Round 1: Quotes

[sleepyshamrocks]

Each prompt should be centered around words that have already been said.

Possibilities include a quote of any kind:

• Existing works (books, poetry, TV shows, movie scripts, video game scripts, song lyrics, articles)
• Speech (celebrity, netizen, anonymous)
• Anything else that fits!

Example:

Characters/Ship: ITZY Ryujin/Chaeryeong
Tags: alternate universe - fantasy, ryujin is marceline chaeryeong is pb!!
Prompt:

Marceline: I dreamed about you while I was in my poison coma. I was all old and withered, and you were still nice and pink.

Princess Bubblegum: You think I'm nice?

-- Adventure Time 7x12, "Stakes Part 7: Checkmate"

Click here to view the fest rules.

RULES

• You are not required to have a Dreamwidth account to participate. There are no signups necessary. You may post anonymously if you want.
• There will be 4 rounds of this fest and 1 round will be opened each week of the fest. Rounds will be left open for fills and comments, so there is no deadline for participating.
• Prompts do not have to be claimed before you write them, and they can be filled by more than one person.
• There is no minimum or maximum word count for fills. In the spirit of the fest, we encourage you to write shorter works!
• Users are allowed to crosspost their fic on any other site, such as AO3. However, we ask that when possible, writers post the text of their fills as a reply to the prompt and include a link to an AO3 post if they choose to do so, instead of just linking to an AO3 post in their comment. This helps keep discussion in our community!
• Feel free to subscribe and join the comm to keep track of updates and view them on your reading page.

CONTENT
Prompts and fills have to center around K-pop girl group member(s). This includes:

• All active and former girl group members
• Female soloists
• Female members in co-ed groups
• Any female idol or trainee affiliated with K-pop (e.g. GP999 contestants, AKB48 members who featured in Produce48)
• Slash, gen, het, and trans works are all accepted as long as they involve at least one girl group member

PROMPTING

To prompt, reply to a round post and copy the following template in.
<strong>Characters/Ship:</strong> <strong>Tags:</strong> <strong>Prompt:</strong> <blockquote>Content here...</blockquote>

It will look like this when empty:

Characters/Ship:
Tags:
Prompt:

Fill out the form with your prompt. You can also write in "Any" to give the writer freedom to choose their own. For example:

Characters/Ship: Any
Tags: canon compliant, no major character death
Prompt:

Blow all my friendships
To sit in hell with you
But we're the greatest
They'll hang us in the Louvre

- Lorde, The Louvre

FILLING

To post a fill, post a comment reply to the prompt you wrote for and copy the following template in. Title your comment with [FILL] followed by the title of your ficlet.

<strong>Characters/Ship:</strong> <strong>Tags:</strong> <strong>Permission to Remix:</strong> Yes/No/Please ask - Content here...

It will look like this once filled out:

[FILL] still I fall

Characters/Ship: Aespa Winter/Karina
Tags: idolverse, predebut, shared trauma
Permission to Remix: Please ask
-

Content of fill here...

Please provide content warnings for Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, and Underage as well as NSFW/explicit content.

REMIXES

You are welcome to remix fics that the original author has approved for remixing. A remix is a work directly or indirectly inspired by another work.

To post a remix, post a comment reply to the comment you remixed and copy the following template in with your info. Title your comment with [REMIX] followed by the title of your remix.

<strong>Characters/Ship:</strong> <strong>Tags:</strong> <strong>Permission to Remix:</strong> Yes/No/Please ask - Content here...

Comments

[pantomimes]

Characters/Ship: WJSN Exy/Seola or Exy/Bona
Tags: canon compliant, chu sojung leaderisms
Prompt:

It takes all that I got
Not to fuck this up
So won’t you let me know
If I’m not alone
Leaning on you
— Leaning On You, HAIM

I don’t care if we’re talking ‘bout the same things
I don’t care if we’re stuck in the familiar
I don’t care if we’re going ‘round in circles
Again, again, again
— 4AM, Bastille

[FILL] wherever you stray (i follow)

[bboya]

Characters/Ship: WJSN Exy/Bona
Tags: canon compliant, predebut, chu sojung's trainee slump, this one grew to 6k by itself im sorry
Permission to Remix: Yes

ao3 link
-

Sojung is just nineteen when they tell her she can’t sing anymore.

“Vocal nodules,” the doctor says, pushing his spectacles further up his nose and peering down at his notes. He barely even looks at her. “Be careful not to strain your throat for the next six months or so.”

Sojung stares at him uncomprehendingly. “Six months,” she croaks. “I can’t sing for six months?”

“It could be more than that.” His pen taps against his notes. “And you shouldn’t be talking at all for the next five days.”

“Are you sure?” she tries. Her hands are trembling faintly. “What if I just sing a little from time to time, or—or what if I just didn’t sing vocally intensive songs, as long as I don’t strain my voice it’s—”

“No.” This—finally—gets the doctor to look up at her. His voice is sharp. “You’d risk permanent damage. You wouldn’t want that with a career like yours, would you?”

A career. Sojung isn’t sure whether she even can call it that anymore.





Starship doesn’t let her go on the spot like Sojung thought they would.

“You just need rest,” their vocal trainer says kindly. She pats Sojung’s shoulder. “You’ve been over-exerting yourself. Your body needs to heal.”

Sojung doesn’t want to rest. Being a trainee is an endless struggle of grasping for more time, trying to learn everything you can and hoping the other trainees don’t get better before you do, trying to do all of it before you age past the socially acceptable cutoff for debut. At nineteen, she doesn’t have time to rest.

They might not have let her go then and there, but when the time comes for this batch of trainees to debut and Sojung’s voice still isn’t what it used to be, she doesn’t think anyone would think twice before removing her from the debut lineup, vocal nodules or otherwise. Replace her with someone else who can actually sing, probably.

As it stands, among the current pool of trainees there are many girls her age—and younger—who can actually sing. Sojung would debut them all if she could, even the ones who can’t sing, but she’s old enough to know it doesn’t work like that.

Six months. Six vocal evaluations failed before she can even try.

Given that she’s forbidden to speak, Sojung resorts to carrying around a whiteboard around the building for the rest of the week for communication’s sake. She’s been given the week off following her diagnosis, but some part of her recoils at the idea of staying cooped up in the trainee dorms with nothing to do, no one for company except her own festering anxiety.

Right now she’s cross-legged on the practice room floor, staring into space as Miyeon-ssaem teaches some of the younger kids a new routine. It isn’t their turn for dance practice yet, and Sojung certainly can’t join the others for vocal lessons, so here she is, morosely waiting for their turn with Miyeon-ssaem.

Someone sits down beside her. Sojung glances up, then frowns. She grabs her whiteboard and marker.

Why aren’t you at vocal practice with the rest?

“Had an acting lesson that clashed.” Jiyeon shrugs. “Figured I’d find you here.”

Jiyeon is the only one so far who hasn’t asked why she’s refused to take the week off. At nineteen in this late a stage of their trainee period, Sojung knows they share a lot of the same apprehensions, including hating feeling like they’re not doing the most they can, like they’re running out of time whiling away the days before the debut lineup is finalised.

She knows what Jiyeon’s schedule is like. Dance and vocal practice, acting lessons, Chinese classes, early mornings, late nights, coffees with quadruple the amount of caffeine. She’d be the last person to fault Sojung for working without rest.

Jiyeon is doodling something on her whiteboard. Sojung’s eyebrows push together, trying to see what she’s up to.

Jiyeon’s hand shifts away as she caps the marker. It’s a drawing of someone with sad eyes, mouth turned down comically. When Jiyeon starts filling in the lines of her plaid shirt, Sojung realises it’s meant to be her.

She blinks down at it. Her likeness stares back despondently. Jiyeon adds little wrinkles to the chin as an afterthought.

Sojung’s mouth twitches.

She grabs the marker from Jiyeon. kim jiyeon you know i hate it when you draw me like that.

Jiyeon blinks, wide-eyed and innocent, and snatches the marker back. why? i think i did a pretty good job. the likeness is uncanny

Sojung bats her hand away. no it’s NOT

ok ok my bad one second

Jiyeon rubs some of the portrait away and then sticks her tongue out, concentrating. Sojung squints, immediately suspicious. She can’t ask Jiyeon what she’s doing, and Jiyeon has her only mode of communication in her hands, so she settles for jabbing Jiyeon’s shoulder, trying to get her to move. Jiyeon uses her body to block her line of sight, but she isn’t exactly the tallest person around, so Sojung sticks her chin over her shoulder instead.

Whiteboard-Sojung is now pinching her nose, which seems to have grown a couple of sizes.

An indignant squeak escapes Sojung, then her hands fly belatedly to her throat.

Jiyeon is laughing at her in that oddly endearing way of hers whenever she finds something really funny, the kind where her nose scrunches and she half-squeaks, half-inhales her way through an actual laugh.

Sojung grabs the marker. kim jiyeon my doctor is going to kill you!!! and then he’s going to kill me!! i’m not supposed to talk!!!!

Jiyeon just draws a smiley face on her whiteboard. It looks like her, smiling crescent eyes and a mouth wide open in laughter. Sojung pulls a face.

i hate you, she scribbles just under it. Her cheeks feel odd, like they kind of ache. Sojung realises she’s smiling. She looks up to see Jiyeon watching her, chin in the palm of her hand. Their eyes meet, and Jiyeon sticks her tongue out at her, then snatches the marker from her again.

no you don’t ^^*





Despite Kim Jiyeon’s best efforts, Sojung survives her five days of not talking.

But she still isn’t allowed to sing, and everyone won’t stop telling her she should rest, instead of wearing her body out even more on workouts and new choreography. She can’t sing, so she overcompensates by doing more of everything else, ignoring the way her body protests.

One month of “resting” passes, then another. Sojung drags her feet back and forth between the trainee dorms and the practice room. She spends most nights with her covers drawn up over her head, earbuds stuffed in her ears, listening to music that makes her head pound. During the day, she dances until she wears out the soles of her sneakers and her muscles scream from the exertion.

She can’t use her voice to sing, so she takes the past three months of bottled-up frustration into the recording studio and lays it out verse by verse, fast and angry and raw, into tracks she’ll never show anyone.

They can stop her from singing, but they can’t keep her out of the studio.





Hyunjung finds her one day, tucked away in the recording studio, brooding over her latest track. Sojung thought she’d locked the door.

She sits wordlessly next to Sojung, listens to the mess of a song she’s been piecing together.

“This is good,” Hyunjung says, surprised. “I didn’t know you could rap like that.”

Sojung isn’t used to Hyunjung not opening without some affectionate jibe or other upon seeing her. “Is it really?” she says. “You’re not just being nice, are you?”

This slump Sojung is in hangs over her like a raincloud, thick and oppressive and dismal. She’s well aware everyone is walking over eggshells around her, doesn’t readily tease her like they normally would.

“No.” Hyunjung frowns. “It’s raw, but after some refinement I’d put it in my playlist.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Hyunjung replays the track, absentmindedly looking over the changes she’s made. Sojung watches the cursor move around the screen dully, legs drawn up to her chin.

“Unnie,” she says hoarsely. “I don’t think I can sing with you anymore.”

Back when Sojung’s voice still worked like it should, she and Hyunjung used to practise singing duets together. A new release Sojung was excited about, or a nostalgic throwback stuck in Hyunjung’s head, one so old they’d have trouble finding the right audio track to practise with.

Hyunjung pauses the track, looks at her. “It’s only been two months.”

“But what if—”

Hyunjung bops her with her mouse, lightly. “Don’t even think about it. Talk to me about this again in another four months and we’ll see whether you’re still saying the same thing.”

“But—”

Hyunjung lifts the keyboard this time. (She’s been spending far too much time around Soobin.) Sojung closes her mouth. “Okay,” she mumbles.

“Besides,” Hyunjung says, putting the keyboard down and peering at the screen. "Listen to this. Maybe you should try rapping more often.”





One muggy day in July, Sojung’s knees give way beneath her as she’s dancing. She hears more than she feels herself thud clumsily to the ground, where she stays sprawled on her belly for the next few minutes, just staring at the scuffs and scratches in the wood grain.

Somewhere behind her, the door opens and closes. Sojung is just in the middle of deciding whether or not it’s worth the bother to get up and check who it is when she hears the sound of panicked footsteps hurrying towards her. In the next second, small hands land on her shoulders and start shaking her, none-too-gently.

Jiyeon’s face appears in her vision, pale and frightened. “Sojung? Sojung-ah! Are you—” Mid-shake, she meets Sojung’s eyes.

Her fist connects with Sojung’s shoulder, hard. “Don’t scare me like that. I thought you fainted or something. Dummy.”

“Ow,” Sojung complains tonelessly, pretending to clutch at her shoulder. “You’re so mean. What if I actually fainted? You were shaking me around and hitting me—”

Jiyeon just shoves her again. “Well, you didn’t.”

Sojung heaves herself up off the floor. These days she moves slowly, lethargically, like she’s trying to walk through glue. Jiyeon watches her, her face unreadable.

“You look like shit,” she says finally. “Take it easy. You’ve been practising non-stop for weeks.”

Sojung slouches against the mirror that lines the wall of the practice room, tips her head back, lets the chill soak through her thin shirt. “I can’t.”

Jiyeon moves to sit next to her, bumping her shoulder with her own. “Why not?”

“Too much to do.” Sojung bumps her shoulder back half-heartedly. “I need to learn this routine, I can’t get it right, then I want to work in the studio a bit more. Dawon asked me to look over some lyrics for her. And Dayoung asked me to help her with her homework.” She shifts, raking a hand through her hair tiredly. "And—crap—Miyeon-ssaem asked me five days ago to go over the new choreographies we have to learn—”

“—and put everyone in groups?” Jiyeon says. “I settled it with her.”

“Yeah, the—” Sojung blinks at her. “Huh?”

“You’re not the only one who knows everyone’s dance styles, you know.” Jiyeon prods her shoulder. “I haven’t been here as long as any of you, but I pay attention.”

“Oh. Then—”

“I put Juyeon on Dayoung homework duty,” Jiyeon says. “She asked me too, but I can’t remember anything about Chemistry and I didn’t think you would either. And you told me about Dawon needing help last Thursday, so I tried helping her with some of her lyrics today and—” she pauses here, preens like a self-satisfied cat “—I think she actually liked my suggestions. Though she might ask you to look over it one more time. You’re the expert.”

Sojung stares at her, speechless.

Jiyeon just punches her shoulder. “Stop trying to do everything by yourself. Idiot.”

She has this defiant, obstinate look on her face, eyebrows drawn and lips pressed together as if to say Chu Sojung I’ll murder you in your sleep if you ever bring up the fact that I did these things for you, so Sojung (wisely) swallows past whatever she thinks she’s going to say and settles for leaning back against the mirror again. Grinning stupidly to herself, this time.

“Jiyeon-ah,” she manages, through the lump forming thickly in her throat.

“What.”

“Thank you,” she says, earnestly. She can’t look at Jiyeon right now for fear the tears that have gathered in her eyes will spill over, so she settles for nudging Jiyeon’s knee with her own.

Silence.

“Stop smiling like that,” Jiyeon sniffs. “It makes you look ugly.”

-
cont'd on ao3 - i exceeded the character limit, sorry admins!

[pantomimes]

Characters/Ship: Any, but it would be nice if it was centered around a maknae!
Tags: N/A
Prompt:

Girlhood is a story of desire; innocence; fall from innocence; being desired; being not desired; being desired by the wrong people; by dangerous people; by the right people; by excitingly dangerous people. There's so much storytelling in girlhood. There's so much revision in telling it.
— Jenny Zhang

[FILL] echo theory

[liptinted]

Characters/Ship: Winter/Taeyeon (GOT the Beat/SNSD/aespa)
Tags: canon compliant, age difference, self-recognition through the other etc, NSFW
Permission to Remix: yes

a/n: winter is not the maknae in aespa, however she is the youngest in GOT.

-

It's too much effort to hide the lighter that had fallen out of the backpack and maybe that's why Taeyeon looks at it in Winter's hand without laughing. "Are you holding that for someone else?" Taeyeon asks. She's still sitting on her side of her bed upright against the pillows. She's reached out to get her phone from the bedside.

"Yes," Winter replies, slips it back into her backpack on Taeyeon's dresser, along with a stray candy wrapper, and a liptint that had tumbled out as well when Winter had been digging through it. The lighter is Karina's. It's not a big deal, you understand too, you won't tell Youngjin-nim, right sunbae, she could joke. The vocal coaches here stop giving a shit once you get to your second full album, or so Winter was told.

"Do you hold the pack as well for Yoo Jimin?" Taeyeon asks when Winter tells her this.

"I don't, actually," Winter says.

"Sure," Taeyeon says softly, and gives her a look. "It's easier to have just one stick when you're sharing, if you don't want to really start."

Winter knows this. The lighter used to be something that seemed expensive, heavy and solid. The guy it belonged to never came back for it after Karina broke it off with him around their debut, and threw it out. Taeyeon smiles at this story like she finds it vaguely amusing. The blue glow of her phone screen on her face in the dim light of her bedroom makes her look like a ghost, still beautiful. Something tightens in Winter's stomach at the thought. She used to feel much more flattered about the comments everywhere online, about people pointing out an uncanny resemblance between them.

"Better to share with your friends," Taeyeon says, punctures her sentence with an awkward laugh. She'd laughed before at practice earlier, sharp and sardonic at something Hyoyeon was telling BoA, and then again as Winter was busy with Taeyeon's neck and chest moments ago in her bedroom, when she'd sucked on the skin, teeth grazing her tit. She didn't really like the teeth, she said, her voice low and clear, nails scraping the sensitive base of Winter's head as she gathered her hair and guided her to go lower.

"So who do you share with, sunbae?" Winter asks.

"Minjeongie, I don't smoke anymore," Taeyeon says, her eyes already back on her phone screen.

Stick to people you know, is what Taeyeon meant at the time, because it's less time wasted with strangers and creepy men when you're spending it being good. This was just before she asked Winter to fuck her again in her cluttered apartment. Taeyeon makes these noises, small cut-off gasps like stuttering breath control. She didn't come; Winter paid it back embarrassingly quickly by letting Taeyeon roll her over on her front, and hold her down while Taeyeon slid a small vibrator towards her clit.

"Let me look at you," Taeyeon had said the next time, and Winter did that thing again with her own face that Giselle laughed at once off-cameras, because she added, "You don't have to use toys."

"Okay," Winter said right away, hot everywhere and wet.

They don't look that much alike, Taeyeon told her after she'd watched Winter jerk off. It sounded amused rather than critical, as if she was prodding Winter to at least pretend to be more serious on camera to humour Taeyeon talking about whatever concept she was styled to. Either way, she came so hard that her own shout sounded strange and dimmed while Taeyeon was watching. Taeyeon had gotten herself off, and Winter wasn't allowed to touch her while at it. That was the thing, about trying to be good for long enough through the years of looking after other people in practice and dressing room mirrors because that became easier than looking closely at herself then. Winter remembers watching a dated MBC special for idol group leaders in their old trainee dorm once, Taeyeon in pigtails for her interview portion, all in its 360p glory. Those years had stamped out most forms of normalcy including a sex drive, up until you started taking therapy seriously, apparently. Sex is terrifying, sex is fun, sex is stifling. Winter understood a part of that when she'd said yes to Taeyeon's proposition and Taeyeon thrusting against her face and coming on Winter's mouth made Winter feel insane and stupidly accomplished. Taeyeon's had serious lovers but she says she can't remember if any of those men made her feel less embarrassed about sex without trying hard.

Winter overhears half a conversation outside a dressing room while they'd been early for their video shooting:

"—with another junior in the company who worships you—" Hyoyeon's voice says.

"Don't compare this to that, god," Taeyeon replies curtly.

"She's one of the babies in their group. Karina says it," Hyoyeon says after a pause.

"No one likes being called that."

"What's new. Just don't be selfish with the kid," Hyoyeon says, a mix between delighted and tired.

Winter's distracted after that; she lets the other girls talk through the mini game they're supposed to do for promo material in between the shoot, uses Wendy's jokes to smile bigger on cue. Tries not to roll her eyes at Karina clamming up with reddened ears when Seulgi calls her the prettiest for the compliment game. While waiting around, she ends up with Taeyeon alone, who had the same idea trying to find a quiet spot sitting in a far corner of the cramped room after the cameraman finally leaves.

"You can ask the stylists to give you the jelly nails instead of the usual acrylics. They're more comfortable," Taeyeon suggests, looking over at Winter's studded claws matching her outfit. "I can tell unnie next time."

"I can manage, sunbae," Winter says. Her head hurts from caffeine withdrawal, and looking at the neon print of Taeyeon's skirt makes it worse. She looks at where her skin shows instead. "Are you tired already? I could help, after this."

Taeyeon's smile is tight but her voice is soft, "Go home after this. You should rest."

Winter leans her head back against the wall, lets the outdated company posters of senior groups around the room swim in her vision. An EXO poster in her line of sight looks weirdly jarring in its colours. "What if I need it this time?" she finds herself saying.

"Minjeong," Taeyeon starts.

"If it isn't too selfish of me," Winter says, watches the surprise flicker over Taeyeon's eyes. She could also say please; the word doesn't come out.

Taeyeon sighs, her throat working through it. She looks over somewhere between Winter's shoulder and her mouth, frowning. She'll kiss Winter quick and hasty later, and pull back with her hand firm over the back of Winter's neck when Winter opens her mouth for her, like she's trying to gauge what would work best. Like she's trying to make sure of something. The hesitance is almost funny now, to Winter. It's also incredibly hot.

"Fine," Taeyeon says.

hold your breath for this

[sleepyshamrocks]

Characters/Ship: any! i think this is very taengsic coded but feel free to chew on this prompt however you want
Tags: canon compliant, post-disbandment/hiatus, looking back at everything through the warped mirror of time
Prompt:

“I’ve hoarded your name in my mouth for months. My throat is a beehive pitched in the river.
Look! Look how long this love can hold its breath.”

― Sierra DeMulder, Today Means Amen

[FILL] loose threads

[skyclectic]

Characters/Ship: Taeyeon/Jessica
Tags: Post-disbandment, Unresolved Feelings, Romance
Permission to Remix: Yes
AO3 Link
-

I’m in love with the idea of us
What we once were
Or what this once was

I’m stuck somewhere between then
And now, because

I’m still in love
― Resort x SHN, The Idea of Us



“I didn’t think I’d ever see you here.”

The familiar voice cuts right through Taeyeon and her body reacts immediately, heart jumping into her throat too hard, too fast. But there’s no real way to prepare for a lightning strike. And when Taeyeon turns around, the first sight of Jessica Jung feels exactly like getting struck by lightning, burning through her with the force of a hundred thousand volts.

It’s unfair how the years have not dimmed her beauty in the slightest. In fact, Taeyeon thinks Jessica at thirty-six is even more breathtaking than Jessica at eighteen.

Taeyeon feels almost faint as she wonders how the universe can be so cruel as to engineer this very moment to happen in the most unexpected of places. She hasn’t seen Jessica in person in over a decade. It’s ironic how the first time is at Cape Sounion, on the precipice of a cliff on the southernmost tip of the Attica peninsula.

In the shadows of the Temple of Poseidon just behind them, Jessica’s presence eclipses even the setting sun.

“Jessica.” Taeyeon hopes that the tremor in her voice is barely noticeable.

“Taeyeon.” Jessica’s lips quirk faintly. She seems almost serene. Unruffled. Taeyeon envies that.

They settle into momentary silence, watching the sun dipping below the horizon. The sky is a beautiful watercolour painting of dusty pinks and vivid tangerines. It’s breathtaking. And incredibly romantic. Taeyeon forces all thoughts of romance away. Not when she’s standing next to Jessica. Nothing good will come out of it.

Instead, she thinks about what the tour guide had said earlier. The Temple was built on this cliff because it’s a perfect vantage point; flanked on three sides by acres of the bluest sea, an incoming ship would have nowhere to hide its approaching presence.

If only Jessica’s like that too, Taeyeon thinks bitterly.

Some warning, even just a minute to steel her heart, would have been great. But the truth is, Taeyeon never sees Jessica coming.

“I’ll give you a ride back to Athens,” Jessica says as the sun slips the final degrees out of view.

Taeyeon stares. Athens is almost two hours away. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Has it ever been?” Jessica’s lips twist into a wry smile. “It’s been years, Taeyeon-ah. And we’re both adults now. We can survive being in the same car together.”

We were adults too in 2014 when we unravelled completely, Taeyeon thinks. And I barely survived, then.

Jessica’s smile softens around the edges when Taeyeon hesitates. It feels like an olive branch.

Or maybe it’s the first step in rebuilding burnt bridges.

Maybe this is what forgiveness looks like.



Jessica pulls over for gas. Taeyeon sits in the car, trembling under the weight of years and years of memories unravelling at her feet. She had spent the better part of a decade keeping everything, keeping Jessica, carefully buried in a deep ravine. Someplace she hasn’t ventured to in a really long time.

And yet, here she is, trapped in a car in the heart of Greece, as everything comes flooding back in. Taeyeon hates how she can’t tear her eyes away from the windshield. From a horizon coloured with Jessica and the familiar way she purses her lips as she waits in line to pay.

Taeyeon used to think she’s over it; she’s not in love with Jessica.

Maybe she was at one point. But not now. Not after more than ten years. She can’t be.

But the panic rising in her throat, and the way her hummingbird heart hammers against her ribs, makes Taeyeon think she’s wrong. This feels a lot like –

Her fingers are shaking so badly it takes her three tries before she manages to dial Tiffany’s number. It’s 4am in California. But Tiffany picks up anyway, listening patiently as Taeyeon talks herself into a frenzied spiral.

“It’s just Jessica,” Tiffany finally says. She sighs softly in the way she often does when she needs to tell Taeyeon something she’s not ready to hear. “You’re panicking because it’s Jessica. You always panic when it’s Jessica.”

The air wheezes out of Taeyeon’s lungs. It’s just Jessica.

That much is true.

But it’s also just Jessica.

And therein, lies the problem.

“It’s different for me,” Taeyeon says tremulously. She breathes, refocusing her gaze on the new moon peeking out from the rapidly darkening sky. “It’s different because –”

“I know,” Tiffany cuts in, mercifully saving Taeyeon from completing the sentence, from finally standing still long enough to stop avoiding the shipwrecked pieces of whatever she and Jessica once shared. “But, Taeyeon-ah, what’s the worst that can happen?”

Taeyeon has no answer for that.

What’s the worst that can happen when everything else has already happened?

Her ribcage is a junkyard of broken parts; she and Jessica have already ruined each other beyond repair hundreds of moons ago.



When they were younger and untainted by each other in irreversible ways, they had a stupid fight during a dance practice for their debut song. What had started as annoyance over a missed dance step escalated into a shouting match that left half the group in tears and Jessica and Taeyeon locked in a furious impasse that lasted through the rest of the practice session.

But that same night, Jessica had cornered Taeyeon in the kitchen of their dorm and held out a tub of ice cream like a peace offering.

I don’t really like Strawberry, Taeyeon had said, and Jessica had only given her a small, fleeting smile, before she pulled out another tub from the freezer. Chocolate Mint. Taeyeon’s favourite.

They had settled on the floor, backs pressed to the kitchen cabinets, cradling their own tubs. Jessica had apologised first, and Taeyeon had echoed just a heartbeat after, and they had laughed at how silly and dramatic the fight was. And they’d laughed all over again through the pain of matching brain freezes, fingers cold and sticky.

I like that we’re in sync even for this, Jessica had said, sunlit laughter heavy in her voice. It makes me think that no matter what happens after we debut, we’ll always be on the same page.

Taeyeon had said nothing, too distracted by the way strips of amber light from the ceiling cascaded down Jessica’s face and settled in the hollow of her throat. She had only stared as if in a trance, seized by a sudden, inexplicable urge to press her lips against the warm honeyed dip of Jessica’s clavicle.


—————————


Somehow they end up back at the hotel Jessica’s staying at. It’s a terrible, terrible idea; she should have dropped Taeyeon off at her rented apartment instead. But Taeyeon is quiet as she slips past Jessica into the room, sinking into the only armchair in the corner.

Jessica takes a deep, steadying breath and spots the half-empty bottle of Merlot she had ordered from room service last night. “Wine?” she asks, throwing Taeyeon a glance. At Taeyeon’s nod, she pours two glasses and passes one to Taeyeon, trying not to flinch at the split-second brush of their fingertips.

This is probably a terrible idea too, Jessica thinks, as she settles on the edge of the bed directly opposite Taeyeon’s armchair and takes a measured sip of wine. But Taeyeon is here, in her hotel room, closer than she’s ever been in so, so long.

Seeing Taeyeon at the Temple of Poseidon earlier had shocked Jessica enough to turn her completely numb. And Jessica Jung, Creative Director of Blanc & Eclare had taken over, perfectly calm and composed.

But now, with Taeyeon looking up at her through sorrow-tinged eyelashes, she only feels like Jessica.

She feels eighteen again, standing together on a stage, Taeyeon’s hand in hers as their hearts soar skywards along with their childhood dreams. And somehow, she also feels twenty-five, hurt blossoming in her chest at the way Taeyeon refuses to look her in the eye as the world splinters and burns down all around them.

This isn’t how Jessica has pictured this. She’s always imagined a reunion to be fraught with violent words, with so much anger and deep-seated hurt shattering all around their feet. But if she’s honest with herself, she hasn’t been angry at Taeyeon in years.

That white, hot rage and all the hurt she had felt, had dissolved into a resolute kind of sadness. A bone-deep regret for how they had ended things. And for what they could have been if it all hadn’t unravelled with an unforgiving kind of finality.

“I’m sorry.” Taeyeon’s voice sounds like heartbreak. Her mouth twists wryly. “I should have said that to you so many years ago. Instead of –”

“I’m sorry too,” Jessica cuts in. She suddenly cannot bear the thought of reliving every single one of those anger-filled days that came on the heels of her departure from the group. She doesn’t need Taeyeon to drag up the memories either. “Neither of us is blameless. We’ve both done things we shouldn’t have.”

Taeyeon exhales slowly. She puts her empty glass down. “How did we get everything so wrong?”

Jessica’s eyes burn. A strangled laugh somehow escapes her throat instead. “It’s you and me. We feel too much and care too much.”

Something in Taeyeon’s expression clouds over. She lowers her gaze to the carpeted floor, as if weighing her next words very, very carefully. Jessica waits, holding her breath, holding all her unresolved feelings by a thread, because the alternative is to lay them bare at Taeyeon’s feet.

When Taeyeon lifts her gaze again, Jessica loses all the air in her lungs. The expression on Taeyeon’s face is so intimately familiar, and Jessica’s heart aches at seeing it all over again. Just like that, Taeyeon draws every single one of Jessica’s feelings out into the open.

“Even now?” Taeyeon breathes, shifting forward until her knees knock into Jessica’s own. “Do you still feel too much and care too much, even now?”

Always, Jessica thinks wretchedly. Her heart is racing. Her entire world is narrowing. And Taeyeon is so, so close.

“If I didn’t, you wouldn’t be here now, Taeyeon-ah,” she whispers, soft and breathy.

Taeyeon hears it for the plea that it is and cups a warm hand over Jessica’s face, drawing her in.

Taeyeon tastes like wine, which is new and different from all the kisses seared into Jessica’s memory. But everything else, from the way Taeyeon slides a hand into her hair, to the way she swipes her tongue over Jessica’s lips, is exactly like how Jessica remembers.



The way they stumble into bed is exactly like how Jessica remembers too. Jessica marvels at the way they fall into each other in the same perfect choreography, like her body remembers what it’s like to have the heat of Taeyeon’s touch searing into her skin.

Her head is spinning. Everything seems to be surging in time to the cadence of their staccato breaths. Taeyeon leans down, pressing warm lips against the curve of her breast and Jessica can only arch her back, trying to get Taeyeon even closer.

“It’s okay,” Taeyeon murmurs against her feverish skin. “Just let go. I’m here. It’s okay, Sooyeon-ah.”

Like always, the way Taeyeon’s voice shapes around her name, the name Taeyeon reserves just for her, is Jessica’s undoing.



Later, much later, they lie on their sides in bed, trading kisses that feel too soft, too apologetic.

Jessica wonders if they’ll ever reach a point where they stop trying to apologise through loaded gestures. There’s still so much left for them to unpack, but she’s not worried about finding enough shipwrecked parts for them to salvage. Not anymore.

She reaches out, pushing back the waves of hair cascading over Taeyeon’s shoulder, fingers lingering on the crescent dip of Taeyeon’s neck: that perfect curve kissed by silvery light streaming into the room. Jessica leans in, giving in to the urge to press her lips against moonlit skin.

She feels it, the way Taeyeon chuckles; she’s always been ticklish. Jessica can’t help the smile that blooms on her face at the warm vibrations making a home at the base of Taeyeon’s throat.

“I should go soon,” Taeyeon says after another minute, her palm sweeping up and down the crest of Jessica’s hip. Like she’s laying an anchor. Staking a claim.

As if Jessica still has a heart left to claim. She’s lost hers years ago to the woman in her arms now.

And maybe it’s taken them this long to find their way back to each other. But Jessica is tired of counting sunsets without Taeyeon by her side.

So, she just presses her forehead to Taeyeon’s clavicle. Breathes her in.

“Stay,” she says. “I want you to stay.”

[infrequencies]

Characters/Ship: Any
Tags: idolverse, or superhero AU.
Prompt:

Jules: What? You want me to teach you everything I know? You want to be my Robin.

Ophelia: I wouldn't be Robin. Robin's a bitch.

(from MTV's Sweet/Vicious)

[FILL] heart stop, kill shot

[intoparadise]

Characters/Ship: wjsn bona/yeonjung
Tags: superheroes, meet-ugly
Permission to Remix: Yes
-

A girl like Yoo Yeonjung doesn't belong in a ruin like Starship, but Jiyeon keeps seeing her everywhere around HQ, chin held high like she's the savior everyone says she will be. Jiyeon isn't as easily convinced.

Even through the crack in a training room door, from a glimpse in the mirror, Yeonjung is unmistakable. Jiyeon's curiosity gets the best of her. She peers in, inevitably nudging the door open as an afterthought. It's both helpful and annoying, how the force of her intentions always shifts the world around her without her permission.

Yeonjung is sitting with her knees to her chest against the wall, head tilted back towards the ceiling. How boring could she get? Jiyeon dares to think she might be safe, for a second, but no—

"Bona," Yeonjung says, void of the reverence people usually say that name with. She unsticks her head from the wall, eyes locking with Jiyeon's.

"No one calls me that anymore."

"Right. We won't have any reason to for much longer," Yeonjung says.

Jiyeon's skin prickles. They're just retiring her name, not retiring her.

So this is the company's best kept secret, who even Sojung won't tell her anything about. Like one person can fill the gaping hole left behind in the last month by their most beloved heroes hanging up their capes for good. This crumbling corporation, this godless city that Sojung won't ever give up on, the only reason that when it goes down, it'll take Jiyeon with it. What can Yeonjung do to save that?

Yeonjung gets to her feet, eyes sliding off of Jiyeon as if she's a second thought.

Jiyeon's blood spikes, flashing with annoyance, panic. How dare she—?

Just as Yeonjung is about to shoulder her way past her, Jiyeon sidesteps her way into the doorway. "Where do you think you're going?"

"What, are you not entertained? I don't have time to play games with a hero who's losing her touch."

How many times has Jiyeon heard that whispered behind her back? Masqueraded as powerpoint presentations in dreadful meetings with the board? It's not a question of how much money her face will make when it's plastered on a billboard, because come on, that's their one guarantee. It's a question of if her control will fizzle out when she needs it most again.

Yeonjung's wrong. They're all wrong. Whether they like it or not, she's still the best they have. They can't keep her off-duty forever.

Jiyeon doesn't even have to think before the rack of dumbbells is in the air, a swarm of weights forming around the room, circling Yeonjung. Jiyeon can't even lift one with her own two hands, but this is so much more satisfying. She doesn't even have to lift a finger.

"Does it look like I'm losing my touch to you?"

Yeonjung just looks unamused, not a flicker of fear nor awe in her eyes. The company's found a real diamond in the rough, Jiyeon thinks. Someone who acts like she's untouchable, even in a moment when she has every reason not to—that doesn't make you a hero. That just makes you plain stupid. It makes Jiyeon want to hit her where it hurts.

"Did they promise you could be a hero? That's what they tell everyone. You would be lucky if their real plan is to make you my sidekick," Jiyeon says. She practically sees red at the thought. "I don't care what the company says. I don't need some kid holding me back."

Yeonjung's face sours as if she's repulsed by the very thought. "Who says I'm going to be your sidekick?"

Jiyeon feels the air shift, the suspended cloud faltering. If that's not what Yeonjung's here for, then what?

Jiyeon sees it in sickening clarity, then, what Yeonjung thinks she is—

Her replacement.

It happens too fast for her to stop it—or maybe she could, but her heart's not in it. Her thoughts waver for only a split second and everything goes toppling to the ground, down towards Yeonjung.

Suddenly Jiyeon's in front of city hall, cars dropping from the sky like her approval ratings would for the whole week and then some after. She knows the pattern well enough now: the dominoes don't stop once the first one falls.

That first one, hovering right over Yeonjung's head: on impact, a kill shot at best.

It only takes a second. Then it's just Yeonjung standing in the wreckage, untouched. Unmoved.

Yeonjung's slow glance around oozes with a merciless point proven. The dumbbell that should have bashed her head in is lying next to her, bent in half, and fuck, Jiyeon can get herself out of anything, out of the argument she's going to have with Hyunjung for demolishing a whole training room, easy, but she can't get herself out of the lurch of terror that wracks her, right then. Her exit is on the horizon, is standing right in fucking front of her, probably signed off on by some exec she hasn't gotten fired yet. Out of her control.

What is she to the company when they've managed to snatch up the one living, truly unstoppable person on the face of the entire planet?

"No wonder Sojung told me to stay away from you," Yeonjung mutters. "She forgot to mention that you'd try to kill me."

The words sting, not just because of the betrayal. Jiyeon refuses to believe she could be predictable enough to be summarized as simply as a handbook would. Though maybe Sojung just knows her well enough that to her, she can be.

"What else did she tell you about me?" Jiyeon demands.

"That I could learn something from you," Yeonjung says flatly. "But I guess she can't be right about everything."

Jiyeon stands frozen as her future carbon copy, bright red hair burned into her vision, pushes past her, leaving her alone with the ruin of her own design.

[deadgodsociety]

Characters/Ship:WJSN Any/Any
Tags: Friends with benefits to something else?
Prompt:

This ain't for the best
My reputation's never been worse, so
You must like me for me
— Delicate, Taylor Swift

I wanted you to see a mess and still find me worthy of love, to tell me that you could still love me anyway.
— Georges Bataille

[FILL] rotten parts and all

[pantomimes]

Characters/Ship: WJSN Eunseo/Yeonjung
Tags: friends with benefits, self-worth issues, in a shocking turn of events the fuckgirls fall in love with each other
Permission to Remix: Yes

a/n: yeonjung wearing a black crop-top + a gold chain… yeah. i wrote this in the speed of light so i’m sorry for any mistakes ;_;
++ ao3 link

-

It was around noon when Juyeon arrived at Yeonjung’s apartment, multiple food bags hanging from both her arms and a smile that would put the sun to shame on her face. Now it’s half past midnight, a forgotten movie is playing on Yeonjung’s television, and they’re sinking themselves into each other over fresh, lavender scented sheets.

“I want to give this a try,” Juyeon confesses as her kisses move down from Yeonjung’s jaw to her neck, reverence dripping from her fingertips as she traces the abs Yeonjung is hiding under the baggy shirt she put on earlier. “Us a try.”

Yeonjung’s eyes snap open, her veins run cold and her knees nearly hit Juyeon’s stomach with the way they violently jerk forward once she registers the words that came out of her mouth. Did Juyeon just— is she implying what I think she’s implying—

“Unnie,” Yeonjung calls, mewls when Juyeon sinks her teeth in a particularly sensitive spot near her collarbones, then presses her palms over Juyeon’s shoulders to halt her movements for once and for all. She can’t have this conversation with Juyeon’s lips and hands all over her body. “Unnie, stop.”

Juyeon nudges her nose against Yeonjung’s cheek, leaving a peck over the flushed skin before she prompts herself up by her elbows, giving Yeonjung all of her attention. “Mhm?”

And that’s when it hits Yeonjung that, yes, this is the most vulnerable and open and naked she’s ever felt in her twenty two years of life. There, lying on her bed with the girl she spent an entire year telling herself she didn’t give a fuck about gazing down at her as if she’s the only thing she’s ever yearned for, Yeonjung realizes how far those drunk party hookups turned into late nights wasting time in their apartments have gone.

There’s nothing special about how they ended up in that situation, really. They were mere acquaintances before, the only connection between them being their mutual friends and the fact that they were known around campus as two sides of the same coin— both famous for being irresistible heartbreakers, but with different approaches and different reputations.

Yeonjung was honest, maybe too honest for most people to handle, when it came to sleeping with someone— she’d tell them straight ahead that she wasn’t looking for a relationship, that all she wanted was to blow off some steam, have some harmless fun for the night, and by the time the sun was out, they’d go their separate ways. Juyeon, on the other hand, was the textbook definition of a gentlewoman— sure, she wasn’t seeking anything serious either, but she’d charm her way into the hearts of every single woman that happened to cross her path anyway, whether it was intentional or not.

(“I’ve seen a lot of my classmates cry over you,” Juyeon commented as she toyed with the gold chain around Yeonjung’s neck, doing a poor job at pretending she wasn’t dying to leave this stupid party, get her alone and rip that black crop-top off her body.

That was a few hours before they hooked up for the first time, before Juyeon began to tear down each and every single one of the walls Yeonjung had built around her heart over the years.

“I get it now,” she whispered huskily against Yeonjung’s ear, putting her hand on Yeonjung’s waist and pressing her back against the concrete wall. “I think I would too.”)

So, taking those facts into consideration, it’s safe to affirm that the thought of being in some sort of unexpected-yet-addictive situationship with Son Juyeon of all people makes her want to run off into the night until her bones are seconds away from breaking into a million pieces. That it makes her want to hide. That it makes her want to buy a one-way ticket to Seoul and cry into her mother’s embrace like the scared little child she never allowed herself to be.

But, despite the alarms going off inside her brain and demanding her to leave now, leave now, leave now, she remains at the same place, pliant and transparent under Juyeon’s expectant, hungry eyes.

“Are you sure?”

In between the lines, if you look closely, it reads: are you sure about me? I’m difficult and flawed and stubborn. I blurt out whatever is on my mind and people’s hearts are left battered and bruised because of it. I’m not even half as affectionate or caring as you are. You know who I am. No one that knows me has ever gotten this far. No one that knows me has ever wanted me this much.

I’m no good. I’m no good. I’m no good. Why do you adore me, despite everything? Despite knowing the truth?

You could be the next one to bleed out in my arms. I could be the death of you.

The smile that blooms on Juyeon’s lips is enough for Yeonjung to know that she is sure, has been for a while now, way before Yeonjung could ever admit to herself that, maybe, she’s been longing for the same thing all along.

And the way Juyeon kisses her— deep, rough and desperate, with one hand on her neck and the other digging into the skin of her exposed thighs— instead of giving her a proper answer lets her know that Juyeon— always so brave, so kind and so, so loving Juyeon— wants her anyway, inside and out, rotten parts and all.

“Was that,” Juyeon breathes out as she leaves pecks through the entirety of Yeonjung’s face, careful not to leave a single part unloved, “sure enough for you?”

Yeonjung grins, then proceeds to take Juyeon’s hand and drag it from her thighs all the way up to her hips, then to her stomach, until it’s safe underneath her bra, clutching it like a lifeline as she melts at the feeling of Juyeon’s strong fingers pressed against her skin. She marvels at the way Juyeon’s eyes glint with desire, at how they become a shade darker than they usually are, at how it seems like she wants to swallow her whole.

The scary part is, Yeonjung would let her do it.

“I might need a little more convincing.”

[deadgodsociety]

Characters/Ship: WJSN Luda/Soobin
Tags: Exes or it can be a “failed” situationship, one of them moved on but the other is still in love
Prompt:

’Cause there we are again in the middle of the night
We're dancing 'round the kitchen in the refrigerator light
— All Too Well, Taylor Swift

Friends break up, friends get married
Strangers get born, strangers get buried
Trends change, rumors fly through new skies
But I'm right where you left me
— Right Where You Left Me, Taylor Swift

I’ll be getting over you my whole life
— Labyrinth, Taylor Swift

[FILL] i’ll be getting over you my whole life

[pantomimes]

Characters/Ship: WJSN Soobin/Luda
Tags: canon compliant, mutual pining to unrequited love, angst, luda-centric. mentions of one-sided exy/seola and exy/bona + pre-exy/luda?
Permission to Remix: Yes

a/n: soobin to luda: we were once as close as soulmates. do you still remember?
luda to soobin: you won’t forget, right? don’t throw me away.
++ ao3 link

-

Luda’s world ends on a Saturday.

It’s raining softly outside, the neighborhood is drowning in quietness, and Luda is drowning in Soobin— in her laugh, in the way she throws her head back, in how she tries to speak quietly but ends up getting too excited halfway through whatever story she chooses to tell next.

This is it, Luda thinks as she watches Soobin put her hair up in a ponytail, marvels at the way her fingers move through the loose strands, wishes it were hers doing the job instead. This is what people write about, this is what people sing about, this is what people cry about.

“Lee Luda!” Soobin calls, waving her hands in front of Luda’s face. “Are you listening to me?”

Luda startles, blinks once, twice. Tries not to burst out laughing once she takes in the offended look plastered on Soobin’s face. “Sorry, unnie. What were you saying?”

“I was saying, we should try to share a room,” Soobin explains again, stretching her body over the couch and leaving some space for Luda to join her. Luda gets up from the carpet and lies beside Soobin, heart constricting inside her chest when Soobin rests her head against her shoulder. “When we debut, I mean.”

Luda laughs, shaking her head. “You mean you, me, and at least three other people.”

Soobin grunts, head sinking further into Luda’s skin. Luda pats her head in an attempt to comfort her. “Yeah, I guess. But even if we end up having to share the bedroom with a thousand other girls, I’ll be satisfied as long as you’re with me. Since you’re my soulmate, and everything.”

Luda is pretty sure she’s never come across any articles about people dying from loving too much, nor has she heard anything of the sort on the news, but if the way her heart is threatening to jump out of her throat is any indicator, she might as well be the first. “I’m your soulmate?”

Soobin beams, in that sweet, disarming way that she always does when it’s just the two of them, then answers, “Of course you are. Who else would it be?”

—

Luda’s world ends again a month later.

It’s three in the morning and everyone in the dorm is asleep— everyone except her and Soobin, who are killing time in the kitchen as if they don’t have to practice in a few hours.

An IU song coming from Luda’s tablet fills the comfortable silence between them, both content to sit next to each other and split an orange without saying a word. Then the song switches to an upbeat one, and before Luda can register what’s happening, Soobin opens the refrigerator door and offers Luda her hand, staring at her with a mischievous smile on her face.

“It’s a homemade dance floor,” Soobin explains and rolls her eyes, as if it’s obvious and Luda is stupid for remaining at the same place, not moving an inch. “Come on,” she urges, tugging at Luda’s wrist. “Dance with me.”

Luda is unsure at first, arguing that it’s late and what if we end up waking up someone and Juyeon spends the entire morning complaining about it, but Soobin is stubborn and careless won’t stop pestering her until she gets what she wants, so Luda throws caution out of the window and decides to join her, struggling not to melt at how beautiful Soobin looks like that, smiling from ear to ear as her skin glows, golden under the yellow refrigerator light.

It all starts as a simple dance. They spin around, let their arms fly in all the wrong directions and whip their hairs once the beat drops. Then Soobin comes closer, wraps her arms around Luda’s waist, sways them side by side, and then, and then—

Luda is being pressed against the counter, Soobin’s cold hands slip under her hoodie, and their lips find each other in a searing, passionate kiss.

Luda clings onto the hem of Soobin’s sweater like a lifeline and brings their bodies closer, chest filling with desire when Soobin moans against her mouth, and Luda knows she has been kissed before, but never like this. God, she swears on her life, never like this. Maybe because they were bad kisses, or because they didn’t mean anything to her, or simply because the people kissing her weren’t Park Soobin— they could never compare to the holy taste of her glossy lips and her soft palms losing themselves along the extension of back, leaving a trace of fire wherever they could reach.

Then, as fast as she ascended to heaven, she was dragged back to the real world when Soobin placed both hands on her shoulders and pulled away as if she had been burnt, leaving Luda confused, anxious, heartbroken.

Little did she know, that was the beginning of the end— the beginning of her demise, the end of something that never was.

“Luda-yah,” Soobin sniffs, barely audible, as hot tears cascade through her red cheeks. Luda wants to reach out, to wipe them off, but she’s terrified of what might happen if she acts on her urges one more time. She doesn’t think she can handle being pushed away again. “We can’t do it.”

“Unnie,” Luda calls, voice cracking, then pleads pitifully, “Don’t say that.”

“We can’t,” Soobin shakes her head, crossing her arms under her chest as she stares at the floor. Then she looks up at Luda, her eyes red, wet, and covered in pain, and murmurs, “Luda, please. You know we can’t.”

The thing is, Luda’s brain knows they can’t. Her heart, slow and naive, struggles to come to terms with it.

Luda looks away, struggling to keep her tears at bay. Her teeth sinks on the inside of her cheeks, and the blood she tastes on her tongue might as well be the only thing reminding her she’s still alive. That and the overwhelming urge she gets to be held, the urge to have someone else’s hands on both sides of her face, telling her that it’s okay, you’re okay, you’ll survive.

What she gets, instead, is Soobin’s hand pressing on top of hers, a hesitant squeeze, and then a broken goodnight, don’t sleep too late, before she’s left all alone in the kitchen, sweeping the cracks of her soul off the floor for the rest of the night.

—

Luda’s world keeps ending, little by little, once Soobin starts getting closer to Hyunjung.

It takes some time for Luda to get used to the new dynamic, to not feel like she’s going to be physically sick when she catches Soobin spending all of her time— time that used to be, for the most part, Luda’s— with a member she barely acknowledged before.

Soobin and Hyunjung sit together in the car, share earbuds, have their own inside jokes, spend the holidays with each other’s families and find their way towards each other during every single variety show shooting— almost as if there was a magnet bringing them together, as if the stars needed them to, as if they couldn’t help it.

It’s obvious. It’s undeniable. It’s love.

And it’s a slow death, to watch their romance blossom from such a proximity. It’s a slow death, to have it confirmed that, to Soobin, Hyunjung is worth the fight— but she wasn’t, not even for a second.

Then, as if the universe decided that witnessing the two of them fall for each other wasn’t enough of a punishment, the scene that greets her once she steps into the living room pulls the ground from under her feet, makes her insides crumple and bleed and burn and, at last, sends her straight to hell like the worst of sinners.

She’s pretty sure she hears Soobin calling out her name, but the ringing in her ears and the voices in her brain urging her to run, leave, go to the end of the world but don’t stay here are loud and insistent, so she puts one foot after the other and, before she can process what she saw, she’s in the rooftop of their building, lungs burning and legs aching.

“Don’t cry,” Luda tells herself, hugging her sides and attempting to take deep, calming breaths. “Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t fucking cry—”

“You can’t keep doing this to yourself,” Sojung comments, materializing beside Luda by the railing. The night is cold and unforgiving, the wind causing the tree branches to shake violently and the teenagers coming home from school to find shelter inside the nearest stores they can find. Sojung hands Luda the coat she was wearing to stop her from shivering, and Luda doesn’t have it in her to deny it, not after everything.

Had it been anyone else seeing her this broken, she would’ve glared at them and told them to leave her alone because she’s completely fine, thank you very much, but Sojung is the only person who genuinely understands what Luda is going through. She’s been in love with Hyunjung since they were in that awkward pre-teen phase, innocent and lost but still full of hope, training together at another agency.

The only person other than Jiyeon, of course, who’s been silently in love with Sojung for three years now, but made Luda promise to keep the information a secret.

And so she did.

It’s a depressing sight to see, Luda thinks bitterly, the trail of bloody bodies left in the wake of someone else’s happy ending.

“That’s rich coming for you,” Luda retorts, stroking her wet cheeks with the sleeves of the coat as she raises an accusatory eyebrow. “Didn’t you spend, like, fifteen hours stuck inside the studio yesterday?”

Sojung bumps her shoulder against Luda’s. “Do as I say, not as I do.”

Luda shakes her head, her first genuine smile of the day appearing on her face. “You’re ridiculous.”

Sojung nods, opening her arms as an invitation for Luda fall into them. “Yeah, but so are you.”

Luda hesitates for a second, then her lips quiver, the corner of her eyes start to water, and before she can come up with an excuse to deny the affection Sojung’s offering her, she’s being pulled into a warm, comforting embrace.

She’s being held. It’s not Soobin there with her, reminding her that things will be okay with time, but she’s being held, kept from falling apart. And there, trapped between Sojung’s strong arms, she allows herself to sob the pain out of her chest, allows herself to feel.

Sojung hums a soothing melody under her breath, still holding Luda close, refusing to let her go until there’s not a single tear covering her skin anymore. She’ll probably never admit it out loud, but Luda doesn’t know what she would do without a friend like Sojung by her side. The thought alone makes her feel weird, helpless, a little all over the place.

Sojung pokes Luda’s cheek, chuckling to herself when her hand gets swatted away by a mildly annoyed Luda, then asks. “Feeling better?”

“I don’t know,” Luda answers honestly, closing her eyes and sinking further into Sojung. “I can breathe now, at least.”

“Come on, let’s get you inside,” Sojung whispers against Luda’s hair, patting her back before she breaks the contact between their bodies, taking Luda’s small hand in hers instead.

—

Later that night, when Luda finally lies down on her bed after spending countless hours in front of the computer to numb her mind, Soobin’s laugh echoes throughout the quiet dorm. Luda can tell she’s on the phone with Hyunjung, the giddiness in her tone and the word soulmate slipping so easily from her mouth leaving no room for wrong assumptions, and her heart shatters all over again.

Luda swallows the lump forming inside her throat, hides her entire body under the covers, and attempts to slip into a dreamless, painless sleep.

—

It didn’t work, Luda comes to realize the next morning as the tears running down her face remind her of the river where she was swimming with Soobin in her dreams, it never does.

[pantomimes]

Characters/Ship: Any
Tags: witch/princess or princess/princess or witch/witch
Prompt:

Wait for the signal, and I'll meet you after dark
Show me the places where the others gave you scars
— Willow, Taylor Swift

[FILL] the more you say (the less i know)

[baechuzz]

Characters/Ship: STAYC Isa/Sumin
Tags: witch/princess, mention of blood, secret relationship
Permission to Remix: Yes
-

In the heavy fall of snow, the window is left ajar. There is light inside, soft and yellow, shuddering as the wind pushes inside through the crack and catches into the candle. It’s left open for her.

The cat slips through it, snowflakes pilling on her black coat as she steps into the warmth of the palace. Sumin is already there, round eyes glued to the window, pearly whites flashing immediately, warmer than the cracking fire in the hearth.

“Chaeyoung,” she says, glee forced even though her smile rings true.

She doesn’t get out of bed. Sumin waits for her to come to her open arms, and Chaeyoung jumps on the bed instantly. In her cat form, everything is easier — slipping through the watchful eyes of the guards, parading around the palace under the moonlight with her midnight coat, accepting the easy love Sumin readily offers for her. Because the gentle fingertips scratching behind her ears, under her chin, caressing her back are all she anticipates, as she wanders on the outskirts of the palace, waiting for the signal of a cracked window. Days go by before another stolen moment is given to them, the harsh winter cold seeping into her bones as she waits, perched on the roof like a gargoyle.

If it was only Chaeyoung’s decision, she would stay between Sumin’s arms as a cat, basking in her love. But Sumin tugs lightly at one of her ears, impatient as she is greedy and Chaeyoung jumps out of her hold, burrowing herself under the blankets. The shift is quick, unpainful.

Except, the touches come less easily now. The burden of their lives crashes back as soon as Chaeyoung is not only just a stray.

It’s an unsaid pact, to keep everything within line. But Sumin likes to keep these lines blurry.

I missed you, hangs in the air unsaid.

Sumin’s eyes are warm brown as they glint back, I missed you too.

Some things don't need to be said aloud, otherwise they would break into sharp little pieces.

Because even if they falter, Sumin’s hands return to Chaeyoung, even more tenderly than before. Wrapped in the cocoon of Sumin’s childhood bedroom, strangely empty except for the looming presence of the royal family, gilded frame and textured oil paint hanging from the wall, it’s just them. Without titles dragging their names down, breathing comes effortlessly.

“Your brother,” Chaeyoung starts, swallowing the lump in her throat, chest heavy with the searing coal of truth. “He visited me.”

Sumin hums, fingers tangled in Chaeyoung’s long strands. Instead of answering, she pulls out her nightstand drawer, hand clutching around a pearl-embedded brush. Running it through Chaeyoung’s hair over and over again, she stretches the silence long enough to make it uncomfortable.

“Is that so?”

“You won’t even ask me why?”

“Do you think I need to ask?” Sumin peeks at her, a permanent smile perched on her lips.

Chaeyoung used to live in a small cottage in the forest. Wildflowers, berries, roots — she collected them, dried them, bottled them into small jars. For good crops, for better winds, for more luck were written on the jars with her scratchy handwriting and given to visitors in exchange for food and company. Until her cottage was burned to the ground.

One version of what happened: Chaeyoung is the witch who wanted to kill crown princess Sumin.

Another version: Sumin kissed Chaeyoung as she rubbed healing balm on the dagger wounds under her heart.

Neither of them is the whole truth. Because the dagger thrust through the supple flesh of Sumin came from a person a lot nearer to her than Chaeyoung, and Chaeyoung has no affinity to healing, whatsoever. Finding the bleeding crown princesses, her regular visitor, in her backyard, though, made her think quickly on her feet. Hands bloodied and Sumin pale as snow between her arms, the kiss still lingering on the corner of her mouth, was how the guards found them. That’s how killer was brandished on her, similar to the silver scar resting hidden on Sumin’s skin.

“What I gave him will put you in a death-like sleep for a few days. You will wake up before the royal mourning ends. You won’t be buried alive.”

Sumin nods. The prince paid for the vial by leaving her alive and breathing; the silver potion is not potent enough to actually kill Sumin despite the wishes of the prince. It will be tied back to her, though, another reason to raise the bounty on her head.

Chaeyoung knows her place. She still says, “You could leave.”

“You know I won’t.”

It’s infuriating how Sumin seems to have an answer to everything. Seems to weather each hairpin turn of her life with the same sunny smile, a lie of I’m fine resting on her tongue. The crown rests heavily on her head, even if it’s still just a possibility; yet, greed runs in the family. Sumin won’t give up on her title. Not for her usurper brother, not for her own life. Not for Chaeyoung.

“What’s your favorite flower?”

“Daisies. The yellow ones.” She chuckles like something is particularly funny. She stops brushing Chaeyoung's hair. Instead, she cups her face, gently turning her head to catch her gaze. “I won’t die, Chaeyoung. At least not now. You don’t have to bring flowers to my grave in the near future.”

Chaeyoung nods and pretends to believe her. Yet, the weight Sumin lost is visible even in her nightgown; the dullness of her clever eyes makes her question if it’s another lie to rest her concerns. Sumin begins braiding her hair with swift motions, kissing the tip when she finishes. Chaeyoung wonders how long she will have Sumin like this, until her sun swallows herself and burns out.

Daisies. She will keep that in mind.

[pantomimes]

Characters/Ship: Any
Tags: avengers!au, spiderverse!au, justice league!au… literally any hero team from marvel or dc + devotion, codependency, hurt/comfort
Prompt:

They own this town
Maybe that's why we get knocked down
We could leave in the morning and go all night
Take a train to the coast, get a new life

It's coming, the moment we waited for so long
We have it, we're on it, we'll have it, I promise
— They Own This Town, Flora Cash

Theseus: Stop. Give me your hand. I am your friend.
Herakles: I fear to stain your clothes with blood.
Theseus: Stain them, I don't care.
— Anne Carson

come back kid

[infrequencies]

Characters/Ship: any
Tags: idolverse; debuting, or redebuting; second chances
Prompt:

Sometimes you gotta blow up everything you were and put the pieces back together in a new shape.

The same but different- The foundation dynamited and the dust used to create the concrete pour.

—Pete Wentz, So Much (for) Stardust album announcement

[FILL] i wanna be me, me, me

[bookishdagger]

[FILL] i wanna be me, me, me
Characters/Ship: LE SSERAFIM Chaewon/Yunjin
Tags: Idolverse, identity confusion, redebuting
Permission to Remix: Yes

AO3
-

The first time Chaewon looks into the mirror with a full face of makeup and short black hair, she almost doesn’t recognize herself. The cut is nothing new, of course, not even a career first. Nevertheless, it’s only the reflection of an unfamiliar makeup artist in the mirror behind her that stops her from reacting verbally, or reaching out and touching the mirror. If it was a year ago, maybe Chaewon wouldn’t have hesitated, comfortable enough with the staff to look foolish every now and then.

But then again, it isn’t a year ago. That’s the whole point, after all.

So Chaewon says nothing, does nothing, except smile gratefully at the stylist and tell her she’s done a great job.

***

It’s Yunjin who shows her the first news articles. Her first attempt falls flat when Chaewon drily passes the phone back and says “English lessons are tomorrow, Yunjin-ah.”

Yunjin takes her phone back sheepishly, then spends the next three minutes searching up articles on Naver while Chaewon muses on the parts she managed to pick up on a cursory read-through. Her own name, of course. Something about hair. And the words “new” and “shocking”. It’s not hard to put the pieces together. But it is a little…well. Chaewon isn’t new to this, not by a longshot. But every now and then she feels it, that mixture of confusion and flattery, that people care so much. That they notice.

Yunjin finally manages to find an article in Korean, and passes the phone back to Chaewon, her enthusiasm dimmed by the loss of spontaneity. Yunjin does this often, so often it’s become a bit of a running joke. Yunjin travels twice as far as the rest of us — but only because she realized she forgot her phone the first time.

Yunjin really did forget her phone once, on a night walk to get lyric inspiration. After the requisite lecture Chaewon felt bound to give, as a leader, she’d asked “Don’t you write your lyric ideas down in the notes app, though?” giggling to let Yunjin know it was a joke. Yunjin looked Chaewon dead in the eyes in response, saying only “Don’t you ever just need to get out?” before heading back to her room. If she’d stayed, Chaewon would have said yes, of course I do. Looking back, maybe that’s when it began.

There’s a brief moment where Yunjin’s fingers brush against Chaewon’s, in the latest hand-to-hand transfer of Yunjin’s phone. Chaewon holds herself extremely still. When Yunjin pulls away, she busies herself with reading what appears to be a commentary on her own career, as tracked through changes in her hair. She steps back unconsciously, certain despite herself that Yunjin must be able to hear the way Chaewon’s heart is pounding.

Chaewon is halfway through her extremely studious perusal of this article — now turned academic, the part of Chaewon’s brain that constantly tracks public opinion, that tries to modulate herself based on who they want her to be fully engaged — when she spots something that makes her pass the phone back to Yunjin. Carefully, so as not to let their fingers brush.

It’s a picture of Yunjin. Well, really it’s a picture of Chaewon with half of Yunjin’s face in the background, the other half taken up by a giant Produce 48 logo.

“Look, you’re here too.”

Yunjin huffs out a laugh, more an exhalation of air than an expression of amusement. “Half of me. Not even the good half!”

Chaewon bites the inside of her lip, ever so slightly, so she doesn’t say something stupid or worse, openly lovesick. Just for a moment, to quell the rising tide that seems to build more and more every day, no matter how much she tries to push it down, no matter how much she attempts to marshal the part of her brain that wants to return to reading the article.

In the end, it’s looking at the Produce 48 logo again that brings Chaewon back down to reality, or at least enough that she doesn’t feel like she’ll ruin everything by opening her mouth. She releases the pressure on her lower lip, poised to offer a compliment that’s just sweet enough to be supportive but not too effusive to be – well. What it actually is.

“It’s funny, don’t you think?” Yunjin says. Speaking first, while Chaewon scrambles for a way to push the spiky edges of her thoughts into something smooth and polished.

“What’s funny?”

“I was there too. I could have been – I mean, it didn’t work out that way, but –”

“But you’re still here now. We both are.”

Yunjin breaks into a smile at that, so radiant that Chaewon has to look away. None of Chaewon’s defenses, her very carefully crafted, logical reasons why this would be a Bad Idea, can survive the precision strike that is Yunjin’s unabashed joy. So instead, Chaewon busies herself with looking at the picture once more. This time, she focuses on her own face. Frowns, then zooms in, furrowing her brow with every swipe of her fingers.

Yunjin reaches over to poke at Chaewon’s forehead. “Come on, it’s not that bad. You looked so cute!”

“I just look so….different.”

“I mean, duh. That’s the whole point of the article.”

Yunjin doesn’t get it. Chaewon didn’t expect her to, but she feels a bit disappointed all the same. Yunjin looks different too, of course. But there isn’t a yawning gap between Huh Yunjin, Produce 48 hopeful, and Huh Yunjin, member of Le Sserafim. Judging by how Yunjin had to pace the dorm for a full hour after running into Kim Taehyung in the hallways of the Hybe building, there isn’t even that big of a gap between Jennifer Huh, American teenager, and Huh Yunjin, idol, in-training or no.

Chaewon touches her hair unconsciously. Yunjin follows the motion with her eyes, expression softening.

“I thought you were the coolest, even back then.”

“Wha–”

“Your vocals were great, obviously. But you…” Yunjin hums, then continues, “You had this determination. You worked hard, you knew what you wanted and how to get it. I thought it was cool. I still do.”

Chaewon can feel her cheeks heating up.

“Yunjin….”

“You worked hard then, and you work hard now. That’s all there is to it.”

When Yunjin puts it like that, it seems so simple. It always seems so simple, when Yunjin is around. That’s what’s so dangerous about her.

“When it’s all laid out like this…it just seems like a big shift, that’s all.”

“It looks like that, yeah. But I knew you then. I know you now. You just grew up.”

Chaewon scrolls to the bottom of the article in lieu of a response, to a picture from their debut stage, then back up to the Produce 48 picture. Trying to square it all in her head.

Yunjin grabs her wrist, stopping Chaewon’s scrolling so that the screen shows an embedded advertisement for Chilsung cider. Chaewon thinks she might have to relearn how to breathe.

“Think about it like this. That was one version of you, but now you get to be someone else, same but different. Someone who can sing, and work hard, and knows how to get what she wants. But maybe…maybe someone who’s….”

Chaewon swallows. She already regrets the words before they even leave her mouth, but she says, “Someone who’s brave enough to go for it, even when she’s scared.”

Voice impossibly soft, Yunjin says “Right. Brave, confident, cool. That’s our leader.” She doesn’t let go of Chaewon’s wrist.

She’s only Kim Chaewon for the moment, not Kim Chaewon of IZ*ONE or Kim Chaewon of LE SSERAFIM or Kim Chaewon, leader. And as Kim Chaewon, she tips her head onto Yunjin’s shoulder.

“I’m glad, Yunjin-ah. That we both ended up here.”

“I’m glad too.” Yunjin says, a moment later placing a hesitant hand in Chaewon’s hair.

They stay like that until Chaewon’s phone rings, a sign she has a meeting to attend that she’s nearly late to.

The whole time, Chaewon thinks about what Yunjin said. Brave, confident, cool.

***

Chaewon can barely keep her eyes open, so tired from the grueling end-of-year schedule. But when the stylist taps her shoulder and points at the mirror, silently asking what she thinks, Chaewon gives a thumbs up. She hears Yunjin and Eunchae, laughing raucously in the background, somehow energetic despite it all. Chaewon smiles, and turns away from her reflection. It’s only later, as they trundle into the back of a car, giddy with the high of a successful performance, that Chaewon realizes she didn’t double take at the sight of herself.

[pantomimes]

Characters/Ship: Any
Tags: idolverse, struggling to balance your desire to succeed vs the desire to be loved for who you actually are, maybe pd101 au?
Prompt:

Yeah, I'm no good
No good to anyone
Cause all I care about
Is being number one

Shine
Looking for the golden light
Oh, it's a reasonable sacrifice
— Numb, MARINA

[intoparadise]

Characters/Ship: any
Tags: any
Prompt:

Hunger, Red—to sate a hunger or to stoke it, to feel hunger as a furnace, to trace its edges like teeth—is this a thing you, singly, know? Have you ever had a hunger that whetted itself on what you fed it, sharpened so keen and bright that it might split you open, break a new thing out?
Sometimes I think that’s what I have instead of friends.
- Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone, This Is How You Lose the Time War

You’ve always been the hunger at the heart of me, Red—my teeth, my claws, my poisoned apple. Under the spreading chestnut tree, I made you and you made me.
- Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone, This Is How You Lose the Time War

[pantomimes]

Characters/Ship: WJSN Any/Any
Tags: N/A
Prompt:

Look, we are not unspectacular things.
 We’ve come this far, survived this much.
What would happen if we decided to survive more? To love harder?
What if we stood up with our synapses and flesh and said, no.

No, to the rising tides.
— Ada Limón

[intoparadise]

Characters/Ship: any
Tags: idolverse
Prompt:

If clarity's in death, then why won't this die?
Years of tearing down our banners, you and I
Living for the thrill of hitting you where it hurts
Give me back my girlhood, it was mine first
And I damn sure never would've danced with the devil at nineteen
And the God's honest truth is that the pain was heaven
- Taylor Swift, Would've, Could've, Should've

[pantomimes]

Characters/Ship: WJSN Exy/TWICE Nayeon
Tags: idolverse, college!au… anything really, as long as there’s flirting between my beloved 95 liners <3
Prompt:

I could be a better boyfriend than him
I could do the shit that he never did
Up all night, I won't quit
Thinking I'm gonna steal you from him
I could be such a gentleman
Plus all my clothes would fit
— Boyfriend, Dove Cameron

'Cause we got all night
And we're going nowhere
Why don't you stay
Why don't we go there?
Let's take a ride
Out in the cold air
I know the way, why don't you go there with me?
— Why Don’t We Go There, One Direction

[FILL] perfect intervals

[andromedaze]

Characters/Ship: WJSN Exy/TWICE Nayeon
Tags: canon compliant, meditation on love
Permission to Remix: Yes

a/n: i wrote this in a daze at 3am so i apologize for mistakes .___.

-

It’s almost a half-hour past one in the morning when Sojung finally slumps down over her mixer and gives up. Parts of her jaw and skull and elbow press awkwardly against the various keys, conjuring up a raucous chorus of autotuned samples and MIDI piccolo and 160-something click metronome. The sound is so horrendously jarring and wrong that she curses and immediately unplugs the damn thing. Somehow, it seemed as if it was mocking her, laughing at the fact that she can’t seem to get this stupid, bare-bones, barely-working project to resemble anything close to a song.

“Stupid thing,” Sojung mutters under her breath. She frowns at the mixer until she is sure all of the life is sucked out of it, then flings it towards the side cabinet for good measure.

(Gently, of course. No matter what she thinks of the mixer, she’s not stupid. She has to finish at some point, and she can’t afford to spend another 3 million won on another one somewhere in that process.)

She flips her phone over; when the screen faces her in all of its bright, blinding glory, Sojung shuts her eyes and shuts it off flimsily, cursing under her breath again. Her thumb fumbles by the home button, swiping up and scrabbling around as best it can with her eyes closed, until the light seeping through her firmly-shut eyelids lessens and she chances her luck again.

17 unread messages from KKT. Sojung quickly scans through them. A message from someone in the company’s creative team, something about slightly changing the colors on their album design. Honestly, Sojung’s 1 am eyes can’t really tell the difference between the two shades of purple attached, so she files this away to ask Jiyeon or Soobin about later.

Two messages from Jihoon, two minutes apart and each with multiple audio attachments. Sojung files these away to sift through later, when she knows she’ll have more time to pick apart Jihoon’s samples and see if any of his ideas work well enough to stick.

A string of messages in the group chat— likely Dayoung, all facts considered. These Sojung decides she will ignore, for better or for worse.

The last chat consists of one single unread message.

you still up?

Sojung types out the responsible answer, then deletes it before she even finishes the sentence. Instead, she finds herself typing something shorter, more impulsive. Her thumb hangs over the send button for a few seconds as she thinks, then decides that she doesn’t need to think, not about this.

yes

Fifteen minutes later, Sojung slides into the passenger’s seat of Im Nayeon’s car and lets out a long, drawn-out sigh.

“Everything okay?”

Nayeon is parked under a streetlight, just as she said she would be; under the orange-gold haze, her irises glimmer, two bright, white North stars against the milky-dark shadows around them.

This is Nayeon, so Sojung decides on the truth. “I think it will be,” she says, “after tonight.”

Nayeon smiles, softer lines rounding out the edges of her face in smooth strokes. “That’s good.” Sojung recognizes this for what it is: empathy, warm and genuine. Then Nayeon chuckles a bit, a moment later, a sound that is soft and a bit hoarse from the hour. She nods at the time on the dash, analog white against grey and black. “We can’t really call it ‘tonight’ anymore, can we?”

“Tonight, this morning, whatever,” Sojung faux-rolls her eyes. “It’s all just semantics anyway.”

“It being this late is your fault, by the way,” Nayeon says, “for locking yourself in that studio all day.” Her grin shines bright, reaching up to the corners of her eyes.

“And yours,” Sojung shoots back, “for having the shittiest sleep schedule I’ve ever seen.”

Nayeon laughs; the sound comes again from further back in her throat, soft and high and hoarse. “High praise. I hope I can live up to it.”

Sojung means it. For it being past midnight, bleeding into the hours of the morning, Nayeon is fully alive, glowing with a radiance that is softer around its edges than the shine of an idol come into their own on stage. That Nayeon feels barely approachable, untouchable, a force of nature; Sojung has experienced this first hand.

This Nayeon is more personal, more real. More hers, a voice in Sojung’s head thinks before she pushes it aside.

“Where are we going?” Nayeon asks. It’s only then that Sojung realizes they’re still standing in place, the car in park and hugging the edge of the cement curb.

“Anywhere. You’re driving.”

“That I am.”

Sojung grins. “Surprise me, then.”

Nayeon looks away for a moment, eyes staring through the windshield at something on the horizon, lost in thought. It seems to be a good one, at least, because Sojung sees the corners of her lips start to tilt upwards and recognizes how fondness sounds in Nayeon’s voice before she hears it.

'“Do you trust me?”

Sojung doesn’t need to hesitate to answer this one. “Yes.”

Nayeon switches the radio on and hums as she pulls the car out of the street. Her fingers dance on the steering wheel, delicate, intricate, intentional. Sojung watches them and tries to figure out the pattern they tap out, then finds herself envying the leather on the wheel for being infinitely better at remembering it.

Her phone buzzes again. Nayeon tilts her head to the side, enough to show interest without taking her eyes off the road. Sojung tells her that it’s from Jihoon, an attachment with another audio file. Nayeon nods, an acknowledgement of familiarity— she’s had overlapping promotions with Seventeen on many occasions, Sojung knows. When she asks Sojung to go on, Sojung tells her that she has a song she’s struggling on, that she asked Jihoon to help her figure it out, that it’s been nagging at her for weeks and she hasn’t quite been able to figure it out.

“What is it about?” Nayeon asks.

Sojung starts to speak, then stops. “About” is a heavy word, full of intention and meaning deeper than she’s considered so far. She quickly realizes that she isn’t quite sure herself.

“Some kind of love,” she decides on, “but I haven’t quite figured out what.”
Nayeon nods again, somewhat preoccupied as she makes a left turn onto another empty, orange-gold road. It’s only once she’s made the turn that she turns back to Sojung, hints of another grin on her face.

“You should write it about me.”

Sojung groans. “In your dreams.” Then she joins in Nayeon’s laughing and lets Nayeon steer the conversation again as they ride further into the night.

In the end, they stop by the side of the road and watch the sun come up together.

“This isn’t what I imagined us doing,” Nayeon admits when she pulls over.

“It sure isn’t,” Sojung agrees, but she is content with Nayeon and can’t find it in herself to mind.

The first rays of the sun burn streaks of auburn into Nayeon’s dark brown hair. They make Sojung think of sunrises, of heartstrings tied together, of the finality, the resolution of perfect intervals falling together in harmony.

She softly sings the first few lines of a new melody; Nayeon might not recognize it, but she nods, hums in approval all the same.

Huh, Sojung thinks. Maybe I don’t need Jihoon’s help after all.

[(Anonymous)]

Characters/Ship: any
Tags:
Prompt:

(There is a certain beauty
in setting the world on fire
and watching from the centre
of the flames.)

—via wearealsoboats on Tumblr

[FILL] sunset with no sun (goodnight)

[aprilies]

Characters/Ship: Loona, Olivia Hye/Gowon
Tags: scifi, inspired by loonaverse lore/visual media, yyxy, trauma bonded, trauma separated
Permission to Remix: Yes
-

Hyeju was there when the world burned. She had been the one who lit the match, after all.

The flames were born as a tiny wisp crawling along the black soil and breathed, breathed, breathed as Hyeju shielded them from the wind and fed them dry brush.

Soon they blossomed into an inferno that licked at the sky. Everything was bright orange-red: a sunset with no sun; fruit juice and lipstick.

Fruit. Lips.

All of their belongings were burning in the Engineered Dual-Core Environment Node (E.D.E.N.), merely a melting gray mass in the inferno now, but the memories would remain.

Hyeju planned to live past them, though. No more pain. No more suffering. No more entrapment.

In the middle of the towering flames sat a revamped Lunar Module, shiny and eager, the get-away car like criminals always had in the movies she and Jiwoo used to watch in secret. Jiwoo had wanted to be a star – not like the ones in the night sky. She had wanted people to see her. She had wanted. It shouldn’t have been such a surprise when she escaped, too.

Even from inside the Module’s cabin, heat emanated through the thin exterior until the air felt like a warm hug. Like Sooyoung times a million.

Some memories should be flammable.

“Hyeju!” A voice hissed at her softly. “What are you doing, strap yourself in! We’re taking off in 60.”

She didn’t turn to look at Chaewon. “Just a second.”

Here it was: her get-away car with a pretty girl. It would’ve been better if the pretty girl hadn’t abandoned her for a year, but…

But still, Chaewon had stood up straight when Hyeju pushed at her, tears soft but speech steady against Hyeju's overripe anger. And she hadn’t stopped Hyeju from laying waste to the place they both used to call home. Instead she just watched, entranced and afraid, until she had to run to Hyeju and drag them both, smoke-dizzied, into the safety of the Module. Chaewon was an unforgivable angel, this rescue mission leaving her delicate white dress sullied with soot and dirt.

Often, while waiting for someone to find her, or for death – whichever came first – Hyeju had wondered why everything couldn’t go back to the way it had once been. The four of them together: doing what they were told (giggling after lights-out), following the strict training regimens (sneaking extra snacks), taking the effects of all the experiments on the chin (caring for each other). Why couldn’t everything have stayed that easy?

As she stares out through the round window the flames seem to dance at her, a beautiful goodbye party long overdue. Good riddance, she thinks, to the old world.

Goodnight, girls. May Eden keep you and hold you.

Goodnight, goodnight.

Goodnight.


Goodnight.

[pantomimes]

Characters/Ship: ITZY Lia/Any
Tags: N/A
Prompt:

I had been lost to you, sunlight
And flew like a moth to you, sunlight, oh, sunlight
Oh, your love is sunlight
— Sunlight, Hozier

Please never forget that the sun rises and sets with your smile. At least to me it does. You’re the only thing in this planet worth worshipping.
— Taylor Jenkins Reid

i wanna know (can you show me?)

[infrequencies]

Characters/Ship: Twice, Any
Tags:
Prompt:

we said: i know what love is, when it is mine, and free, and of my whole being. i know what love is, and it will only ever just belong to me, and come from me, and come back to me if i am lucky. i know what love is. i make it and it remakes me.
—via inkskinned on tumblr

[FILL] every dead-end street led you to me (TWICE, jihyo/jeongyeon)

[forhyo]

Characters/Ship: TWICE jihyo/jeongyeon
Tags: childhood best friends, unrequited, pining
Permission to Remix: Please ask
-

Of course, Jihyo is a little bit in love with her—I mean, at this point, who isn’t? The fact of the matter is that her best friend Jeongyeon is conventionally attractive: Lean and tall with a knockout smile and a sense of humor that shouldn’t work but does, owing to said leanness and tallness and smile knockout-ness. Jihyo would have thought it unfair—who gets to be that cute and smart, right?—but yeah, some other feeling got to her first.

And it shouldn’t even be a problem, like—why would it be? Jihyo has been here before; she has been here a while. Jeongyeon doesn’t really see her, not really, and that’s fine. It’s the friendship that’s important. This is how it works. It’s for the best.

Most days.

But some days, like—when it’s the weekend and Jihyo is in her room hosting an anxious Jeongyeon while preparing for her date, trying to get her to calm down enough to finally choose between outfit 1 and outfit 2 – identical at best, if Jihyo were to be truly honest, only she feels that Jeongyeon wouldn’t really benefit from said honesty at this point — those days it gets a bit... too in her face. In her heart. Thinking about Jeongyeon getting all riled up, just trying to make a good first impression on a girl she’s probably known for, like, three days.

“Don’t sweat it too much,” Jihyo chastises her, “you look fine.”

Jeongyeon pouts at her as she catches her eye on the mirror—devastating per usual, and over the years Jihyo has just simply developed some superhuman ability to school her reaction at the face of it.

“You always just say that,” Jeongyeon says, buttoning and unbuttoning the top button of her shirt, brows knit in some kind of frustration.

Jihyo sighs and gets up from where she’s already lounged on her bed, walks until she’s close enough to reach over and swat at Jeongyeon’s fiddling fingers, tutting disapprovingly as she unbuttons the button in question with finality. That’s because you’re really fine, she almost says out loud, but no — that is not what this conversation needs at this point, and frankly, Jihyo can’t afford such honesty.

“Stop that,” says Jihyo again, setting her jaw. And then, bracing both hands on Jeongyeon’s shoulder, Jihyo just gives her a brisk rub, thumbing at the knot she’s always found there. “Get yourself together, Yoo Jeongyeon,” she tells her firmly. “You got this.”

At which point Jeongyeon just turns around, wraps her arms around her, laughing in Jihyo’s ear as she lifts – just a little, maybe a couple of inches off the floor, and just for the briefest of moments. Because she could, and because Jihyo is shorter, and because, all told, Jihyo is practically weightless at the face of whatever this is she’s feeling.

“You’re the best—but you know this already, yes?” Jeongyeon just says, and.

Yeah—on those days, Jihyo lets herself feel it. A little. She owes herself as much, really. She watches from the window of her room as Jeongyeon finally gets out onto the street wearing outfit #3—which, mind, she’d snatched straight out of Jihyo’s closet that afternoon, after much bickering and jesus, why do your shirts look so much better than mine?

In any case—it’s a rite of passage, certainly. This boat that Jihyo is on is probably full; she’s definitely not alone. Besides, it passes, right? One day, maybe a Saturday night, you’re waving from a second-floor window, watching a girl, knowing full well you’d never see that shirt again; knowing full well that big-ass smile she’d just flashed you would soon be directed at someone else: One who’s good enough to sit across on an actual dinner-out, or maybe sit beside in the dark in a movie house, or.

(Jihyo truncates the thought quickly; they don’t need to go there.)

And then—and then one day, maybe you’ll just be done. Pining. Maybe one day, you’ll feel fully at peace just throwing in the towel. Maybe that smile would hurt less. Maybe there would be someone else, even—someone better, someone who’d look at you the way you’ve tried not to look at her, and someone who’d want you to look back just as intensely. An open hand for this tender heart, finally.

An open road instead of a dead-end street.

How about that, Jihyo thinks, scratching at the window panel. Jeongyeon turns around a final time before getting into her car, making a ridiculous heart with both her hands before blowing Jihyo a kiss.

In her hand, her phone buzzes and lights up. Love you long time, Ji, Jeongyeon’s message reads. Talk to you later.

And then, Thank you.

Wash and repeat, wash and repeat—a different Saturday, a different girl. It’s the same old song right inside Jihyo’s room, and always Jihyo would put on her worn-out shoes and dance.

(Jihyo would leave her on read until morning. Jeongyeon would be back for breakfast, anyway.) ###

[deadgodsociety]

Characters/Ship: Any
Tags: hurt/comfort, fluff
Prompt:

You can put your strength down. I’m sitting here with you at your kitchen table. You don’t need to say anything.
— Eden Robinson

Finally, I feel the fear is gone
I found out love has to be soft to be strong
— Soft To Be Strong, MARINA

take a moment, leave it all behind

[(Anonymous)]

Characters/Ship: LOONA Yves/Jinsoul
Tags: Road Trip AU, Canon Compliant, Established relationship
Permission to Remix: Yes

sorry dreamgirlfest admins it didn't fit in the comment box: ao3 (https://archiveofourown.org/works/46318201)

[pantomimes]

Characters/Ship: WJSN Exy/Dawon
Tags: can be canon compliant or not, dawon’s painfully obvious crush on sojung
Prompt:

Why’d you have to be so cute?
It's impossible to ignore you
Oh, must you make me laugh so much?
It's bad enough we get along so well
— Goodnight and Go, Imogen Heap

But I’m in so deep
You know, I’m such a fool for you
You got me wrapped around your finger
— Linger, The Cranberries

[FILL]

[(Anonymous)]

Characters/Ship: WJSN Exy/Dawon
Tags: canon compliant, one sided crush
Permission to Remix: Yes
-

Dawon fidgeted nervously as she sat in the kitchen of her former dorm room. It felt a little odd, being here without living here, but this was where Sojung had asked to meet her, so she’d agreed. Sojung was gonna look over her new song and give her feedback. The only problem was, Sojung hadn’t arrived yet. She hadn’t called or texted anything either, so Dawon could only guess what could have happened to her.

Dawon’s nervous imaginings were interrupted by the front door opening. In stumbled Sojung, bike helmet slightly tilted.

“Hi. Sorry,” she said. “I slipped off my bike.” She held up her hands, a mixture of blood and pebbles covering her palms.

Dawon jumped out of her chair. “Unnie! Are you alright?” She grabbed Sojung and pulled her to the sink, hurriedly turning on the cold water and shoving Sojung’s hands under the stream.

“I’m fi- aah!” Sojung winced and pulled her hands away.

“Unnie, we have to wash your hands.” She wasn’t usually this firm, but it hurt her to see Sojung injured.

“It’s cold! A little warning would be nice.” Nevertheless, Sojung sighed and stuck her hands back under the water, even letting Dawon gently rub the pebbles out.

“So what happened?” Dawon asked, turning off the water and fetching a few paper towels to wrap Sojung’s hands.

“There was a rock or something. Completely threw me off. Thanks,” Sojung said, as Dawon wrapped her hands.

Dawon frowned and pulled off Sojung’s helmet. “Where do you want me to put this?”

“Just leave it. I’ll take it to my room later. Do you wanna show me your song?”

Dawon bit her lip. “Are you sure this is a good time?”

“Yeah! Show me! I can still listen.” Sojung smiled. “That’s what you’re here for, right?”

Dawon nodded. “Right.”

She pulled open her computer and got out her headphones. “Here.” She placed the headphones over Sojung’s head and pulled up her demo. She wasn’t ready for others in the dorms to hear it yet. It was still a rough draft, and Sojung would help her polish it to completeness.

As Dawon watched Sojung listen attentively, she wondered what magical piece of wisdom Sojung would bestow that would make everything come together, giving her that final click that her song needed. How perfect would it be if the muse was the one to complete the piece?

“I like this a lot,” Sojung said.

“Really?” Dawon asked, perking up. “I feel like it’s missing something.”

Sojung pursed her lips in thought. “It sounds pretty good to me. Just needs the usual cleanup. Have you shown this to Shin Kung yet?”

Dawon shook her head. “Not yet. I wanted you to be the first.”

Sojung smiled. She knew what that meant, for her to be the first listener of something that Dawon hadn’t decided yet whether she wanted to share with everyone or throw in the trash. “Thank you.”

Dawon wanted to explain, to say something more. You inspired this song seemed too big. “You’re my favorite unnie,” she said instead.

Sojung’s smile widened. “Really?”

Dawon nodded shyly.

“Come here.” Sojung pulled her into a hug. Dawon could feel the paper towels on her back.

“Unnie, let’s get you some band-aids.”

“Alright, alright.”

Dawon could feel Sojung watching her while she carefully unpeeled and applied the band-aids to Sojung’s hands.

“Am I really your favorite?” She asked quietly.

Dawon kept her eyes on Sojung’s palms. “Yes.”

Sojung waited until Dawon was finished, and then slowly wrapped her arms around Dawon. “No one’s ever said that to me. Thank you.”

Dawon didn’t answer. She just hugged Sojung back and nestled into her chest. Maybe next time, she’d have the courage to tell her everything.

[pantomimes]

Characters/Ship: TWICE, any ship between Nayeon, Sana, Mina or Jihyo (Nayeon/Mina, Sana/Jihyo, Nayeon/Sana, etc) or any WJSN ship
Tags: agents!au, spies!au, anything along these lines, finding love in a job that requires you to be heartless, hurt/comfort
Prompt:

I shall be waiting for you. You know that when you come home, weary, with blood on your hands, I shall be waiting there among the birches. You will rest your head in my lap, and I shall kiss your burning forehead and wash the blood from you. I shall be waiting, and I shall love you.
— Pär Lagerkvist

[FILL] sweet chaos

[skyclectic]

Characters/Ship: Sana/Nayeon
Tags: Assassins!AU, Hurt/Comfort
Permission to Remix: Yes
AO3 Link
-

In this disorder, a flower is blossoming
It's a sweet chaos
Ever since you entered
My life, my dreams, my future
Everything has changed
― Day 6, Sweet Chaos



Sana is about to turn in for the night when there’s a quiet knock on the door of her Osaka apartment. Sana frowns. It’s just edging past three in the morning – too late for the knock to mean anything other than trouble. So, she picks up her gun and a switchblade from the side table in her foyer and creeps stealthily towards the door. She takes cover behind the large antique vase her parents gave her as a housewarming gift years ago.

The knocking only grows louder, taking on a frantic cadence the longer it goes on. As if the person on the other side is seized with unrestrained impatience or urgency. 

Sana draws her gun, aiming it right at the door, and holds her breath. And then, strangely, she hears the muffled sound of her name, in a voice she recognises immediately.

She moves right away, tucking the gun into the waistband of her sleep shorts, and unlocking the door. Leaning heavily against the frame is Im Nayeon, looking worse for wear. There’s a sheen of perspiration on Nayeon’s forehead and the way she’s holding herself, with a hand resting gingerly on her side, makes Sana suspect broken ribs.

Surprise bubbles in her chest when her eyes catch Nayeon’s weary gaze. But Sana is a trained assassin, one of the best in her field, so she only raises a cool eyebrow. “You could have rang the bell.”

“It’s three in the morning,” Nayeon mumbles, shuffling past Sana into the apartment like all of this is normal. Like her turning up at Sana’s door unannounced in the dead of night is something she does every day.

“You should have called,” Sana says pointedly as Nayeon settles on her sofa with a ragged sigh. 

She watches as Nayeon starts removing all the weapons strapped to her body: two semi-automatic pistols land on Sana’s coffee table, followed by a dagger and then several vials of liquid that Sana knows is either lethal poison or potent sedatives. Nayeon likes having options whenever she goes out on a mission. 

“I just needed a place to crash,” Nayeon says, wincing as she leans back against the cushions. “Your place is the closest to Tennōji Station and I have an early train to catch in the morning.” 

They both know that’s a lie. Sana’s apartment is twenty blocks away from the station. And there are a handful of other agents that live closer; Mina even has a safe house just across the station. 

Sana sighs. She doesn’t call Nayeon out on her lie. Instead, she heads for her bedroom and pulls out the softest blanket she owns from her closet. Then, she makes her way to the kitchen for a cup of water and some painkillers, before walking over to the sofa again.

Nayeon looks up at her with dark glass in her eyes, somehow inscrutable and oddly vulnerable at the same time. Sana can’t help but wonder what it would be like to let herself drown in Nayeon’s eyes. She wonders if the glass will shatter around her or if she’ll emerge unscathed on the other side, like light refracting through the surface.

“Is it just your ribs?” she asks instead, handing Nayeon the pills. She watches carefully as Nayeon swallows two pills and gulps down some water, gaze raking over Nayeon’s body, trying to catalogue any other injuries Nayeon might have.

“I’m fine. They’re not broken,” Nayeon says, wincing again as she shifts on the sofa. “Just bruised I think.” 

“Okay.” Sana drapes the blanket over Nayeon, gently tucking the edges around Nayeon’s body. “If you’re still in pain tomorrow, I’m taking you to the hospital.” 

Nayeon only hums, eyes fluttering closed. She’s asleep in a heartbeat. 

Sana lingers for a few minutes longer, taking in the way Nayeon’s breathing ebbs and flows. The peace lining her face in slumber reminds Sana of the serenity of a silent lake, of quiet ribbons of pale grey light slowly warming the floor of her bedroom as the world wakes.



In the morning, Sana wakes up long before her alarm rings. But Nayeon is already gone. If not for the half-empty cup of water and perfectly folded blanket on her coffee table, it’s like no one was in Sana’s apartment at all. 

It takes Sana two days of agonising and countless hours training in the gym to not wonder what it all means.



When she’s not on a mission, Sana prefers to spend her free time out with her friends. She enjoys hanging out in a cafe with good food and the joy of intimate conversations. It allows her to be just Sana, human and ordinary, instead of the heartless killer she’s trained to be. And after a day out, she enjoys taking a long bath to unwind before she sleeps. 

Today, the appearance of Im Nayeon derails all of Sana’s plans for the evening. Nayeon offers her a small smile which dissolves quickly into a pained grimace. Sana notes the way Nayeon’s left arm is hanging slack at her side, the bruises on Nayeon’s jaw and cheekbone. There’s also a nasty cut just shy of Nayeon’s temple and dried streaks of blood all over the side of her face and neck.

“Finish this,” she says in greeting, handing Nayeon the last of her Lavender Mocha, as she keys in the passcode.

“Thanks,” Nayeon murmurs. She follows Sana into the apartment and doesn’t say a word as Sana guides her into the bathroom. She stands quietly, sipping on Sana’s drink, as Sana busies herself with running a warm bath. 

“I’m going to help you set your shoulder and then you’re taking a bath,” Sana says, taking the empty cup from Nayeon’s hands and peering at her seriously. 

Nayeon only nods. She takes a deep, shuddering breath and Sana braces herself for the violent scream that tears out of Nayeon's throat when she jerks Nayeon’s shoulder back in place. Nayeon is panting harshly in the aftermath, face grey with pain. But she nods again and Sana helps her to undress, carefully manoeuvring Nayeon’s arm and helping her into the tub.  

Sana watches as Nayeon sighs at the warmth, and waits until Nayeon turns to her, eyes liquid. She kneels beside the tub and tilts Nayeon’s chin towards her. Nayeon lets her, closing her eyes with another weary exhale as Sana uses a warm cloth to wipe away the streaks of crimson from Nayeon’s skin. 

“I’m giving you the passcode,” Sana says, dipping the cloth into the water and staining it with incarnadine swirls. “So, next time, you can let yourself in.”

Nayeon’s eyes flutter open and Sana’s breath hitches at the way Nayeon’s gaze glimmers, brighter than the light from a million faraway stars. 

She takes a chance, throws caution to the winds, and leans in, pressing her lips against Nayeon’s forehead. She feels it, the way Nayeon exhales slowly, like Sana is solace made out of skin and bones, like Sana is a balm that has the power to soothe all her pain away. 



Weeks later, Sana comes home from a mission in Madrid and finds Nayeon on her sofa. Nayeon offers her a crooked, sun-soaked smile. Other than the butterfly bandage on her cheekbone, Nayeon looks healthy and whole, and every bit like she could be the love of Sana’s life.

“Hi,” Sana says, just before she leans down and steals the taste of sunlight right from Nayeon’s lips.

[seasignals]

Characters/Ship: any
Tags: it girls
Prompt:

How come the more you have, the more that people want from you?
The more you burn away, the more the people earn from you
The more you pull away, the more that they depend on you
- home with you, FKA twigs

[seasignals]

Characters/Ship: any
Tags: cheerleader au (dare me au?)
Prompt:

You said "Open up your mouth and tell me what you mean"
I said, "I'm gonna marry the scariest girl on the cheerleading team"
Press your teeth into my neck and watch me bruise
Tomorrow wake up feeling so confused
- Head Cheerleader, Pom Pom Squad

[FILL] scariest girl on the cheerleading team

[moriendum]

Characters/Ship: (G)I-DLE miyeon/minnie
Tags: alternate universe - cheerleader au, college au, casual sex, drunk sex, open ending? (sort of)
Permission to Remix: yes!
Content Warning: smut/pwp (NSFW)
-

This room should be off limits. It probably is. That only occurs to Miyeon once they’re inside and the door is closed and her back is pressed against it. The party is still alive on the other side, just not as loud now that all of Miyeon’s senses are devoted to the tall figure of the new member of the cheerleading team looming over her.

Like her sweetest nightmare. Like her deadliest dream. Her lips curl at the thought.

“Out with it.” There’s tiny little diamonds at the tip of her sharp eyeliner. They seem to shine in the semi-darkness, drawing all of Miyeon’s attention before a pretty drawl pulls her back. “Open your mouth, come on. Tell me what you meant downstairs.”

Downstairs. Miyeon had a drink in her hand when she was downstairs. Oh, she shouldn’t be drinking. Everything that occurs to her materializes in her voice in an instant, because alcohol loosens all her fears and lets herself slip through.

“I said,” she recalls, “that you don’t scare me.”

A feline grin. The girl comes closer, and the diamonds on her skin pale in comparison to the glint in her eyes.

“Yeah. And what did you mean by that?”

Her breath tickles Miyeon’s upper lip. Miyeon wets her lips, presses her legs close together. The room expands and shrinks at once, because there’s no space left between them and Miyeon can’t remember what the room looks like.

It’s only her. She is all Miyeon cares to see right now.

“That I’d let you close,” Miyeon says. She giggles when the simile comes to her. “I’d let you hunt me down and keep me alllll to yourself. I’d marry you and tell everyone I married the scariest girl on the cheerleading team.”

Miyeon gasps when cold lips find her flushed neck. Teeth graze her skin, and she can’t possibly press her legs any closer together, throbbing, losing herself to the hands around her waist that remind her of why she came to this party in the first place. She’s melting, she’s on fire, she’s drowning, and she can’t believe she wore jeans but it doesn’t matter because the button is open now, the zipper is down, and she feels, hears herself being touched.

Her moan sounds exactly like the name that has been on her mind all night.

“Minnie.”

-

The bed Miyeon wakes up in is not her bed. She looks around, but her head is splitting in a dozen different ways and her eyes hurt with the sunlight streaming in through open blinds. With a grunt, she sits up. Her jeans are unbuttoned, her crop top slightly askew. It’s as she uses a hand to brush her hair over her shoulder that she feels it, the tender flesh on her neck where she vividly remembers teeth sinking into the night before.

She winces when she tries touching it. Miraculously, her phone is still in her pocket so she opens the camera to check and yeah, that’s a bruise. It’s purplish, red around the edges, and there’s two darker dots right at the center of it, as if shadows of teeth. As if—

As if shadows of fangs, of the monstrous kind.

For a split second, Miyeon entertains the idea. Then she laughs at her own foolishness, wincing again when she remembers her headache, and busies herself with finding her shoes.

[boundlessly]

Characters/Ship: your choice
Tags: soulmate vibes/au of some kind, or protag/antag (doesn't necessarily have to be hero/villain but i think those vibes fit really well), could also see this as like "i can't do this without you" idolverse/canon compliant vibes
Prompt:

It was just a few seconds. A fragment, really. And it was like, in that moment the whole universe existed just to bring us together.
- queering_the_map

"It would explain a lot, wouldn't it? It would explain the longing you get, out of nowhere sometimes, for a person you cannot see. It would explain the ache we get in the hallow space between our ribs, and the uneasy thoughts at night in our beds, hoping that maybe someone, somewhere, is thinking of us, too.

"So we are halved. Broken into pieces. According to Plato, and echoes through Aristophanes, it does explain that feeling. It explains why humans sometimes spend their whole lives looking for their other halves, and why we try so hard to fuse ourselves into one. Perhaps it is because we were once exactly that. One."
- Honey Girl by Morgan Rogers

and we go marching on

[sleepyshamrocks]

Characters/Ship: loona (ot12 perhaps...?)
Tags: finding each other again and again
Prompt:

when i'm with you / there is no one else

— jin, the astronaut

we were together. i forget the rest.

— walt whitman

[seasignals]

Characters/Ship: any
Tags: past relationships, growing up
Prompt:

You were a secret to yourself
You couldn't keep from anyone else
Now you're the biggest, brightest flame
You are a fire that can't be tamed
You're better than ever, but I knew you when
It's bittersweet to see you again
- Hot & Heavy, Lucy Dacus