![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sleepyshamrocks) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
girlsfest2025-02-03 05:59 pm
Round 1: Quotes
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!
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 3 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.
- Once a round is open, you can continue submitting prompts for it until the end of the fest moderation period. (Ex: On February 17 after Round 3 opens, you’re still allowed to submit prompts to Round 1 and 2.)
- There is no minimum or maximum word count for fills. In the spirit of the fest, we encourage you to write shorter works, but any length is welcome and appreciated!
- 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.
It will look like this when empty:
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:
Tags: sports au
Prompt:
Though, I do admit, it came on fast
Still, I do believe that it can last
And I will be loathing
For forever
Loathing
Truly, deeply loathing you
My whole life long
— What is this Feeling, Wicked
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.
It will look like this once filled out:
Characters/Ship: lesserafim sakura/lee chaeyeon
Tags: post-produce48, canon compliant
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.
Fills with NSFW/explicit content should have (NSFW) at the end of the comment title.
Example: [FILL] love hangover (NSFW)
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.
[FILL] curiosity killed the cat
Tags: NSFW, modern AU, falling in love with your straight best friend, drunken experimenting, internalized homophobia, angst, explicit sexual content, the liminality of a subway station
Permission to Remix: Yes
-
There are puddles of rainwater underneath Nayeon’s converse on the subway station stairs today, droplets of gray grit bleeding into the worn yellow canvas. Two steps ahead of her, the frayed edges of Mina’s shoelaces drag over muddy cement, some hypebeast-style Nike model that Nayeon had incessantly teased her for buying on the day of its release all the way back in college. They had since been demoted to Mina’s frat shoes, then her dive bar shoes, then her “just-in-case” shoes that sat on the rack in Nayeon’s apartment for impromptu sleepovers and hungover walks to Taco Bell on mornings after.
The spot between Nayeon’s workout sneakers and ballet flats will sit empty now, until she buys a new pair to fill it. Whatever she chooses will look awfully sterile compared to the dirt and dust that had accumulated on Mina’s soles for years.
Mina steps straight into a pool of muddy water as she reaches the subway platform, jerks back as the splash it makes stains the hem of her pants. They might be Nayeon’s pants, actually. God, when did they become so intertwined? On instinct, Nayeon reaches out a hand to steady her, palm brushing her shoulder. Mina jerks back from that too, and Nayeon snatches her arm away. The back of her neck prickles with shame.
“It’ll be here in ten.” Mina says. Her voice is flat, devoid of any color, all ice and cold and impersonal. No words can make it out of Nayeon’s mouth around the lump in her throat, so she just nods.
There are two inches placed carefully between them, tips of their shoes lined up against the yellow caution line. Nayeon fixes her eyes on the graffitied billboard across the tracks, some advertisement for online classes at the local university, too scared of what she’ll find if she looks at Mina. The shutters over her eyes, the rigid set of her jaw, the flat line of her lips that Nayeon had spent the night tracing over and over. Not that Mina would admit to it. Not for the first time that morning, Nayeon wants to vomit, imagines her sick splattering onto the metal train tracks below, all her disgust and embarrassment laid out for the station to see. Imagines Mina turning up her nose at the sight. She had always hated it when Nayeon threw up, anyway.
Nayeon swallows down the bile in the back of her throat, cups the sharp edges of her shattered ego in her clammy palms, and waits.
–
It starts with Nayeon twirling into Mina’s bathroom, miniskirt tight on her hips and bottle of Pink Whitney held aloft. Mina’s got one hand propped on the countertop for support, nose nearly touching the mirror as she draws out the wing of her eyeliner. Her half-empty solo cup sits next to the little speaker that vibrates with the force of the music pumping out of it. Mina’s tongue pokes out of the corner of glossy lips as she drags the pen over her skin, and Nayeon zeroes in on it, shot glass paused halfway to her mouth.
“Stop staring,” Mina giggles. The sound floats through the air, light and feathery, wrapping circles around the haze that’s already settling over Nayeon’s mind. “You’re being distracting.”
Nayeon huffs in protest. “Hurry up.” She throws back her shot, lets the sweetness drip down her throat to mask a familiar pang. She refills the shot glass after, dangerously full, pushes it towards Mina on the counter before propping herself up on the edge, legs swinging back and forth.
Mina rolls her eyes at Nayeon’s antics but sets down her eyeliner anyways, picks up the glass in two slender fingers and downs it in one go. Nayeon’s eyes track the movement of her neck as she swallows. Mina wrinkles her nose in faux-disgust when she sets the glass back down, a fresh lip gloss stain stuck to the rim. Nayeon barely resists the urge to take another shot just so she can put her mouth over it, find out how sticky peach pairs with sickly sweet alcohol.
It’s just the two of them tonight, and Nayeon can’t decide whether that’s better or worse than having a few friends to separate them. Better, because it means Mina’s less likely to be caught up in the clutches of some man at the bar, and Nayeon won’t have to trek home alone afterwards (or stomach the sight of Mina kissing someone else). Worse, because now Mina is pressed against her side, warm with alcohol, that horrifyingly beautiful half-smile of hers nearly pressed into Nayeon’s shoulder. They giggle all the way to the club, Nayeon nearly tripping over in her stupidly high heels no less than three times. The thrum of desire fluttering against her ribcage has long since learned to hold itself steady, but it’s nights like these, where Nayeon finds herself enveloped in familiar jasmine perfume and trapped in the space between Mina’s sharp canines as she throws her head back to laugh, that bring it all back to the surface with the weight of a thrown sledgehammer.
They’re in line for the bathroom when Mina asks the question. “What’s it like to kiss a girl?” There’s a lilt to her syllables that only ever emerges a couple shots past her usual alcohol limit, words dragging into each other lazily. She drops it so casually that it takes Nayeon’s brain a full fifteen seconds to comprehend the question, and another forty five to come up with an answer that hides the sudden backflips her stomach has begun performing.
She settles for a shrug. “Nice. Different, in a good way.” Before she can stop herself, she blurts it out. “Why’d you ask? Considering it?”
“Oh, no.” Mina replies instantly. Nayeon’s heart cracks a little, the echo of it bouncing off bathroom tile walls. “Just curious.”
Just curious. The minutes Nayeon spends in the musty bathroom stall are filled with self beration. She has to stop getting her hopes up, she tells herself, pinching her forearm. She should know by now, what with seven whole years of Mina’s friendship under her belt, seven years of tucking away traitorous stares and incriminating daydreams into crevices where they’ll never see the light of day. Even if they’re infectious, spreading until almost all her memories of Mina are tinted pink at the edges with longing. Nayeon can hide it, the ache of it all, if it means Mina will continue to occupy the corners of her life. Nayeon has long since decided that seeing Mina’s gummy, boxy smile is worth all the lost sleep and overthinking in the world.
She expects the conversation to end there, dissolving into the drunken haze of the night that Mina will surely forget. But twenty minutes later Mina is hooking her arms over Nayeon’s shoulders on the dance floor, eyes dark and glittering with the reflections of flashing LEDs. The bass of the club speakers shakes through the floor and straight to Nayeon’s chest, the intensity of Mina’s stare knocking her off-kilter as they half-stumble, half-sway in an attempt to match the racing beat of the music.
Mina’s mouth opens and shuts in words that Nayeon can’t hear, and Nayeon can only stare at her lips, a stray smear of gloss shimmering at the corner. Then, suddenly, those same lips are pressed against Nayeon’s ear, and goosebumps rise at the back of Nayeon’s neck when hot breath brushes over her earrings. “Can I kiss you?”
Nayeon snaps her head back. There’s a flatness to Mina’s expression that she can’t quite read, but the other girl holds her gaze steady as she waits for Nayeon’s decision. Her fingers brush over Nayeon’s shoulderblade, skin exposed in her halter top. Nayeon shudders involuntarily. Mina shrugs her shoulders once, all feigned nonchalance, her mouth forming four syllables that Nayeon can recognize. I’m curious.
Maybe it’s the alcohol, the spinning of the dark room around them that makes the night feel a little like a dream. Maybe it’s the cut of Mina’s jawline or the edge of her collarbone above the neck of her own cropped tank top or the years upon years of sheer want that break the dam Nayeon has shoddily taped together with each passing day. Whatever it is, though, has Nayeon swiping away the stray trail of Mina’s lip product with her thumb before leaning in.
Mina tastes almost disgustingly sweet. Nayeon can distinguish all the mixed drinks she had nursed throughout the night as she swipes her tongue along Mina’s bottom lip, feels the softness yield and part underneath her in ways she had barely dared to imagine just hours earlier. Mina melts beneath her, letting Nayeon just take in ways that have her choking back gasps. Then she’s pushing back, tongue finding Nayeon’s teeth, and Nayeon’s reaching around to fist a hand in Mina’s silky black hair, the other finding purchase on her waist. Mina’s fingertips run down Nayeon’s arms and slide over her chest, and this must all be one sick, twisted drunken mistake, because never in a million years would Nayeon have imagined Mina groping her in the middle of a packed nightclub of her own volition.
She’s just about to lose herself in it when Mina breaks the kiss, Nayeon’s eyes snapping open. She can’t tell if it’s wonder or horror splayed across Mina’s expression, but the other girl wraps her fingers around her wrist and tugs, and Nayeon can do nothing but follow. Through the club doors, down winding streets, until they reach Nayeon’s apartment four blocks away, no words exchanged. Nayeon fumbles with the key, steeling herself all the while. She can pretend, if Mina wants to. Pretend like the most earth shattering kiss wasn’t just pressed into her mouth by her straight best friend on a random Saturday night.
But they get through the door, and suddenly Mina’s on her again, lips find Nayeon’s pulse in her neck as she pushes her into the wall. Nayeon can’t help the stuttered gasp that escapes her, a whine of Mina’s name following. Mina’s hands trail over Nayeon’s hips, dangerously close to the hem of her skirt. She pauses with them splayed over Nayeon’s thighs.
“This didn’t happen, okay?” Mina’s voice comes out small, tremulous. Nayeon looks down, finds Mina’s glassy eyes trained on her bare midriff, shoulders shaking. The alcohol-slur is still there. “Just let me be curious.”
And this is where Nayeon should say no, because it’s Mina, and the only thing that has kept Nayeon from breaking these last seven years is tamping down her curiosity. But there’s still Pink Whitney and desire running through her veins, and she nods, and Mina’s hands slide to where Nayeon is burning burning burning. Nayeon’s head knocks back against the wall with a loud moan as Mina slides her fingers past her panties, soft against slick, pushing in until Nayeon’s squeezing her eyes shut—
It blurs into itself, after that. Nayeon coming with a cry against Mina’s knuckles, thumb against her clit. They make it to the bed eventually, Mina pulling her shirt over her head, Nayeon’s mouth chasing trails down her abdomen. Hurried hands pulling jeans away, Nayeon sucking a bruise onto Mina’s inner thigh before darting her tongue out to lap at where Mina’s most wet, forbidden fruit on the vine as Mina lets out soft gasps and pants that have Nayeon’s chest clenching painfully.
(You’re so good for me, Nayeon mumbles, fingers replacing her tongue and setting a bruising pace. Mina’s voice curls around the syllables of Nayeon’s names in a way far too intimate, Nayeon, please, it’s all for you. The peak of her voice as she comes will haunt Nayeon for years.)
Two orgasms later, Nayeon shuffles herself into the blankets, eyes half-closed in exhaustion. “Good?” She asks without thinking, without remembering it’s Mina beside her. Mina, who’s been firm in her straightness since all their friends were getting together in college, who had never once looked Nayeon’s way until this, until the liquid courage in her veins had spurred her on. It’s a while before Mina replies, and it’s not until she speaks that Nayeon recognizes the tears in her voice.
“Don’t—“ Mina’s breath shudders and breaks. “This didn’t happen, okay. It was stupid.”
Nayeon turns to face her, but Mina turns away, hiding her face in the crook of her bare elbow.
“Not stupid.” Nayeon manages around the crushing sensation over her windpipe. “It’s okay, Mina, it’s just me—“
“It didn’t mean anything.” Mina’s voice is muffled by her elbow. “It didn’t matter. Just go to sleep, Nayeon.”
And so Nayeon lays there, eyes trained on the ceiling, listening to Mina sob along to the sound of her own world collapsing as she finally succumbs to her exhaustion.
—
Nayeon wakes up with a pounding in her head and a terrible rolling sensation in her stomach. She groans and turns over, arm smacking into something solid. Something that stirs and curls further in on itself. Mina’s hair splays out against Nayeon’s pillows, brushing against her lips. Nayeon stares and stares at the expanse of Mina’s bare back, the telltale bruises on her shoulders, the expansion and collapse of her ribcage. A knot settles into the cavern of Nayeon’s chest, a wad of guilt and shame. Mina’s right where Nayeon has always wanted her. Mina’s right where she’d never want to be. This didn’t happen.
She barely makes it to the bathroom in time to vomit into the toilet bowl.
–
The train squeals into the station with a gust of warm air. Mina stirs next to Nayeon for the first time since they’ve arrived. Nayeon think she hears a sniffle buried in the rustling of Mina’s clothes, the crinkle of the plastic bag that holds her going-out heels dangling from her wrist. She stares straight ahead still as Mina steps towards the opening train door, but then the denim-clad shoulders at her peripheral stop and turn, and Nayeon finds herself looking without a second thought. Moth to a flame, magnet to a pole. Nayeon’s compass point finding Mina again and again and again.
Mina’s eyes are puffy, nose red. She shifts in place, lips trembling around something unspoken. Nayeon’s fists clench at her sides, at the strangely reflexive surge of protectiveness that rises at Mina’s pathetic appearance. Maybe if Nayeon blinks, squeezes her eyes shut as tight as she can, she’ll wake up to Mina’s bleary eyes or morning breath or the sleepy rasp of her voice asking for Taco Bell or takeout. Anything but this, anything but the jacket shrugged on so hurriedly that it’s trapped Mina’s hair between the leather fabric and her T-shirt underneath, shaking fingers toying with the hem. Nayeon didn’t have to walk her all the way to the station, anyway. She could be curled up in the vastness of her own bed right now, falling apart in the privacy of her own home. But she’s here, accompanying Mina, because there’s nowhere else she’d ever be.
In the end, Mina doesn’t say anything. She turns instead, steps onto the subway car. Nayeon watches through dirty acrylic windows as Mina finds a spot by a pole, braces herself against it with a visibly trembling hand. Suddenly her eyes are burning too, vision clouding with tears, clenching her jaw to stop the sob that threatens to rip through her chest. This is it, then, the end of it all: Nayeon and Mina on opposite sides of a train window, a night of skin stuck to skin turned into a gaping chasm. The intercom reminds passengers to “mind the gap” then, twisting the knife protruding from one of Nayeon’s lungs, right below the spot that Mina had kissed so reverently just hours ago.
If Nayeon had a spare moment, she might think about whether or not she really regrets it all, but the train is starting to pull away and Mina is looking at her, straight through her, a sheen of tears visible on the top edge of her cheekbones. Nayeon’s hand twitches, almost lifting upwards, almost a wave. It never makes it to the top.
The train disappears into the tunnel, and Mina is gone.