(✯◡✯)

[neko_90]

How are we here already? It feels like yesterday that we were closing last year's edition!

And yet we have had such a year full of fun stuff that I'm sure has inspired everyone :3

On that note, thanks for the MV suggestions, I hadn't seen some of them and it was a fun watch!



As with every year, let's have a quick rundown of the rules for this:


⚝ One prompt per comment - but you can prompt as much as you like!
⚝ Prompt format: Group(s), characters(s)/pairing, prompt word/sentence (or link to graphic or music). For example:

MAMAMOO, Hwasa/any, divorce lawyer AU
Dreamcatcher, Yoohyeon/any, Spiderman AU

⚝ No minimum or maximum wordcount!
⚝ NSFW and sensitive content are allowed but please warn for them.
⚝ Prompts can be answered several times.
⚝ Comments on fills are encouraged, do tell someone if you read something you like.
⚝ Post will remain open until October 31st 23:59 (Pago Pago Time).
⚝ A longer version of the rules can be found here.
⚝ If it is your first time using Dreamwidth, we have a quick guide here.
⚝ For any late minute changes, check the fest's twitter (or bsky, if you prefer)

And some reminders before beginning:
⚝ Anon commenting is allowed (but not required - you can post your fics under your name any time you want); IP logging is off. If something gets caught on the spam filter message me here, or on scarygirlynight twitter.
⚝ If you post on anon, you will be able to claim your fics once the fest is over.
⚝ Other useful links: carrd, AO3 collection.
⚝ Tell your friends about the party! The more, the merrier!
⚝ Last but not least: Have fun!!


Having said that, let the party begin!

Comments

helpdesk

[neko_90]

questions, non-prompts, etc. here!

[baechuzz]

NMIXX, Haewon/Lily, seemingly unrequited love
Lily tells about her feelings about Haewon to anybody who would listen. Anybody but Haewon.

"I vulgarize my feelings by speaking of them too readily to others." - Susan Sontang

[(Anonymous)]

Any, Any

You’re all I need
Even if I can’t have you forever
I’m thinking it’s the universe at peace
For holding two stars forbidden lovers
— MYRNE (Forbidden Lovers (https://youtu.be/tCKCQkl_Xis?si=4B8UYQ9aaY68e9yD))

[luckyzukky]

any, any. a haunting.

You say I killed you— haunt me, then! Be with me always — take any form — drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you!

Wuthering Heights, Emily Brontë

home sweet home

[j2ster]

le sserafim, chaewon/yunjin
rated mature or R
warning for implied murder

on ao3:

Chaewon wakes up disoriented, to her blanket sitting upright at the foot of her bed.

[(Anonymous)]

any, any.
would rather kill for you than die for you

“Killing is like smoking. Only the first time is hard.”

– Jung Hae Joon, Decision to Leave

juliet loves the beat [kep1er, hikaru/bahiyyih] (tw: blood/gore)

[shyshyshiloh]

When the fog clears and Hikaru can see again, the scene that floods her vision is a beautiful massacre.

The walls are flecked in a tasteful manner, sweet as a jawbreaker but twice as thick. An overturned houseplant adds color, while symmetrical puddles seep out from the body’s slashed sides, and they drip and drip and drip until the rug is blotted with a large, red Rorschach pattern.

Hikaru thinks she sees a butterfly in the viscera. Or maybe a bat.

Ah, no, that top bit definitely resembles antennae.

Regardless, she’s really outdone herself. Hikaru sighs happily, imagining Bahiyyih’s face as she arrives home and takes in the sight. Her heart is pounding with the mess of her own creation: not quite a maestro, more a misbehaving dog, but it’s gleeful pride all the same.

Do you like it? she can’t wait to ask. If she had a tail, it would be thumping restlessly against the floor.

Then the lock clicks, and instead of praise, what Hikaru gets is — a scream. Which, well. That’s understandable. Even Hikaru can admit that.

“What have you done!?”

Bahiyyih enters like the parting of a stormcloud. Hikaru feels a surge of relief wash over her, but Bahiyyih only stumbles backwards against the door, one hand fumbling for the knob and the other covering the horrified gasp of her mouth.

“That’s—” Bahiyyih’s nails have just been painted. Her hands are trembling. “Oh god, he’s—”

“Dead,” Hikaru answers for her. “Your piece of shit father. Finally.”

“No.” Bahiyyih’s breath rattles. “No, how could you?” She won’t look at Hikaru, won’t move from her place by the door. Her eyes are glued to the meat on the carpet, stuck on its inelegant state of repose.

It’s simple, though. Hikaru would do anything for her. “You’re free now, Hiyyih,” she says, voice small. “Don’t you understand?”

Bahiyyih deserves everything and then some. Bahiyyih is the reason why Hikaru maintains the beating of her own heart. Bahiyyih has merely had the misfortune of being surrounded by those who don’t recognize what a gift she is, and so Hikaru will carry out what she cannot.

“That’s what you always say,” snaps Bahiyyih, her words building up to a sob.

“Because it’s true. Because I love you.” Hikaru would kill her way through an army if that was what it took, would carve up a body three times her size if Bahiyyih could only look at her that way, just once.

And Hikaru wants so badly to be by Bahiyyih’s side that she drops the knife and approaches, only for Bahiyyih to pierce her with a tear-filled glare.

“Get away from me,” she chokes out. “You’re a monster.”

“I’m protecting you from monsters. Your father was—”

“That didn’t mean he deserved to die!”

Hikaru is stunned. She’s watched, time and time again, as Bahiyyih’s father has been so needlessly cruel to her.

Whereas this cruelty was a necessity, and Bahiyyih will never hurt ever again.

“I just wanted you to be happy,” says Hikaru.

Bahiyyih looks ill. She squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head, saying, “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave.”

“I don’t — for how long?” Because Hikaru can’t be without Bahiyyih, and she’s trying not to show how much it’ll tear her apart. “I can give you a week, a month, however long you need—”

“Forever, Hikaru.” When Bahiyyih opens her eyes, her gaze is cold. “If you love me so much, then do me a favor and disappear.”

Dimly, Hikaru realizes she’s begun to laugh. Her own mouth stretches into an approximation of a smile, but the sound is metallic and dull.

“You don’t mean that,” says Hikaru. She sinks to the floor, staring up at Bahiyyih, a bare bulb making a saint’s halo behind her head. “You can’t.”

“I can and I do,” hisses Bahiyyih.

“I love you,” repeats Hikaru. “I love you.”

Bahiyyih ignores her. “I wish you weren’t here. I wish I had never saved you.” And for someone who could never do so much as defend herself, she has no problem with plunging the knife right in and twisting it. “I wish I’d left you to die, just like everyone else wanted.”

Hikaru crumples. “Don’t go.”

But Bahiyyih turns away, shaking, phone in her hand. Emergency services are already on the other line. “Goodbye, Hikaru.”

“No, please, please—” Hikaru crawls forward on her hands and knees, reaching to clasp the hem of Bahiyyih’s skirt between her palms. “Point me in a direction, and I’ll do it. I’ll make it better. Anything. Anyone. Just don’t—”

Bahiyyih unceremoniously kicks Hikaru off of her and slams the door. In the distance, just as Hikaru buries her face in her hands, the sirens begin to wail.

[(Anonymous)]

any, any.
detective/rich widow suspect vibes maybe?

“Maybe I went to Ipo to become one of your unresolved cases.”

– Song Seo Rae, Decision to Leave

[FILL] [tripleS] [chaeyeon/sohyun] [sensitive content]

[(Anonymous)]

SEMI-SPOILERS FOR DECISION TO LEAVE (2022)

***

Right away, she’s all deer-in-headlights beneath the sudden spotlight of a potential-murder case with the brown hair to match. Dyed, she claims, for one of her latest roles.

Sohyun tries to not make it obvious that she hasn’t seen any of her performances—best to stay on a suspect’s good side, if such a thing exists—but then her face softens, good-natured despite, and she says: I’m a commercial actress.

Sohyun flips through the manila folder briefly; that had been on her file, hadn’t it. Kim Chaeyeon: she’s not that famous, though if Sohyun focuses she might recognize her from a jingle a summer or two ago. Also, Chaeyeon had once been a child actress. But no one really watches Boni Hani anymore, least of all Sohyun, whose kid cousins now have kids of their own.

Chaeyeon is five-ish, ten-or-so-ish years younger. When her husband died/fell/was killed, he’d been double that number past Sohyun’s age, and rich enough that Chaeyeon didn’t need to be working at all.

Sohyun starts there. “Why acting, still?”

“It’s fun, and I’ve got plenty of time to spare. Besides, haven’t you heard the saying, ‘all the world’s a stage?’”

Chaeyeon’s alibi included her being overseas in London. Sohyun had the foresight to brush up, so she’s not too off-footed by the English. Moreso at Chaeyeon’s lenient ambivalence. She plays along.

“‘And all the men and women merely players.’”

“I’m impressed,” Chaeyeon responds, mock-serious. This whole time she hasn’t smiled, but Sohyun can sense the shape of it pushing up beneath the amenable line of her mouth, compressed tension like held laughter.

“Right,” Sohyun coughs. She’d been a literature major in undergrad, but there’s no way Chaeyeon would be able to tell. “I have a few questions to get out of the way, please.”

“Of course you do.” When Sohyun doesn’t redirect, Chaeyeon’s mouth curls into a smile. “That’s your role, you know. Detective?”

-

They assigned Sohyun to the case because she won’t be tempted—feminine wiles, something something. Obviously, the orders weren’t that direct. The gist is the same.

Sohyun doesn’t have a husband, but she’s senior enough that most of the nagging has ceased. When she was younger, the hierarchical bullshit nearly made her resign. Now, she still thinks it’s a load of BS, but at least she can reap some benefits.

There’s another, more junior officer assigned to the case. He’s convinced that Chaeyeon should be behind bars. But he’s not the one in the interrogation room. He prints papers and brings coffee and stews on the other side of the closed door.

“What’s it like?” Chaeyeon asks Sohyun during one of their too-long interviews. “This job, if it’s not all high-speed car chases… I’m disappointed, by the way…”

Sohyun tries to grab onto the pivot point of the conversation before it slips away. “You tell me, what’s it like being a widow?”

The one-way glass is just a mirror from their side. Sohyun, with her detective’s wit, catches the long stroke of Chaeyeon’s gaze, locking onto her. “Should you be asking me that?”

Chaeyeon’s heels click to rest on their toecaps as her upper body leans forward in turn. Sohyun uncrosses her legs to manage the same distance, though above the board, her torso remains stiff.

“I think,” Sohyun responds, slowly, “that I’m the one asking the questions.”

Chaeyeon squints. She kicks out her foot, bumping Sohyun’s calf inadvertently. Or on purpose. “Hey, you don’t have to do all this.”

“What, now.”

“Act like the others.” Chaeyeon cocks her head towards the door—as if they’re the ones in on something.

-

Turns out Sohyun had seen Boni Hani babysitting some nieces and nephews decades ago. She almost forgot: she’s barely shown her face at family gatherings since. Hardly a black sheep, but—seniority holds no water with her parents, and they are perpetually depressed about owed grandchildren.

Sohyun’s entire life fits in one apartment, for the most part. Most important is the curtained wall of evidence that she scrubs clean after each case. As far as friends go, she’s known her next-door neighbors since they were roommates in college—then stayed roommates, no boyfriends, no dating. On the same page as Sohyun, implicitly. They know the right clubs, should Sohyun want to pick someone up.

It’s one of those nights: Sohyun forgot to close the curtain over the evidence board, the gore somewhat startling to the woman she took back from the bar, but not enough to get her out of the mood. They fuck on the couch, in the kitchen, and are stumbling towards Sohyun’s room when a sharp knock at the door interrupts her drunkenness.

One of Sohyun’s neighbors, Nien: “Someone’s here, it’s bad, it’s—um—” Sohyun peers through the peephole. Well, crap. “Should I call the cops?”

“No, no,” Sohyun replies. She hurries the woman from the bar out of the back entrance, already imagining her as a witness. “Hold on for just—a—minute—”

Sohyun opens the door and Kim Chaeyeon spills into her arms. “Sohyun, who,” Sohyun firmly claps Nien’s shoulder, cutting her off.

“Forget about tonight.” Nien is drunk enough that hopefully she’ll take it all as a weird dream. It being, a beat-up woman at Sohyun’s doorstep, that is—although Nien wouldn’t know—the centerpiece of Sohyun’s evidence.

Chaeyeon’s not too injured to speak around her split lip. No concussion, which Sohyun made sure of, shining a light in her eyes and feeling around her jaw, but bruises in all the places where someone who’s been trained would hit.

Sohyun frowns as Chaeyeon hugs a cold pack. “Do you remember who it was?”

“Can I really stay the night?” Chaeyeon wonders instead. As if there’s any other option.

“Who was it? Do you know?” Sohyun asks again.

Chaeyeon closes her eyes. “Umm… He did look familiar. Like, he mentioned you, too… Looking for me, some sort of detective…”

By the end of the week, the junior officer has been let go.

-

Chaeyeon comes over with increasingly flimsier excuses. Belatedly, Sohyun actually remembers to ask, “How did you get my address?”

Chaeyeon finishes her bite of instant ramen, wipes her mouth neatly with a square of napkin, and answers. “You’ve got a whole file on me. I’m not allowed to be interested?”

“Well,” says Sohyun. “Well, that’s kind of how it works.”

Sohyun’s 99% sure Chaeyeon’s innocent. The fall really seemed to be because of the equipment; there’s even a lawsuit pending for the athletics company right now, as if Chaeyeon needed more royalties. The power struggle for the late husband’s job has already settled and none of those actors had been heavily investigated either.

Just, the case keeps getting dragged out. Chaeyeon keeps coming over. Sohyun keeps a notepad of important things she says. Top to bottom, detective… stay the night… are you getting rid of this?

—velvet curtains pulled apart before Sohyun had time to intervene. Chaeyeon, taking in all the photos and coordinates and travel agency receipts; photos of herself: “Are you getting rid of this?”

Sohyun’s not sure how to answer. Luckily, her notepad is under her pillow in her bedroom, but this is hardly neutral information to fall into the hands of a suspect. “I get rid of them once I solve the case,” she answers honestly.

“And all my pictures too?” Because of course that’s what she’d notice.

“Afraid so.”

“What if I gave you a headshot, after?”

“I’d probably have to throw that out, as well. You’re a suspect,” Sohyun reminds her, sidling over to the curtains to pull them shut. “I’ll see you in commercials, won’t I.”

Chaeyeon watches her quietly for a moment. “You’ll see me, then.”

Sohyun would’ve asked her what she’s thinking, but she doesn’t have much space in her notepad. Anyway, she’ll get rid of that, too—with the red strings like veins and Chaeyeon’s face in the pulsing center.

-

Chaeyeon never points out that a detective isn’t supposed to sleep with a suspect. They haven’t slept together, only beside each other—as if that’s legally relevant.

But allow Sohyun to build her case: in cop cars and beneath precinct overhead lights doesn’t count. Couches and futons are some gray area, and only once in Sohyun’s bedroom, after she admitted to her insomnia. Chaeyeon said, I’m good at lullabies. Smiled like she meant to offer her services.

“I haven’t heard this one since I was a kid,” Sohyun muttered unthinkingly. The barrier between sleep and consciousness the same barrier between thought and decision. Melody and lyric.

Mountain bunny, bunny

Where are you going?

Bouncing, bouncing as you're running.

Where are you going?

Chaeyeon brushed her hair out of her face in between a blurry dream they kissed. In the morning she was gone, and the notepad with her.

-

“I thought she wasn’t a flight risk” —Sohyun hears about a milion times. The case is essentially over, or would have been, but— “You have to admit this is suspicious.”

Sohyun doesn’t return to her apartment for a while, searching all over Seoul, then Korea, for Chaeyeon. She calls Chaeyeon’s number over and over and never stops waiting for the dial tone.

The ex-officer just about laughs in Sohyun’s face when she tries to prod some useful information out of him. She wants to make a point about morals: don’t you care? “Since when was this about justice?”

She returns to her apartment to swap out the suitcase she’s been living out of, planning to hit the road quickly again. The lights are on. Did Nien or Seoyeon pay a visit?

Something rustles underfoot. Sohyun looks down to see an envelope slipped through the mail slot. Inside: paper airplanes bent from yellow notepad sheets. No return address, only a series of neatly written digits.

Sohyun turns the envelope over in her hands a few more times, but there are no more hints. She looks over her board of evidence and what is conspicuously missing.

Sohyun calls. It goes straight to voicemail. To a new recording of Chaeyeon’s voice, the second half of the lullaby Sohyun didn’t get to hear:

Over the mountain peaks, peaks

I will climb them on my own

Plump, plump chestnuts

I will find and bring…

…in front of and behind the curtains, for the first time in days, Sohyun sleeps.

[(Anonymous)]

Any, Any, friends to lovers or unrequited love?

In the diary I wrote when I was young
Your name was written on every single page
I wonder, what do I mean to you now?
— H1-KEY (Good for U)

[couldnotpersuade]

mamamoo, any, Orpheus and Eurydice au

[(Anonymous)]

IVE, wonyoung/yujin, futuristic au

[(Anonymous)]

ITZY, Ryujin/Yuna OR Ryujin/Yeji, vampire hunter au

[infrequencies]

any; right person, wrong timing

And you were at my wedding
I was broken, you were drunk
You could've told me not to do it
I would've run, I would've run

– Hayley Williams, Parachute

watch us fly

[(Anonymous)]

twice, jihyo/jeongyeon, idolverse, future fic



"oh, jeongyeon-ah," jihyo breathes out. she stares at the mop of dark hair, the button nose, the tiny fists of the most precious being she's ever seen, held carefully in her arms. "he's gorgeous."

she makes sure to support his head like she'd seen jeongyeon do, still in awe that she gets this privilege. he's so small, his little forehead furrowed as his eyes shift unsteadily, too young to focus his gaze on her.

"he likes you," jeongyeon says, to which jihyo raises an eyebrow. jeongyeon shrugs. "i'm serious, he hasn't started crying yet."

"right." jihyo has been bouncing him gently, swinging her torso side to side. "so how bad is the lack of sleep compared to touring?"

she gets the laugh she was hoping for, though not with the same energy she's used to. there are dark circles under jeongyeon's eyes, skin sallow and frizzy hair tied into a low ponytail. she's still so beautiful it makes jihyo's chest hurt.

"i think worse, but at least i don't have to sing and dance on top of it," she says. jihyo snorts. "but sometimes, i just don't want to? he falls asleep, and i know i should do the same, but i just can't bring myself to stop looking at him."

"i get what you mean," jihyo whispers. it's not the same, of course not, but she remembers those moments—jeongyeon sprawled on a couch during a five-minute break in choreography practice; jeongyeon with her neck dangerously tilted, snoring amidst the clouds in a transcontinental flight. jeongyeon in her bed, sleeping on a pillow stolen from jihyo's guest room back when it wasn't routine enough for her to have her own. lying close enough that jihyo could touch her, as jihyo often did.

"and you? how's touring going?"

jihyo will be headlining a festival in the united states in a week. she worries it will seem far less impressive than this.

"it's fine. more of the same, you know. tiring."

"and yet you love it." there's no judgement in jeongyeon's voice, only fact. the baby babbles in jihyo's arms, one hand reaching out. jihyo places a finger on the center of it, and he holds tight.

she doesn't take her eyes off him. "i do. it still gets kind of lonely, sometimes, but i'm better at managing."

jeongyeon steps closer so she can smooth the fine hairs on his forehead. she, too, is looking at him, and yet he still looks wildly around, jihyo's pointer finger tight in his hand. "what about...?"

she trails off, yet jihyo knows exactly what she's referring to. who she's referring to. they used to do this before it all happened, when neither had the courage to breathe exactly what they wanted to say into the open air. it feels less of a retrogression than a full circle moment. perhaps some things can never truly change.

"it didn't work out." jihyo's nonchalance is not an act. after all, romance cannot be sustained over rushed phone calls and quick trips to korea in the middle of schedules. the two of them would know this better than anyone. "and how are things with..."

"really good," jeongyeon says. "we're truly in this together, and i couldn't be more grateful."

it's not a dig, jihyo tells herself, but it aches all the same. and yet, she can say "i'm happy for you," and find that she means it. "really, i'm glad you have this. you deserve it, jeongyeon-ah."

"you, too." she's still close, rubbing one of his socked feet with absentmindedness. "in the end, i think it all worked out in the way it was supposed to."

"yeah?" jihyo asks, voice small. she caresses a chubby cheek, watching his eyes slip closed, and hopes it can be attributed to not wanting to disturb him.

"i can't regret it anymore, you know?" jeongyeon says. "maybe i still could, a year ago, but not anymore. not when i have him."

"it's funny.” jihyo clears her throat. at some point she's stopped bouncing him, and now they just stand unmoving, side by side, watching him sleep. "i've barely met him and i already love him. i think i'll love him forever," she chokes out.

"oh, honey. i know." jeongyeon swipes a thumb under her eyes, and they pretend it doesn't come away wet. "i know. me too.”

[(Anonymous)]

Any, Any/Any

They'll be only you for me in any universe
I'll love only you in this life and the next, for better or worse
I'll search for you, though we're in a multiverse
There'll be only you, my last, my first
Which Universe? - Jigsaw Story feat. Monica (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FxFPSs71FSI)

[(Anonymous)]

Any, Any/Any, discovering a hidden tattoo on your new gf

itzy, yeji/yuna

[aprilies]

a/n: inspired by this clip which amuses me a lot

non-idol au where yuna has tattoos instead of ear piercings i guess

**

Yeji takes Yuna’s earlobe into her mouth and bites down gently, reveling in the soft groan she gets in response. She leaves a few kisses behind Yuna’s ear before pulling away to plan her next move – but when she does, she’s surprised to see part of a tattoo peeking out.

She folds the shell of Yuna’s ear and finds small, red-inked cherries. They’re so much daintier than the bold mermaid at the small of Yuna’s back or the intricate butterfly below her collarbone.

“Is this new?” Yeji asks, even though she’s well acquainted the signs of tattoo recency: redness, puffiness, sensitivity. None of which seem present here.

Yuna laughs fondly. “No, I’ve had it for years. Two years.” Eight times as long as she’s been with Yeji.

Sometimes it’s easy to forget that they haven’t always been like this, that Yuna isn’t yet a fixture on Yeji’s kitchen counter, too delicious to be ignored. Yeji wants her to be, though, and hopes that Yuna wants the same.

Yeji’s other hand squeezes Yuna’s shoulder. “You’ve been hiding it from me.” Even with this discovery, Yeji is the one with more body art. (Courtesy of having a former tattoo artist apprentice in your life. Ryujin runs her own shop now; maybe Yeji will bring Yuna there for her next appointment.)

“Unnie just needs to pay more attention to me, I think,” Yuna says, shooting Yeji a coy look. “Be more thorough.”

“Mm. Should I take the full Yuna tour?” Yeji surveys Yuna from head to toe, making sure to linger on the distinct curve where her waist meets her hips. “That’ll take a while, Miss Legs.”

Yuna hooks her heels around Yeji’s back to pull her flush against her again. “I’ll be patient,” she promises. “Ready when you are.”

Yeji doesn’t have to be told twice.

[(Anonymous)]

any/any

If only some people can have it, that's not happiness. That's just nonsense. Happiness is something anyone can have.

- Monster (2023)

[(Anonymous)]

any/any

A: "I like your garden."
B: "It's where the bodies are buried."

[(Anonymous)]

any/any

The only reason you name a dog is so you can tell it what to do. I don't know what to do so I'm staying out of it. I don't look the dogs in the face either. Once you look something in the face it starts to want things.

— Richard Siken.

newjeans, hanni/minji

[(Anonymous)]

Dogs bark for the same reason babies cry, for the same reason Minji is straddling Hanni and nibbling the soft flesh of her neck.

They want something. Food, milk, something Hanni can't give.

Hanni knows, once you look something in the face it starts to want things. That goes for her dogs that jump up whenever she so much as looks in their direction. It also goes for Minji, who is desperately searching for her eyes in the semi-dark. But Hanni shuts them—there are some things she prefers not to deal with when she doesn't have to.

It's one thing to know you are wanted; it's another to know what you want. Sometimes Hanni is really jealous of Minji—she has never been so sure about anything in her life as Minji is about her.

“I really feel like a dog sometimes.” The words escape from Minji's lips with an exhale. Hanni cracks her eyes open. She can't really see Minji's face apart from the vague outlines of her features.

“I like dogs.” Strangely, that's the only answer that comes to mind. She thinks she must be the cruelest woman in this world. She wishes Minji wasn't so in love with her.

“So, are you going to teach me a trick now? Or tell me to bark?” Minji’s hand feels warm against her stomach, almost burning. “Are you ever going to tell me what you want?”

Hanni knows that there isn't anything Minji wouldn't do for her. And that's what's so scary about this. Because Hanni wouldn't bark for Minji, because Hanni can't even love her back.

“Tomorrow, maybe,” she says, then shuts her eyes again. You name a dog so you can tell it what to do. Hanni has no idea what to name this one—or what she wants it to do.

[luckyzukky]

any nmixx girl, any/any. NMIXX lore: spinnin' on it and ouroboros

[luckyzukky]

any, any/any. idolverse depression, sadness, whatever.

I want to try just a little bit more
I still want to smile
When someday, all my hope and dreams come true
Even while I fake it until I make it
I’m really just so lame

Ganbarenai yo, Juice=Juice

[(Anonymous)]

Any, any/any. Pokemon AU!.

like no one ever was [stayc, seeun/isa]

[shyshyshiloh]

The top of the old overlook is where Seeun goes when she doesn’t want to be found, but the top of the old overlook is where Chaeyoung finds her anyway.

“Hey,” comes Chaeyoung’s voice, startling Seeun out of her train of thought, “congratulations.”

Seeun turns to see Chaeyoung crest the crumbling hill and settle next to her on the bench. “How’d you—”

“—know you would be here?” Chaeyoung hits her with a feline smile, the same expression that Seeun used to think would be trouble but is really nothing but kind. “Yoon Seeun, you have your habits.”

“Oh.” At that, Seeun laughs, equal parts nervous and embarrassed. “I guess I do.”

The truth is, Seeun is predictable to the minute. She likes the same kinds of foods on the same kinds of days, she walks the same paths in the same shoes and stops at the same points to snap the same photos.

So she likes the same kinds of Pokémon, too — and she likes them enough to stumble into a specialty and walk away with, possibly, the most important and overwhelming job in the world.

“Nervous?” Chaeyoung asks. She’s good about wasting neither time nor her talent of cutting right to the heart of it.

Seeun taps the tips of her fingers together, one by one. “More than that. I think — I think I’m terrified out of my mind.”

“You worked for this,” Chaeyoung is quick to remind her.

“Yeah, with your help.”

“You passed the exam battle.”

“Yeah,” Seeun repeats, “with your help.”

Chaeyoung just laughs, and it sounds like sunlight breaking over the horizon. “What help? I’m not a battler, and you know it.”

It was never about the battles, though. It was about feeling a steady hand at her back, about having someone there alongside her in the deep sand and tall grass. Seeun has a knack for training, sure, but she’s also got a nervous, nervous heart. Chaeyoung was always strong enough for both of them.

“You were the one who told me I could do it,’ says Seeun, letting her eyes drift across Chaeyoung’s face, “and you were right.”

“Hm,” says Chaeyoung, considering. “Well, good. I like to think I do my research.”

A joke, of course — she’ll be doing research for the rest of her life. Where Seeun knows Pokémon insofar as care and companionship, Chaeyoung’s dream has always been to learn and teach and discover, and so, when the semester is up, they’ll both be going where the other can’t follow.

“Gym Leader suits you,” Chaeyoung interrupts, before Seeun can get too moody about the reminder. “You have a good team, and I think young trainers will really like you.”

Seeun sulks anyway. “What makes you say that.”

“You’re approachable,” says Chaeyoung, “and you know what it’s like to go on a journey of your own.” She pauses, then shows off her smile again. “And — I bet your gym’s going to be the coolest in the region.”

They used to talk about designs long into the night. Seeun wanted her gym to be an academic center, a museum-slash-lab.

She still does.

“Come with me,” says Seeun, not for the first time.

“You know it doesn’t work like that,” replies Chaeyoung. Her answer is the same as it’s always been, a firm but gentle push. It says, in more ways than one, Now it’s up to you.

And as loath as she is to admit it, Seeun knows this, too. “I’m going to miss you. A lot.”

“Me, too.” Chaeyoung looks at Seeun with a warmth, a deep fondness. The sun is starting to go down over the city, and from the overlook, everything is awash in orange. “By the way,” she asks, “you’ve still been walking my Shinx, right?”

“Oh!” That’s right, the past week has been a particularly busy one for Professor-track students, and Seeun has been watching over Chaeyoung’s partner Pokémon while she hits the books. She reaches for the Pokéball. “Yes, of course, I have him right—”

Chaeyoung surprises Seeun by holding out a Pokéball of her own. “Then trade ya?”

Seeun balks, then flushes. “What is this?”

“You’ve been looking for the final Pokémon to round out your team for a while, right?” There’s a bright sparkle in Chaeyoung’s eye. “I did some calculations, and I think this is just the one you need.”

Seeun doesn’t know what to say. Gingerly, she takes the Pokéball and peers through the translucent top.

It takes a moment to find — but there, in the corner, a Dwebble stares back at her, wide-eyed and curious.

“She’s perfect,” whispers Seeun. For a moment, it feels as if she has the world in her palm. Then she remembers and snaps her head back up to look at Chaeyoung, stumbling over her own words as she says, “Chaeyoung, how do I even—? She’s — she’s really, really awesome, and I promise I’ll make her the centerpiece of my team, and I’ll never forget—”

But Chaeyoung just laughs and takes Seeun’s hands in her own. “You don’t have to promise me anything, Seeun. But, if you could have lots of battles and become a wonderful Gym Leader with her, then that would make me very happy.”

Tears begin to well at the corners of Seeun’s eyes. “Chaeyoung…”

Chaeyoung reaches forward and pulls her into a hug. “Keep in touch, okay? I know you’re going to do great.”

“You too,” says Seeun, wrapping her arms around Chaeyoung, “and — of course.”

[(Anonymous)]

any/any
exploring relationship between two idols that do not have the same first language

“Betrayal. Translation means doing violence upon the original, means warping and distorting it for foreign, unintended eyes. So then where does that leave us? How can we conclude, except by acknowledging that an act of translation is then necessarily always an act of betrayal?”

- r.f. kuang, babel

say it with your chest [tripleS, nien/jiyeon]

[shyshyshiloh]

“Teach me.”

Nien just looks at Jiyeon and laughs. “Teach you what?”

“Some phrases,” says Jiyeon, “in Mandarin. You know — for the tour. Taipei, in November.” She gives Nien a pointed look. “I know you know it’s happening.”

In truth, Nien does a little more than “know” it’s happening. She’s been thinking about it in the same way a dog with a cone on its head might think about a line of sutures. Always there, an itch she can’t scratch and that would probably only hurt her if she tried.

An annoyance.

“There’ll be a translator,” says Nien, in a tone much milder than she’d like to use for any number of related sentiments. Like you’d even remember, or, I’m tired of listening to the rest of you fuck up the tones.

Jiyeon is who she is, though. “I want the fans to hear it directly from me.”

Oh, boy. “Isn’t that sweet of you.”

And Jiyeon, still being who she is, takes this and lets it light up her face with an honest-to-god blush. “You really think so?”

No. Nien honestly couldn’t care less. When she learned a new language, it was treated as the bare minimum, because it was expected that she make herself understandable, intelligible, digestible. If and when Jiyeon does it, she’ll be lauded for going above and beyond.

“Come on,” Jiyeon coaxes, “just a couple of simple things. Even something as basic as where’s the bathroom, for when we’re going around the city.”

“Oh, and you know the fans will get a real kick out of that,” says Nien. She curves her mouth into its habitual grin. “Relax. You’re never actually going to be on your own.”

“Because?”

“Because I’ll be with you, always.” Wink. Laugh. And so Jiyeon stammers — home run.

Some people are caring, so they become teachers. Some people are diligent, so they become doctors. Nien is good at singing and dancing and never really saying what she means — all the more a reflex in another country, another tongue — and so she became an idol.

“I can’t only rely on you,” says Jiyeon, almost pathetically serious. “That wouldn’t be fair.”

Nice of her to say. “And why not?”

Here lies the difference between survival and luxury: Jiyeon is allowed to choose for herself whether she squares her shoulders, whether she says, “I want to.” Her eyes, meeting Nien’s, are so clear and naive. “I want to learn, so that I can stand on my own two feet.”

But lucky for her, Nien is easygoing in that way. “Repeat after me,” she instructs. “Ch’íh Hsūyén ài Hsǔ Nièntz’ú.”

“Ch’íh Hsūyén ài Hsǔ Nièntz’ú.” Jiyeon’s attempt is valiant, if imperfect. “Ch’íh Hsūyén ài Hsǔ Nièntz’ú.”

“Nice. Watch the rising tone.”

Jiyeon tries one more time, without much improvement. “And what does that mean?”

“The usual,” shrugs Nien. “Thank you for coming to our concert.”

[(Anonymous)]

any/any
the language of grief in a relationship

“It's impossible to compete with the dead. I wished I could stop trying.”

- gillian flynn, sharp objects

it was the night the counter flooded

[likegalatea]

NMIXX, Lily/Sullyoon, inspired by “Posing in Bondage” by Japanese Breakfast
Title from “Ghost Q & A” by Anne Carson

Yoona glides into the convenience store at midnight, beelining for the beverage fridge. Lily raises her head at the chime of the doorbell, catching a glimpse of the red smeared down Yoona’s neck before she’s watching the dark strands of Yoona’s hair as she floats down the aisle.

Yoona used to visit Lily during her graveyard shifts. She’d boil a cup of instant ramyeon and cram a 1000 won bill in the tip jar before pulling up a stool to eat at the register next to Lily, who more often than not had a book open in her lap.

Lily eyes the tip jar, which has been collecting lint, empty save for a lone Japanese eraser in the shape of a sheep that Mrs. Lee’s kid had insisted that she take.

The display door slams shut, the sound of a cap untwisting loud in the otherwise empty store. The hum of the fridge is not enough to drown out the sound of chugging.

Yoona’s just beyond the maze of shelves, past the chips and candy. She’s so close, separated by only a few scant meters, and yet she’s never been farther away.

The top of her sleek head floats into view as she drifts up to the counter, her pale fingers loosely clutching a jug of orange juice. There’s red smeared on her lips and down her neck, staining the diamond necklace she’s wearing. It reminds Lily of her younger sister when she was an infant; however, Amy’s pudgy face smudged with strawberry jam paints a far more innocent picture than the red on Yoona’s lips.

Yoona smiles at her with needle-sharp teeth and crams a 1000 won bill into the tip jar, her nails pointed like claws, like she’s reveling in her monstrosity.

Lily can’t bring herself to say that it’s not enough for the juice.

Yoona’s red eyes barely register her presence, as if Lily is another stranger to her, as if there’s no shared history between them. Once, they were so close that Yoona knew what Lily meant to say when she would flub her Korean. Now, they’re speaking in different tongues, or rather, Lily’s the only one speaking. It’s difficult to hold a conversation with the dead.

Yoona turns to leave, silent as always, when Lily blurts out, “Wait!”

Yoona’s head twists back. There’s perhaps a flicker of recognition in her cold eyes, but it could just as easily be the light.

Lily holds up the cup ramyeon she’s been eating. “You must be hungry.”

She stays still as Yoona approaches the counter again, her movements smooth like a wolf tracking its prey.

Ignoring her rabbiting heart, Lily twirls some noodles around her chopsticks and holds them up with a shaky hand for Yoona to eat.

Yoona’s mouth slides up in a smile before she bows her head to accept the meal. She eats daintily despite the blood on her lips, which is still fresh enough to be running.

Lily will have to check the floors later for any stray blood that’s seeped between the tiles. She’ll need to mop up the mess.

Yoona’s pale under the fluorescent lights, less a girl and more a ghost haunting the store.

I miss you, Lily wants to say. When’s the last time you had a hot meal? I want to be the warm blood under your teeth.

She voices none of her thoughts. Instead, the only noise is the buzz of the overhead lights as Yoona finishes the noodles, the chopsticks clean as bone.

“Hold on,” Lily says, dipping the chopsticks back into the ramyeon broth, “I can get more—”

But Yoona’s already flitting through the exit, the door shutting behind her like a closed casket.

[(Anonymous)]

any/any
post-disbandment au, breaking up and getting back together

“For a while" is a phrase whose length can't be measured. At least by the person who's waiting.”

- haruki murakami, south of the border, west of the sun

newjeans, danielle/haerin

[(Anonymous)]

The last time Danielle saw Haerin, her hair was black. Now it's still black, a little longer, maybe a bit split at the ends. Branches of a fig tree, diverging paths on a highway, somehow it always circles back to separation.

Danielle hasn't been looking for her, at least not in the way she used to—in the practice room, in their shared dorm, in the long hallways that seemed like the intestines of some giant monster. You only search for something that you know is waiting for you. And Haerin isn't waiting anymore.

Time is a fascinating thing, like everything that is both kind and cruel. That's why it's always so complicated. It's never really anyone's fault, which is why Danielle can't look at Haerin's face or open her mouth. Sometimes love doesn't turn into hate or anything strong enough to have a name. Sometimes it's just there, trembling and waiting for a moment of release.

It doesn't start with long time no see or how have you been. Haerin just stands there and looks at Danielle. The tiny astronomy section of the bookstore feels like a prison, but again, what doesn't feel like one? For someone who is always trapped in the past, everything will eventually turn into one.

“You haven't changed at all,” is the first thing Haerin says. And up until that point, Danielle never really knew how much you could miss a person’s voice. Just the simple vibration of air, the familiar combination of frequencies.

Falling in love is surprisingly easy, it happens somewhere between sleepless nights and tired mornings. Falling out of it, on the other hand, proves to be a much more difficult task, as is everything that requires you to accept your defeat.

“I miss you.” A confession that feels too big to be delivered in three simple words, but Danielle tries to squeeze it in, tearing the edges of the syllables that barely manage to carry the weight.

For a while, that's how everything started. A temporary hiatus, that was how it was announced. And that's what Danielle believed in, what she still believes in. But time is a restless river that tears everything apart and then suddenly brings it back together again.

Haerin slots a book back into its place on the shelf, her finger grazing the creased spine. And Danielle holds her breath, waits—for a miracle or the sword to swing down—it doesn't seem to matter anymore.

“I guess I was still waiting after all,” Haerin says after a long silence. “And you? Are you still searching?”

[(Anonymous)]

any/any
getting advice from the leader of an older gg

[(Anonymous)]

any/any
person A chooses 5 of person B instead of 5yo B in response to an innocent instagram live comment. the universe delivers.

[FILL] [tripleS] [jiwoo/chaeyeon]

[(Anonymous)]

This is just Chaeyeon’s luck. She had been trying to do a good thing, coming onto Cosmo live in her free time, answering the fans’ questions—and this is how it turns out.

Five Jiwoos or 5yo Jiwoo. Wouldn’t 5 year old Jiwoo be too childish? Jiwoo, a year younger in Gapyeong, was already clingy. Chaeyeon chose the other option instead, not thinking much of it.

Now, at the foot of her dorm bed, there are not one, not two, but the promised five Lee Jiwoos. They’re all slightly different in dress and build except for a duo who present the exact same.

Chaeyeon’s glad that at least the other members aren’t dorming during their intermediary promotional period. She’d called Yubin over right away, though. Hopefully she’ll arrive soon. She should know better, or at least be able to help.

“I can’t help,” Yubin announces immediately. “Seriously. I’d have thought you were losing your mind, but…”

But for the Jiwoos that Chaeyeon has quarantined in her room while they discuss in the commons. Yubin took a brief peek inside and confirmed 1-2-3-4-5—then turned around, her face white as the train of the sheet they all sat on.

“What do you mean you can’t help. Aren’t you the expert on Jiwoo?”

“I’m her best friend, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t sign up for this,” Yubin hisses. She gestures at the closed door wildly. “What the heck did you get yourself into?”

“Yubinnn,” Chaeyeon groans. Tries to massage away her building headache to little avail, because seriously, what the heck. “Please. At least help me research.”

Yubin hesitantly sticks around, out of goodwill for Jiwoo or Chaeyeon or the both of them combined; Chaeyeon will take advantage. In the hour or so that Yubin’s around, they discover that the ‘fan’ who left the comment is actually some sort of international magician whose account is now conveniently deactivated. Only, in the replay Chaeyeon requests, one of their later comments is visible.

They put it through Papago because neither of them are Yooyeon or Joobin or want to call up Yooyeon or Joobin—like, imagine. The translation:

Should one become five

In splintered symbiosis

Allow the past to forget

The One’s true love’s kiss

“Do you get it?” Yubin wonders. Chaeyeon might’ve gotten a clipped education from her idol activities, but she did graduate. She’s not that bad at reading comprehension. Besides, the message is pretty clear.

“They want me to find the real Jiwoo out of the five. And… kiss her,” Chaeyeon surmises. Then the Jiwoo’s’ll forget, and maybe Chaeyeon will, if she’s lucky. How cliche. This commenter must be a real romantic. “Can’t you deal with it?”

Yubin stares at Chaeyeon like she’s speaking the magician’s language. “You want me to kiss Jiwoo?”

“You guys are the close friends here… Also, pretty sure she won’t even remember, if that’s anything…”

Yubin holds up her palms. “I’m gonna stop you right there.” Chaeyeon puts up with her faux-gagging for half a minute. “No. OK?”

“Got it,” Chaeyeon replies, surly. “So, you can leave now, I’ll figure things out.”

“Don’t give me that,” Yubin mumbles as she stands from the couch. “I think they’re bonded to you, anyway.”

“Bonded,” Chaeyeon repeats.

“Yeah. Feels like I’m messing with… I dunno, dark magic. They want you,” Yubin emphasizes—and she’s gone.

The closed front door before Chaeyeon. The door between herself and her bedroom.

“Whatever that means,” Chaeyeon says into the air. Then she gets down to business.

-

The first item to contend with is who is who. Who is Chaeyeon’s Jiwoo.

There’s the older Jiwoo, the one Chaeyeon put in charge of the other four after she shut them in her room. The moment Chaeyeon saw her she had an inkling that wouldn’t be the Jiwoo she knows, and once she said the year she was born—2002? with a rising tone, like an obvious question—Chaeyeon was sure.

“Should I call you unnie?” Chaeyeon asks. The two of them are speaking at some distance from the others. Mostly because Chaeyeon needs some grounding with someone who seems on the same page.

“Unnie?” ’02 Jiwoo responds, looking shocked. “Uhh. I mean, you’re… born in 2001, as far as I know, so…” At Chaeyeon’s likely unaccommodating expression: “Chaeyeon-ah?”

They both flinch at the same time. It’s like the Cosmo live they did with the age-reversed segment—yeah, no. “I’ll get you back home,” Chaeyeon promises, clapping a hand on ’02’s shoulder. It lingers for a couple seconds.

The rest are more difficult to discern. There are the identical Jiwoos that Chaeyeon ignores for the time being to focus on the remaining two.

“I don’t know where I am,” one of them says, pretty bluntly, after Chaeyeon pulls her into her bedroom to discuss. A few more probing questions returns that, ah, this Jiwoo isn’t even in the entertainment industry—she’s a hockey player. “Your name was? Chaeyeon?”

“Kim Chaeyeon,” Chaeyeon adjusts, slightly miffed. In this Jiwoo’s universe, isn’t she even a little relevant?

“Ohh,” Hockey Jiwoo realizes. “You come to my games sometimes, right, yeah. You’re on a lot of billboards.”

Hockey Jiwoo shifts uncomfortably as Chaeyeon watches her. Understandable, she’s a stranger. Still, there’s a slight uptick in interest the longer that they’re in each other’s presence. Chaeyeon attributes it to first-meet nerves and the fact that Chaeyeon is the anomaly to her.

“Are you happy?” Chaeyeon thinks to ask. Jiwoo hesitates, as if she hadn’t considered this question in depth before.

“I’ve been playing my whole life,” she responds. “I can’t imagine… I mean, would I really be able to sing like you sing?”

Jiwoo gets more lines than Chaeyeon in Chaeyeon’s universe. “Go to karaoke sometime and see for yourself, OK.”

Hockey Jiwoo agrees, and Chaeyeon sends her on her way. Next—a nicely dressed, prim girl, who tells Chaeyeon her occupation is: “Actress.”

Well. That makes sense. The other Jiwoos have a boyish charm to them, in the sense that they aren’t as governed by etiquette. But this Jiwoo, here, Actress Jiwoo, is wearing a pearl necklace with her makeup done like she’s gotten snatched from backstage.

“Were you going somewhere?”

“I have a press appearance coming up,” Actress Jiwoo admits.

“Hold on, how… How are you not freaking out about that right now?”

“I think… I probably just hit my head, or I’m dreaming, so… You’re the one taking this so seriously,” Actress Jiwoo points out. “You seem a bit stressed.”

Chaeyeon wants to laugh. Yeah, she’s the one who’d pinched her hand until it bled, trying to make sure she wasn’t in a coma or something. She would’ve called the hospital if Yubin wasn’t already on speed dial. She’s still not sure she’s not having some sort of mental break, as it is.

Actress Jiwoo brushes Chaeyeon’s bangs away from her face. Way too smooth—Chaeyeon has to force herself not to tense up.

“I’m assuming I went on My Teenage Girl?” Actress Jiwoo considers. It’s a softball question; means she’s trying to lift Chaeyeon’s mood. Chaeyeon’s not used to being on this side of their interactions. The obvious lower hand.

Chaeyeon will go along. Mostly because, the past will forget, or whatnot. “You did. With Kim Yooyeon—right?”

This Jiwoo doesn’t appear to recognize Yooyeon’s name. At Chaeyeon’s dismay: “I do know of you, though. Since you’re an actress-idol. We were on a webdrama together with one of your members…”

It must have been Seoyeon. Chaeyeon’s blanking on the name of the show, but more importantly— “Our group is still active? Who’s S3?”

Actress Jiwoo shrugs. “Sorry, I wasn’t paying that much attention. But I’m sure you’re all doing well. I wish we had met sooner, though.”

Actress Jiwoo heads back to the others, leaving Chaeyeon to consider when exactly their lives had so evidently forked. If it was her choice, if it wasn’t, then what is the lesson?

She remembers saying on fromm or something, a while ago, that she’d have liked Jiwoo more if she were two years older like Sohyun or Xinyu. But that was a joke, and nowhere did she mention hockey or acting. She didn’t mean it like that. She hadn’t meant any of it; she just hadn’t thought it through.

Knock-knock-knock on the door. “Come in,” Chaeyeon mumbles into her pillow. Holding it to her chest like she’s got eighth-grade syndrome. She doesn’t care; right now space and time might as well not exist.

A Jiwoo enters. “I just wanted to check in. Unnie,” she adds quickly.

She’s one of the identical Jiwoos. From the quick introductions Chaeyeon did with the full group, they both claimed they were practicing, but they couldn’t have been at the same place at the same time. One of their near universes is missing a Jiwoo. Chaeyeon wonders how that Chaeyeon is faring. What could be the difference?

“I’m alright,” Chaeyeon responds. “Come, sit.”

Jiwoo perches at the edge of the bed, watching Chaeyeon curiously. “What’s life like for you here?”

“Huh? Me?”

“Yeah, I mean… It’s been a while since we’ve gotten the chance, to… hang out.”

This would be true for any Jiwoo a few degrees of separation from Chaeyeon’s world. Chaeyeon tries not to wince. “I’ve been…” Busy, Chaeyeon would say.

“Tired,” which is closer to the truth. “There’s a lot going on, that’s all. You know.”

Jiwoo nods mutely. “Zenith,” she mentions. “It’s the first time that we’ve been apart.”

Chaeyeon knows this to be fact, also. They’ve been voted into every same unit since they joined the group with the exception of the most recent msnz.

“Are you? The one from here?” Chaeyeon asks suddenly.

“I think I am. We all do, though, I guess,” Jiwoo informs her. She tries to take Chaeyeon’s hand and Chaeyeon lets her. “Unnie, I… I love you, you know.”

Chaeyeon’s Jiwoo hasn’t watched her like this for a long while. So guileless.

“I do,” Chaeyeon replies. “I hope you know that.”

It slips under Jiwoo’s radar that Chaeyeon doesn’t return the sentiment; she’s never had to second guess it. “Yeah, Chaeyeon, I know.”

Jiwoo takes Chaeyeon’s face with her hands. Seriously, earnestly. She presses their lips together once, firmly, and Chaeyeon allows it.

“Let’s go back outside,” Chaeyeon suggests. When this Jiwoo listens, she knows beyond chance that her hunch is correct.

-

The other Jiwoos stand to attention as the prior Jiwoo returns with Chaeyeon. ’02 Jiwoo, Hockey Jiwoo, Actress Jiwoo, and the final girl.

“I’ve figured it out,” Chaeyeon announces. “I want to talk to you.”

The last Jiwoo stands to attention mildly. Chaeyeon’s bedroom door clicks softly behind them.

“You’re the right one.”

Jiwoo just blinks at Chaeyeon. Like, yeah. I know. Certainly anti-climactic.

“Aren’t you glad?” Chaeyeon prompts.

“I’m… happy,” Jiwoo says. “Well, I figured you’d figure it out eventually. But everyone was sort of saying that. I wasn’t sure.”

“You weren’t?”

“…No,” Jiwoo admits, smiling a little. The hint of upper canine reminds Chaeyeon of a few precious moments during the stretch of their past where they were able to be unabashed. Though they were the same determinants of their future.

“You didn’t come up to me.”

“I didn’t know if you wanted me there.”

“Of course I would. We’ve been together this whole time. Aria, KRE, EVOL…” Jiwoo nods along, checking all the boxes… and… “I’m sorry I left for the pink room.”

In any universe, it’s the first time Chaeyeon has come right out with these words. Jiwoo turns her head to the side, slightly. Hurt. The other identical Jiwoo gave no such indication. Then there’s the difference.

“Sorry,” Chaeyeon repeats again. Just to get another apology in while she appropriately can.

“I won’t remember this, you said?” Jiwoo asks.

What was that Cosmo comment… Well, anyway… “Yeah.”

Chaeyeon’s not certain, but she’s always wanted to be certain for Jiwoo. It leads to regrets. It also leads to this, this:

Jiwoo kisses Chaeyeon immediately, with more heat than the other one had. Slightly clingy, slightly selfish—not forward-thinking—not so good for the cameras. All the reasons Chaeyeon left their roommate arrangement in the first place.

As the world melts around her, back into place, Chaeyeon thinks, it must have been for the best. Either way, it’s all she has.

-

Jiwoo wakes up at the foot of an unfamiliar bed. She’s honestly confused, also scared, given that she lives away from the dorms regularly. But as her vision clears, she realizes that Chaeyeon is in the nearby bunk. Her body relaxes.

Chaeyeon brings her out to the dorm kitchen and cooks eggs in silence. Jiwoo is secretly glad that they’re spending time together. It’s been a while. “How’d I end up here?”

“…I don’t know either. I think Yubin dropped you off or something.” Jiwoo senses the memory reconstructing in her head—yeah, a festival, a sleepover—or something.

As Jiwoo’s on her way out with a meager breakfast in her stomach, Chaeyeon hugs her. “Unnie,” she says, surprised.

“Good luck with zenith,” Chaeyeon mumbles into her hair.

“Of course… Good luck, too…” Chaeyeon doesn’t usually get like this. Unless they’re at a fansign.

Jiwoo clears her throat. “Sun suits you, by the way. You’ll be great.” But she does sort of wish she could have been with Chaeyeon also. Instead. Anyhow, these two ideas ring out as mutually exclusive.

“Goodbye, Jiwoo,” Chaeyeon says at the door. Somehow, this time more than the rest, it seems final.

[(Anonymous)]

any, any/any
can we have one last night?