venom

Yes

Hurt/comfort (self harm, panic attacks, self-hate)

Smut (light/medium kinks, power dynamics, soft stuff, a/b/o)

Fluff

(topics in anything that I've written before)

No

Character death, gore

Age regression (idk enough about it)

Any character x reader

Men

Noncon, ageplay, incest, underage, breeding

idk basically anything I'm unfamiliar with or anything that's fairly fucked up

When Chaeyoung’s eyes reach Nayeon’s face, her features are suddenly so kind - if Chaeyoung didn’t know better, she would’ve thought it was someone else who called her name in such a harsh way. “Come here?”

Chaeyoung blinks once, twice, sitting in a long pause, doing her best to draw it out. Nayeon doesn’t seem unnerved in the slightest. Tip: never get in a staring contest with Nayeon, she frankly doesn’t give a fuck and therefore will win. 

Chaeyoung switches gears. She pouts, jutting her lower lip out and tapping her fingers on her phone. “I was busy,” she’s whining, she knows, but Nayeon is so demanding sometimes, why doesn’t she come to Chaeyoung? “You can come here.”

Nayeon’s facial features twist, morphing into a picture-perfect bratty pout, putting Chaeyoung’s to shame. Chaeyoung always finds it fascinating how the older woman can do that with her face: she can expertly craft any expression she needs at a certain time. From an outside point of view, it seems manipulative, but Chaeyoung knows it isn’t. Chaeyoung knows it’s part of her - Nayeon likes attention, Nayeon is needy, Nayeon likes to be taken care of, Nayeon is a very famous idol, and this skill helps with all of those. Chaeyoung, especially in times like these, finds it fun.

“No.” A soft sigh follows, like Nayeon is truly saddened by Chaeyoung’s rejection. “You come here.”

And by the way Chaeyoung’s legs instantly work to stand, she knows she’s fucked. 

Nayeon’s face - once again - changes, now a picture of glee. Her knees bounce, - that, Chaeyoung knows, isn’t fake, though, none of Nayeon’s expressions are faked, per se, more like she enhances the emotion she already feels, and now she feels happy - her hands pat her lap. “Sit,” she urges, “sit.”

Chaeyoung squints as she, predictably, follows the command. She knows Nayeon is up to something, though as her knees land on the cushion to the outside of Nayeon’s thighs, she can’t figure out what. It’s a tight squeeze for her legs beside the arms of the chair - it’s really only meant for one person - but Nayeon doesn’t seem to mind.

The closeness only serves to amplify the twisting in her belly. Nayeon’s eyes sparkle and her bunny smile is bright on her face and Chaeyoung falls in love all over again. “What?” There’s that scheming quirk to a muscle in Nayeon’s cheek, as if she’s trying to hide a certain, different, type of smile. Chaeyoung can barely breathe out her words, caught in Nayeon’s gaze. “Why did you want me?”

“I always want you!” It’s corny, it’s stupid, but Chaeyoung’s heart glows anyway.

“Okay, but,” Chaeyoung knows Nayeon meant it, but she’s straddling a pretty girl in the middle of her living room, and she’d like to know why. “Actually.” Not that she needs a reason.

The roguish grin can’t be hidden anymore; it stretches across Nayeon’s lips like a badge of victory, though Chaeyoung doesn’t think anything has happened yet. “You were so cute over there, biting your lips, playing with your hair.” Chaeyoung doesn’t think she had been doing all that, but she’ll take Nayeon’s word for it. “And-” Nayeon falters, gaze dropping for a split second. Nayeon being hesitant is strange, Chaeyoung’s ears prick up “-I want to try something.”

Confusion hits her first. Chaeyoung wants to ask what. They’re a pretty adventurous couple, so she’s flipping through the catalogue of possibilities, struggling to pick out something they haven’t tried, when it hits her. Well, when Nayeon’s hand finds a new home on her neck. A soft palm presses against her throat, thumb and fingers wrapping around the sides.

Chaeyoung gulps, noting how she feels her throat bob against Nayeon’s hand, and also noting how the slight heat in her core has suddenly become a raging flame. Her breaths come uneven, her voice sounds strained. “Yeah?”

“Choking,” Nayeon confirms.

Chaeyoung tries to hum in agreement, pretty clear by the hand around my neck, but a strangled whine comes out instead. Fuck. Sharp eyes flash and the corner of Nayeon’s lips quirk up.

“What do you think?” Nayeon peers at her curiously, no doubt reading Chaeyoung perfectly. Her index finger strokes lightly where it rests on soft skin, back and forth, driving Chaeyoung insane; it’s all she can feel.

Chaeyoung clears her throat, clinging to whatever shreds of dignity she has left. “I--” She’s a mess already, this is so humiliating “--yes. I want to.” If she’s being honest, the second thought she had when laying eyes on Nayeon’s hands all those years ago was about choking. (The first was damn, she has long fingers, and the third was I wonder if she can hold a basketball in one hand - she can, which is a trait Chaeyoung finds unreasonably attractive). So she’s been thinking about Nayeon’s hands for some time now, and it’s all finally come to a head.

Chaeyoung works her jaw, trying to figure out what to say. She doesn’t know how to tell Nayeon how much she needs this.

A hand on hers and a firm set to Nayeon’s eyes stop her in her tracks. Nayeon maneuvers Chaeyoung so her fingers wrap around the wrist she has at the younger woman’s neck. “Squeeze or tap three times to stop, okay?”

Chaeyoung trusts Nayeon with everything, including her life, but she appreciates the caution. “Okay.”

“Ready?” And just like that, they’re back to normal. The playful, devilish look has returned in full force to Nayeon’s eyes. Chaeyoung nods. Ready.

She’s a bit nervous, trembling in a mix of expectation and need as Nayeon eyes her neck with clear hunger. Chaeyoung takes a deep, shuddered breath, and a moment later the fingers press on the sides of her throat. Her airway isn’t completely cut off, as her exhale comes out wheezed, weak, but the bolt that shoots down her spine is superhuman.

Chaeyoung tries to inhale again, lungs going to inflate - expecting it - but Nayeon’s grip tightens, completely cutting off her airway and the blood supply to her brain. Fuck. A rise of panic, quickly tamped down by the clenching of her cunt and firey look in Nayeon’s eyes. Fuck, this is hot. She doesn’t know how long Nayeon is going to hold her out like this, preventing her from doing the very thing she needs to live. The complete lack of control is thrilling. Chaeyoung’s vision blurs but she has never felt more alive.

Nayeon relaxes her grip when her eyelids flutter, allowing air to flood her lungs and blood to continue to her brain. The first thing Chaeyoung does with that air is moan, long and low.

Nayeon giggles. “Yeah?”

A deep inhale, a dopey smile. Happy chemicals are in full-swing in her brain. “Yeah.”

She has also never felt more turned on. Something about coming down from that small high, head heavy and body thrumming, makes her awareness of the pulsing heat in her underwear stronger.

Chaeyoung’s hips buck into nothing and she can’t stand the ache in her core anymore. She needs to be touched. “Please,” she barely breathes, eyelids fluttering as she hangs onto Nayeon for dear life, “touch me.”

Tip: be direct and specific when asking Nayeon for things, because she’s an insufferable tease who will giggle and poke at the request until she’s forced to fill it. Chaeyoung is neither of those, but she thinks Nayeon can tell her brain is full enough, because the older woman nods, patting Chaeyoung’s thigh with her free hand. 

Not a moment later, a long finger slides between Chaeyoung’s folds, no hesitation or warning. Chaeyoung goes to cry out, sucks in a breath as her lips part to produce something downright unholy, but the tightening of Nayeon’s fingers cuts it off before it begins. She reels. The pressure on her neck is delicious, and combined with the sensations below, Chaeyoung knows she won’t last long.

The pressure loosens, Chaeyoung gasping for air past the fingers still wrapped around her neck. Both of her hands are now grasping at Nayeon’s forearm - that limb being the closest stable thing she has to hang onto. She has barely recovered, head still euphorically hazy, when a finger pushes into Chaeyoung’s heat.

This time she’s allowed to make a sound, jaw dropping as a keening moan spills from her lips, spine curving at the welcome intrusion. “Nayeon.” Nayeon’s thumb rubs a different pattern on her clit, Chaeyoung’s mind almost split apart.

“I’ve got you,” is the murmured response. Nayeon is being exceptionally kind to her this time, something that Chaeyoung is grateful for. Her whirling mind has enough to deal with, she doesn’t need any added challenges Nayeon might throw her way.

It ultimately works in her favour, because Chaeyoung doesn’t think she’s ever gotten this close this fast, and under any other circumstances, she’d have to work a lot harder for her release. 

A second finger joins the first as Nayeon’s grip once again provides pressure to the sides of her neck. It’s strange - her chest doesn’t heave with fast breaths like it normally does, but her hips rock in a frantic rhythm that matches Nayeon’s hand all the same. It’s unrelenting, firm but not harsh, which compliments the hold Nayeon has on her throat. 

Chaeyoung has never felt like this before. It’s exhilarating, it’s freeing and hot and intense. She doesn’t think she’ll be able to go through life without feeling it again.

Her eyes flicker open, unable to tell Nayeon how close she is, but wanting to convey the sentiment anyway. The sight is almost enough to push her over the edge. How Nayeon, a woman with sharp eyes and an even sharper tongue, gazes at Chaeyoung as if she’s more beautiful than any dazzling sunset the sky can paint for them Chaeyoung would moan if she could.

“Come for me.”

Chaeyoung crests the wave with a soundless cry, hips bucking wildly into Nayeon’s hand and jaw working with empty breaths. Then immediately after, Nayeon’s grip loosens, and air rushes into her lungs. The combined sensations burst fireworks behind Chaeyoung’s eyes, entire body wracking with intense pleasure. She tilts forward, slumping against Nayeon, now able to unintelligibly moan as she rides it out. She doesn’t think she’s come this hard before.

Through a spinning mind and a weakly pulsing body, Chaeyoung eventually slows to a stop, breathing into the crook of Nayeon’s neck. She’s entirely mush by the time she takes status of her limbs - what normally takes at least three orgasms has been completed in one. Impressive. She sighs, immensely content in where she is, hands slowly slipping around Nayeon’s waist to hold her properly.

Eventually Chaeyoung grunts, a simple but effective communication to the woman under her.

“Good?” Nayeon’s hand rubs slow circles on her back. Tip: one way to turn Nayeon into one of the softest, most outwardly caring people Chaeyoung has ever met is to have a mind-blowing earth-shattering orgasm on top of her.

“Yeah,” Chaeyoung sighs. Beyond good, but her mind can’t string together a coherent sentence right now. “Good.”

Mina’s gaze is sultry and evil; it stokes the already bright flame in Chaeyoung’s belly. She’s only the first of two imposing bodies caging her in, consuming her like her essence produces the very air they breathe. “Hm?” Mina hums casually, as if she isn’t holding Chaeyoung on a knife tip, isn’t holding Chaeyoung’s pleasure in the tight grasp of the leash and the elegant fingers on her jaw. Mina smiles, a wicked, predatory thing, the glint in her eye telling Chaeyoung all she needs to know. “What do you think, Sana?”

The second body, the recipient of Mina’s question, serves as restraint. One lithe arm wraps tight around her waist, forcing Chaeyoung back and confining her to face her fate.

They’d been teasing Chaeyoung for she doesn’t know how long, running hands and lips and teeth over her scantily clothed body, all the while breathing filthy, filthy things into her ear. She’s being driven to insanity, but there’s not a single other place she’d rather be.

“I think,” Sana begins, pausing to press her teeth into Chaeyoung’s earlobe - Chaeyoung’s hips buck into empty air, again - “that she isn’t using her words.”

Mina’s smile turns into a grin, her hand tugging on Chaeyoung’s collar, the leather of the leash wrapped tightly around her knuckles. The sight alone is enough to make Chaeyoung whine.

“Good girls use their words.” The taunt is accompanied by Sana’s wandering hand caressing her abs shamelessly, the older woman humming appreciatively into her ear. 

Chaeyoung wants to speak - would speak - but Mina’s teeth latch onto the side of her neck as Sana finds her breast and she loses herself.

They’re unrelenting. 

Dark bruises already cover the pale skin of her neck, Chaeyoung squirming as Mina presses light kisses on top of the existing constellation of sensitive spots. Every time Chaeyoung flinches, Mina grins a little wider.

Sana touches her with the same fervor, alternating between Chaeyoung’s breasts and humming at the whines that fall from Chaeyoung’s lips when she uses her nails. She twists and tugs, the flurry of sensations making Chaeyoung’s head spin.

Finally, finally, when Mina pulls back in a brief display of mercy, she gains control of her voice. “Please,” she breathes, “fuck me.”

One of Sana’s hands makes a burning trail up to her collar, two long fingers slipping under the leather, tugging. Chaeyoung nearly falls apart. Her knees buckle as a guttural, keening sound tears itself from her throat, eyes slamming shut for a brief moment. The shameless, unequivocal act of ownership makes Chaeyoung see stars - Sana’s action is akin to testing the tightness of the collar on a pet, and that meaning is not lost on Chaeyoung. 

Mina looks over her shoulder, most likely locking eyes with Sana. Something about them jointly deciding her fate, deciding if she deserves anything, is so deliciously humiliating that heat flickers painfully in her core. It’s like she’s on her knees in front of two gods, asking if she’s worthy.

Thankfully, their judgment doesn’t last long. 

“What do you think, Chaeyoung-ah? Do you think you’ve earned it?” Sana’s low voice is purred directly into her ear, short-circuiting Chaeyoung’s brain. Her fingers slip out from under her collar, and Chaeyoung almost cries out at the loss.

“Yes,” she gasps, fighting to grasp onto the meaning of language. She desperately hopes this part isn’t another game, that she isn’t walking into another trap. “Please.”

Mina hums. A delicate hand comes up to trace her cheekbones and the curve of her jaw, Chaeyoung leaning into it. “I think she’s earned it,” she says. Her gaze is almost soft, she almost looks proud. Chaeyoung allows herself to believe she is.

“I agree.”

A flood of relief flows down Chaeyoung’s spine.

“You’ve been such a good girl.”

Immediately followed by that raging fire.

Mina slides a hand down Chaeyoung’s body, slowly but surely slipping under the waistband of Chaeyoung’s skimpy shorts and briefs. The shorts, paired with her crop top, were the reason this all started. About an hour ago she had walked into the living room, still waking up but not groggy, stretching her arms above her head with a loud yawn. When her eyes slid back open, she was cornered by a drooling Mina and Sana, their eyes harbouring the sort of hunger only animals possess.

The collar and leash were added after she let herself be dragged into Mina’s bedroom by rough hands.

Mina doesn’t bother to waste time pulling the shorts off, but decides to pause with her hand cupping Chaeyoung’s crotch.

“Please,” Chaeyoung cries out, knees buckling at the touch. She can feel her slick on Mina’s hand.

Sana’s arm tightens around her waist, and Chaeyoung distantly realizes that Sana is holding her up. “Shh,” Sana soothes, “we’ve got you.”

Chaeyoung nods, no choice but to believe her, her mind, body, and soul completely at their mercy. She’s holding the pure essence of her out on a silver platter for them, a meager offering for them to decide the fate of: they could save her or destroy her. 

They accept, and worship her as if they’re the ones kneeling at her feet.

Fingers slide through her slick heat, gathering the obscene amount of wetness already there.

As Mina finds her clit, Chaeyoung’s head falls back against Sana’s shoulder, eyes slipping closed. She’s panting, mouth perpetually open from cries, and does the only thing she can do: wholly submit to the sensations. 

Mina works her up quickly, Chaeyoung being so sensitive that even her light, teasing touches do a good enough job.

“I’m—“ close she wants to say. She’s not teetering on the edge, Mina wouldn’t allow that, but she’s close enough to ache. She wants Mina to make her come, needs Mina to make her come.

“You’re what?” Mina taunts, pulling her fingers out of her heat and a desperate whine from Chaeyoung’s lips. Her hole clenches around nothing and she hurts.

Long fingers - Sana’s - wrap around her exposed throat above her collar, firm to make their presence known, but loose enough to allow blood flow.

“Close,” Chaeyoung breathes.

“Beg,” Sana whispers, “beg for it.”

“Please, I want to come.” She has no dignity left - she’s in scattered pieces and it’s up to Mina and Sana to tear her apart further so she can become whole again. “Please, please.”

“Good.” 

Mina sinks one, then two fingers into her, curling upwards as Sana presses kisses along her neck.

Neither of them hold back, working together to bring Chaeyoung to the edge.

She hurtles towards it, hips bucking in time with Mina’s thrusts as moans tumble out of her mouth. Chaeyoung gets so close so fast, not having the capacity to beg for release again.

Thankfully, Mina can sense it. “Come for us.” Her breath hits Chaeyoung’s lips a moment before Chaeyoung comes, cresting the wave with an unintelligible cry.

Colours explode behind her eyes as pleasure shoots to every corner of her body, body tensing and snapping sandwiched between Mina and Sana.

Her brain turns to static as she rides it; she doesn’t know anything except for how good she feels.

The tension on the leash eventually goes slack, and Mina eventually slows to a stop within Chaeyoung. Sana still holds her up, Chaeyoung’s legs trembling too much to support herself, and the collar is still wrapped around her neck.

all of artistic_groove's stuff is amazing, i particularly like and if I may just take your breath away and one of your girls (tonight) (both smut). and also I want a hundred of your time is delicious (not smut)

sweetsummerday is also fantastic, go check out all their stuff as well! my favourites are: i need your focus on me and tell me baby, am i good at love? (also both smut)

amperis is incredible, their series In another life we... actually changed my life (smut and not smut idk)

westhyo !! another author we are blessed to have in the 9wice rpf world. butter without salt and but the house always wins (smut) are tentatively my top two but also go check out all their stuff.

love is a series of organized chaos is a classic (smut). it's unfinished which is devastating but it's also in like one-shot form so it doesn't really leave a storyline hanging. but really it's so fucking good

ketchup toast ! (not smut) had me lying in bed Pondering about life for hours, days after finishing it. would recommend if you want to go through a quiet and unspecified crisis. it's amazing

Hey, Isn't This Easy is such a nice, good fic. reads really well and is a lovely story

kiss her once is another fic that made me question everything. read it in one sitting listening to last waltz on repeat and i've never been the same since. save me mimo... fucking great plotline + it's so nicely-worded

Kiss Land series (smut with plot) goes so hard too. (edit: just realized it's written by artistic_groove too, but the series was put together by another acct? idk)

if you want something to really Think about, most of Kourinn's English Collection is really good, specifically the MoHyo-verse ones. (they do a deep dive into dynamics and stuff, idk how to explain it but whenever i reread a work of theirs i always discover a new, deeper level to it)

and finally! Seasons by JesusCheese (i've mentioned this author before) is probably my favourite 9wice hurt/comfort fic. (please beware of the tags before you read it)

Just like she did once as a trainee, she’s taking the easy way out, running away from her problems as if sitting in her cold car in a desolate parking lot would make her feel better.

Last time she didn’t even have a car to sit in. She sat on a bench, feet kicking in the air as she didn’t think about anything. Didn’t think about her uncertain future, nor her concerns about her skills, nor the comments others made about her body. She sat there, stared at the river, and wondered if disappearing forever would make it all easier.

Jihyo wonders the same now, except she shouldn’t. She’s successful, incredibly so: she has performed in many countries to many fans who love her, she’s made projects that she’s incredibly proud of, and she’s been a damn good leader through it all. But somehow all that makes this feeling worse.

Because she should feel happy, grateful, good, so why does she still feel so bad?

Her fingers weakly tap the steering wheel as she stares into the water in the distance. The moonlight glints off it in a certain way. The choppy waves are mesmerizing.

If she jumped in there now, she’d certainly disappear. It wouldn’t be nice, but it would be done, and all her problems would be solved. 

Well, not solved, they’d fish her body out eventually and they’d probably make more comments about her. God, even in death they won’t let her have peace. 

She wants to bark out a laugh, but she’s frozen to the spot. 

Her mind slides back to a loud emptiness once again.

Rap, Rap, R-

Jihyo nearly jumps out of her skin at the sound of someone knocking on the passenger side window. She squints blearily into the darkness to see a familiar bunny-toothed smile.

“Let me in,” Nayeon mouths, miming her opening the door.

Jihyo, utterly shaken, does as asked, unlocking the doors so Nayeon can slide in, blowing hot air on her hands. “It’s cold out there! Turn the car on for some heat, will you?”

Jihyo stares at her for a second, gaping. what is she doing h- how did she get here? There are no other cars here.

“Jihyo-yah, the heat.”

Right. Jihyo turns the car on without another blink, automatically adjusting the heat for Nayeon.

“Thank you,” Nayeon says, clicking on both their seat heaters with a wink.

Jihyo finally manages to string some words together. “How did you…?”

“Get here? Taxi. Figured you could give me a ride.”

She shakes her head, that’s not what I was asking.

“Oh. Find you?” Nayeon shifts, staring out into the darkness for a long moment. “I figured you’d be here. You were here last time, remember?”

Jihyo nods. Last time, back when they were both trainees and Jihyo was having the same thoughts. The only reason Jihyo returned to her dorm was because Nayeon found her that night. 

Nayeon sat next to her on that bench for hours, a couple of them spent in complete silence and a couple spent full of Nayeon’s voice, but never of Jihyo’s. Nayeon had eventually convinced her to come back because Jeongyeon would “become tyrannical” if Jihyo wasn’t there, and a couple of new trainees had promised to cook some Japanese food for them, “it’ll be fun,” Nayeon said, “We’ll stick together, I promise.” And she’s never broken that promise.

Not even now. 

“You wanna talk about it?”

Jihyo shakes her head slowly. Her throat feels tight, too tight to get much air in let alone words out. Even if she could, she doesn’t know what she’d say. 

Nayeon nods, accepting it as her hands run along the silver accents of the car door. 

Jihyo feels her heart rate pick up the longer Nayeon sits there. It’s not because of Nayeon, it’s because of everything else. It’s about what happens after this time with Nayeon, how she’ll have to push forward and be that good leader, that good soloist, that good idol. 

She’s so tired of pushing through it.

Jihyo’s knuckles are white from gripping the steering wheel so hard.

She finally wheezes, throat too tight to hide her panic from Nayeon anymore, but she can barely hear what the older woman says past her heart pounding in her ears.

Long fingers gently peel away at her sweaty ones wrapped around the faux leather, and Nayeon uses her hold on them to guide Jihyo to face her.

“Hey,” her eyes are searching, her face is kind, “I’m here, it’s okay.”

Jihyo’s thoughts whirl too fast for her to muster up a response. Thankfully, Nayeon doesn’t seem to expect one.

Hot tears stream down Jihyo’s face as her hands tremble in Nayeon’s steady hold. She’s panting heavily and her eyes can’t pick a spot to settle, but she manages to completely avoid Nayeon’s gaze. She doesn’t want to know what she’ll see in it.

“Let’s slow it down, Jihyo-yah, breathe in when I squeeze, okay?”

She nods, closing her eyes as she tries to settle into Nayeon’s warm touch.

Jihyo doesn’t get panic attacks often, but in the rare case when she has gotten them and hasn’t been alone, Nayeon has always been there with her, so she knows the drill. 

It’s embarrassing every time, and part of her still wants to sink into the seat beneath her or run far, far away, but she’s been working on accepting help from others. It clearly hasn’t been going very well, seeing as she’s here, but at least she didn’t run when she was found. Baby steps.

Having the position as leader for many years now has forced her into creating such strong, thick walls around herself that she has a very hard time letting down. A good leader is a strong one, one that doesn’t waver in the face of challenges.

And here she is, having a breakdown in the face of a challenge. How pathet-

“Jihyo.”

Nayeon’s voice cuts through her thoughts, the older woman ducking down so she can catch Jihyo’s gaze when her eyes snap open.

“Stay here with me.”

Fuck. Nayeon can be attentive when she wants to.

Jihyo nods, taking a shaky breath in time with Nayeon. 

Neither of them speak as Jihyo fights through her panic, so the only noise that fills the interior of the car is her harsh breathing, her slow progress being acknowledged by affirming nods. 

Eventually, her watery eyes meet Nayeon’s when she feels like she can breathe properly again - mistake. The acknowledgment of her situation sends a fresh wave of tears through her.

“Oh Jihyo-yah,” Nayeon says, holding her arms open.

Jihyo collapses into her, sobbing in her hug. It’s a bit awkward over the centre console, but she doesn’t care. Nayeon is warm and soft and she wants to be held by her forever.

“I— I can’t do this,” she warbles into Nayeon’s shirt. “It’s too hard.” 

Nayeon hums, hand coming up to caress the back of her head. “It will be hard,” she agrees. “But you’re the Park Jihyo, fierce leader of Twice, upcoming hit soloist, you can do it.”

Jihyo shakes her head. “Not this time, unnie, I don’t think I can.”

Silence falls over them again, the car once again filled with the sounds of Jihyo’s sadness and despair. 

“Really, unnie,” she says after running out of tears, sniffling. “I don’t know if I can.”

Fingers card slowly through her hair, she feels Nayeon’s chest rise and fall. “You’ve been through harder.”

“Not debuting as a soloist,” she mutters.

“True. But we’ve had more stressful schedules as a team.”

Nayeon isn’t wrong, but Jihyo isn’t exactly happy with her words. “It’s different,” she insists.

A grunt. “Yeah,” Nayeon sighs. “But I have an idea.”

Jihyo waits, nodding when it seems like Nayeon wants permission to continue.

“How about we have a good sleep tonight, and tomorrow we’ll make a plan. We’ll take it day-by-day and try to sort everything out, so at least you know exactly what you’re doing.”

Jihyo hums, mulling it over. Given that there is no real solution to this, and that her situation is inevitable, this is probably the best she’s going to get. She feels a spark of hope - it’s a good idea.

“And,” Nayeon clears her throat, voice suddenly rough, “we’ll stick together, I promise.”

The callback to many years ago brings a fresh bout of tears to her eyes that Jihyo blinks away into Nayeon’s sweater. “Yeah,” her voice wavers, “sounds good.”

A kiss is planted on the top of her head.

They stay in true silence for a long while, both lost in their thoughts. Jihyo listens to Nayeon’s breathing, smooth and steady.

Eventually, Jihyo breaks it. Her body starts to ache from the position, and she realizes how exhausted she is. “I can drop you off at yours?” She offers as she pulls back, shaking the heaviness out of her arms.