#and to be fair there are some groups where that's not true

[spirk-fic-recs]

Your account makes my little librarian heart glow! I'm putting together a collection of Epistolary Spirk on AO3 and I'd love recommendations. Anything with lots of email, direct messaging, even talking over the radio sight unseen (I'm thinking Parted From Me and Never Parted, which is excellent).

So far I've included: Parted From Me and Never Parted; Sincerely, Spock (your recommendation, love it); Spock 🖖; Greetings, James Tiberius Kirk!; and You Have [1] New Message. I know there's more out there!

Hi @jexibug! Thank you for your kind words!! So I've read my fair share, yes, including ones that you have listed here. Here are some others that I have enjoyed, ranging from funny, sad, to introspective.

For those who are interested in OP's collection, it can be found here.

No Subject (AOS, 4397 words) by zedpm

From: captainjamestkirk@starfleet.fed To: ltcmdrspock@starfleet.fed Subject: Re: Re: We should get married HOLY SHIT I AM SO SORRY I don’t suppose there’s any way you’d be willing to just forget that I’ve been drunkenly propositioning your counterpart, is there?

This is the funniest shit I have ever read in my life I reread this at least once a week.

Be Careful What You Send (TOS, 5644 words) by yaoichan125

Times Jim tries to send Spock a naughty message. Plus, the 1-time Spock actually receives a naughty message.

This is another one of those that I reread regularly for an instant endorphin high.

The Long Containment (AOS, 9260 words) by IvanW

The Ship is under stuck in space and under a quarantine where everyone must stay in their quarters, Jim is having a hard time of it, and keeps texting his first officer (and others). To top it off, the ship's controls need repairing and it's either freezing or burning up. The food synthesizer's are out of whack and you might get a muffin when you order a hamburger, if you're lucky.

Textual Attraction (AOS, 5827 words) by lalazee

Valentine’s Day does not bring up pleasant memories for Cadet Kirk. But the serendipitous switch-up of his cell phone with a particular Vulcan professor’s will make his day far more interesting – and romantic. Perhaps some new memories can be made.

The Enterprise Bunch (TOS, 1852 words) by Solid_Medical_Advice

A look at the crew's group chat throughout the course of the movies. Featuring Spock being confused, Kirk being in pain, McCoy being pissed off, Uhura being supportive, Scotty being hyper supportive, Chekov being stupid, Sulu being silly, and Gillian Taylor's is there for a hot sec, too.

Shape Of My Heart (TOS, 2427 words) by Mycroft Holmes

"Captain...Jim. There is something I wish to tell you. To speak with you about. It concerns our...friendship. And it may affect our working relationship as well. While I have no wish to negatively affect either of those relationships--having been very grateful for and appreciative of them and you--I feel that I am now more likely to do so by remaining silent than by speaking.

Silent Star (TOS, 134892 words) by Moreta1848

Kirk is working at Starfleet's Department for Interplanetary Affairs, when he'd rather be in the stars. But he takes comfort from texting with his online chess buddy. Spock was born to be a prince, but his speech impediment makes it impossible to fit into his father's plans for him. Only in writing does he show his true self. But when they meet in person, not knowing each other's online identities…they could hardly get along worse.

Correspondence (TOS, 1160 words) by Angel Grace (angel_grace01)

Amanda takes a frying pan-shaped cluebus and hits Spock over the head with it.

A Rose By Any Other Name (AOS/TOS, 3458 words) by GenericUsername01

The next day, Jim found a red tulip and a lilac waiting for him, both of which meant the same thing. Declaration of love. He didn’t hesitate. He had gone through that book enough times that he knew exactly what plant he wanted to respond with. He bolted out to the greenhouse and started searching for a red rose and a honey flower. Romantic love, a love sweet and secret. He laid them down on top of the book with a kiss.

Does it count if they communicate via flowers?? HAHA

You Shouldn't Have Email (TOS, 1257 words) by eafay70

There are a lot of things Jim would like to say to Spock, but since he can't without ruining their friendship and working relationship, he writes them in draft emails. One day, the newest email accidentally goes from 'draft' to 'sent.' Is Jim in as much trouble as he thinks?

Here you go! :DD I'm sorry if it's a bit long but you did say it was for a collection, so I tried my best to list as much as I could. Happy reading! (or archiving lol) -M

[delightfulfestivalsublime]

Ann Coulter Wants to Kill Native Americans (So Do Some on the Left)

The live music had come to an end, and my friend Janene Yazzie, a brilliant organizer with the NDN Collective, looked up from her phone in disgust, horrified by what she had just read.Someone wished her people dead.A group of us were sitting around a small wooden table at an old watering hole in Chicago’s Pilsen neighborhood when Janene was alerted to a tweet by the vile Ann Coulter that went beyond the usual provocations. While she’s known for repulsive commentary, this one from Coulter’s polluted mind revealed her as the murderous zealot she’s long been accused of being.“We didn’t kill enough Indians,” Coulter raved in a post on X in response to a video of a well-known Indigenous activist at the Socialism 2025 conference in Chicago.Never mind that the video was not recorded at Socialism, which we were all in town to attend, but from a completely different, earlier discussion on Palestine. No matter, too, that the activist in question, a fellow left traveler, was rightly condemning settler colonialism, U.S. complicity in genocide, and the importance of resistance. But Coulter is not one to fret over such matters. It’s more advantageous to misconstrue and levy death threats than it is to listen and absorb the stories of empire’s victims — tsk-tsk to such “woke” trivialities.Madam Evil wasn’t just calling for the murder of the activist in the video, but of all Native Americans, especially those who stand up to their colonizers.We were shocked at her bluntness, but perhaps should not have been, as everything is fair game in Trump’s dystopian America. As Coulter has made clear, those swimming in the MAGA cesspool want to finish what our European ancestors started. This sick racism, simmering in many households across this stolen land, is now openly discussed without consequence. In fact, it’s celebrated (the tweet has been liked over 1,000 times). Coulter was just stating the quiet parts of the right-wing American psyche out loud.The tweet quickly went viral, drawing the attention she no doubt sought. As of this writing, Coulter’s words have not been deleted or removed by X. Apparently, calling for the murder of an entire group of people doesn’t qualify as hate speech.As grotesque as Coulter is, what’s just as horrific is that the genocidal violence she advocates has never actually ceased. The legacy of uranium mining, not far from where Janene lives, continues to harm the Navajo Nation and her people; over 500 abandoned uranium mines remain unremediated, posing endless radioactive dangers. Groundwater contamination from uranium mining, in particular, heightens the risk of kidney disease, diabetes, and other severe health issues. This is especially true for the 30-40% of homes on the Navajo Nation that lack access to clean running water.For those residing near abandoned uranium mines, the myriad impacts from these sites are not contested—it’s their lived reality.“It’s really a slow genocide of the people, not just Indigenous people of this region,” the late Diné activist Klee Benally told Amy Goodman in 2014. “[It’s] estimated that there are over 10 million people who are residing within 50 miles of abandoned uranium mines.”Klee was highlighting a critical issue that many in the pro-nuclear movement downplay or flat-out ignore: the effects of uranium mining in areas like the Navajo Nation, which some have called a genetic genocide.Prolonged exposure to radioactivity (like drinking contaminated water or breathing in dust from mines and mills) can damage DNA, resulting in gene mutations that may be passed down through generations. Research indicates that “virtually all mutations have harmful effects. Some mutations have drastic effects that are expressed immediately … Other mutations have milder effects and persist for many generations, spreading their harm among many individuals in the distant future.”Three uranium mines in the Southwest have reopened in recent years, located relatively close to the White Mesa Mill processing faci

[miniaturefuninternet]

Ann Coulter Wants to Kill Native Americans (So Do Some on the Left)

The live music had come to an end, and my friend Janene Yazzie, a brilliant organizer with the NDN Collective, looked up from her phone in disgust, horrified by what she had just read.Someone wished her people dead.A group of us were sitting around a small wooden table at an old watering hole in Chicago’s Pilsen neighborhood when Janene was alerted to a tweet by the vile Ann Coulter that went beyond the usual provocations. While she’s known for repulsive commentary, this one from Coulter’s polluted mind revealed her as the murderous zealot she’s long been accused of being.“We didn’t kill enough Indians,” Coulter raved in a post on X in response to a video of a well-known Indigenous activist at the Socialism 2025 conference in Chicago.Never mind that the video was not recorded at Socialism, which we were all in town to attend, but from a completely different, earlier discussion on Palestine. No matter, too, that the activist in question, a fellow left traveler, was rightly condemning settler colonialism, U.S. complicity in genocide, and the importance of resistance. But Coulter is not one to fret over such matters. It’s more advantageous to misconstrue and levy death threats than it is to listen and absorb the stories of empire’s victims — tsk-tsk to such “woke” trivialities.Madam Evil wasn’t just calling for the murder of the activist in the video, but of all Native Americans, especially those who stand up to their colonizers.We were shocked at her bluntness, but perhaps should not have been, as everything is fair game in Trump’s dystopian America. As Coulter has made clear, those swimming in the MAGA cesspool want to finish what our European ancestors started. This sick racism, simmering in many households across this stolen land, is now openly discussed without consequence. In fact, it’s celebrated (the tweet has been liked over 1,000 times). Coulter was just stating the quiet parts of the right-wing American psyche out loud.The tweet quickly went viral, drawing the attention she no doubt sought. As of this writing, Coulter’s words have not been deleted or removed by X. Apparently, calling for the murder of an entire group of people doesn’t qualify as hate speech.As grotesque as Coulter is, what’s just as horrific is that the genocidal violence she advocates has never actually ceased. The legacy of uranium mining, not far from where Janene lives, continues to harm the Navajo Nation and her people; over 500 abandoned uranium mines remain unremediated, posing endless radioactive dangers. Groundwater contamination from uranium mining, in particular, heightens the risk of kidney disease, diabetes, and other severe health issues. This is especially true for the 30-40% of homes on the Navajo Nation that lack access to clean running water.For those residing near abandoned uranium mines, the myriad impacts from these sites are not contested—it’s their lived reality.“It’s really a slow genocide of the people, not just Indigenous people of this region,” the late Diné activist Klee Benally told Amy Goodman in 2014. “[It’s] estimated that there are over 10 million people who are residing within 50 miles of abandoned uranium mines.”Klee was highlighting a critical issue that many in the pro-nuclear movement downplay or flat-out ignore: the effects of uranium mining in areas like the Navajo Nation, which some have called a genetic genocide.Prolonged exposure to radioactivity (like drinking contaminated water or breathing in dust from mines and mills) can damage DNA, resulting in gene mutations that may be passed down through generations. Research indicates that “virtually all mutations have harmful effects. Some mutations have drastic effects that are expressed immediately … Other mutations have milder effects and persist for many generations, spreading their harm among many individuals in the distant future.”Three uranium mines in the Southwest have reopened in recent years, located relatively close to the White Mesa Mill processing faci

[cyberexpertengineer]

Ann Coulter Wants to Kill Native Americans (So Do Some on the Left)

The live music had come to an end, and my friend Janene Yazzie, a brilliant organizer with the NDN Collective, looked up from her phone in disgust, horrified by what she had just read.Someone wished her people dead.A group of us were sitting around a small wooden table at an old watering hole in Chicago’s Pilsen neighborhood when Janene was alerted to a tweet by the vile Ann Coulter that went beyond the usual provocations. While she’s known for repulsive commentary, this one from Coulter’s polluted mind revealed her as the murderous zealot she’s long been accused of being.“We didn’t kill enough Indians,” Coulter raved in a post on X in response to a video of a well-known Indigenous activist at the Socialism 2025 conference in Chicago.Never mind that the video was not recorded at Socialism, which we were all in town to attend, but from a completely different, earlier discussion on Palestine. No matter, too, that the activist in question, a fellow left traveler, was rightly condemning settler colonialism, U.S. complicity in genocide, and the importance of resistance. But Coulter is not one to fret over such matters. It’s more advantageous to misconstrue and levy death threats than it is to listen and absorb the stories of empire’s victims — tsk-tsk to such “woke” trivialities.Madam Evil wasn’t just calling for the murder of the activist in the video, but of all Native Americans, especially those who stand up to their colonizers.We were shocked at her bluntness, but perhaps should not have been, as everything is fair game in Trump’s dystopian America. As Coulter has made clear, those swimming in the MAGA cesspool want to finish what our European ancestors started. This sick racism, simmering in many households across this stolen land, is now openly discussed without consequence. In fact, it’s celebrated (the tweet has been liked over 1,000 times). Coulter was just stating the quiet parts of the right-wing American psyche out loud.The tweet quickly went viral, drawing the attention she no doubt sought. As of this writing, Coulter’s words have not been deleted or removed by X. Apparently, calling for the murder of an entire group of people doesn’t qualify as hate speech.As grotesque as Coulter is, what’s just as horrific is that the genocidal violence she advocates has never actually ceased. The legacy of uranium mining, not far from where Janene lives, continues to harm the Navajo Nation and her people; over 500 abandoned uranium mines remain unremediated, posing endless radioactive dangers. Groundwater contamination from uranium mining, in particular, heightens the risk of kidney disease, diabetes, and other severe health issues. This is especially true for the 30-40% of homes on the Navajo Nation that lack access to clean running water.For those residing near abandoned uranium mines, the myriad impacts from these sites are not contested—it’s their lived reality.“It’s really a slow genocide of the people, not just Indigenous people of this region,” the late Diné activist Klee Benally told Amy Goodman in 2014. “[It’s] estimated that there are over 10 million people who are residing within 50 miles of abandoned uranium mines.”Klee was highlighting a critical issue that many in the pro-nuclear movement downplay or flat-out ignore: the effects of uranium mining in areas like the Navajo Nation, which some have called a genetic genocide.Prolonged exposure to radioactivity (like drinking contaminated water or breathing in dust from mines and mills) can damage DNA, resulting in gene mutations that may be passed down through generations. Research indicates that “virtually all mutations have harmful effects. Some mutations have drastic effects that are expressed immediately … Other mutations have milder effects and persist for many generations, spreading their harm among many individuals in the distant future.”Three uranium mines in the Southwest have reopened in recent years, located relatively close to the White Mesa Mill processing faci

[androgynousarcadehologram]

Ann Coulter Wants to Kill Native Americans (So Do Some on the Left)

The live music had come to an end, and my friend Janene Yazzie, a brilliant organizer with the NDN Collective, looked up from her phone in disgust, horrified by what she had just read.Someone wished her people dead.A group of us were sitting around a small wooden table at an old watering hole in Chicago’s Pilsen neighborhood when Janene was alerted to a tweet by the vile Ann Coulter that went beyond the usual provocations. While she’s known for repulsive commentary, this one from Coulter’s polluted mind revealed her as the murderous zealot she’s long been accused of being.“We didn’t kill enough Indians,” Coulter raved in a post on X in response to a video of a well-known Indigenous activist at the Socialism 2025 conference in Chicago.Never mind that the video was not recorded at Socialism, which we were all in town to attend, but from a completely different, earlier discussion on Palestine. No matter, too, that the activist in question, a fellow left traveler, was rightly condemning settler colonialism, U.S. complicity in genocide, and the importance of resistance. But Coulter is not one to fret over such matters. It’s more advantageous to misconstrue and levy death threats than it is to listen and absorb the stories of empire’s victims — tsk-tsk to such “woke” trivialities.Madam Evil wasn’t just calling for the murder of the activist in the video, but of all Native Americans, especially those who stand up to their colonizers.We were shocked at her bluntness, but perhaps should not have been, as everything is fair game in Trump’s dystopian America. As Coulter has made clear, those swimming in the MAGA cesspool want to finish what our European ancestors started. This sick racism, simmering in many households across this stolen land, is now openly discussed without consequence. In fact, it’s celebrated (the tweet has been liked over 1,000 times). Coulter was just stating the quiet parts of the right-wing American psyche out loud.The tweet quickly went viral, drawing the attention she no doubt sought. As of this writing, Coulter’s words have not been deleted or removed by X. Apparently, calling for the murder of an entire group of people doesn’t qualify as hate speech.As grotesque as Coulter is, what’s just as horrific is that the genocidal violence she advocates has never actually ceased. The legacy of uranium mining, not far from where Janene lives, continues to harm the Navajo Nation and her people; over 500 abandoned uranium mines remain unremediated, posing endless radioactive dangers. Groundwater contamination from uranium mining, in particular, heightens the risk of kidney disease, diabetes, and other severe health issues. This is especially true for the 30-40% of homes on the Navajo Nation that lack access to clean running water.For those residing near abandoned uranium mines, the myriad impacts from these sites are not contested—it’s their lived reality.“It’s really a slow genocide of the people, not just Indigenous people of this region,” the late Diné activist Klee Benally told Amy Goodman in 2014. “[It’s] estimated that there are over 10 million people who are residing within 50 miles of abandoned uranium mines.”Klee was highlighting a critical issue that many in the pro-nuclear movement downplay or flat-out ignore: the effects of uranium mining in areas like the Navajo Nation, which some have called a genetic genocide.Prolonged exposure to radioactivity (like drinking contaminated water or breathing in dust from mines and mills) can damage DNA, resulting in gene mutations that may be passed down through generations. Research indicates that “virtually all mutations have harmful effects. Some mutations have drastic effects that are expressed immediately … Other mutations have milder effects and persist for many generations, spreading their harm among many individuals in the distant future.”Three uranium mines in the Southwest have reopened in recent years, located relatively close to the White Mesa Mill processing faci

[grandtaledream]

Ann Coulter Wants to Kill Native Americans (So Do Some on the Left)

The live music had come to an end, and my friend Janene Yazzie, a brilliant organizer with the NDN Collective, looked up from her phone in disgust, horrified by what she had just read.Someone wished her people dead.A group of us were sitting around a small wooden table at an old watering hole in Chicago’s Pilsen neighborhood when Janene was alerted to a tweet by the vile Ann Coulter that went beyond the usual provocations. While she’s known for repulsive commentary, this one from Coulter’s polluted mind revealed her as the murderous zealot she’s long been accused of being.“We didn’t kill enough Indians,” Coulter raved in a post on X in response to a video of a well-known Indigenous activist at the Socialism 2025 conference in Chicago.Never mind that the video was not recorded at Socialism, which we were all in town to attend, but from a completely different, earlier discussion on Palestine. No matter, too, that the activist in question, a fellow left traveler, was rightly condemning settler colonialism, U.S. complicity in genocide, and the importance of resistance. But Coulter is not one to fret over such matters. It’s more advantageous to misconstrue and levy death threats than it is to listen and absorb the stories of empire’s victims — tsk-tsk to such “woke” trivialities.Madam Evil wasn’t just calling for the murder of the activist in the video, but of all Native Americans, especially those who stand up to their colonizers.We were shocked at her bluntness, but perhaps should not have been, as everything is fair game in Trump’s dystopian America. As Coulter has made clear, those swimming in the MAGA cesspool want to finish what our European ancestors started. This sick racism, simmering in many households across this stolen land, is now openly discussed without consequence. In fact, it’s celebrated (the tweet has been liked over 1,000 times). Coulter was just stating the quiet parts of the right-wing American psyche out loud.The tweet quickly went viral, drawing the attention she no doubt sought. As of this writing, Coulter’s words have not been deleted or removed by X. Apparently, calling for the murder of an entire group of people doesn’t qualify as hate speech.As grotesque as Coulter is, what’s just as horrific is that the genocidal violence she advocates has never actually ceased. The legacy of uranium mining, not far from where Janene lives, continues to harm the Navajo Nation and her people; over 500 abandoned uranium mines remain unremediated, posing endless radioactive dangers. Groundwater contamination from uranium mining, in particular, heightens the risk of kidney disease, diabetes, and other severe health issues. This is especially true for the 30-40% of homes on the Navajo Nation that lack access to clean running water.For those residing near abandoned uranium mines, the myriad impacts from these sites are not contested—it’s their lived reality.“It’s really a slow genocide of the people, not just Indigenous people of this region,” the late Diné activist Klee Benally told Amy Goodman in 2014. “[It’s] estimated that there are over 10 million people who are residing within 50 miles of abandoned uranium mines.”Klee was highlighting a critical issue that many in the pro-nuclear movement downplay or flat-out ignore: the effects of uranium mining in areas like the Navajo Nation, which some have called a genetic genocide.Prolonged exposure to radioactivity (like drinking contaminated water or breathing in dust from mines and mills) can damage DNA, resulting in gene mutations that may be passed down through generations. Research indicates that “virtually all mutations have harmful effects. Some mutations have drastic effects that are expressed immediately … Other mutations have milder effects and persist for many generations, spreading their harm among many individuals in the distant future.”Three uranium mines in the Southwest have reopened in recent years, located relatively close to the White Mesa Mill processing faci

[strangepatrolstarfish]

Ann Coulter Wants to Kill Native Americans (So Do Some on the Left)

The live music had come to an end, and my friend Janene Yazzie, a brilliant organizer with the NDN Collective, looked up from her phone in disgust, horrified by what she had just read.Someone wished her people dead.A group of us were sitting around a small wooden table at an old watering hole in Chicago’s Pilsen neighborhood when Janene was alerted to a tweet by the vile Ann Coulter that went beyond the usual provocations. While she’s known for repulsive commentary, this one from Coulter’s polluted mind revealed her as the murderous zealot she’s long been accused of being.“We didn’t kill enough Indians,” Coulter raved in a post on X in response to a video of a well-known Indigenous activist at the Socialism 2025 conference in Chicago.Never mind that the video was not recorded at Socialism, which we were all in town to attend, but from a completely different, earlier discussion on Palestine. No matter, too, that the activist in question, a fellow left traveler, was rightly condemning settler colonialism, U.S. complicity in genocide, and the importance of resistance. But Coulter is not one to fret over such matters. It’s more advantageous to misconstrue and levy death threats than it is to listen and absorb the stories of empire’s victims — tsk-tsk to such “woke” trivialities.Madam Evil wasn’t just calling for the murder of the activist in the video, but of all Native Americans, especially those who stand up to their colonizers.We were shocked at her bluntness, but perhaps should not have been, as everything is fair game in Trump’s dystopian America. As Coulter has made clear, those swimming in the MAGA cesspool want to finish what our European ancestors started. This sick racism, simmering in many households across this stolen land, is now openly discussed without consequence. In fact, it’s celebrated (the tweet has been liked over 1,000 times). Coulter was just stating the quiet parts of the right-wing American psyche out loud.The tweet quickly went viral, drawing the attention she no doubt sought. As of this writing, Coulter’s words have not been deleted or removed by X. Apparently, calling for the murder of an entire group of people doesn’t qualify as hate speech.As grotesque as Coulter is, what’s just as horrific is that the genocidal violence she advocates has never actually ceased. The legacy of uranium mining, not far from where Janene lives, continues to harm the Navajo Nation and her people; over 500 abandoned uranium mines remain unremediated, posing endless radioactive dangers. Groundwater contamination from uranium mining, in particular, heightens the risk of kidney disease, diabetes, and other severe health issues. This is especially true for the 30-40% of homes on the Navajo Nation that lack access to clean running water.For those residing near abandoned uranium mines, the myriad impacts from these sites are not contested—it’s their lived reality.“It’s really a slow genocide of the people, not just Indigenous people of this region,” the late Diné activist Klee Benally told Amy Goodman in 2014. “[It’s] estimated that there are over 10 million people who are residing within 50 miles of abandoned uranium mines.”Klee was highlighting a critical issue that many in the pro-nuclear movement downplay or flat-out ignore: the effects of uranium mining in areas like the Navajo Nation, which some have called a genetic genocide.Prolonged exposure to radioactivity (like drinking contaminated water or breathing in dust from mines and mills) can damage DNA, resulting in gene mutations that may be passed down through generations. Research indicates that “virtually all mutations have harmful effects. Some mutations have drastic effects that are expressed immediately … Other mutations have milder effects and persist for many generations, spreading their harm among many individuals in the distant future.”Three uranium mines in the Southwest have reopened in recent years, located relatively close to the White Mesa Mill processing faci

[indecisiveavocado]

studying jewish history in various countries vs studying basically any other ethnic group's history in various countries

jewish history: they banned us and killed us, but only, like, once? amazing! truly awesome! go denmark! denmark is a refuge for jews! other history: they killed them? and banned them from coming in? dear god, how does anyone live there? they must be ragingly anti-[group]!

[danrifics]

not replying to the actual ask but pls let people on here have friends and talk about having friends without the “i wish i had online friends” if you want to be friends come talk to me!!!!!

[omarwolaeth]

Thinking about how souls canonically do exist in universe, and how that might correlate to seeing different people as one in the same, all because their souls are identical (pieces of a whole)

[rotagnus]

messages from your love life.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

some messages from your love life! can be short-term, long-term, etc. this will focus primarily on romantic love, however if there are strong messages on love in other ways, i will write them down as well!! enjoy, babycakes 💋

pile 1.

yeaaahhh so i feel like a lot of you feel like you're never gonna find love 'cause your boundaries are strong as HELL. for a lot of you, you've gone through it in the past, this imminent situation that reminded you 'i can't settle', or 'i have to keep my boundaries even if i lose this person'. for those of you who haven't gone through that, it's likely that you will. there's two different groups in this pile; those who are in this situation NOW or have BEEN, and those who are gonna get this coming to them.

honestly, it's not a big loss. this is probably a person who you already knew wouldn't be YOUR PERSON. if you don't doubt anything at all it's probably not talking about that, because you guys are deeply intuitive spirits and are gonna know deep inside that this is a test about your boundaries, not someone who's here just to be HERE.

a lot of you are doubting that the universe is ever gonna give you your love because you keep going through test after test in romance, and it's honestly getting to a point where you're starting to be hopeless. you're the typa person who'd say 'maybe i'm just destined to be a crazy cat lady' LMAOOO. nah it just takes time to meet the right person. this person is gonna be your pillar of light, the person you can lean on. you've probably heard it so many times you're doubting it, but listen; have courage. have trust. it'll work out.

signs: seigfried by frank ocean. butterflies. yellow. 555. sunflowers. tabby cat. lilypad. e- names. blue. ocean. ice cream.

pile 2.

i feel like a lot of you are self-reflecting rn on the relationships you've had in your life as well as the ones you WANNA have. you guys are very strong, very wise individuals, and you have this deep sense of what's going on around you. you guys can tell what phase of your life is coming up, y'know? you guys are definitely the listening person and you help people with THEIR life and watch them succeed and get booed up, or get over things, and you're just left in the dust. you're a true leader, protecting, taking care of others; never of yourself. when will you guys realize that the way you treat yourself is what you attract in other relationships? your friendships have always been a mirror of self-worth, babycakes. you ever thought of that?

you guys struggle with opening up and receiving things. very awkward when it comes to gifts or compliments because you think you don't deserve them. you guys have gone through your fair load of shit and kind of gave up on love. there's never gonna be someone who is gentle with you unless you're gentle with yourself, you hear me? deep down, you guys know you're lovable. you see yourself giving, you see your smile, your eyes, your hair, and you know that there's someone out there who'd give you the goddamn world, but you don't wanna believe it. so you chase the relationships in which you're always the one giving, always burning alive, just so you don't have to face yourself. just so you don't face vulnerability. you hate being alone without anything to stimulate you (music, hobby, etc) because you're faced with this knowledge.

honeybaby, i'm begging you, PLEASE love yourself authentically. genuinely. stop engaging in patterns that stop the people who truly wanna sweep you off your feet from coming. because i promise, they're THERE. they're out there, in your sphere right now. but you need to trust; yourself, the universe. know that you're lovable. i know it's hard to face because if you're so lovable, why haven't you found the one? but sometimes it's because of things taking time. sometimes, you just gotta trust god and wing it.

signs: chicken. cars. no one noticed by the marias. drowning. black cats. eagles. deck of cards. kiwis. sweet fruit. structure. spine.

pile 3.

😏😏😏😏 someone has a crush on you. not promising they'll tell you, i don't think you know this person well, but you're def someone's class crush, hallway crush, street crush, whatever you wanna call it. this could also, for those ina relationship, be your partner. i'm getting this pure warm energy. but i think most of you guys aren't in a relationship rn, and it's really cause you're being protected. i think a lot of you are in this period of your life where you're soft and tender, like a butterfly. your wings are still wet and you can't really fly yet. this is a time in which you must call back your strength. the calm before the storm.

you guys are soo powerful. such good manifesters. a lot of you are gonna get exactly what you want but rn you gotta wait a bit. and a lot of you have tunnel vision; you get a crush on a person and you're like they're the one. listen, never ever get so attached to someone where you say that, unless you know them WELL. you guys have issues with self worth and go lower than yourself because you think that's all you deserve. babycakes stop settling for shit.

romance is coming to your life though, but if you don't listen to this message and the rest that the universe has probably been goddamn throwing at you, it's literally gonna take a longer while. you refuse to believe you're loveable, and the world is ACHING to show you that you are, but first, you gotta stop hating yourself by staying in relatinonships/crushing on people who suck. it's a method of hurting yourself and ya gotta know you deserve greatness before you're ready for a relationship.

signs: black. 222. acrylic nails. duality. gold. clovers. zebras. national parks. library. z- names. honey. fiji water.

[alicentsgf]

It’s mentioned a fair amount that Yellowjackets was inspired by Twin Peaks but I just want to talk about what that might actually mean.

I once saw someone say about that show, "Twin Peaks tells you exactly what it's about every three episodes but people don't see it because there's a horse in the living room." And that's so true for Yellowjackets too. Picture it like a nesting doll. If Twin Peaks was a show about male violence wrapped up in a crime drama wrapped up in comedy wrapped up in a psychological horror, then Yellowjackets is a show about loss wrapped up in a survival drama wrapped up in a comedy wrapped up in a psychological horror. And it's loss in so many forms; loss of the self, loss of innocence, and most of all loss of community.

Yellowjackets, like Twin Peaks, is just a commentary on society but once again "people don't see it because there's a horse in the living room". Or in this case, because theres a schizophrenic teenage prophet who may or may not be communicating with some wild, bloodthirsty, nature god. When the truth is, the horse isn't important. Whether the Wilderness is or isn't real, isn't important.

It's about ego vs id, civilisation vs the wilderness, and innocence vs brutality. The other, "bad" side is always waiting, like Mari talked about, and its something that both exists within us and in our society. Like with Tai, the other side isn't innately bad but if we let it rule things it can become incredibly destructive. There has to be a balance. That's why they're a soccer team. It's a sport that is all about balance. You can split a soccer field in half 8 different ways but you will still always get a full set of 11 players who hold 11 different positions. It's a perfectly balanced, symbiotic community that is built on trust and understanding. The brutality is part of the game too, but theres a balance that comes with the rules and the way the game is moderated and consented to. The message of the whole thing being that community, love, friendship is what saves you. Its when the characters lose these things that they lose themselves, become vulnerable, die. It's why everyone in this show is complicit in the death of their best friend. The writers set the stage with Allie's treatment in the pilot. The whole story in contained within that first episode and ultimately her not being able to come results in a lack of balance within the team. It's why as the show goes on the girls become less and unified in both timelines. Now they've got to the point where they're splitting into factions in one, and talking about having to kill each other to be "safe" in the other.

Shauna's right, it wasn't the wilderness that killed anyone, it was always only them. All of them. When Shauna says "You know there's no 'it', right? It was just us.", its a very similar outburst to the one Laura Palmer's boyfriend has at her funeral in Twin Peaks, saying "All you ‘good’ people – you wanna know who killed Laura? You did! We all did.”, making a point about how the enviroment the town created resulted in her death more than anything else. The person who murdered her was just hand of that enviroment, the way Shauna always seems to be too. She holds the knife, but they all put it in her hand. Every single "sacrifice" to the Wilderness so far has resulted from a group decision to push someone from the team, an idea that started back with Allie before the plane even crashed. And this same attitude immediately doomed them again, because it was Misty’s desperation to hold onto her newfound sense of community and belonging after being ostracised for so long that had her destroying the transponder. “He’s not one of us” about Ben, and “They don’t belong” about the research group. The idea of "the other" used as justification for violence.

Jackie’s death was the most pivotal because she was the death of community. She was the first to be ostracised, the figure that once represented unity between the girls. As we saw at the party, she was the only one who could reestablish balance between them, and they killed her first.

This show is about a lot of things, guilt, grief, sanity, etc, but I do think that actual main commentary is on our current society. Twin Peaks was so fantastical but at its core it was only ever really about the evil that men do and a society that fascilitates it. Yellowjackets in its turn is about the ostracisation of the "other" and how this only hurts us. Weakens our communities. It's not lost on me that at least half the known survivors are able-bodied queer women, and this is a womens soccer team. In the world of womens soccer I would say that's the majority class. I don't think that's necessarily a mistake. The Yellowjackets ostracise people who aren't like them, aren't "useful", don't abide by their religion, and who push back against the status quo. Doesn't that sound familar?

[melminli]

BANG BANG BANG lll

summery - thanos was always just such an easy person to argue with. you really hated the guy and that was something that was never going to change, even if your life was on the line and it fucking was.

pairing: (thanos) choi su-bong x fem. reader

word count: 2.8k

contains: violence, drug use and addiction, dark content - just usual squid game stuff really

a/n: many wished for a part 3, so here you go!

prev. | masterlist.

Money, money, money - must be funny, in the rich man's world? And you know what, it probably was. Though, it wasn't as if a single fucking person in this room would know that. Otherwise, you all wouldn't be here in the first place, would you now?

There were a few among you who couldn't shake off the desire to understand those lyrics, even if it meant risking your lives for it. Well, and by a few you meant more than half of the people around here. You would bet that they would put even more on the line if they had anything else, but no - your own life was all you had and maybe well, the life of the others around you.

All it took was stuffing a few banknotes into a golden piggy to make all the other pigs hope that it could be them up there - that they could be the lucky person that got the money. It seemed to be true, you could take people's lives but not their stupid hope. The one thing that would still be the demise of many, it had to. The prize money wouldn't increase without their sacrifice, after all.

Everyone knows how stories like that ended. You know, the ones where desperate people fight against each other for a chance? Watching all the glowing faces when the prize money was announced after the first game ended, was like watching a beaten-up dog that someone put outside - only to lure it back into the house with a bowl of food. It was just sick. Well, at least it made you sick.

Your lower lip wouldn't stop quivering and you tried to stop it by biting it, but to no avail. You were sweating while still freezing simultaneously and you were very much familiar with the signals your body was trying to send you. However, you tried to ignore them as best as you could, just like you did with everything else right now.

“Hey, you're really not going to talk to me? What if I die in the next game and the last thing you did was ignoring me?” Thanos' incredibly annoying voice spouted some bullshit again as he leaned against your bed while standing up. He had been trying to get your attention for a while now but you were stubborn and continued to show him your back. He raised an eyebrow questioningly as he nudged you with his hand. “Do you really want this on your conscience? Hey, are you serious? I thought that -”

Thanos stopped what he was saying when you turned aggressively to face him with a rather angry look on your face. He slowly brought his hand back to him as your eyes continued to glance at him with that look. “No, you don't think and that's the problem.” you spat out the words full of venom and tried to control yourself when your eyes shifted to the blue label with the circle on his chest. “Why should I care if you die in the next game, huh? You obviously want to keep playing, you -” and you searched for a word to curse him out, but there just wasn't one that could wrap up your feelings at this moment.

It happened again - he took another chance away from you to just live your life. Maybe it wasn't entirely fair of you to blame him when it was a whole group of people who had voted to stay here, but you stopped caring about what was fair a long time ago. “Whatever, nothing matters anymore anyway.” you laughed out in exasperation as you ran your shaky hand over your face. “I'm going to die next round anyway, but I guess that suits you pretty well, huh? You know, since that means that another 100 million won goes into your pretty piggy bank?”

It was a large sum of money, no question, but - was your life really only worth that much?

Thanos grabbed your arm in annoyance as he shook his head in disbelief at what you were saying. You weren't just a sum of money to him and he didn't understand why you would think that. Yes, he admitted that he fucked up all the time and he had never been the best friend to you, but - if there was one thing, one person that he could care about - that would be you, no questions asked. He still did after all these years, even if he didn't say it, even if he did it in his own twisted way. “Are you crazy? Stop talking stupid shit, you're not going to die!” He exclaimed angrily, not even considering that as an option. “If you'd just stop being so fucking stubborn and join my team, you'd know that too.”

You laughed. “What team? You and your little boyfriend back there?” you asked him as you looked at the guy a little further behind you. He seemed like a good tag-along waiting for his boss. How cute, you were about to throw up. “I doubt you two idiots are going to increase my chances of staying alive.”

Thanos looked at you offensively. “Nam-su is not my boyfriend, okay? And we may still be few, but that will change soon. Can't you just - please trust me? Please?” he just straight up started begging and to be honest, you didn't have much energy left for any arguing at this point.

You wish you had the privilege of being able to say that everything was easier back when you two were kids, but your life was exhausting even then. Your mother had too many children with a deadbeat man like your father and after you were born, they put all their hope in you for some reason - to get them out of their miserable poor lives. You weren't some hero, not then and not now. “Do you know why I have so much debt?” you finally asked Thanos tiredly and he just looked at you silently before shaking his head.

You nodded. Of course, he didn't know, you had never told him since you preferred to cut him off. “Because I lost my scholarship at university after they found out I was a fucking crackhead,” you answered him with a depressed smile. “And it doesn't really help much to be smart or anything if you don't have any money. That was my only chance to pay my way through to not end up like this but now I have to figure out how to pay for all that without working myself to death at a fucking minimum wage job,” you told him.

You thought you could finally get rid of some of the stress - try again with the money you would earn here. Simply giving up your studies wasn't an option, since that would mean that you had to work shitty jobs which didn't pay much for your entire life and not just while studying. You refused to face the same fate as your mother - dropping out after she found out that she was pregnant with you was the first mistake that led to many more.

But of course, you would never complain ever again - hell, you would much rather prefer working every night shift in the world if that would mean that you could get out of here. “And you know what I've been thinking ever since? That if I had never asked you as a stupid kid if I could play with your Iron Man figure, none of this would have ever happened to me.”

This is just fucking great. Fucking bullshit. Thanos angrily smacked himself on the head, knowing he deserved all of this. Yeah, you probably even made the right decision by cutting him out of your life back then, but he still couldn't help but continue to be selfish and want you. He wanted you in his life even if he was the worst thing that ever happened to you because you know what? It didn't change the fact that you were still the best thing that would ever happen to him.

He had been a selfish asshole his whole life and that wouldn't change now, so he couldn't just let you go. “Look, it's just one more game. The money we would have gotten if we quit wouldn't even be enough to buy a Lamborghini and I have to afford at least…” he had to strain his head a little and count with his fingers. “…four of them to pay off my debts. Hell, maybe enough people will die in the next round and there'll be even some left over. I'll also give you back all the money I owe you, I promise! And I'll give you even more if you need it. I want to help you, I really do,” he tried to explain, knowing that he would have more than enough once he took Myung-gi's share too.

He just doesn't understand. You sighed tiredly. “Whatever, I don't really care anymore,” you said and finally gave in. “Okay, sure, I'll join your stupid loser team. Just stop bugging me.”

Thanos smiled broadly and didn't stop himself from pulling you into a weird hug. “You won't regret this! I'll take care of you, okay?” he clarified, and even though he claimed the opposite, you couldn't help but feel like you'd regret it - you always did. “We're going to get out of here and everything will go back to the way it was before, okay?”

You just looked at him and said nothing more as Thanos continued to hold you, finally noticing your slightly poor physical condition. He knew how to solve the problem as well as you did, but even in his current befuddled state, he wasn't sure if he should offer you a pill. “Oh, um - I know this probably isn't the right time for this, but it still feels like I should ask…” he spoke up, looking down at his cross necklace.

You tried to hold back. At least for now. “Ehm, no, I'm fine -” you declined with a slight shake and nodded. “Yes, I'm fine, I'll just go to sleep - exactly.”

You could already tell that this night wasn't going to be an easy one, but as you watched Thanos and that Nam-su guy shoo a few other people out of their beds around your area, so that they could take their place, you knew for sure. How embarrassing, you thought to yourself as you pulled the blanket over your body and hoped that the lights would go out soon.

“Welcome to your second game. We will begin shortly, and this game will be played in teams. Please divide into teams of five in the next ten minutes. Let me repeat -”

I guess we won't be playing Dalgona, after all. You didn't really blame the previous winner of the games, too much. After all, he was in the same shoes as all of you.

“So, we need two more people,” Nam-gyu stated correctly as Thanos confidently slapped him on the back, not doubting picking the best from the pool of players. “Yeah, let's see who we can find. Preferably someone with a lot of muscle and strength,” he said, although you weren't sure what the point of that was since you would be playing children's games. Although, on second thought, the strong kids always managed to win the easiest back then, too…

Thanos looked at you as he pointed his index finger at the ground. “You, wait here. We won't take long,” he commanded you as if you were his pet and you felt your eyebrows twitch slightly at the audacity while you silently watched the two guys go away.

Of course, you didn't listen to what he said and just looked around the crowd yourself when you saw how most of the players had already formed groups. I don't want to be in a team with four idiots, you thought to yourself as you saw two people who seemed to be talking to each other. They seemed to be around your age which made you a bit more comfortable when approaching them. “Excuse me…” you said shyly when you met them because talking to strangers still was something that made you a little nervous. “Would you mind if I joined you?”

The players with the numbers 380 and 125 on their chests looked slightly surprised in your direction. The woman looked at your figure briefly before crossing her arms in front of her. “We are only two, so far.” she clarified before your own number seemed to catch her attention. “Hey, aren't you the one who's always hanging out with that crazy purple-haired guy? I would have expected you to be on a team with him?”

You stroked your hair, slightly uncomfortable. "Did you really notice that? Shit, now everyone probably thinks I'm friends with this guy, how embarrassing,” you mumbled to yourself, and the girl just grinned slightly at your appearance while the shy boy looked at you in confusion. “He's like an annoying tick. He just won't leave me alone. Otherwise, I really wouldn't bother with him! You have to trust me!” you begged her, trying to salvage whatever was left of your image.

And speaking of the devil, it didn't take much longer for Thanos to shout out your name after you said that. “Hey! I told you to stay there, what's so fucking hard to understand?!” he spits out annoyed as he grabs you by the shoulders to shake your body before you can even think of hiding from him. Finally, he noticed the other two next to you. “Who are they?” he asked you as you pushed his hands away.

“I want to be on their team,” you announced.

He looked unbelieving and betrayed. “But you promised me you'd be on Team Thanos!”

“Well, I was clearly lying. So, you'd stop bugging me.”

Thanos looked at you with narrowed eyes before glancing at the two other guys he had recruited along with Nam-guy. “You two - go find another team. Now,” he said simply as he copied your posture and made a counter announcement. “Because we're going to unite our teams. You can't get rid of me so easily, you're staying with me.”

Of course. The player with the number 380 on her chest threw an arm around your shoulder as she looked challengingly at your annoying friend. “And who says that we would want to do that?” she posed the question.

Nam-gyu already knew he didn't like this one. “Hey, who do you think you're talking to -” he started to threaten her, but Thanos put his arm out in front of him before he could go after her.

There was a brief, strange silence as the rapper shifted his gaze between you and the other girl next to you. This girl doesn't look straight, is she interested in…?

Thanos narrowed his eyes as his gaze met yours again and he could feel his muscles tense at the things that were running through his head right now. Number 380 was provoking him with her actions. This shit makes me fucking angry, man. But it only took him maybe a few seconds of imagining the whole thing between you two a bit further to change his mind. Never mind, that's actually pretty hot.

“You're safe as long as the great Thanos protects you, eh? Besides, I doubt you'll find anyone better, there are only two minutes left.” he suddenly spoke out and none of you wanted to know what went on in his head in the short time that he was silent. “Come on, this is going to be fun! Who's the little guy behind you?” he asked and you and number 380 looked at each other reluctantly for a moment before revealing your hidden member.

Nam-guy let out a heavy sigh as his eyes met the loser in front of him but Thanos didn't seem to care much about that. “What's your name?” he asked, watching as the guy looked up at him a little anxiously. “Oh, my name is Min-su…”

Even his name sounds pathetic, Nam-gyu thought to himself and couldn't stop himself from voicing his dissatisfaction. “This guy honestly gives me mad loser vibes, dude…” he complained, but Thanos paid him no mind as he walked towards the member. “Nah, this is perfect - we're the perfect team! Right Nim-su?” he asked the little guy while hugging him more tightly from the side and laughing when he saw his shy reaction. “I like you, you're cute.”

Seeing the two of them together was a really weird view, you honestly felt sorry for Min-su. “I'm sorry about that…” you whispered a little awkwardly to player 380 but she just patted you on the shoulder reassuringly. “Don't worry, how those two behave is not your responsibility. I suppose we're in this thing together now.” she laughed, not sure exactly what to make of this all herself.

You smiled at her before your eyes went to the watch on the wall which showed that you all only had half a minute left before the next game would start. “I mean, I guess so…”

taglist:

@innies-goth-gf @so-dramatic1 @fiicalapsiholoaga @h3artz4soph @luhvaryan @blackcatl0ver @hollxe1 @vixionix @barrythestrawberry041 @hashekyu @daphne00daiz @jayyzki @nikoeatschemicals @noharaaa @llynx7 @diaryofapsycho @nosla65 @tsuniio @gaabyzz @nejilost @homeless-clown @fr3akyyg1rll @ametheslime @chrypir @dior-heartsforever17

[lieslab]

It's not like me to be so mean, you're all I wanted

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Chan X gn reader

Summary: Your battle with substance abuse causes your boyfriend to pull away from you.

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 3.6k

Addiction, anxiety, and depression resources

Trigger warning: Mentions of drugs, alcohol, vomit, overdosing via fentanyl, depression, anxiety, and death.

A/N: Requestee, this was one of the hardest things I've written in a while. There's a high and then a fall, plus the way addiction can affect the people you love. Addiction is difficult, but there is always hope and plenty of things to assist in one's recovery <3

_ _ _

“So that’s it? You’re leaving me? You’re just like everyone else! You promised you’d stay! You swore you were different from the rest!” The words laced with hurt. You stood teary-eyed in front of your boyfriend, trying to understand. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat, causing his adam’s apple to pulse. He blinked rapidly and his head shook. “It’s not like that.” 

“Then what is it, Chan?” 

“I promised I’d stay and you promised to get better. You said you’d be open to getting help. You’d try. That was part of our agreement and you’re not trying.” 

“I am trying!” 

“Trying to do what?” His voice raised and then softened. “Kill yourself? Because that’s all I see. You’re being reckless and I have begged and begged and begged you to stop. I collapsed to my knees and begged. I’ve pleaded, I tried, and you won’t stop.” 

“That’s not fair!” 

“And neither is watching the love of your life waste away to drugs and alcohol!” He snapped. “Do you think I want to come home after work and find you unconscious? To find you laying in a pool of your own vomit!” 

Your bottom lip trembled. Each arm curled around your torso, trying to silently console yourself, but it wasn’t working. The lump in your throat expanded and tension grew. You didn’t know what to say. 

“I’m not going to stand here and wait for you to die. I’ve tried telling you. I’ve tried to get you help. I don’t know what else to do.” 

“I’m trying,” you repeated weakly. “I’m really trying, Chan, but it’s so hard.” 

“Trying to what? You’re not going to rehab. You’re not interested in support groups. You won’t talk to any kind of professional. Do you know what happens to people who can’t stop? They die! Fentanyl is laced in their drugs and then they die! They overdose on whatever they’re using and then they die! Why can’t you understand that it all ends with you dead?” 

“That’s not true! My dealer would never-” 

“If your dealer really cared about you, they wouldn’t be providing you with such substances!” 

“Well, maybe I just want to fucking die!” 

A broken laugh fell from his lips. The tops of his cheeks reddened from crying. He sniffled and wiped his eyes. “You don’t think I don’t know that? I have tried so hard to help you, but I can’t help someone that doesn’t want to be helped.” 

“C-Chan…”

He shook his head and spun around. Panic caused your heart to skip a beat. You followed him, rushing forward to grab his hand. “Chan, please. I’m sorry, I’ll try harder and I-” 

“It’s too late.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I’ve already made arrangements with the guys. I’m staying with them until I can figure out where to go. I’ll come get the rest of my stuff when I can.” 

Desperate fingers reached out for him, but he pulled away. Your sense of stability tilted, the floor caved beneath you, and your heart burst. You watched in a mix of shock in silence as he headed to the front door. He refused to make eye contact with you as he wiggled into his shoes.

He didn’t even bother tying them properly. So desperate to get away from your darkness, he fled like a thief in the night. In his hands, he carried your beating heart with him. You didn’t know how to be whole without him. You didn’t know how to be whole without substances, either. 

At some point, your sense of self deflated and you were lost. Miserable and depressed, unsure of who you were, too anxious to consider the future, too sad to escape the past, you felt doomed. Trapped and caged in; a prison sat over your head. 

And substances? They made you feel so alive. They took you to a place where the past didn’t haunt you. Your thoughts didn’t feel like a hammer to your head. Your skull didn’t crack and your brain didn’t ooze. 

Light as a feather, free as a bird, and as empty-headed as a jellyfish; you floated in the current of substances. Brain chemicals altered and you changed. Chan changed too, but you ignored it. How could you give up that feeling? The feeling of freedom, when your life stopped feeling like a punishment, and it started to feel like a fuzzy, warm bliss. 

Some of them made you feel like a shooting star. Bright and powerful. The star of the show, the intense high, spiked energy, a boost of euphoria. The world worked in your favor. 

Others turned you into a never-ending machine. Hours slipped into days and the energy never stopped. Sleep weaned away. You could talk forever, solve any problem, and anything was possible. 

A soft velvet coddled you. Alcohol made the floor tip and tilt. Giddily and giggly, you walked around with unsteady limbs. Bumping into walls, flopping on furniture, letting the days blend and melt together. 

It all felt so good on the inside, but it took a toll on the outside of your body. Flushed skin, dilated pupils, and wide eyes, you looked unrecognizable. Fingers twitched, the body worked on its own accord, trying to process whatever substance you placed in it. 

Brush your nose with your fingers once. Twice. The world turned crystal clear. You knew who you were. You knew what you wanted. Every word from your mouth turned magnetic. You finally knew what to say, who to be, it was a handcrafted enlightenment from God. 

Another day, another injection in a forearm. A heart hammered in your chest, pounded against your lungs, but each beat felt like clarity. A stomach growled for food, but despite it, you weren’t hungry. You never were. You needed to move. 

You smiled at Chan. You smiled, but he knew. He always knew when you looked at him like that. Purple eye bags, empty eyes, a smile that felt a little too unnatural. Your eyes didn’t scrunch up like they normally did. You pretended to be fine, but he knew you were using. If he couldn’t see it, he could smell it, and if he couldn’t smell it, he could feel it. 

You turned into a ticking time bomb. Days blurred together, but the drugs made you tick. You became everything all at once and then nothing at all. Because the high never lasts forever, so you crashed. Hard. 

The inside of your head, a constant pressure. A water balloon grew and burst. A half-eaten sandwich sat without a plate on the marbled counter. Withering lettuce, odd chunks of tomatoes, deli meat that lost its moisture overnight. In the middle of your path to greatness, you fell and each time it ended, the emptiness came back. Piles of wrinkled dirty clothes littered the bedroom floor. 

A quiet silence after a storm. The shattering realization that without the high, without the thrum, you were nothing. Broken. Empty. A walking shell of a human and you didn’t know who you were. It all came crawling back. The nerves. The anxiety. The stress. 

Pale skin and shaky fingers. Your stomach twisted in pain from hunger. Your head pounded and you laid slumped over in the bed. Unsure if you could get up without feeling nauseous, you lied there. You tried to swallow, but your mouth turned cotton and became dryer than the sahara desert. 

Tired and soaked in a light sweat. Your jaw ached from clenching it so hard the night before. During those times, you knew you should have tried to eat something, but you didn’t. You crashed, you fell, and you hit the ground hard. An empty sleep pulled you back under. 

You tried to stabilize your reality, but it became disoriented. Distant. Hazy. Your clear cognitive abilities turned to mush. Drug paraphernalia sat in the distance. Chan’s mellow voice floated softly from somewhere.

He alway provided a tenderness that you didn’t deserve. You lied straight through your teeth. You didn’t try. You didn’t try anything because you loved the electricity and the buzz. You chased the high time and time again. You’d been chasing it for so long, the withdrawal would be hell. 

So you snorted, you injected, and you drank. You floated, you crashed, you numbed your emotions, and you threw up acidic stomach acid the next morning. You didn’t know how to stop it. You didn’t want it to stop. 

When did it become wrong to crave peace? 

~ ~ ~ 

The sight of your face down body called Chan’s heart to sink. Alone with you in the bathroom, you didn’t move along the tile floor. A faint sigh escaped his nose before he reached down, gently shaking your shoulder. “Baby, wake up.” 

He gently shook you again, but you didn’t respond. When you didn’t move, he pushed your stiff shoulder, forced you onto your back, and froze. You laid with your eyes wide open and glassy. Cracked lips parted, tinted with a faint blue hue. In a panic, he shook you harder, but you didn’t respond. 

He couldn’t breathe, let alone think. Each breath caught in his throat. He blinked rapidly, trying to pull himself away from the sight of you. “No, no, no.” He grabbed your other shoulder and shook. 

Your head shifted slightly, but your empty eyes didn’t blink. Bloodshot with bursted capillaries, your chest didn’t lift and fall as it should have. Shaky fingers reached up and softly patted your cheeks. 

“Hey! You’re freaking me out. Wake up. Wake up! Baby, no! No, no, no.” Tears leaked down his cheeks. “Don’t leave me here! Don’t do this to me!” 

He ripped his phone from a worn denim pocket and dilated the emergency number. A woman on the other end responded to the call instantly. Grief soaked his voice as he repeated your shared address. Warm tears streamed down his cheeks and soaked into your shirt. 

He folded his hands, placed them in the center of your chest, and performed chest compressions. As time went on and he answered questions from the phone, he ignored the burn of his forearms. Your body jerked beneath him, but your glassy eyes didn’t leave the ceiling. 

He didn’t see any signs of drinking, but he knew the substances you abused regularly. Surely, something would be around here somewhere. The paramedics could save you, right? 

You weren’t meant to die this young. Not at this age. Surely, not alone on the cold bathroom floor. The body beneath him turned stone cold, but it used to be full of life. He remembered the way you squeaked and squirmed when he gently tickled your sides. 

Laughing and stealing kisses, right after he snuck home after work. Entangled legs, pulsing hearts, and love oozing between you. No substances, just warm lips, and gentle touches. He thought the two of you could build a home together and it’d last forever. 

A safe space, a haven for you to grow old together, it wasn’t meant for you to die in. Not yet. What about the future? Every version of yourself that you were supposed to morph into? What about them? 

“Why isn’t it working? Why aren’t they coming back? Why aren’t you coming back?” The words broke in the back of his throat. 

“Sir, please-” 

“Shut up!” He screamed at the phone. He grabbed it and chucked it across the room. The device bounced off the ledge of the tub and clattered on the inside. “You weren’t supposed to leave me! You promised you’d be here forever!” 

His fingers clutched the front of your shirt tightly before he collapsed over you. Sobs wracked his body as he cried. Tears filled his eyes and he couldn’t breathe. You wouldn’t be back. Imprinted on him, there’d be no coming back from this. 

“I failed you. I failed you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, j-just come back.” His forehead pressed against the center of your stiff chest. He breathed, but your breaths never came. 

You still smelled like you. The same shared scent of floral fabric softener and faint hint of laundry soap. A bottom lip trembled as he cried over you. He cried because he couldn’t save you. Because no matter how hard you tried, your inner demons destroyed you. 

Each substance tells a story; seeped in misery and soaked in pain. You clutched your vices tightly, trying to combat the things you weren’t ready to face. Some people think it’ll never kill them, but then it does. 

Silent and fast. The words slur and stop. The body goes limp. It all just stops. A brain flickers and pulses, desperate for oxygen, but the receptors go numb. The oxygen ceases and the color fades. 

Blue explains blue skies and rolling foamy waves along the tide. Children’s laughter and splashing water. Sunshine-filled days for the beach. The warmth of your skin and squawking seagulls, but it also stands for the opposite. 

When the breathing slows and ceases, oxygen fades from the blood. Cracked lips turn powder blue, quite a few shades away from the usual oxygenated blood. It hits the tips of your fingers, too. It highlights the desperate screams of family members finding their loved ones overdosed and unable to breathe. 

Empty eyes and limp limbs. Pin-pricked pupils and lonely deaths. Is it worth it? Is it ever really worth the high? Do you chase the high, or does the high chase you? Playing with such fire, someone’s bound to get burned. 

You jerked upright in a cold bed with a gasp. The previous night, you lulled yourself to sleep with alcohol and blurry memories. The stretched white smile across Chan’s face and two deep dimples. Eyes the color of every quiet thing you missed. 

Your headache knocked the moment you sat up, but you ignored it. Nausea swirled along the interior of your stomach, but you didn’t bother stopping it. Tripping over your feet, you rushed from the room, barely having the time to put on your own shoes. 

You had to find Chan. 

~ ~ ~ 

Back in Felix and Seungmin’s dorm, Chan laid on the couch unable to sleep. The pair provided him with soft pillows and blankets, but he still couldn’t sleep. He wanted to, but he just couldn’t. 

Did it make him an asshole for leaving you? The thought echoed around his brain over and over again. Surely not, but then again, it did. He left you when you were the most vulnerable, but he really had tried. 

He made doctor appointments that you refused to attend. He talked to therapists, but you refused to hear them out. You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make them drink it. You were the same way. He tried, but you weren’t budging on your stance. 

He didn’t mean to hurt you, but he had to think about himself, as well. He started to lose sleep, wondering and waiting when he’d come home and find you dead. He didn’t want to find you deceased. 

Due to your misuse of substances, you lashed out and grew angry. At times, he’d come home and find the apartment in chaos. Clutter from cabinets sat all over the counters. Your fingers twitched and you paced. 

Mumbling beneath your breath, shaky fingers rearranged things again and again. He tried to lead you to bed, but you shook him off. Insisting you were on the verge of something great. He didn’t understand it, but in your haze, you did. It all made perfect sense. 

He hated watching a synthetic personality appear. It wasn’t you and it certainly wasn’t the person he fell in love with. Empty eyes and greasy hair. In your shared bed, he stayed awake, trying to listen to the rise and fall of your lungs. 

The air conditioner hummed in the background and a faint light pulsed from behind his head. In the kitchen, the neon green stove clock switched numbers every minute. The hue created a faint shadow along the wall. 

He hated the thin cushions beneath him and he wanted his bed. He craved you. All of you. Your body and the way your lips used to feel against his. Soft, hydrated, and alive. You used to be so alive before the drugs and alcohol. 

Your laughter jump-started his heart. For so many days, after the two of you moved in together, his jaw ached at the end of the day, all from smiling too much. Where did that ache go? Where did you go? Your warmth, your liveliness, the person you used to be. 

He didn’t know how it all started. You accumulated your substances from somewhere. He wasn’t worried when you started drinking alcohol, but then it increased. Drastically. One shot turned into five. He had to babysit you when you drank, you were messy. 

He didn’t mind rubbing your back while you vomited. Nor did he mind using a warm rag to wipe vomit from the creases of your mouth. When your alcohol intake increased, he confronted you, but you refused to talk about it. 

His head swam through past memories with you. His other hand lazily ran through his hair. Fingers curled around the strands and massaged his scalp, repeating all the motions that you used to do. He missed you. 

Bang! Bang! Bang!

He jerked upright at the sound of a knock on the door. Worried it was something important, he rushed to his feet and quickly turned on the light switch. The living room came to life. He jerked open the door, and there you were. 

Soaked in tears and snot, your fingers shook. A bottom lip trembled and you stood in an oversized hoodie and sweatpants. Chan’s eyebrow raised, shocked that you had found him. When he finally realized it was you, he stepped outside the screen door. 

“How did you-” 

You didn’t respond as you threw yourself at him. Your arms wrapped around his back, pressing his beating heart against your chest. Your eyes shut and you squeezed him tightly. 

“Woah, what’s this about?” 

“I-I had a nightmare.” 

“Are you okay?” 

“I died and you found me.” 

His arms froze, halfway around you. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his cotton t-shirt. “I know I’m not perfect and I’ve put you through hell, but I’m begging you to give me one more chance. Just one. I-I can’t have you find me like that, Chan.” 

He didn’t respond right away. Crickets chirped in the distance. A pale moth bonked off the screen door, trying to reach the light. He didn’t respond, but his arms nestled around your body. A safe nest, a moment of comfort, and your heart swelled. 

“I don’t want to come home and lose you again,” he finally whispered. “I don’t want to put myself through that.” 

“You were right. You were right about the fentanyl and the drugs.” You pulled away, blinking back streaming tears. “I-I saw myself dead. I was so pale and y-you were so broken, Chan, I-” 

“It’s okay.” 

“No,” your head rapidly shook, “it’s not. It’s not okay and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. It’s not right. I haven’t treated you right and I’ve been a horrible partner to you. You’ve tried so hard to save me and I’ve been so fucking selfish and I-” 

Your knees wobbled and you broke. Bursting into tears, he grabbed your hips before you could hit the ground. You sobbed against his shoulder, finally letting out the hurt you’d been running from. You clutched onto him just like you always had. 

“It’s okay,” he whispered as he tucked your head beneath his. “You’re alive and you’re still breathing. I’m right here, I’ve got you.” A warm hand trailed along your spine. 

He kissed your cheek, trying to calm you down. The two of you stayed like that for quite a while. You were certain you smelled like strong vodka, but if Chan could smell it, he didn’t care. Instead, he hummed softly, trying to calm your heavy sobs. 

At some point, your eyes drooped. You breathed softly and tried to relax. After a while, he pulled his head back. “Are you tired?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Come inside here for the night. Seungmin and Felix won’t mind. Stay with me and we can figure out where to start tomorrow.” 

“I don’t wanna upset them.” 

“Relax. You’re safe here and you know it.” He reached down, scooping your exhausted body into his arms. Your head shifted, slumping against his shoulder. “I’ve got you, don’t worry.” 

Inside, he used his hip to shut the door and shifted a hand beneath you to lock it. When he finished, he headed back over to the couch and slowly sat down. You leaned back against his chest, letting your legs tangle with his. 

His hands curled around your waist and held you tight. “Cozy?” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“Good.” 

“Chan?” 

“Yes, baby?” 

“I know I haven’t said it recently, but I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” 

As the two of you shifted to get comfy, the headache in your head became the least of your worries. Instead, you focused on the gentle thrum of Chan’s heart. Behind you, his whalloped and yours fell into a steady beat beside it. Your fingers curled along the edge of his shirt, wanting to hold onto him. 

He hummed you to sleep and, for the first time in a long time, it was the first night you hadn’t been lured back to sleep via substance abuse, but rather the warmth of someone who loved you, despite it all.

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lia-linny @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy @rockstarkkami @flightlessackerman @inlovewithstraykids @velvetmoonlght @chrizrizz @ari-hwanggg @m-325 @justcallmewhatyoulike

Masterlist

Taglist and inbox rules

Ko-fi

[scoupsakakitty]

Hi!! I have an idea for Jeonghan. You know The8's song Cold love. (It's my favorite).

The idea is this. The reader has a crush on him, even tho there in the same group (pls idol au), But he's cold, and distant to her/them.

It can be either a fluffy or angsty ending, with her leaving the group of them ending up together.

The reader can be Gn, or female I don't mind any.

I Love your writing, it brings me comfort 🫶

Cold Love | idol!Jeonghan x 14thmember!Reader | angst, fluff

The sun dipped behind the mountains, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple. The secluded cabin where Seventeen had gathered felt warm and lively, but to Y/N, it felt anything but.

She sat on the wooden deck, looking out at the calm lake that stretched before her. It was supposed to be a relaxing trip a short break before Jeonghan left for the military in a few months. Everyone had been excited about it, especially since they hadn’t had much downtime lately. But for Y/N, this trip had been nothing but painful.

She glanced back toward the large glass windows of the cabin. The rest of the group was inside, laughing and playing games, but her eyes were fixed on one person Jeonghan. He was sitting at the dining table, smiling at something Mingyu said. That smile was the reason she had fallen for him in the first place. It was soft, warm, and made her feel safe.

But lately, he hadn’t shown that side to her.

Not once.

Instead, he had been cold. Distant. Unkind.

Her chest tightened as she turned back toward the lake, hugging her knees. She wanted to believe there was a reason for his behavior some explanation that made sense but she was tired of waiting for answers.

“Y/N?”

She flinched at the sound of her name and quickly wiped at her eyes before turning to see Joshua approaching her.

“You okay?” he asked, crouching beside her.

“Yeah,” she lied.

Joshua raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because you’ve been out here for almost an hour, and you missed dinner.”

“I wasn’t hungry.”

“Not hungry, or avoiding someone?” Joshua’s voice was gentle, but his words hit her hard.

She didn’t answer.

“You know,” he said, sitting down next to her, “whatever’s going on between you and Jeonghan, you should talk to him about it. The tension’s so thick it’s making the rest of us uncomfortable.”

Y/N let out a humorless laugh. “There is no ‘me and Jeonghan.’ He made that very clear.”

Joshua hesitated before speaking again. “I don’t think that’s true.”

“Then why does he act like I don’t exist?” Her voice cracked.

Joshua frowned but didn’t push any further. Instead, he stood and offered her a hand. “Come inside. It’s getting cold.”

She took his hand and let him pull her up, but her heart sank as she caught Jeonghan’s gaze through the window. For just a moment, something flashed in his eyes worry? Pain? But then, just as quickly, his expression hardened, and he looked away.

————————————————————————————-

Dinner had ended, and the group gathered in the living room for games. Y/N sat quietly in the corner, barely paying attention as the others laughed and teased each other. She tried to join in, but her mind kept drifting back to Jeonghan.

It wasn’t fair. She had poured her heart out to him months ago, told him how she felt. And he had rejected her not with words, but with silence and distance.

It hurt more than she ever thought it could.

“Y/N, it’s your turn,” Seungkwan said, snapping her out of her thoughts.

She blinked. “What?”

“We’re playing charades. Your turn.”

“Oh… okay.”

She stood awkwardly, trying to focus, but the pressure of everyone’s eyes on her and Jeonghan sitting just across the room made her panic.

“I can’t. Sorry.” She quickly sat down again, her cheeks burning.

“Are you okay?” Seungkwan asked, concerned.

“I’m fine,” she said, but the tears threatening to spill told a different story.

Jeonghan shifted in his seat, his fists clenched. He wanted to say something to do something but he couldn’t. The management’s warning echoed in his head. No relationships. No scandals. If he stepped out of line, she could be kicked out of the group.

But seeing her like this, breaking apart because of him, was unbearable.

“Y/N.” His voice was sharp.

She froze, looking at him with wide eyes.

“Can I talk to you? Outside?”

The room fell silent, everyone’s eyes darting between the two of them.

“No,” Y/N snapped.

Jeonghan flinched. “Y/N—”

“No!” She stood up, her voice rising. “You don’t get to do this! You don’t get to ignore me, push me away, and then suddenly decide you want to talk when it’s convenient for you!”

The other members stared in shock as her voice cracked with emotion.

“Do you have any idea how much you’ve hurt me?” she cried. “You know how I feel, and you couldn’t even be kind to me. If you don’t like me, fine! But at least treat me like a human being!”

Jeonghan opened his mouth, but no words came out.

“Forget it,” Y/N said, her voice trembling. She turned and ran to her room, slamming the door behind her.

————————————————————————————-

The night was quiet, but Jeonghan couldn’t sleep. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as her words replayed in his head.

You don’t get to do this.

Do you have any idea how much you’ve hurt me?

If you don’t like me, fine!

He sat up, running a hand through his hair. He couldn’t let her believe that. He couldn’t let her go to sleep thinking she wasn’t loved because she was. More than anything.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he left his room and walked to hers.

He hesitated at the door, hearing her muffled sobs. His heart shattered.

Knock. Knock.

“Y/N,” he said softly. “It’s me.”

There was no response.

“Please,” he whispered. “Let me in.”

After a long pause, the door opened.

Her eyes were red and puffy, and she looked exhausted.

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I need to explain,” he said. “Please.”

She stepped aside, and he walked in, closing the door behind him.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

“I don’t hate you,” Jeonghan finally said. “I never have.”

Y/N crossed her arms. “Then why?”

“Because I was scared.” His voice was raw. “The management they told me that if we got involved, they’d kick you out of the group. And I couldn’t risk that. Not for me, and not for you.”

Her eyes filled with fresh tears. “So instead, you decided to treat me like I didn’t matter?”

“I thought it would be easier,” he admitted. “I thought pushing you away would protect both of us. But all I’ve done is hurt you—and I hate myself for it.”

Y/N’s breath hitched.

“I love you, Y/N,” he said softly. “I always have.”

Before she could stop herself, she stepped forward and kissed him.

Jeonghan froze, shocked, but when she pulled away, embarrassed, he caught her hand.

“Wait.”

He cupped her face and kissed her deeply, pouring everything he felt into that one moment.

When they finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers.

“We’ll figure this out,” he said. “Together.”

Tears streamed down her face, but this time, they were happy tears.

“Okay,” she whispered.

————————————————————————————-

Y/N sat nervously in the practice room, her hands clenched into fists as she faced Seungcheol. He looked at her like she had just said the most ridiculous thing in the world.

“You want to what?” Seungcheol’s voice was sharp, but there was also concern in his eyes.

“I want to leave the group,” Y/N repeated, this time louder. Her voice still shook, but she forced herself to hold his gaze. “It’s the only way.”

“The only way for what?” he demanded, crossing his arms.

“For Jeonghan and me to be together,” she said softly, looking down.

Seungcheol froze. “…What?”

Y/N swallowed hard, feeling her chest tighten. “The management said if we get into a relationship, I’ll be kicked out of the group. Not him. Me.”

Seungcheol stared at her, completely silent for a moment. Then he burst out, “And you just accepted that?!”

“What else am I supposed to do, Seungcheol?” she snapped, her voice breaking. “Let them ruin his career? Let them destroy everything he’s worked for? I can’t do that to him!”

“And you think he’d be okay with you giving up your career instead?” he shot back. “Do you think Jeonghan would ever forgive himself if you left because of him?”

Y/N opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out.

Seungcheol ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “No. Absolutely not. You’re not leaving. We’re going to fix this.”

“How?”

“Simple,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “We’re going to the management, and we’re going to make it clear that this isn’t happening. You’re staying in Seventeen.”

———————————————————————————-

Y/N sat beside Seungcheol in the cold, sterile meeting room. Her palms were sweaty, and her heart pounded so loudly she was sure the managers could hear it.

Seungcheol, on the other hand, leaned back in his chair, completely unfazed.

“Let’s get straight to the point,” he said as soon as the managers sat down. “We need to talk about Y/N.”

One of the managers raised an eyebrow. “What about her?”

“This rule you’ve made,” Seungcheol said, his voice sharp. “The one where you’ll kick her out of the group if she dates Jeonghan. It’s ridiculous, and it’s not happening.”

The managers exchanged glances. “We’ve already discussed this with her.”

“And now you’re going to discuss it with me,” Seungcheol shot back. “You don’t get to ruin someone’s career because they fell in love.”

“This isn’t about punishment,” one manager said stiffly. “It’s about protecting the group’s reputation.”

“Reputation?” Seungcheol laughed bitterly. “What reputation? SEVENTEEN’s reputation isn’t built on scandals or dating bans. It’s built on talent, hard work, and loyalty. And you want to throw all of that away by forcing Y/N out?”

Another manager leaned forward. “This is standard in the industry—”

“I don’t care what’s standard,” Seungcheol interrupted. “This group isn’t like the others, and you know that. We’re a family. And you’re asking us to tear apart our family over something as human as love.”

“It’s a risk,” the manager argued.

“So what?” Seungcheol said, his voice rising. “Everything we do is a risk! Going on stage is a risk! Performing live is a risk! But we still do it because we believe in each other. And if you don’t believe in us if you don’t believe in Y/N and Jeonghan then maybe you’re the problem, not them.”

The room went silent.

Finally, one of the managers spoke, their tone colder than before. “If this relationship gets out to the public, there will be consequences. For both of them.”

Seungcheol’s jaw clenched. “Then we’ll handle it. But you’re not forcing her out of this group.”

The managers exchanged looks, clearly unhappy, but after a long pause, one of them sighed. “Fine. But it stays private. And if it ever becomes public, you all know what’s at stake.”

———————————————————————————-

Meanwhile—Dance Practice Room

Jeonghan wiped sweat from his forehead, looking around the room. Something felt… off.

“Where’s Y/N?” he asked, glancing at the others.

Joshua hesitated, then pulled him aside. “She’s with Seungcheol. At the company office.”

Jeonghan frowned. “Why?”

Joshua bit his lip. “…She’s asking to leave the group.”

Jeonghan froze. “What?”

“She said it’s because of you,” Joshua admitted softly. “Because of what the management said about you two.”

Jeonghan didn’t wait to hear more. He grabbed his jacket and bolted out of the practice room.

———————————————————————————-

Y/N and Seungcheol stepped out of the management’s office, the tension from their earlier discussion still lingering in the air. Y/N’s heart pounded, but this time, it wasn’t from fear. It was from relief.

It was over.

She could stay. She didn’t have to leave Seventeen. She and Jeonghan could be together as long as they kept it private.

But before she could fully process everything, Jeonghan’s voice echoed down the hallway.

“Y/N!”

She froze, her eyes widening as she turned to see him storming toward her.

His face was filled with panic and anger, and the moment he reached her, his voice was sharp. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Jeonghan—”

“You can’t leave the group!” he interrupted, his voice trembling. “Not because of me!”

Seungcheol raised his hands, trying to calm the situation. “I’ll give you two a moment,” he said, stepping back. He shot Y/N a reassuring look before walking away.

As soon as Seungcheol disappeared down the hall, Jeonghan turned back to Y/N, his eyes desperate.

“Why?” he demanded. “Why would you do this? Why would you throw away everything we’ve worked for?”

Y/N’s heart ached seeing the pain in his eyes. She reached out, but he stepped back, his fists clenched.

“Jeonghan, stop,” she said softly. “Listen to me.”

“How can I listen to you when you’re trying to leave?” His voice cracked, and for the first time, she saw the fear in his expression.

“I’m not leaving,” Y/N said quickly, grabbing his hands before he could pull away. “I’m staying.”

He froze. “What?”

She nodded, tears forming in her eyes. “Seungcheol and I talked to the management. We convinced them to let me stay. We can be together, but it has to be private.”

Jeonghan stared at her, completely stunned. “You’re serious?”

“Yes.”

Relief washed over his face, but it was quickly replaced by frustration. “You should have told me.”

“I didn’t want you to worry,” she said, her voice trembling. “I thought this was the only way to protect you.”

“Protect me?” Jeonghan stepped closer, his voice softer now. “Y/N, do you really think I’d be okay with you giving up your dream for me? Do you know how much that would’ve destroyed me?”

Tears slipped down her cheeks. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

Jeonghan reached out, gently cupping her face. “We’ll figure things out together. You don’t have to fight this alone anymore, okay?”

Y/N nodded, leaning into his touch. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. For everything. For how I treated you before. For making you feel like you weren’t important to me.”

She shook her head. “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain again. I know why you did it.”

“But I shouldn’t have,” Jeonghan said firmly. “I should’ve trusted you. I should’ve fought for us from the start.”

Y/N opened her mouth to respond, but Jeonghan didn’t let her.

Instead, he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly.

“You’re not leaving me,” he whispered. “Not now. Not ever.”

Y/N melted into his embrace, finally allowing herself to breathe.

“Never,” she whispered back.

————————————————————————————

The group had gathered back at the cabin after practice. Y/N and Jeonghan sat together in the corner, their hands intertwined under the table where no one could see.

Seungcheol watched them from across the room and smiled to himself.

“Thanks, hyung,” Jeonghan said quietly when he caught Seungcheol’s gaze.

Seungcheol just shrugged. “You owe me.”

Jeonghan grinned. “I know.”

Y/N squeezed Jeonghan’s hand, and he turned to her, his expression softening.

They still had a long road ahead of them, but for the first time, they felt ready to face it. Together.

[takes1]

asahi x reader nsfw

mutual masturbation or riding/gridning or first time

asahi x reader grinding

my god i fckng love asahi !!! UUUGHHH he's so!! perfect. i will NEVER pass an asahi request, NEVER

warnings. nsfw, minors DNI

details. mutual pining! / skipped!talking phase / mutual lust! / asahi has a crush on you / forced proximity / asahi is hung / lap sitting / beach setting / implied mutual virginity / flirting? / suggestive touching / asahi is a very soft top / 2.9k words / reply to be added to part 2 tomorrow :)

links. masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. requests OPEN. part two here.

"You sure you're okay back there, (Y/n)?" Asahi called to you from the front seat.

Nishinoya's negligent driving up towards the hotel was nothing short of dangerous, especially with no seatbelt, but you had a good amount of things to hold onto.

"Yeah!"

What was that thing about guys using your name more often when they like you? Was that true? You pulled out your phone with the intention of looking it up.

The golf cart hit a big stone in the trail and you quickly stored your it back to the safety of your pocket.

It could wait for tonight, when you were getting off in your empty hotel room to cropped team pictures and the day's memories of him all sweaty and covered in sand-- and much more likely to believe the delusional assertion that he wanted you back.

It was a decent drive to the porte-cochère* where your objective sat.

You were happy to discover that the red cooler you were all after was 1) where Tanaka left it, 2) still in the shade, and 3) that there was still a fair amount of ice in it so the team could have their drinks cold.

The stifling heat of the day served as a brutal reminder that this little beach trip -courtesy of Coach Ukai's elbow rubbing with some sponsors- was for practice and training, not mindless fun or goofing off. Karasuno, unsurprisingly, had been balancing both quite well in spite of the heat.

When the team realized they left the cooler back up the winding, gravel trail towards the hotel, your little group formed only because you knew exactly where it was, Nishinoya was frightfully obsessed with wanting to drive a golf cart, and Coach Ukai voluntold Asahi to go because he would be needed for 'extra muscle.'

You looked back towards the front of the vehicle, scanning the width of his tan shoulders under his tank. The cart pulled up onto some smooth concrete at last and you tore your eyes away.

Despite your gratefulness for his presence, you thought that last part was silly. The thing would be heavy enough with ice and water to keep the whole team hydrated until lunch- but with two people and a dash of determination you had no doubt you could get it up.

Just as you and Nishinoya climbed out, Asahi was already grabbing both ends and hauling the giant thing up by himself.

His biceps firmed, bulged and swelled under the tension- he was all shiny with sunscreen and sweat. The image went straight to the vault. You kept your entranced expression under your hand and shuffled out of the way when he carefully placed the heavy thing across the backseat. The cart sagged so far under the weight, you thought the rear bumper might actually scrape the ground.

There was nothing to be done though, since that was the only space for it.

"Show off!" Nishinoya laughed. Even he had to get a piece of that- he grabbed his buddy's meaty arm, then punched it playfully.

You pretended not to look. But in the process, your downcast eyes found there was no room for all of you to ride back.

"There aren't enough seats," You said quietly.

Nishinoya bit the inside of his cheek, eyes scanning the structure of the cart for a quick few seconds. He was playing people-tetris in his head for a good minute, patting the cooler like that might shrink it.

"You can sit on my lap!" He grinned at you.

You froze at the suggestion- thankfully Asahi was quicker on the uptake.

"Yuu, you're driving. You wouldn't be able to see."

"Oh, yeah..." He tapped on the cooler for a second, keys swinging on his finger, "Well, just sit on Asahi's lap!"

There was no hiding the reaction. It was almost like getting slapped, the way you anticipated the proposition. Asahi watched it all happen on your face, but looked away when you glanced up at him.

He put an oversized hand to the back of his burning neck with a gentle, nervous smile, "Only if you're okay with it."

And there you were, climbing into the cart over him while Nishinoya secured the cooler with two crisscrossed bungee cords in the back. It was just that damn simple, when it was all said and done.

He was warm and gentle. His thighs were strong and far more comfortable than the hard plastic backseat you rode in on the way here.

You sat on him at a bit of an angle at first, so it was less awkward, but that didn't seem to work.

A noise of surprise forced itself from you when he shifted and grabbed your waist. It forced your whole body to swing in one big motion. Your hands flew to the roof stabilize yourself.

"Sorry-! Sorry," He mumbled, a little distracted, avoiding your gaze as he made himself more comfortable.

"Am I too heavy?" Was a sigh that just flew out of your mouth. That was a little much, and probably not the case at all, but you were so glad you asked when he looked at you like you were insane.

His laugh was almost enough to distract you from his arms pulling your full weight onto his lap. His casual strength was so hot.

"Of course not."

Your throat closed up, skin tingly under his touch, as you struggled to find how to orient your legs.

Nishinoya was climbing into the driver's seat, flipping through keys.

"Is- this- okay? Can I put my hands-," He set his palm back down lighter, lower on your thigh, but kept one forearm tight like a bar around your hips, "Here?"

A thumb prodding against your hip bone, right at the hem of your shorts, made you realize how big his fingers really were.

"Yeah! Yeah, that's totally f-ine," Your voice cracked so hard that it caused a full body flinch.

He didn't notice thanks to the volume of the engine starting up.

A careful, slow, "Cool."

Sat with your spine stock-straight, cautious not to touch him more than you had to, your head was nearly hitting the roof at every bump in the road. And the road was made of bumps.

Asahi could only take watching you struggle with your neck bent for so long. 

He leaned forward, chest pressed against your back, and muttered so Nishinoya couldn't hear, "You don't have to sit like that, if it's uncomfortable."

You grimaced at the chills it sent down your spine and managed to somehow silence your yelp.

There was no way you could speak coherently enough to argue, so you let yourself lean against him.

"That better?" He wouldn't stop trying to talk to you. It was like he thought it would make this less of a thing.

But every time he spoke you could feel it resonate, low and gravelly, through your whole body.

You said, "Yeah," But no sound came out. You heard him grin.

"Yuu, you missed the turn-," Asahi informed, calm and a little distracted.

"Shit!"

Instead of stopping, reversing, and safely going back the other way, he decided to cut the wheel at full speed.

There was no time to digest the situation, or say anything, especially not over Nishinoya's delighted scream: "SKRRRRR!!!"

Asahi braced hard enough for the both of you, one hand on the roof, one still forcing you into his lap, until the passenger side of the cart slammed back down hard onto the gravel, and you were travelling in the correct direction again.

Neither of you said anything over Nishinoya's giddy laughter for a good minute.

"I'm gonna kill you tonight, Noya- I really am," You swallowed your fear back down and shuddered.

Asahi felt your whole body freeze, your hands trembling against the safety of his burly arms. It was a lot of things all at once and despite his best efforts, he wasn't helping you calm back down.

"No need for all that," He laughed a little at your deadpan admission, brushing right along the side of your neck, his fingers squeezing a little into your flesh, "I got ya."

Your tummy was right back to turning, swirling, with an angry swarm of butterflies.

You felt like if you opened your mouth, even a little bit, even to just agree, you might confess all of your dirty thoughts here and now.

You couldn't have been more grateful to be wearing shorts. Or else you would've been dripping all over him. The thought alone made your legs flex uncontrollably, and you could've sworn you felt him give a sigh against the back of your head.

After all the rocking around, he had to adjust again. You were brimming, hardly able to keep it together, as he pulled you back onto what you could tell now was his hard-on. The final blow was when he fixed your legs back open, one firm and heavy, further towards your inner thigh this time.

Fuck, he didn't sigh- he groaned. It was just so quiet it sounded like a sigh.

Morbid curiosity got the best of you. You turned your head real slow to look at him. You found a cloudy, near pornographic focus in his eyes, souring your body from over your shoulder.

It was a step under a jumpscare. It sucked the courage right out of you. Thank god he was holding onto you so tight, because you were about as firm as a cup of Jell-O after that.

You stared forward at the road, heartbeat racking through you like a drum. You weren't sure if you could meet his gaze ever again.

"EEERRRRRRRRR!!!!"

Nishinoya had to vocalize his foot slamming against the brake. It was not needed; the screech of those poor rental tires was loud enough.

When the cart finally lurched to a stop next to the sand, and all the safety of so much noise was gone, Asahi cleared his throat. It was a queue to get up, really, but you didn't want to stand.

In fact, you didn't think you could. Not only was Nishinoya's driving that nauseating, but the tension in your stomach made it feel like you'd break in half if you moved off of him.

But, of course, Tanaka's shameless wolf whistle shocked the both of you straight upright. Asahi slid his hands off with one last-ditch squeeze at your hips.

You stumbled out, knees shaky enough to invite help from the rest of the team, whom were already anxiously waiting for the arrival of the refreshments. Your knuckles were white gripping on the side of the cart.

"Woah- You okay?"

Hinata reached out to help you but you flinched away. A slew of 'yeah's left your mouth, uncool and unsubtle in every way.

You shivered at the wind. "I just- I get carsick?"

He snorted at the odd way you spoke, "Are you sure?"

"Yes," You muttered, lame and defeated.

In the wake of your metaphorical blue balls, the beach was the worst place to sober up. You weren't into anyone else, but skin was still skin. There wasn't an ugly person on the team. Everybody was shiny with sunscreen and it smelled like sweat at every turn. You felt like a degenerate.

"Noya shouldn't be allowed to drive. Let alone a top-heavy vehicle..." Asahi grimaced, his rumbly voice once again no aid to you.

He also struggled to get out of the cart and stand upright on the sand, already surrounded with guys trying to access cooler.

Hinata blocked the view and enthusiastically filled you in on how difficult it was to jump in sand, how he planned on getting over it, and everything else you missed while you were gone.

Your sensitive ears couldn't help but pick up Daichi's voice, giggly, asking Asahi if he needed a minute before the practice game, and Suga, laughing and telling him to 'get that shit under control.'

You went to check your phone for the time to subtly tell Hinata to stop talking and see how much practice time had gotten cut into with this little endeavor.

But when you felt for it, nothing was there.

Dread washed through you. You stood stock-still. You told Hinata to 'Hold on' and checked the back of the cart, where you last had it, and found nothing.

The team was already heading down the big sandy hill to continue their game, sharing the hefty load of the cooler.

"You good?" Nishinoya asked just before he was about to leave.

There was a minute drop in his voice, like he was insinuating something, but you answered quickly and honestly.

"No, I- I think I left my phone up there."

His suggestive facade faded fast, "Oh, shit, uhh-,"

He jogged to the side of the cart and began searching. Sure, he messed around a lot, but he was a great friend. You followed suit after making sure it was in none of your pockets again.

He was flipping up cushions and crawling around on the floorboard before a voice behind you made you jump.

"Didja lose the keys, or something?" Asahi asked him. He was staring at you, though, until you returned it. Only then did he watch his friend.

Nishinoya held the keys up and jiggled them in a 'Fuck you, I'm not that irresponsible' manner.

"(Y/n) left her phone somewhere."

Your face was a little warm at how stupid it sounded when it was coming from somebody else. You weren't usually forgetful, especially over something like your phone. Asahi's presence must've clouded some critical thinking skills for just long enough to misplace it.

"It's probably up where we found the cooler," Asahi suggested when there was clearly no phone in the golf cart, "I can drive us up there, no big deal."

You rubbed some stress out of your face and groaned at how ridiculous this all was. Leaving this, leaving that.

"And what if it's not?" You muttered, mostly to yourself. You started spiraling at the idea of never finding it again, arms crossed as you stared with contempt at the musty little golf cart.

Asahi placed his hand over your head, onto the roof. The cart gave hard on one side under his weight. He spoke closer to your ear as he leaned down to toss a water bottle into the seat, "Let's not worry about that, yet."

It was enough to convince you not to argue, at least. You were torn between thinking about all his signals and the obvious problem at hand.

The drive there was very quiet.

Nishinoya decided to stay back because he wanted to play a game pretty badly, and finding a phone didn't take three people.

Asahi didn't try to pry when he saw how upset you were. The only thing he said to you was to drink some water because it was so hot.

You couldn't just pay for a new one. Your parents would be pissed. It was hard enough justifying this trip when you weren't on the team, anyway. If you lost your phone, or if it was broken because Nishinoya decided he wanted to Tokyo Drift a fucking golf cart over it? Your life was over.

What if you had to quit the club and get a job? You would never have the excuse to talk to Asahi again.

When you finally made it back to the hotel, you jumped out before he could even roll to a stop in order to start searching.

He took his time parking it while you retraced the very few steps you had taken earlier.

You were so desperate that you started searching where you knew for a fact you had never been, before. The ignition switched off from a distance, and tears were starting to prick your eyes.

"I've got it," He called.

You jumped right up.

"Thank god! Where did you find it?" You sprinted to him and swiped it from his hand, a mixture of relief and excitement taking over your movements. After checking its condition to make sure it was okay, you spared a glance up to him, a big grin across your face.

It fell just a bit when you found a kind of... reservation all over him, one that seemed out of place for such good news shared between friends.

He was different. He didn't share in your celebration at all.

"My pocket."

It didn't hit you right away. You laughed, somehow convinced that it had gotten there in an honest mix-up, but searched his face when he didn't laugh, too.

"Uhh," You put it back in your shorts, frankly unable to figure him out, and joked to clear the air a little, "You- you didn't feel it in your pocket earlier?"

The thought that it was intentional was so out of left field that when you briefly considered it, you shook it off right away. There was no motivation for him to take it. Maybe Nishinoya would, or Suga trying to be friendly or funny. Asahi didn't play jokes or tease like that.

"I did," He said, quiet. He was looking to the side, watching the ocean from here.

It was far. The beach, the net, were all far away. You realized he had parked the cart so that it wouldn't be in the way if somebody was checking in.

The puzzle pieces were clicking together, one by one, just before he said the final clue for you, "I told Daichi don't wait up for us."

Shit- he got you alone on purpose.

♕VIP♕

@integers @yuchacco

*reply to be added to the taglist *part two will be out TOMORROW- i had to split this because of ungodly word count

(i learned this word today woo!) *porte-cochère: a covered entrance large enough for vehicles to pass through, typically opening into a courtyard.

my masterlist. requests open.