touch, to take. it ate you up inside, how badly you wanted to be pure. and how you knew, through it all, you never could be. they could imagine you any way, salivate, draw, take, write it in comments. They even had the confidence to say it out loud, passing comments on variety shows.

you danced till you could forget their words, their looks, what you knew so well that they thought, you danced till you thought your body would give out—

or, conversely, till the leader and main vocalist of red velvet opened the practice room door and rushed over to the the shaking body of their junior, nearly unable to breath, head in her hands and knees to her chest in the farthest corner of the room, brightly illuminated.

you wanted to assure them you were fine, but the cross chain you wore was too tight on your neck, the silver feeling like hot iron burning your throat. You swore if you looked down it would be burning into your skin, leaving a brand.

each breath felt like swallowing glass, and your eyes were unfocused, and your ears were ringing, and your body was screaming in protest of each movement, and your eyesight was blurring—

but you got up, bowed, apologized, assured them you were okay, thanked them, and left.

you had been lying a lot, lately. To your members, about how you were— to your managers, your staff, to your seniors, now. Lying was a sin. but you could excuse it, couldn’t you?

you hoped they wouldn’t mention it to your members.

the fourth commandment. Exodus 20:1-12 Honor your father and your mother, that you may have a long life in the land the Lord your God is giving you.

you rarely talked to your parents. You should call them, more. Or, more accurately, you should pick up their calls, more. Except, it was maddening. You hated talking to them. No matter how much you tried to convince yourself you didn’t, that they were your parents, and what they said was gospel, you couldn’t stand it. Their prying questions, asking how being an idol was, if you kept up with your faith, asking why the media would report on how “close” you were with your members— with Aeri. Asking why you had gotten so thin, and that you needed to gain weight. They would pick and pry at every little thing. You couldn’t stand it, you couldn’t-

the phone rang. Again. You picked up.

“Finally, you answer the phone, y/n,” the voice of your mother crackled, thousands of miles away.

“I’m sorry,” you respond, robotically, like a reflex. ��I was in practice. We’re busy, since we’re preparing for a comeback,”

“You always have some excuse for us, don’t you? You can’t just talk to your parents? What a daughter, you are. We’re your parents, y/n, you should actually listen to us, more. I told you being an idol wouldn’t be good for you, and look at you now! Barely any respect for your parents, how horrible is that? I can’t believe you,” she ranted, going on and on about this and that and every failure and everything you should’ve done better.

“This is why I didn’t want you going away, I knew what it’d do to you.. we tried to fix you, but you are a sick, sick little girl,” she spat, accusingly. “You know what you did, you know what you did to this family— that I have to live with a daughter who’s-”

click.

You hung up.

her voice was so grating.

Your mother loved to spout silly little ideas, didn’t she? She was wrong. You didn’t do anything. You weren’t gay. You didn’t like girls, or a girl. They had just been confused. The reason you became an idol was because you loved to perform, not because it was your only way out— after they saw you with her. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t kiss her. You didn’t, you’d never-

the truth was that you had left your hometown because of an incident. Yes, you loved to perform, and being an idol was always on your mind. But you never thought you’d do it, how could you leave?

You soon found out what it was like to live outcasted, alone, treated like something wrong and filthy and horrible. Your parents didn’t help. So, you did what anyone would do— you ran away, off to Korea, off to the harsh idol system

because anything

anything

would be better than living with the guilt and shame, with the knowing eyes and hateful stares. anything would be better than being stuck in that suffocating smalll town, where everyone knew everyone, and all your secrets were magnified.

she had moved away, anyway. Her parents protected her. you protected yourself. You had to run.

so you did.

you had to kill that part of yourself, bury her more than six feet deep, deep enough so that the world would never find her.

You died the day your parents opened your bedroom door and found you with the daughter of a deacon, who helped at the church, who your parents had invited over for dinner, who they had been invited by for dinner. When they found you with the daughter of their friends.

they didn’t know whether to say if she corrupted you or you corrupted her.

they chose the latter, of course, they got to it first. They drove them out of town, blaming that girl for your transgressions. For your sin.

she kissed you, after all.

you just sat there and took it.

it wasn’t your fault, they said to the town. It was hers. You’re just too trusting and naïve.

if only they knew, the rest of the people. Your parents certainly did.

they forbid you from having any friends that were girls over, again.

and you understood. You knew. And you took it.

You killed that part of yourself, that day. Buried her, and tried to forget. But there’s dirt and blood on your hands and you’re still hollow. There’s nothing left of you, from before. Bright smiles and eyes, a cheery demeanor, giggling in secret with her- there’s none of that left.

You’re not a little kid anymore, a teenager with a crush, no.

You grew up. You had to.

and that little girl is dead.

dead and buried, underground.

you wished Aeri knew you when you were younger.

she would’ve loved the softer you.

the fifth commandment. Exodus 20:1-13 You shall not kill.

You know, there’s a reason priests and nuns can’t get married.

it’s because, allegedly, they’re married to god.

so, in that case, is it wrong for you, married to god since birth, by your parents— that anything, anyone other than a boy, was wrong?

you tried to understand, but you couldn’t. What was the consensus?

you knew, deep down. What you were was wrong.

and yet, you couldn’t stop. You tried. But you were weak, at heart. A sinner, with no control.

that was your downfall, you thought.

or maybe salvation.

You and Aeri were the last two in the practice room— you were near obsessive with your need to perfect choreography, and Aeri asked you for help, so— you were here. You had already released Next Level, but the practicing never stopped, obviously. You had to perfect it, make it yours, make it the best— so that’s where you were, right now.

it was late, honestly. Already dark out, and your other three members had long since left. You regretted saying yes to Aeri— you knew the choreography for next level, obviously, you knew the way Giselle moved made you feel something wrong, something dark and wanting. You tried to push it down, though— you ran through the moves together, you fixed some posturing and some other small timing issues, really, it was nothing major. You watched her run through those parts, and clenched your jaw.

you felt hot, and your hands itched to reach out and touch her. You couldn’t be making this up, could you? She was looking at you through the mirror, your flushed face barely visible from the darker corner you were sitting at. You swore you could see a smirk on Giselle’s face, for a split second, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

you hated it, hated how Giselle made you feel out of control, made you feel wanting, made that dark thing in you, shoved deep down, squirm and claw. You felt sick. You wanted her.

“I’ll be back,” you said, abruptly standing up and turning the door of the practice room, practically scrambling out. “Bathroom,” was what you supplied as reasoning, before you got out the door, rushing through the empty halls. They were weirdly eerie, at night.

you walked into the bathroom, the sound of your shoes clicking on the ground far too loud, the yellowed glow of the SM building’s bathrooms surrounding you. You gripped the sink, turning on the water and splashing some on your face. You felt dirty, and wrong. Your skin crawled in the suffocating space, the sound of running water driving you insane, the sound of your breathing almost too much. It seems you were in there for longer than you thought, though, as you stated into the mirror, lost in thought, knuckles turning white with the bruising grip you kept on the sink counter.

“Y/n?” Aeri called, opening the door.

You snapped your head to her— she was wearing just some white tanktop and sweatpants, with a black sports bra, but god.

Giselle walked over to you, with a concerned expression. “Are you okay? You’re breathing pretty hard,” she asked, walking closer, putting a hand on your hip, other hand touching your arm.

your composure snapped. You moved your hands to her face, holding it in them, looking at her with wide eyes. “Giselle, I-”

“Why are you calling me Giselle? That’s my stage name, y/n, just call me Aeri?” she said, a little confused and a little irritated. Why the hell were you calling her by her stage name?

you held her face a little tighter, taking in a sharp breath, mouth suddenly feeling dry.

“Aeri,” you murmured, voice low. You leaned in, and her eyes widened, slightly. She didn’t push you away, in fact, she met you in the middle, holding you tighter, moving her other hand to your waist, squeezing your hip, where she could feel the outline of your hipbone. You hated how much you needed her, the kiss messy and desperate, filled with an underlying sense of want and need.

“G- Aeri,” you mumbled, out of breath, panting against her mouth. You couldn’t reconcile the two, easily. Giselle was the one who was making you do this, right? Not Aeri, you didn’t like Aeri, right?

no, that wasn’t true. You liked Aeri. A lot more than you’d admit. You wanted her. You needed her. You couldn’t stop, now.

“Aeri, please-” you murmured, between kisses. They were more desperate, now, wanting, as she pushed you against the cold bathroom wall, the light flickering once. Twice. Three times.

“Yeah? What do you want?” She asked, lowly, eyes dark and pupils blown wide as she looked down at you.

“Lock the door,” you muttered, grabbing her wrist, tightly, and moving her hand upwards.

the sixth commandment. Exodus 20:1-14 You shall not commit adultery.

you and aeri never spoke about it.

but it became a thing, now.

you needed her like a drug, constantly wanting and waiting for the next time you could have her.

you and giselle shared a room, after all. you were pretty sure everyone knew. and by everyone you meant your members, of course. the public could never know, they’d ruin both your career and hers, and you couldn’t do that to her. you weren’t evil, just weak. just horrible, but not evil. you could never hurt her. you loved her, didn’t you? the way a friend doesn’t hurt a friend.

deep down, you knew. It was so much worse than that.

they couldn’t know the way you put concealer on, before practice. the way you were strangely hot and cold, terrified of her touch, but how the both of you would disappear into your room, or somewhere, together, always appearing back, more than a few minutes later, though the tension was always still there.

the way you had become a shell.

you were ashamed, really.

you felt so disgusting, all the time. here you were, dirty, filthy, robbing someone else, sullying them, damning her, all for your own selfish needs, desires, wants.

you had always wanted, too much.

giselle was your temptation and aeri was the sin, the collateral to the damage.

it’s not like she protested, either, the way giselle’s hands lingered, a beat too longer to be friendly. the way her fists would clench on those stupid variety shows, when the hosts mentioned your appearance, saying you were so pretty.

she hated how they’d look at you.

but you couldn’t see that, really.

you hated yourself, and you had stolen aeri’s sanctity.

it was giselle’s fault, though, you would think, sometimes.

but deep down, you knew the truth.

it was your doing. Your fault. You ruined everything you touched, everything you wanted would die and burn because you were a sinner. All because you couldn’t control yourself.

eve ate the apple, too, you’d think. but maybe, the snake wasn’t just the creature, no, but the whispers of lilith, beckoning her away, promising her everything she’d wanted. forbidden knowledge, godhood, becoming better— and maybe, even herself.

was biting the apple an act of naivety, of greed?

or the blind, blissful ignorance of trust? of love?

someone you loved wouldn’t damn you, would they?

but oh, you knew better. You knew.

you had stolen both of your chances of sanctity and holiness.

out of blind, ignorant, nearly all encompassing love.

it was love.

the seventh commandment. Exodus 20:1-15 You shall not steal.

The weeks went by, in this strange commitment.

you had just arrived back from yet another variety show, and Giselle was obviously annoyed at something. It was late, and everyone wanted to sleep. You made your way back to your room, the door open a crack—

giselle was changing into some sleep clothes. You didn’t really care which. the glimpse of her back, of skin, made you nearly feel ill. You shut the door, quickly, feeling like you couldn’t breathe. It made you feel sick.

you entered about a minute later, to see her scrolling on her phone, with a bored expression. You, instead, went and knelt in front of the small Mary statue you kept.

“Mary, mother of God, please hear my prayer. I’m asking you to give me the strength to-”

your breath hitched as you felt giselle put her hands on your shoulders, leaning into your back, feeling her smirk press against your neck.

“y/n,” she called, a mischievous lilt to her voice like this was a fucking game.

“y-yes?” was the reply.

Her hands moved, pressing along your collarbone.

“You know, I hate variety shows, sometimes,” she hummed, voice so unbelievably distracting. “I don’t like the way they talk about you,” she continued.

“I- I agree, I do, it’s quite-”

her blunt nails dug into your shoulder, slightly, as she pulled you back, just a bit, your back pressed to her front. Her head craned forward, to murmur into your ear. “It pisses me off,” she added.

of course, you tended to her anger. You had to, as penance.

later, when you were laying beside her, panting with tears in your eyes, saying anything that came to mind—

“I love you,” you choked out, reverently, like a prayer.

god never responded to those, usually. aeri didn’t love you back.

there’s no way god loved you. and aeri didn’t, either.

the eighth commandment Exodus 20:1-16 You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor.

“Tell me not to,” you begged, clutching onto giselle like a lifeline, holding her arms. “Tell me no, tell me not to love you. I can’t, I shouldn’t, I don’t want-”

girls never hungered. They never want, like a boy.

“And what if it’s what I want!” She spat back, acidly, pushing you off. “I love you, and I don’t know why you can’t accept that! I love you, not like a friend, or coworker, or whatever else you think! I’m in love with you, why can’t you get that!?” she asked, sharply, voice far too loud.

you didn’t know how to explain that you loved her, too, that you wished you could love her. You always wanted, so badly, to like a boy, and to love him, so you could hold his hand in public, and kiss him, and introduce him to your parents and they wouldn’t say a word, to be able to love him without just that fact being controversial, to love someone without it absolutely ruining your career. Idols couldn’t date, yes, but they’d survive if they were rumored to be with a man.

god forbid it was a girl.

you couldn’t ruin her career, or yours. You couldn’t damn her more, you couldn’t ruin everything, like you always did-

“I can’t,” you cried, desperately. “I’ll ruin everything, I’ll ruin you, I’d-”

“I don’t care!” she retorted. “I don’t care! I want you, and I love you. Is it that you can’t, or you won’t? You’re just scared,” she accused, rightly so.

“I am,” you admitted, pathetically. “I’m scared.”

She scoffed, clenching her fists. She turned, sharply, turning the door handle, wiping her eyes and slamming the room’s door.

You were alone.

god abandoned you, long ago.

you don’t know why it hurt more the second time.

the ninth commandment Exodus 20:1-17 You shall not covet your neighbor’s house. You shall not covet your neighbor’s wife, his ox or donkey, or anything that belongs to your neighbor.

it was a few days later, at night after an off day. You had been hiding in your room most of the day. Cowardly, yes, but the other members weren’t exactly thrilled with you. You couldn’t blame them. You were currently pretending to be asleep.

you heard aeri enter the room. She laid down, to sleep. The lights were off. It was dead silent. You turned.

“aeri,” you called. No response.

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry,” you continued, after surmising she was asleep. “I love you. I really do. I’m just so, so scared. I don’t know how to let myself love you. I feel wrong. I’m sorry. I want to. I don’t know how to love you how you deserve, I don’t even know how to love myself. Im weak and pathetic, really. If you knew the real me, I think you’d hate me,” you chuckled, without humor. “As long as you’re happy, though. I’ll be okay,” you murmured, finally.

“Im not happy, actually,” she informed, suddenly, and you felt your heart leap into your throat. “I love you, y/n. I don’t care if it’ll make everything more difficult, or if you think I’ll hate you. I won’t, by the way,”

you didn’t know how to respond. aeri did it, for you.

she got up, walked over to your bed, and made you sit up.

“so can you stop being scared? I love you, and-“

you cut her off.

you clutched her face, and kissed her, desperately. You felt tears well in your eyes, and this time, they fell. You pulled back.

“aeri, I love you, I love you so much. I love you, please forgive me. I’ll try, I swear. Please, just-”

she kissed you, again. nothing was completely fixed, yet, but you both loved each other. You were still scared, of course, but aeri had seen you at your worst, already, and was still here. so maybe, it was okay.

the tenth commandment. Genesis 1:1-Revelation 22:21 Love thy neighbor as I have loved you.

The last few weeks had been.. different.

You had started eating again, or, more frequently, was a better way to put it.

it was mostly because aeri had taken up cooking, and you could never say no to her, and it was kind of nice, really, to see her happy when you told her you liked the food.

you started to ignore the comments online, not even bothering to read them most of the time. You called your parents less, if that was even possible, and started talking with aeri and your members more.

it was nice, to have friends. To have people that you knew cared about you. It was nice to know that people didn’t view you as disgusting, or filthy, or wrong.

you had a hard time viewing yourself, differently, but if someone like aeri, someone so good, could stand you, then maybe, you weren’t as bad as your parents said you were. They were wrong about a lot, you’d come to learn.

on one of your breaks, you had found another statue.

it was of Saint Maria.

you put it next to the statue of Our Lady. You thought it fit, in a way.

you didn’t attend sunday mass, or hear it. You didn’t pray much, anymore, either. but you kept the statues as a reminder, of sorts.

aespa had been doing very well, as well, and you didn’t practice late into the night, as much, anymore.

all of you were currently deciding what takeout to order, and trying to pick a move. no one could really come to a final decision, and you watched the bickering amusedly. You got up, heading to the kitchen, filling a glass with water. Aeri appeared behind you, a sly smile on her face as she wrapped her arms around your waist. “Hey, y/n,” she hummed.

“Yeah?” you replied, turning your head. she had a smirk on her face.

“I got you somethinggg,” she grinned, tilting her head, a mischievous expression on her face, her hands clasped behind her back.

“what is it?”

she handed you a gold necklace, with rose quartz in the shape of a heart at the end, a bashful expression beginning to take place at your silence. “I didn’t know if you would like it, but it reminded me of you, so-”

“It’s perfect,” you interrupted, a genuine smile on your face. “Can you put it on for me?”

aeri removed the silver cross necklace you had worn for years, and years, placing it on the counter. She clasped the new necklace, the gold sitting pleasantly on your skin.

you turned to her, holding her face before kissing her, smiling into it. You left the chain on the counter, a smile plastered near permanently your face. “It’s beautiful, aeri, thank you,”

“Of course,” she replied, with a very self-satisfied grin on her face.

“I love you,” you added, wrapping your arms around her waist.

“I love you too, you sap,” she rolled her eyes, good naturedly, but still held you, too. “Come on, let’s go back— i’m not letting them watch a disney movie for the millionth time,”

“So what, you can watch Deadpool?” You teased, with a grin.

“Maybe,” she replied.

it was definitely certain, now, with the silver chain thrown in the garbage, easily.

you loved aeri uchinaga

and you hoped, prayed, even, that the rest of your life would be filled by aeri uchinaga.

A/N: hi guys… so I love aeri uchinaga btw. uhmm so basically the catholic version of the Ten Commandments the ninth commandment is separated into nine “don’t covet your neighbors wife” and ten “don’t covet your neighbors goods” but technically all Ten Commandments can be followed by following the one big rule which is “love thy neighbor as I have loved you” and basically symbolism forever eve breaks all nine commandments but follows the one big one which is like love everyone which means she never actually sinned she just thought she did because she is doomed yuri ☝️🤓

I LOVE TOXIC YURI AND DOOMED YURI FOREVERR pleek send asks+reqs btw I need ideas

#carps works #carpmasterlist #aespa x reader #aespa x fem reader #giselle x reader #aeri uchinaga x reader #aeri x reader #aespa giselle #aespa imagines #girl group imagines #giselle x fem reader #aeri uchinaga x fem reader #reader is the comphet religious guilt posterchild #aeri is lowk a little toxic and plays into it #reader is eve aeri is apple and giselle is the snake #in readers insane mind..#just 7k of projection #i love yuri

161 notes · View notes

goldfades · 5 months ago

Text

★ IT'S LIKE YOUR EYES ARE LIQUOR, IT'S LIKE YOUR BODY IS GOLD ─── PB⁵ (part 2/2)

౨ৎ ─ summary | this is part two, brother's best friend trope! bryce and paige had been best friends since they were kids, and she's never really been close to his little sister, y/n until she transfers to uconn after a tumultuous freshman year. part one!!!!!!

─ warnings | absolutely nothing but sweet fluff! bryce/paige/reader moment, soft moments and asking out r in a public way. pretty short but i couldn't think of anything

─ ev's notes | the long awaited part 2 to my fic! idk this is just how i imagined paige would ask out reader, because yes i am a slut for some pdaaaa. i don't know if this is accurate by any means LMAO, i just thought of a senior night and was like, yup this is the one. i read a fic similar to this a while ago, idk who wrote it but if anyone knows yall can tag them in the comments! but yeah, that's pretty much it, enjoy!!!

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my wcbb masterlist!

THE GYM WAS PACKED to the rafters, a sea of blue and white as fans, friends, and family gathered to celebrate UConn's senior night.

The atmosphere buzzed with excitement and anticipation, the air thick with emotion. Paige looked out over the crowd, her heart pounding with a mix of nerves and excitement. This night was special, not just because she was a senior, but because of how much she'd overcome.

As the ceremony began, Paige took a deep breath and stepped up to the podium. She felt a surge of pride as she looked out at her teammates, the coaches, and the fans who had supported her through thick and thin. Her gaze found yours in the crowd, and she felt a wave of calm wash over her.

You and Bryce were both sitting in the front row, proudly wearing her jersey. Bryce gave her an encouraging nod, while you smiled warmly, your eyes filled with admiration and love.

“Good evening, everyone,” Paige began, her voice steady and clear despite the nervousness in her stomach. “Tonight is a night of celebration and reflection. For the seniors, it marks the end of an incredible journey here at UConn. And for uh, for me, it’s a moment to reflect on the past and look forward to the future.”

The crowd fell silent, hanging on her every word. Paige took another deep breath, gathering her thoughts as she glanced down at the typed-up speech.

“As many of you know, I suffered an ACL injury last year. It was one of the toughest challenges I’ve ever faced, both physically and mentally. There were days when I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to play at the level I wanted again. But through the support of my amazing teammates, coaches, and staff, I’ve been able to come back stronger than ever.”

A ripple of applause spread through the gym, and Paige smiled, her heart swelling with gratitude as she glanced toward her team and Coach Geno.

“This injury taught me a lot about resilience, determination, and the power of believing in yourself. It reminded me that even in our darkest moments, we can find the strength to rise again. And because of that, I’m thrilled to announce that I will be returning next year to continue playing basketball for UConn!”

The gym erupted into cheers and applause, the noise echoing off the walls. Paige felt a surge of emotion, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She waited for the crowd to settle before continuing, her eyes finding yours with a smile.

“Tonight, though, is not just about basketball. It’s about the incredible journey we’ve all been on together, the memories we’ve made, and the relationships that have shaped us. And uh, there’s one person here tonight who has been a huge part of my journey, someone who has been there for me through a lot, someone who means the world to me.”

Her eyes found yours again, and she felt a rush of warmth and affection.

“Y/N,” Paige called out, her voice filled with emotion. “Could you uh, come up here for a moment?”

Your heart began to race as you looked up nervously at Bryce, who gave you an amused look. The crowd murmured with curiosity as you made your way through the throng of people, your heart pounding with anticipation. Bryce gave you a reassuring pat on the back as you stood, making your way up to the stage where Paige was waiting.

Paige took your hand as you reached the podium, her touch steady and reassuring. The gym fell silent, all eyes on the two of you.

“You’ve been my rock, my biggest supporter, and my best friend. Even though we weren't close until this year,” Paige said, her voice trembling with emotion. “I couldn't imagine going life without you by my side and I feel like I've been close with you forever. And I want to make this official.”

You could feel the nervousness radiating off of her, her hand feeling a little warm as your smile grew. “Will you be my girlfriend?” Paige asked, her eyes shining with hope.

Tears filled your eyes as you nodded, your heart bursting with happiness. “Of course, P,” you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. “I’d love to be your girlfriend.”

Paige immediately pulled you into a tight embrace as the gym erupted into cheers once more. As she hugged you, the world around you fading away as you held each other. When you finally pulled back, Paige leaned in and kissed your cheek, the cheers and applause of the crowd washing over you like a wave.

She turned to the crowd and her eyes found Bryce's, excitement on his face as he shouted, "That's my girl!"

You scoffed dramatically as Paige blew him a kiss, causing the crowd to burst into laughter. Bryce grinned widely, giving Paige a thumbs-up. The energy in the gym was electric, filled with joy and celebration.

The rest of the evening was a whirlwind of congratulations and celebration. People came up to you both, offering their best wishes and sharing their excitement. Paige's teammates embraced you, welcoming you into their tight-knit circle with open arms.

As the evening wore on, you joined the rest of the team and their families, sharing stories, laughter, and more than a few happy tears. Bryce hovered protectively, making sure you were both taken care of and enjoying the night.

Eventually, the reception wound down, and it was time to head home. Paige insisted on walking you back to your dorm, her arm wrapped around your shoulders as you strolled through the campus. The night air was cool and refreshing, the stars twinkling above like tiny diamonds.

──

"Personally, I really liked the speech. Other than the whole calling her your best friend," Bryce explained as he bit into the pizza. "Cause I am, y'know. I had to yell after that so everyone knows I'm your boy,"

You rolled your eyes, glaring at your brother. "I knew somehow you'd find a way to make that night about you,"

Bryce sent you a glare as Paige laughed, putting a hand on your thigh. The warmth of her touch sent a jolt of comfort through you, grounding you amidst the playful banter.

"Come on, Y/N," Bryce said with mock offense. "Can't a guy enjoy a little recognition once in a while?"

"You did get your own recognition, at your own senior night." You rebutted as he sent you a dirty look, finishing his pizza.

Paige chuckled, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze. "Don't mind him. He's just jealous because he didn't get a shout-out in my speech."

"Come on, guys," Bryce replied with mock indignation, gesturing with his pizza slice. "I'm just making sure my homegirl doesn't forget who's been her biggest fan all along."

Paige grinned mischievously, leaning back in her chair. "Oh, don't worry, Bryce. You're definitely unforgettable."

You and Paige exchanged glances as Bryce nodded, his ego practically radiating off of him. As you reached for another slice of pizza, Bryce's expression turned serious for a moment.

"But seriously, though," he began, his gaze shifting between you and Paige. "I'm really happy for you two."

Paige nodded, her smile softening. "Thanks, Brycey. Your support means a lot to both of us."

"Yeah, I mean, you've been through so much, P," Bryce continued, his tone earnest. "And Y/N, I've seen how happy you've been since you two got together. It's... it's good."

You felt a swell of gratitude toward your brother. Despite his teasing and occasional grumpiness, Bryce had always been there for you both, offering unwavering support.

"Aww, Brycey." Paige pouted as she leaned over the table to ruffle his hair, earning a laugh from you. "You're the best,"

Bryce cleared his throat, suddenly self-conscious under the weight of your appreciation. "Alright, alright," he muttered, trying to lighten the mood. "Enough of the sappy stuff. Let's just enjoy the pizza before it gets cold."

You chuckled, knowing Bryce's penchant for deflecting emotional moments. As you continued to eat and chat, you couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment settle over you. The bond between you and Paige, strengthened by Bryce's acceptance and support, felt more solid than ever.

After finishing up, Bryce insisted on paying for the meal, despite Paige's protests. As you all headed out of the resturant, the cool night air felt refreshing against your skin. Walking side by side with Paige and Bryce, you felt a sense of contentment and excitement for the evening ahead.

Paige slipped her hand into yours as you walked, her fingers intertwining with yours. You exchanged a smile, both of you looking forward to the simple pleasures of being in each other's company.

As you approached Paige's apartment building, Bryce gave you both a playful salute. "Enjoy your movie night, lovebirds. And don't stay up too late. Oh and, tomorrow's my day with Paige."

"I know, we're playing Fort all night," Paige promised with a grin. "Thanks for dinner,"

"Anytime," Bryce replied with a wink before heading off into the night.

With Bryce gone, you and Paige entered her apartment, the familiar surroundings feeling cozy and inviting. She led you to the living room, you both got on the couch with a sigh, the pizza feeling heavy in your stomach.

Settling onto the couch together, Paige draped an arm around you as she turned on the TV, skimming through Netflix. Once she found a good movie, she leaned back as you both settled in for the evening. The soft glow of the TV illuminated the room as Paige nestled closer to you, her warmth and presence comforting after a long day filled with excitement and emotion.

"You comfortable?" Paige asked softly, her fingers gently tracing patterns on your arm.

You nodded, a contented smile on your face. "Yeah, very."

Paige smiled back, her eyes reflecting the flickering light of the screen. "Good."

Halfway through the movie, Paige leaned her head against your shoulder, her fingers idly tracing patterns on your thigh. You smiled softly, relishing the intimacy and closeness between you. This was exactly where you wanted to be ─ with Paige, enjoying each other's company in the quiet comfort of her home.

As the movie approached its end, you turned to Paige, catching her gaze. "Thank you for tonight," you murmured, your voice filled with affection.

She smiled warmly. "No, thank you. For everything."

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. It was a tender, unhurried kiss, conveying all the emotions and gratitude you felt in that moment. Paige responded with equal tenderness, her arms wrapping around you as you deepened the kiss, savoring the closeness between you.

After a while, you both pulled back slightly, resting your foreheads together. Paige's hand found yours again, her fingers lacing with yours as you sat in comfortable silence, the movie soundtrack playing softly in the background.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn huskies #paige bueckers headcannons #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers smut #uconn wbb #uconn #paige buckets #wcbb #wcbb x reader #wbb x reader #wbb smut #uconn women’s basketball #uconn wbb x reader #uconn wbb fic

289 notes · View notes

voxofthevoid · 1 month ago

Note

Yuuji's also extremely comfortable with violence, whether that's lethal violence toward curses or training/sparring with peers and mentors. The little we know of his pre-canon backstory features him beating up bullies, and he may not have been as dramatic about it as Megumi was, but the look on his face was sure something else.

LOUDER FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK 🗣🗣🗣

Those who think Yuji is a uwu sunshine and rainbows baby seem to forget that he got the "Tiger of West Junior High" moniker because he used to beat up bullies (also that name goes SO hard and I love it deeply) and that doesn't happen if you only do it once or twice... He probably did it on the regular, or at least did it enough time to warrant the name! (Also in Japan junior high is between 12 and 15 y/o, so like... he was a menace long before getting pulled into the world of jujutsu)

I need more people to accurately portrait how truly feral and insane my son Yuji can be

YEAH

Though if I say it any louder, I'll start crawling out of people's devices "It's Me, I'm the PS5" style.

He was absolutely a menace well before jujutsu entered his life. Even before we see his fun afterschool activity of beating people up, we see him admit that he's always been good at fighting and later express beaming pride at his physical capabilities.

Honestly, pre-canon Yuuji fascinates me. The few glimpses we see of him at 14 show he's pretty much the same kid in terms of values, but he's also more subdued and stony, depending on whether he's with friendly classmates or random bullies. His more overt cheer in canon proper seems to have come later, and given his life circumstances, I wonder how much of it is a committed choice to being bright and positive. We also see it fade to reveal his quieter, introspective, and perceptive side at many critical points.

Another facet that fascinates me is the sheer control he has over his physical strength. Being that controlled at fifteen speaks of long practice and exacting care: He can't "turn off" his strength by controlling his CE because he's inhumanly strong because of Kenjaku's wombtecnics, not CE, and unlike Maki or Toji, it's not like he'd have had any idea why he's so strong, fast, etc. Yet, he can still touch people gently with the same hands that can casually punch through concrete. Makes you wonder how his strenth developed, whether the control is largely instinctive or painstakingly learned, and how many mistakes he made in the process of wrangling it. He doesn't hide his power, clearly, and we mostly see people appreciate it in sporty/showman contexts, but that kind of thing can also very easily be isolating, especially when you're a kid.

...Half of this has barely anything to do with your ask, but I am prone to yammering when Yuuji's brought up. But yes, he's insane and feral. The adaptability alone is downright unhinged, and it only escalates throughout the series. Gojou clocks him as crazy a few days into meeting him, and Yuuji sure earns that.

I Love This Kid A Normal Amount.

#i love my anons #anon #itadori yuuji #jjk #jjk meta

127 notes · View notes

wisteriasonthemoon · 1 month ago

Text

About the DRV3 Cast's Flowers

I was very enamored with the new DR x animate collab's vibes yesterday. I have never wanted a piece of merch more than DRV3's I Believe In You shirt because its' meaning is so laser targeted. at me. specifically

it's so beautiful. I can't

so, I became interested in digging up the flower language of the flowers the DRV3 cast was holding to see if this collab could be even more laser targeted at me. the results

Kokichi

these are 紫陽花 (ajisai), Japanese hydrangeas. A couple different Japanese flower language blog posts cite purple and blue hydrangeas as being associated with the meanings "cold", "heartless", "cheating", "intelligent", "mysterious" and "patient love"

the contradictory meanings of "heartless" and "patient love" is pretty on brand for Kokichi imo

Shuichi

I had to *DIG* for these flowers. when I began looking, I hadn't the slightest clue what Shuichi was holding. partway through I even questioned if the artist was being accurate, because I had gone through two! TWO! flower databases searching by color and petal count with nothing to show for it

I kept eyeing different species of lilies, because even though the shape was slightly off, the six petals and maroon-purple was reminiscent of lilies. they turned out to be lilies, and I had to search in Japanese through google.co.jp

these are 黒百合 (kuroyuri), black lilies. and they mean. uh. UH. well

"curse" and "revenge" ... and "(romantic) love". but also curse and revenge??? I would doubt this identification, but I can't find a flower that bears a better resemblance than this. this sure is an interesting pick compared to Kokichi's hydrangeas

Shuichi. who did you offend my dude

Kaede

Yeah, so. IDK lol

pictured from left to right is: begonias (specifically elatior begonias), peonies and camellias. I could not find a flower that fit both the petal and leaf shape 1:1 with what Kaede is holding

begonias have the closest petal structure imo, but the wrong leaf shape, and they have the weakest connection with Japan

peonies show up in all kinds of famous Japanese flowers articles, and I did find a blog post in English claiming they are associated with bravery. this is in line with the shirt she is wearing, which if you do look closer says

"If you're scared, borrow the strength of others who will be there to help you."

y'know. the shirt says something. unlike Shuichi's, which just has black bars, kind of like a redacted statement. as if he were lying in plain sight

or Kokichi's! which you might think says nothing but I'm certain says something deeply personal and revealing! it's just printed black on black

anyway, if you look peonies up on blog posts in Japanese, they say the opposite, peonies are associated with "bashfulness" and "shyness". so lmao. also the leaf shapes are still off

camellias mean "humble beauty, love, modesty" and "loved by you". a somewhat fitting meaning for Kaede for a flower that somewhat fits her flower's petal shape. but again, has a totally off leaf shape. not very convinced personally

if anyone does find a matching flower for Kaede, would love to know. it's gotta be a common flower. feels like I'm missing something obvious

regardless, very interesting collab

#drv3 #kaede akamatsu #kokichi ouma #kokichi oma #shuichi saihara #wisterias dot text

68 notes · View notes

fairydares · 7 months ago

Text

loook i get why the idea of riding the "anti/pro" fandom disk horse makes people gag a little in their mouth and try to opt out entirely, but here's why i went from feeling exactly the same way to taking a firm profiction stance. I've been meaning to make this post for a while.

~10 years ago, I posted a fic for the first time and it got its own harassment campaign. The fic wasn't even sexual, and wasn't going to be (it remains incomplete). It was accurately rated T on fanfiction.net. Anyone in the Fairy Tail fandom will understand this: I literally got harassed for writing a "Lucy leaves the guild" fic💀.

After many nice comments, someone left a pretty nasty one. Hurt, I messaged them back. They acted super attacked that I'd responded (lmao) and after we argued, threatened to "rip my shitty story apart in the comments section" if I responded again. I told them "go ahead lol."

They went ahead.

Now know that it was a relatively small harassment campaign, but at the time, it was devastating. Right around then, I wound up in the hospital. After I got out, I went to excitedly check my fic, and found several reviews saying things I wouldn't repeat to my worst enemy. I was suicide-baited more than once, told "thank fuck you finally abandoned this shitty story, dumb cunt," stuff like that.

There were several accounts involved, and I can't say for sure, but I suspect at least a couple different people were involved, though probably at least half of it was one person.

All the other comments were screeching about how I hadn't updated, mostly. "NO UPDAAATEE WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPENS TO MEEEE??!!!" was one that stood out after I'd been miserable in a hospital for an extended period of time.

Idk what people think is going on when FT fic authors write this trope, and frankly I don't give a fuck. Because while I was partly writing the story out of some young, cringe feminist rage, I also did genuinely have a real story I was compelled to tell. I was inspired by another, popular fic I loved which used the trope to talk about how trying to shoulder our burdens alone really just hurts both ourselves and everyone who cares about us.

My own story was ultimately going to have similar themes, with more focus on strength, what it means, and in what contexts earning and having it actually matters. In retrospect, no wonder I wound up in hot water, because at the time "Lucy vs. Strength vs. Misogyny" was the FT fandom's Designated Nonsensically Activist Debate™. But that's partly why i wanted to write about it; engaging with the fandom had gotten me thinking about it 🤷‍♂️

Not too long after that, FFNet oh-so-benevolently granted us the ability to delete comments from our own stories (they never took my reports seriously at all, afaik). I deleted all or most of the harassers' comments (may still be a one or two up, and i'm fairly sure there's a couple comments defending my fic from the harassment) without saving screenshots, which I really regret now. I was just so mortified and full of self-loathing about the whole thing that i wanted to forget it completely. Something that had brought me joy at a very lonely, vulnerable period of my life had turned so negative, and i couldn't even tell the people closest to me about it without being made fun of for writing anime fan fiction.

I didn't understand why this happened at the time, but--after a period of trying to forget/bid out of it all with a slight anti lean (a common approach I see people use, and one which I'm not proud of adopting)--I just had to figure out What the Fuck Even Happened There. And I'm telling you, after years of reflecting, wrestling with both sides, and educating myself, that this "status quo of harassment" culture which pervades fandom goes way deeper than you think and comes out of a way darker well than you probably realize. An astonishing amount of this is, quite literally, TERF shit and evangelical shit.

Trying to be in fandom and take a stance of, "Anti/Pro shit? Ew, I'm Not Touching that," is like swimming in a heavily polluted river and being like, "Poison? Cringe. Not me lol."

You might be lucky enough to be in a less-polluted part of the river (AKA a relatively non-toxic fandom, in which case good for you!)...but tbh this rhetoric and peer-signalling will still seep in.

I can't stress enough that pro-fiction, AKA "proship", is the normal, leftist-about-art-and-sex opinion. Pro-ship is against all the horrible things you're against; in fact, pro-ship isn't trivializing real trauma by equating it with fictional trauma, or trying to apply literal evangelical/radfem solutions--which are proven not to prevent or help. Profiction/proship is literally just saying, "Fiction is fiction, reality is reality, and the two don't have a 1:1 relationship. And historically, trying to censor just things we've decided are bad has done nothing but get LGBTQ+ and POCs censored. Therefore, depictions of illegal things shouldn't be censored." That's it. "Proshippers all ship problematic ships," is a brazen lie. Many of them share other fans' disgust for those ships, they just don't believe in censoring fic authors over it.

It is also taking a stand against harassment because--and I hope my own story has helped drive this home--as with all groups who adopt ingroup/outgroup thinking, antis are defined by their tactics, not actual stances on real, serious issues. What happened to me was absolutely a result of anti, "it's okay to 'bully out' anything I just don't like" mindset pervading fandom. In a way, this was the mindset's final form. They didn't even feel the need to cite a reason the trope was "bad" or "wrong"; it annoyed them, and they viewed their own feelings as a valid enough pathway for policing to go right ahead and do so.

In the interest of offering solutions instead of just bitching about problems, I might make a "how to know if you've bought into these types of views"-type post sometime. Also might come back to this and provide some sources/citation.

#cw harassment #tw suicide-baiting #tw hospitalization #posts i actually wrote #fairy tail #nalu #fandom #fandom meta #proship #pro fiction #anti-censorship #fandom wank #profiction

151 notes · View notes

l3ominor · 2 months ago

Note

It’s “appreciate yourself” hours! Pick five pieces of art that you’ve done that you love and talk about them! ❤️❤️❤️

HFHDHHF :DDDDDD YEEEE ART RAMBLE TIME! (Most of this is recent stuff for Recalled and all but ye)

My first two are my designs for Hylia and the Fierce Deity! I don't think I've posted them here before, but I'm super happy with how they both turned out!

For the Fierce Deity, I personally describe him as being the Hero's Spirit, and so whoever puts on the mask gains the knowledge, skills, and strength of the heros who came before! (Each person has a different FD appearance that I've been working on designing, but the one here is just the general base for FD)

For Hylia, I wanted to sort of dip into that Biblically accurate Angel look, making her seem more otherworldly and elegant. I also wanted to add on a bit more color to her, so I tried to give her a sort of pearly sheen.

Next is a little doodle I did of Captain and Twilight just chilling! I was practicing my more realistic style, and I figured I should be nice to them for once XD

I also just really like that Twilight has wolf ears on his hood. It amuses me to no end XD

Next I have a page from a comic that I'm working on, called Blind Faith, Blind Rage, which is a comic I'm doing about the First Hero, and one of his encounters with Ghirahim (in which Hero gets royally beat up)

This page in particular I'm very proud of, just because backgrounds yeeeee

And finally, I have the portrait I did of Malon a few months ago!

I'm still absolutely in love with how she turned out, with all the colors and bdhdjfhhfjs she pretty! I had so much fun drawing and coloring her, that it didn't feel like it took 2 hours XD

But ye! Thank you so much for the ask, and thank you for letting me ramble a bit! (I'm always happy to share art and ramble for hours hfhdjhf)

#l3o answers #lofty!<3 #recalled #recalled twilight #recalled captain #Recalled Malon

81 notes · View notes

mosneakers · 1 month ago

Text

Granite Falls, 6 Months After Election Night

Alex Hart, Lead Documentarian: You’ve just been through so much these past few months. Your strength… it’s really moving. Sorry—I’m getting a bit emotional here, as you can probably tell, heh.

Coraleye: [giggles softly, attempting to lighten the mood] I bet it’s just the charm of the great outdoors! Camping has a way of casting a spell on you, doesn’t it? Makes all your senses feel so heightened!

Cameron Rai, Camera Technician: [Squinting against the sun] Great segue— now can we keep it pushing before the sunset wrecks our lighting?

Alex: Right. While we're on the subject, could you please explain how we managed to interview Erwin for this film, given the horrific incident that happened six months ago? Coraleye: Oh, since you asked like such a perfect gentleman, I can do you one better—how 'bout I show you instead?

Coraleye smiles gently at Erwin and begins her spell. "Goodbye for now, buddy.” she whispers, brushing away an emerging tear from her eye before it has the chance to fall. “Until next time.” In a whirlwind of sparkles and light, Erwin's image fades away right before their eyes.

Alex: [Shakes head in bewilderment] Incredible. So that wasn't the real Erwin, right?

Coraleye: [Chuckles] Nope, not really! I’ve put my own little twist on a classic untamed magic spell —Duplicato.

Alex: I'm only clarifying because in the time I've gotten to know you, you've mentioned that you're an experienced medium, as well. Correct me if I'm wrong, but we weren't speaking to Erwin's spirit or anything, right?

Coraleye: No... we did attempt a séance once and sadly, it seems he may have died too far away for any of us to be able to connect to his spirit. [Face reddening, eyes beginning to well with tears] Although I'd like to think I captured the essence of his spirit pretty accurately. But this spell is essentially just a magical hologram created from my memories of him.

Alex: We really appreciate you sharing him with us today, it's truly such an honor. Just to reiterate for our viewers, are you still completely comfortable with this? Your comfort is very important to us. I can imagine this must be extremely challenging for you.

Coraleye's shoulders slumped, and a frown clouded her expression, as she battled the urge to cry. The thought of Tycho watching this documentary strengthened her resolve—she refused to let him have the satisfaction of seeing her cry again.

Coraleye: No worries, I promise. I think it'll be good for the movie. I want people to see Erwin the way we did. Sure, it can be emotionally taxing, but I don’t do this spell often—and when I do, I actually find it to be so healing. [Smiles after long pause] — But yeah, anyway, thanks for the support, Alex... you've been really great.

Alex: [Softly] You’re really something else, Coraleye. I can’t imagine how hard this must be, but you’re handling it with so much grace. You know, it’s okay to feel whatever you’re feeling. If you need a moment�� [Opens his arms slightly]

Coraleye laughs and accepts his subtle invitation for an embrace, easing herself into Alex's arms. Not expecting that familiar flutter that she's been dodging for months now to come creeping its way back into the pit of her stomach, she buries it deep down for now. But Coraleye knows she's a Darling, and when it comes to love, that's one curse that never stays dead.

Cam: Yeah, cool, I think we got the shot now.

#ts4 #the sims 4 #sims 4 #ts4 story #MD4 #simblr #Erwin Pries #Coraleye Darling #Alex Hart #Cam Rai #MD4season10 #SalientRecollectionDoc #Granite Falls #md4s10finale #been testing out a different photo editing program #lmk if you like these edits <33

63 notes · View notes

max-nico · 1 year ago

Text

Random Sonic Headcanons

Sonic and Big hangout. Like regularly.

On the same wave length, Big is the one who taught Sonic to fish

Shadow calls Tails to info dump and Tails calls Shadow for the same purpose. They're both semi proficient with each other's special interests because of this

This means Tails is pretty okay with guns and with a little practice could ride a motorcycle, and Shadow can build a nuclear reactor with very little guidance

Amy, Rouge, and Blaze all gossip regularly

Cream is not old enough to join said gossip sessions, but Vanilla hears all about it eventually

Silver likes the food in the past more than in the future so he semi regularly pops into Amy's house with the biggest wettest eyes to ask for like a grilled cheese or something

Tails and Omega discuss explosives and war tactics more than one would think. Sonic... Is unsure how supportive he should be

Omega has very similar humor to Toph from Atla, like I can imagine him, Shadow, and Rouge eating dinner together and one of them being like "yeah, the food is actually really good we should order from here more often" and Omega being like "Yes. I agree. The combination of the avocado blend on the triangular bake tortilla is pleasing to my very real taste buds."

Omega is somehow the funniest in the friend group btw I don't make the rules

Sonic is an early bird and Tails is a night owl

Knuckles, Silver, and Espio hangout a lot

Sonic has never really had a sweet tooth and prefers high calorie savory foods, Shadow has a giant stash of guilty pleasure candies, cakes, jams, macaroons, etc

When Cream gets upset she stomps her feet like Thumper from Bambi

Knuckles taught Tails, Amy, and Sonic how to fight, is currently teaching Charmy, and will eventually teach Cream

Sonic never liked mint until he found out how much Tails loved it, he still prefers not to eat mint flavored things but if anything else comes in mint he's buying it immediately

Amy has had many hammers over the years and keeps her very first one framed in her bedroom

Knuckles is incredibly impressed with Amy's strength and always has been, he unfortunately has the emotional intelligence of a brick so has never once accurately expressed this to her. Doesn't mean he hasn't tried tho

Sonic goes to Vanilla for parenting advice

Tails is a cuddly guy but because Sonic never really liked touch growing up he pretends that he is normal about hugs and cuddles when he is very not normal and never has been

Team Sonic = audhd

I have so many more but I'm afraid the post is gonna get too long uhgggg

Feel free to talk to me in my dms or askbox as long as your nicest to me

#sth #sonic the hedgehog #miles tails prower #i have the mic #shadow the hedgehog #knuckles the echidna #amy rose #rouge the bat #e123 omega #cream the rabbit #team dark #team chaotix #team sonic #team rose #idk if the world is ready for my vector/vanilla and their two kids dynamic yet #big the cat #sonic cast

352 notes · View notes

krypticcafe · 9 months ago

Note

How do you feel about CoD boys in a monster au? Whether they’re the monster or their s/o is the monster, I just think it would be neat. I’m partial towards werewolves but honestly I love anything that goes bump in the night. I LOVE the idea of a monster being afraid of hurting their partner but their partner knows that they could never hurt them. If you’re open to monster requests, I have so many ideas. Just… monsters, man

oooo are we spitballing bc I love throwing around ideas!!

I absolutely love monster AUs, one of my faves is @/bluegiragi's and I'm sure you all know that iconic one. I'm totally open to monster/hybrid requests, and a detailed list of what other things I write can be found in the cafe's Customer Service Policy aka rules :]

And monster-related plots? I'm a sucker for that shit, need more of that and monster!reader.

If I were to make a Monster Hybrid AU with my own specific ideas though, hmm...

Powerful and stoic, Price would make a great minotaur (lower half of a bull). Sure, maybe his back isn't what it used to be, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have the strength to send you back to your maker. Every step he takes on base acknowledges his presence, a posture that demands respect from its witnesses. The horns on his head aren't something to mess with either, though it takes him ages to scrape out the dried blood from the cracks and tailor his bucket hats.

On the other hand, the canine hybrid for Soap is oddly charming. Similarly to a werewolf, he would have the senses of one, but as a just hybrid, he's unable to fully transform. Instead, he's equipped with features like ears, tail, fangs, some fur on his arms and legs, and a longer tongue. I can see him being a border collie, the Scottish sheepdog just makes sense. But a kelpie/merfolk would also work with his callsign. Soap, a mischievous water spirit known for "cleaning out" rooms of enemies? A body with slick scales, gills, and a frilled mohawk when in monster form? Yeah, I can definitely see that.

For someone with a Queen's honor, a phoenix feels right for Gaz. Bright and burning wings and tail—a light that feels regal and elegant, yet so youthful and lively at the same time. With him in the sky, you're guaranteed to be safe under his watch. Or maybe a cervitaur with those doe eyes of his, gorgeous as ever. Yet equipped with a kick that's sure to shatter the ribs of those who mock him for being just a faun with a pretty face.

Undeniably, with such a specific callsign, Ghost can't be anything other than a wraith. Maybe mix in a bit of demonic blood, soul-eater tendencies, or even marks of an incubus for a little extra kick. His scars look more like shadowy cracks in his skin, smoke pours from the concerningly realistic skull he wears, he looks more like a reaper than a spirit. Regardless, this man is a shadowy phantom that provokes the fear of gods in whoever he sets his target as.

Roach, sure maybe his energy is fitting of a satyr or something more fitting and urban for our token American, like a roach version of Mothman. Bug wings and scales similar to the structure of an exoskeleton, But Roach came to be for being nearly indestructible, like the bug. In fact, it would be more accurate to call Roach, Roaches, as a bogeyman with a human body that can crumble into a swarm of those insects would explain why gunshots and explosions can hardly stop him.

Like Ghost, we can't deny who Hound is, either. Werewolf. Anything less would be criminal. For fun, mix it in with a bit of hellhound hybrid biology, so that he has to either go as a full hellhound or a human with hellhound features. Eyes that burn like Tartarus and a fanged snarl that even Cerberus would shudder at. Maybe even make him in charge of a hellhound K-9 unit, forced to face the very thing he fears.

As for the Reader? Well, that's up to you. Personally, I'm a little fond of shapeshifters. Might need to draw some of these ideas sometime...

Ah well, just some thoughts I had. Any other spitballs you guys have?

156 notes · View notes

911lsbts · 3 months ago

Text

Rob, you recently wrapped production on the fifth — and potentially final — season of “9-1-1: Lone Star,” which will kick off with a three-episode train derailment. What else can we expect from the new season?

Rob: We all went into it pretty much knowing that it was going to be the last season, so that affected everything we did. We wanted to really show everybody what is still possible in network television if people have the appetite to do it. It feels like it’s probably the end of an era of a certain type — well, it doesn’t feel like it. It is the end of an era of a certain type of show we once had an opportunity to make, and I think they’re great. We wanted to go out making our case for the value of shows like that, and I think we did a really good job. The stories that we were able to tell on a weekly basis in terms of the scope and scale — that’s probably the thing I’m the most proud of. They were truly like mini-movies every week.

One of the most common critiques of “Lone Star,” since its premiere in 2020, has been the way that the show has consistently underused minority characters in order to center your character, Owen. Rob, you’re an executive producer in addition to the star. John Owen, you were a writer for the first three seasons. How would you both respond to that criticism? Was that ever a concern when you were writing or producing the show?

John Owen: [Deadpans] I can tell you confidently, it was never a concern of Rob’s.

But no, I think, look, everyone’s always going to have a take on what it must be like internally, creatively, and usually, it’s not 100% percent accurate. And in this case, it’s not accurate at all. I was there when we were blue-skying Season 1 — and I want to preface this by saying I was starting out as a very green, new writer and learned from some of the best. It was such a fun experience for me. Owen was always the central piece of the show. He was one of the mediums through which we got to tell stories about the other characters and built them out into such lovable characters that people got frustrated, maybe, when they didn’t have as much screen time.

I remember my first episode that I wrote, being so excited to tell the first story that really featured Mateo [played by Julian Works]. He and Marjan [Natacha Karam] have this beautiful storyline where she’s helping him study, and I think that was one of the first times we learned Julian was a throwdown actor. And then we were like, “Great, let’s write to him.” So I know, at least from the room’s perspective, we were learning strengths and then started leaning into them. I think in any case where a show has a strong ensemble, people always are going to be frustrated with maybe not seeing as much of their favorite characters as they’d like — and I think that’s a good thing. You always want to leave people wanting more.

Rob: I think when [creators] Ryan [Murphy], [Brad] Falchuk and Tim Minear came to me, they were very clear about what they wanted to accomplish with the show. They imagined a show centered around the only survivor of a terrible tragedy in 9/11 and him rebuilding a firehouse, but also rebuilding his family. And in terms of playing time, I think that they did a really good job.

I don’t think there is another show on television with as diverse a cast as we had, telling the kind of diverse stories that we did. Owen was there as a way to tell those kinds of stories and I’m really proud of how we were able to do it.

#911 lone star #here is just a few question from robs interview about lone star #rob lowe #john owen lowe #s5 #article

61 notes · View notes

thursdayygrrrl · 7 months ago

Text

from the sidelines

⌦ .｡.:*♡

characters: natasha romanoff, wanda maximoff (wandanat)

genre: fluff, slight angst

warnings: swearing, mentions of blood & guns, breakdowns/crying

summary: When Wanda comes into Natasha’s life, she gives the widow something to lose.

word count: 3,859

a/n: this is my first time writing for nat/something nat-centric and, technically, wandanat too! this was inspired by sidelines by phoebe bridgers because i think that song is suuuuper underappreciated and that it was a good fit for them (lyrics are in bold and italics). it’s been a while since i last wrote anything for fun and not for uni, so please be kind. i also don’t know much about gardening so some of the language might not be accurate. you can read it on ao3 (here) or under the cut. i hope you enjoy :>

I’m not afraid of anything at all

If there was one thing constant about Natasha, it was the lack of fear. It wasn’t inherent, but was a habit developed essential for her survival. She learned that pretty quickly. One moment of hesitance, no matter how short, could mean life or death.

There were other times she felt brave without risking her life though. Like when she first dyed her hair. She chose the color blue because it reminded her of the sky. The horizon always looked limitless, a reminder that there could be more to life than what she had already experienced. She remembers making that choice and following through with it. It made her feel in control of something, amidst all the other things she had no power over.

───── ⴵ⋅ᗢ⋅ⴵ ─────

‘Cause nothing ever shakes me, nothing makes me cry

Not a plane going down in the ocean and drowning

One of her most vivid memories is flying the plane with Melina. The night was normal at first. She was playing tag with her younger sister until she fell and hurt her knee. Then, they watched the fireflies and went inside to help with dinner. Alexei arrived and they started eating. It all felt so nice, so normal until he said they were going on a big adventure. Her appetite disappeared. Yelena was excited, oblivious to what it actually meant. She didn’t have the heart or the chance to tell her.

The drive out was tense and quiet, save for American Pie playing in the background. She watched the scenes change outside her window from the suburbs to highways. They had to move fast, but she felt sluggish, overwhelmed with everything going on. She remembers holding on to a photobooth strip of her and Yelena before finally running to get on the plane after being urged by Alexei. The sound of sirens and the whirring of engines, her heartbeat hammering in her chest, filled her ears. Gunshots started sounding off. One hit Melina’s shoulder.

“I need you up here,” She said through gritted teeth. Natasha clambered beside her.

She was wincing in pain while giving instructions to pull right.

“Mom, you’ve got blood on you,” Her voice came out strangled, and that tight feeling came along with tears forming in her eyes. She didn’t cry often but she knew she hated the physiological sensations that came with it.

“It’s okay, baby.” Two more cars directly in front of them appeared in the distance. “Hit the accelerator there.”

She did as she was told, speeding the plane up. She faltered when a few more shots were fired at them.

“Hold it steady, hold it steady.” More shots, the headlights ahead were blindingly bright. “You’re gonna pull back at 55 knots.” They started counting in unison. Alexei popped one of the cars’ tires with a bullet, causing them to crash into each other.

“Pull back, you can do it! Pull back, all your strength...” Part of the plane grazes with the bottom of the now-upturned car. But they were finally off the ground. Flying. A sense of relief washes over her.

Considering the past few hours, the rest of the flight went smoothly. They landed somewhere remote, it felt like the middle of nowhere. Alexei carried Melina to a stretcher held by some soldiers she and Yelena ran after. After a short exchange of words with the older woman, she remembers wrangling a gun from someone, unwanted tears threatening to fall from her eyes again, and Yelena’s small form hiding behind her.

“I don’t wanna go back there.”

A needle was buried deep into her neck. She was then thrown into a shipping container with other girls. Masked people were pointing rifles at them, shouting and violently wrenching Yelena from her hold. There was a man, he knelt to meet her eyes. Rough and calloused hands held her face.

“The Red Room is your home now.”

───── ⴵ⋅ᗢ⋅ⴵ ─────

Watched the world from the sidelines

Had nothing to prove

Natasha had just started getting used to being “normal,” just another child in midwestern America. She was going to school, being around other kids, having a family until it was all ripped away. Even though it was all a lie, she couldn’t say it wasn’t important to her.

Being back in the Red Room was a regimented, isolating existence. No one was able to speak to each other for long. Schedules were planned down to the minute. Excruciating physical training, including hand-to-hand combat, ballet, acrobatics, and weapons training, pushed them to their limits, sometimes even beyond.

The mutilation, both psychological and physical, was the worst of all. They broke down each girl’s hope and willpower if any were even left. They were treated like objects, mere faceless weapons they could manipulate as a means to an evil end. The ones who survived were considered lucky, the prime of their batches, and given an operation. They called it “graduation,” but everyone knew what that meant.

At some point, she was able to get out. Her time with the KGB, then in S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers was filled with twists and turns. It was a lot of battles, moral disputes, and political agendas. There was even a time when she had to expose her own seedy past, much to her discomfort, but it was for the greater good. She didn’t mind as long as it was for the well-being of others.

───── ⴵ⋅ᗢ⋅ⴵ ─────

‘Til you came into my life

Gave me something to lose

Now that she thinks of it, the first time she interacted with Wanda was horrible. The witch inflicted a vision, memories that she was trying to bury and leave behind, when she was weakened and vulnerable. There were snippets of a conversation with Madame B. The graduation ceremony. It made her feel like a monster all over again.

The next time they interacted was in the Battle of Sokovia. She remembers regrouping with Steve, but not expecting the very same witch to make an appearance. Despite all the chaos, the jacket she wore looked familiar.

“Is that my jacket?” Natasha gestured at the younger woman, frowning slightly.

“She’s with us,” Steve said.

“That still doesn’t explain the jacket.”

Natasha was persistent. She didn’t shop for clothes often, never dressing up unless she wanted or had to, so this red jacket was special. It was one of the first few things she bought for herself. Wanda, now awkward and unsure of what to do, ran off. The rest of the battle felt like a blur of robots and rubble.

Since then, Wanda joined the Avengers. The younger woman mostly kept to herself when not on missions, watching sitcoms in her room. Vision would talk to her sometimes. Other times, the widow herself would do so. Natasha understood she needed space and time to cope with everything she’d been through but didn’t want to leave her fully isolated.

Their conversations, if you could even call them that, were awkward at first. Natasha would ramble on about whatever, trying to fill the silence.

“There’s breakfast in the kitchen.”

Wanda looks up from her book only to be met with a small, warm smile on the assassin’s face.

“It’s the usual American stuff. Eggs, bacon, sugary cereal, some fruit. Pretty sure Clint’s making waffles too,” Natasha points to the door with her thumb. “You should eat with us. Bond with the team, all that stuff that Steve goes on about. We’ll have training after.”

Wanda hums in contemplation. Then, she nods. It’s the slightest motion that one would miss if they didn’t pay enough attention. Natasha nods back and turns to leave the room. The witch’s voice catches her off-guard, though.

“I’ll come with you.”

It’s raspy in the best way possible, with a hint of her Sokovian accent lingering. It’s a sound that Natasha decides she would like to hear more often. Her smile grows ever so slightly as she gestures for her to walk together.

───

When Natasha started helping in Wanda’s hand-to-hand combat training, the two became closer literally and figuratively. In one memorable session, from when Wanda still wasn’t as skilled at combat as she is now, Natasha was able to pin her down. Her lithe fingers wrapped around the other woman’s wrists while she used her thighs to straddle. All to restrict movement, of course. The flustered expression on the witch’s face could not be more obvious.

Their sessions consisted of a warm-up, some rounds of sparring, and a cooldown. After barely surviving this particularly challenging one, Wanda lands on the bench with a sigh. “Fuck… You kicked my ass today, Tasha. No fair,” She says through heavy breaths, leaning back and wiping the sweat from her brow.

Natasha shrugs and smiles as she sits beside her, reaching for a bottle of water across from the younger woman. Her torso brushes with her thigh, making the Sokovian lose her breath all over again.

“Please. I went easy on you. Besides, it’s revenge for taking my jacket,” Natasha says as she sits back up and takes a sip of water.

Wanda stands on slightly wobbly legs while a breathy laugh escapes her lips. “You’re really still holding that grudge?” She raises her hands playfully, “In my defense, Steve threw it at me and told me to put it on. It was a hectic time, you know.”

Natasha smirks and shakes her head as they both move to gather their bags and leave. The assassin offers her hand.

“Let me carry your stuff. It’s the least I can do. Look, you can barely stand.”

“It’s okay, Tasha. I go—”

“Come on,” The widow urges. A knowing look is on her face.

Wanda’s face becomes flushed, more so than it already was. It looks like she hopes Natasha won’t notice, but she does anyway. She raises her eyebrow teasingly.

“Did the workout take you out that bad, Wands?”

The nickname doesn’t help at all. Wanda rolls her eyes playfully as she hands her duffel bag over. Natasha slings both bags over her shoulder and they start walking together.

“Remind me again why I have to keep doing the hand-to-hand stuff? I literally move things with my mind.”

“If you use your mind, why do you do the thing with your hands then?” Natasha tries to mimic the witch’s signature hand movements with her free hand. This earns her a lighthearted push.

“Oh, you know I’m just kidding. We both know you can’t just rely on your magic all the time. I want you to be able to fend for yourself if anything happens. Yeah?”

Wanda groans exaggeratedly, “Ugh. Okay, yes, you have a point.”

She chuckles at this. The pair, now embraced by a comfortable silence, walks to the elevator of the compound. As they enter, Natasha wraps her free arm around Wanda’s shoulder. She squeezes slightly, firm muscles under her touch, bringing her closer and looking into her eyes.

“Wanna have lunch with me today?”

Wanda raises her eyebrow, “Can we watch I Love Lucy while we eat?”

Natasha nods and hands over her bag. “Of course.”

They smile warmly at each other, parting ways to freshen up before meeting again later.

───

Natasha and Wanda have seen each other at different points in their lives. Happy, sad, and everything else in between. But the Lagos Incident was a whole other thing. Natasha herself was a witness to how Wanda had been doing so well before it. To watch the immense guilt, self-loathing, and depression come over the witch after the incident, after slowly building herself back up, was heartbreaking for the widow.

Old habits die hard. Wanda becomes a recluse again. However, instead of sitcoms accompanying her, it was the news. She couldn’t help but keep watching coverage of it as if being constantly reminded of this tragedy was helping anyone.

Steve already spoke with her, Natasha knows this, but she decides to give a different type of comfort to the person she’s grown to love. A silent one, one that speaks through actions.

On days Wanda doesn’t leave her room, Natasha knows she isn’t eating so she goes up and brings food. Nine times out of ten, it’s a peanut butter sandwich because it’s all she can make without setting the kitchen on fire. Ten times out of ten, it’s returned with just a few bites taken out. It doesn’t matter, Natasha is just happy to provide her with even the littlest bit of sustenance.

On nights Wanda can’t sleep, evident by the faint light escaping from her room, Natasha stays up with her. She takes it upon herself to change the channels on Wanda’s television or switch it off. She puts on some music instead, knowing that noise is a welcome distraction to her spiraling thoughts. Other times, Wanda motions for Natasha to her bed. The contact of skin on skin, the physical reminder that she isn’t alone helps Wanda relax even if it’s only for a few hours. Most nights, the feeling of Natasha’s body pressed up against Wanda’s is enough to lull her to sleep.

And when it’s not, when she falls into that spiral once more, Natasha’s always there to wipe away her tears and pull her out of it.

“So many people… All those lives lost because I-I couldn’t—” Wanda sobs, breaking down in the familiar hold of strong arms.

Natasha squeezes just a little bit tighter. She speaks softly, interrupting the younger woman, “I know, Wands. I know. But you have to stop blaming yourself, okay? We’ve all hurt people and we’ve all made mistakes. Even if we mean well. And you did mean well. It’s just sometimes things work out in ways we don’t anticipate.”

The consoling words fall on deaf ears. Wanda shakes her head and cries even harder while burying herself deeper into the embrace. Her voice is muffled, repeated pleas of repentance, “It’s my fault, it’s my fault, it’s all my fault… T-tasha, it’s all my fault…” Unsure what to say now, Natasha resorts to her instinct instead. It has never failed her. She starts to rock Wanda gently, pressing a soothing kiss to the top of the younger woman’s head. A quiet, melodic hum resonates from her lips. She continues until Wanda’s breathing evens out and until sleep takes over both of them.

───

A soft stream of sunlight seeps into the room, awakening the Russian. She looks down at the sleeping figure in her arms. Wanda looks so peaceful right now, Natasha thinks. She would do anything to conserve this moment, this feeling of serenity for her. To take away all her pain, heartache, and afflictions. Realistically, she knows she can’t accomplish that. The best she can do is just be there for her.

It’s been a few minutes since and she feels Wanda stir slightly, who immediately snuggles closer and remains asleep. A warm feeling settles in her body, first in her chest then it spreads all over. She recalls feeling this way many times before, but only ever with Wanda. It’s at this exact instance she finally fully realizes what this is.

I’m in love.

She bites her lip in contemplation, quiet realization, as Wanda’s eyes flutter open. Hazy green eyes look into clear ones and a mumbled phrase reaches her ears. “Your thoughts are getting loud, Tasha. Are you okay?”

Broken from her trance, she looks down at Wanda. “Yeah, I am. Um. I just… I have something to tell you.” She shifts to lean against the headboard. Now is as perfect a time as any, she thinks.

Wanda’s eyebrows stitch together in a frown as she rubs the sleep from her eyes. She sits up, mostly leaning her weight on the other woman, while trying to decipher the look on her face. The Russian waits for a sign of approval from the Sokovian. Wanda nods and hums.

“I’m going to be direct about this, Wands.”

She takes a deep breath in.

“I like that we’ve grown close, that we consider each other as friends. I like doing things for you and with you and I like helping you, giving you what I have. Time, insight, comfort, whatever. Watching sitcoms with you, sleeping next to you, and waking up in your bed. I like your voice and your ringed hands, how graceful they look when you use your powers. The way your nose scrunches up and your bunny teeth show when you smile. How your accent slips when you say certain words and how you say my name. The way you carry yourself. How you care so much about others… If you let me, I would care for you for the rest of time.”

Natasha finishes with a sharp exhale, only now realizing her rambling. Losing control was one of the things she never wanted to experience again, but this time was different. Finally letting these thoughts flow through and out of her felt cathartic.

Wanda’s voice is quiet, “You would?”

Natasha nods, “Always.”

She says it without hesitation. Because she is wholly certain that she has no other answer. Why would there be?

Wanda becomes silent. An unreadable expression appears on her face as she takes in Natasha’s words. Her posture straightens slightly. Tension is now in the air and a silence begins to settle.

Natasha screws her eyes shut, willing the tears in her eyes to stop forming. She was just about to take everything back, apologize for even saying anything, before getting interrupted. She feels slim fingers gently hold her face. Wanda strokes Natasha’s cheek, her thumb moving in slow, circular motions while she speaks.

“Tasha, hey, please don’t cry,” Wanda looks at her pleadingly, leaning in closer.

Natasha blinks rapidly, brows furrowing together. “I’m sorry. I got nervous because you weren’t saying anything and I… I don’t want to lose you.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. I just had to take a minute because I didn’t realize you felt this way. Trust you won’t lose me, please.” She looks away. Her touch slows down and ceases as her hands fall to her lap. “I just don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“You didn’t have to do anything, moya lyubov.” Natasha holds Wanda’s hands, “I mean everything I just said. I love you, Wanda.”

She waits for a response with bated breath. Before she knows it, she feels supple lips capture her own.

It’s tender yet electric. It’s everything she’s ever imagined and more. It’s simply perfect.

Natasha closes her eyes and deepens the kiss. She cradles Wanda’s jaw and feels the brunette melt into her touch. They pull away seconds later, foreheads touching as they catch their breath. Wanda says softly, “I love you too, Natasha. You don’t know how long I have been wanting to say that.”

───── ⴵ⋅ᗢ⋅ⴵ ─────

Now I know what it feels like

To wanna go outside

It was a calm morning, both women following a routine established over the past few months. Natasha would wake up early and then proceed to training, leaving Wanda to sleep in. By the time she’d be back, Wanda was up and just finishing preparing breakfast. They’d eat together, talk about their plans for the day, and decide what to do from there. Some days they’d spend together while, on others, they’d have separate activities.

“Detka! Come here, please!”

Natasha was working on some reports when she heard Wanda call out. She looks at the clock and decides now is a perfect time to take a break anyway. She hums as she stands up and stretches her limbs before leaving the room.

Wanda had been tending to the garden in the compound for some time now. She started with small pots of herbs and then moved to random vegetables after discovering she had a gift for raising plants. Lately, she also added flowers and various houseplants to her catalog. Being out in the sun, getting her hands dirty, and nurturing these plants was hard work, but it was work Wanda loved.

Natasha makes a couple of peanut butter sandwiches and pours two glasses of cold water on a tray, then carries it over to the sliding door leading to the garden. She places it down on a table outside and her eyes immediately search for Wanda. It’s an irresistible sight, her beloved’s face beaming and surrounded by greenery. She even thinks she sees her talking to the plants.

She smiles to herself while appreciating the view until Wanda realizes she’s arrived. She gets waved over, “Tasha!” The excitement in the witch’s voice is barely contained as Natasha walks towards her.

She wraps an arm around Wanda, bringing her closer and kissing her forehead, “Hi, kotenok. I brought over some snacks and water if you wanted them. What is it you wanted me to see?”

Wanda pulls off her gardening gloves, places them in her pocket, and brushes her hands over her pants. She mumbles a quick thank you before taking Natasha’s hand in one of her own and using the other to cover her eyes.

“Close your eyes. I want this to be a surprise.”

Natasha plays along, using her free hand to help cover her eyes. “Okay. Just make sure I don’t trip, yeah?”

Wanda giggles as she leads Natasha by the hand, “Don’t worry, detka, I got you.”

They walk slowly, up a few steps, and stop. Wanda takes a deep breath, “Okay, now.”

When their hands uncover Natasha’s eyes, she is met with vibrant blooms of various colors against a green background of bushes. It’s a masterful arrangement of asters, marigolds, hydrangeas, wildflowers, and many more. She gasps, breath taken away by the gorgeous sight.

“You did all this by yourself?”

The Sokovian nods sheepishly, “Yeah. I read somewhere that getting them all to bloom like this would be challenging, but I think I did decently.”

Natasha squeezes her hand, “It’s more than decent. It looks stunning, Wands. You did an amazing job.”

Wanda’s arm wraps around Natasha’s waist, her head rests on her shoulder. A satisfied sigh leaves her lips. They remain silent, basking in each other’s presence and the garden view.

“If you’re like this with plants, I can only imagine how well you’d be with kids,” Natasha muses.

Wanda lifts her head and looks at Natasha, her shoulders raised slightly, “What if, at some point, you won’t have to imagine?”

Small smiles grow on both of their faces. They share a knowing look before assuming their previous positions. “Someday, lyubov, someday.”

Natasha used to feel the need to keep busy, keep moving because she thought anything too constant would be taken away from her again. Though she never admitted it to anyone, not even herself, the thought of settling down and starting a family of her own was terrifying.

But not anymore. Everything felt so much easier with Wanda. It now truly felt like anything was possible. The lack of fear forced onto her when she was younger came from a dark place of abuse and indifference. Now, it comes naturally. It comes from love.

#ky writes!#oneshot #fanfic #marvel #mcu #marvel oneshot #marvel fanfiction #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #wandanat #wanda maximoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff fanfiction #wandanat fluff #wandanat fanfiction #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #wanda x natasha #wlw

89 notes · View notes