hdchaeyeon

[hdchaeyeon]

DATE — 2025년 05-6월 EVENT — HYDE ACADEMY 004 WORD COUNT — 304

chaeyeon doesn't wait for anyone to offer her a crown. she was born with a phone camera in her hand and a pinterest moodboard called aesthetic long before she knew what trainee even meant.

so when miru pulls the group into the garden with a clipboard and her serious leader voice, chaeyeon's already chewing gum and twirling her ponytail like this is the easiest thing in the world. "visual," she says, like she’s reading it off a post-it note. "and main vocal."

there's a pause. naimei snorts. someone (nayoung probably) mumbles something like of course you did. she looks to miru for support. chaeyeon eventually shrugs, tossing her hair over one shoulder. "look. i'm not the best singer in the group. i know that. but you don't need a technician, you need someone who makes people feel something. who's gonna look dead into the camera with glossed lips and a cracked voice and make twelve girls cry on their floors somewhere in america. and the visual?"

she grins. teeth, dimples, whole arsenal. "come on."

there's nothing humble about it on that front. chaeyeon's not interested in humility. she's interested in impact. if she's going to stand under the lights, it's not to play safe. she wants to be the kind of idol girls copy their blush placement after. the kind of voice that cracks a little, then goes viral. the one fans argue about. the one they remember. and maybe it's a risk, picking roles that people will fight her on. but it's not about being perfect. it's about being right.

and chaeyeon? chaeyeon's always been good at becoming exactly what the world dares her not to be.

[hdchaeyeon]

DATE — 2025년 05-6월 EVENT — HYDE ACADEMY 004 WORD COUNT — 312

there's something stupidly beautiful about the way morning settles into the girlnextdoor villa. chaeyeon's curled on the sunroom floor again, cheek pressed to a pillow she probably stole from naimei, half-asleep in socks and a ribbon-tied tank top, eyelash extensions barely hanging on. the light comes in golden, soft. like butter. or honey. or whatever simile she used on her ig story last week.

she stretches slow. groans slower.

the record player's been spinning the same scratched shoegaze vinyl for twenty minutes, and there's a eucalyptus candle flickering in the corner, mostly because nayoung won't let them light anything else without a luxury-grade tray underneath. still, it makes the villa feel like a dream. or a set. or a pinterest board that doesn't quite belong to them, but they're living in it anyway. like squatting in someone else's fantasy.

episode one made everything feel like a game. roommate interviews, pretty icebreaker clips, clips of her laughing too loud and chewing gum with her mouth open. but now it's episode six and chaeyeon's cried on camera twice and woken up four times this week with her face in a notebook filled with scribbled song lyrics and a half-written letter to new kitty.

her rituals keep her sane. five lip products in her training bag. glitter on her collarbone. texting barbie between vocal sessions like they’re not a few rooms apart. brushing miru’s hair in the vanity room. braiding it wrong (she's sorry unnie!). brushing it again. she misses home, but la is its own kind of fever dream. she likes the rosemary in the air. the letters from fans. the moment before a camera blinks on and she decides who she'll be that day.

they said this was a pre-debut. like a warm-up. but chaeyeon doesn't do half-versions. she's never been soft, but maybe that’s the art of it: learning how to be.

[hdchaeyeon]

𝒘𝒊𝒈𝒈𝒍𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒐𝒘 —

written for 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐝𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐮 ( @hdmiru ) ♡

it's kind of been a dream of chaeyeon's to get a kitty. like, a real one! not the plush ones she carries in her bag paired with her bratz heads or the animated stickers she spams in the trainee gc. a real, tiny, mewling, soft-bellied baby with long white fur and princess paws and zero real-world survival instincts. so when the company says they're flying to los angeles (the exact same city where that one bougie breeder she’d been dming just so happens to live) it feels like total fate. serendipity!

she bursts into miru's room wearing sunglasses too big for her and holding a strawberry milk with two straws. one for her, one for miru! "unnie~ get dressed," she says, "i talked to my dads, and it's decided. we're going to get my child i was talking to you about. she's a libra sun with venus in cancer. the breeder sent me her birth chart. you can name her middle name if you come with? but only if it's french."

[hdchaeyeon]

chaeyeon swallows. it's not loud, but it feels like a quake going down through her whole chest. this moment, the air between them, his fingers on her wrist like a magic, gloomy spell. it's barely a touch, featherlight, but it's enough to send a shiver that skates down her spine, and suddenly her body feels like it's on broadcast delay, responding seconds too late to every breath she takes. he's gentle. too gentle. like she might snap if he pushes any harder. and it makes her want to lean in a little more, let him adjust her like she's nothing but fabric to be folded neat. she doesn't move, though. not yet.

her lashes flutter (just once) as she turns to look at him, really look. he's taller up close, obviously, and there's a kind of fragility to the way he stands next to her, like he's trying not to take up too much space, like he's constantly apologizing to the floor for stepping on it. his hands shake, but he still reached for her. that does something to her.

she hums, low and noncommittal, half in thought. "what if my body doesn't fit anywhere?" she asks, voice soft, more for her than for him. she doesn't really expect him to answer.

in the mirror, they look like some warped music video couple, his all-clean lines against her half-dressed mess. "and okay but like, what if my limbs are possessed by, like, the ghost of a disgraced ballerina?" her grin is crooked, her mouth full of the same nervous static that's been buzzing since he said okay like he meant it. "what if i'm just a broken porcelain doll?" she doesn't mean it seriously. not really. but her voice catches at the end in a way that makes it sound like maybe she does.

she doesn't pull away from his touch. instead, she angles her wrist slightly in his hand, lets him guide her. lets him stay close. even if it makes her want to scream into her tote bag later.

avery paused, the question was one that made him blink once, and then twice, hesitating. it wasn’t odd, not really, not when he thought about it. though, the idea of it made his cheeks warm, flushing. he was not one who touched people easily. he let others get close, and only touch him when necessary, but the thought of his skin touching someone else’s made him pause. he stared at the girl, the way she had moved, stiff, awkward, and her eyes, pleading; the length of her lashes. long. was that a pout? avery felt his lips twitch upwards, something small, something faint, and stopped himself from laughing, she was trying very hard to have him step closer to her, and he couldn’t understand why. still, he nodded his head, once, and then twice, stepping in further into the practice room. this would be no different than his dance therapy classes, when his teacher would place her hands on him, gently, guiding him into position, allowing him to express himself in the most painful, yet beautiful way. “okay.” he finally allowed himself to speak, his voice soft, a quiet thing. if he pretended hard enough, he’d be able to ignore the way his hands trembled, and started to shake as he stepped forward towards the other trainee, stepping right beside her. he took in their reflections in the mirror, the way the lights hit and highlighted their skin, he wasn’t wearing the best clothes to dance in, it didn’t matter, he was a creature of habit, and if there was music involved, he would move.

he took off his shoes and set them aside to the corner, sock covered feet touching the now cool ground, he let his eyes roam over his companion once, and then twice, before reaching out with confidence he really didn’t have to touch her wrist, something feathery, something barely there, and placed her arm high enough, in the right angle, “you have to move like your arms are an extension of you, and not like they are foreign, and you have to force them into submission. it is you. figure out how your body fits in this time and space.”

[hdchaeyeon]

John Keats, from a letter to Fanny Brawne

[hdchaeyeon]

chaeyeon's never really been shy, at least not in the way that counts. she knows how to fake it cute, play ditzy with a lollipop twirl of her hair and a wide-eyed "oops," but when it comes to asking for what she wants? she's dangerously good at that. she shifts beside him, just barely brushing his arm with her shoulder, her voice all velvet and sugar-drenched mischief.

"okay," she says, breathy, biting down on her bottom lip like it might hold the question in, but it doesn’t. "don't laugh, but… i actually don't get this part."

she nods toward the mirror, where her reflection frowns slightly in motion. the beat's caught in her hips, sure, but the upper body's stiff, disconnected. frustrated. the kind of frustration that simmers behind her smile and makes her pace a little, toes curling in those platform sneakers she never should've danced in to begin with. "like, i know what it's supposed to look like," she goes on, turning to face him fully now, eyes wide and innocent in a way that's absolutely calculated but he doesn't know that so it makes her heart beat fast, "but i can't tell if i'm just… off, or if my body's being stubborn. maybe both."

she hesitates. then: "can you—" a pause, lashes lowered, just a second of coyness before she leans in slightly, close enough that her perfume cuts through the sweat of the practice room, floral and sweet and just a little intoxicating. "can you put your hands on me? i mean, like, fix it. show me. where i'm stiff, where i need to loosen. just… guide me. please?" she says it soft, hidden behind the plush curve of her pout. she's not really asking to be taught. she's asking to be touched.

avery blinked, startled at the female's approach. he should have expected it, he did speak to her. he blinked once, twice, slowly, considering her words. it would be easy to dismiss her and tell her he did not know the dance, which would be partially true, but then stepping in and copying the steps might make him look like a creep, like he watching for a long time, also not the truth—

but he was in need of a distraction, he could understand when he was being teased and challenged.

he pushed back his bangs and stepped inside of the practice room, carefully taking off his shoes and setting them aside, his sock covered feet touched the cool floor, and he wiggled his toes, curling them, stretching out his arms and fingers a bit before turning to face the girl.

"well, you start slow, first." avery spoke slowly, uncertain, not because he was insecure and questioned his skills, he was not sure if he would explain himself well. "the beat goes like this, right?" he tapped his foot on the floor, mimicking the beat, and then slowed it down, counting it under his breath.

"so then you just..." his body moved on its own accord, mimicking the movements shown to him by the other trainee in the same room, manipulating his body easily, his limbs followed the flow he had given them. he stopped to face her, eyebrow raised, this time his cheeks flushed, nervous, again, uncertain, "i haven't been watching for long. i added my own movements to some of it. but, you get it, right? going slow might be frustrating, but it gives time to perfect what you're struggling on, then, once you have the basics, it's just a matter of speed."

[hdchaeyeon]

chaeyeon doesn't stop dancing. not right away.

she keeps moving like her body's fighting itself, like her limbs want one thing and her brain wants another, like she's dancing in a dream where gravity's off and her heart's too loud. it's only after his voice cuts through the haze, soft and sincere, that she freezes mid-step, hair sticking to the back of her neck, breath caught in the sticky space. she turns her head slow, her gaze lands on him; book boy, midnight heart, all nerve, stammering good intentions, and something curls in her chest, something warm... and lazy, like cigarette smoke on a balcony at 3am.

"you spying on me?" she asks, teasingly, a smile playing on lips that still tastes like lip gloss and cheap coffee. she walks toward him, not shy, although she's new at this, at boys. she stops close enough that he could count her flyways.

"you always give unsolicited advice to strange girls in empty dance studios?" her tone's light, but her eyes are sharp, curious. she likes mysteries. she likes boys who talk like poems and fidget like they don't belong in their skin. 'he's soooooo awkward and cute!' she thinks.

then, with a sudden grin, crooked, chaotic, dangerous in a way that feels like falling, she says, "show me, then. show me what your mind does when it tricks the beat."

like it's a challenge. like it's a game. like maybe she wants to be caught.

avery hadn't had the habit of interacting with people. not because he disliked them, but more so because he hadn't known how to interact with anything other than a book and the night sky, though the former had been buried in his mind and heart for a long time. it was a curious thing. to chase his new dream he would have to get used to being under the scrutiny of others, and having to speak to others as well.

he wouldn't say he was stressed, though, maybe a little bit. he had a weird dream, and if he thought of it a bit longer, he was certain it was about his father, and he didn't like thinking of his father, he disliked the way it made his heart ache, palms sweaty, a pain he couldn't seem to ever get rid of.

so he looked in search of a room to dance in. dancing freed the body and mind, he picked his room out of sheer curiosity, the sound of music filling the air, footsteps hitting against a wooden floor, the girl was dancing, there was something frustrating her. was it the steps? there was an awkwardness to the movements. she would hit the beat a moment too late.

he tilted his head to the side, eyes assessing, and maybe staring too hard, startling when he heard a voice speak, his eyes widened, cheeks flushing, embarrassed for being caught, oh, he hoped he didn't look like a creep— and before he could stop himself he spoke, "have you tried learning the dance by slowing down the song, and then speeding it up? sometimes i find it helps when i have beat issues. it kind of tricks the mind, if that makes sense."

[hdchaeyeon]

Chaeyeon let out a dreamy sigh, her legs kicking lazily in the air behind her. "Lots of layers! Like, I'm going full vintage for this trip, sunglasses indoors, oversized tote bag, iced lattes I probably won't finish, and me tripping over my own feet in platform boots," she laughed, only half joking.

When Miru asked how she was feeling, she paused, resting her chin in her palm with a thoughtful hum. "Honestly? It feels like I'm standing on the edge of a diving board. I'm super excited, but there's that tiny little voice in my head telling me I'm going to belly flop," she said with a crooked grin. "Still, I'd rather make a dramatic splash than never jump at all, y'know?"

She rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, her tone softening. "What are you most excited about? And yeah… the cameras. I'm used to controlling the angles in my vlogs, but this is gonna be full-on, in your face, unfiltered chaos. What if they catch me sleep-talking about the stock market or a boy?"

she nodded along as she listened to chaeyeon's wishlist. the only thing on miru's right now was debut but now that that was becoming a reality, she wasn't entirely sure if she had anything else in mind. that's why she was curious what the others wanted to do.

"i'm sure you'll have a bunch of fans crying for you at the airport," she stated with a chuckle before picking up a few clothes, wondering if they'll be fit for the trip.

miru had looked up the weather, but this would be her first time in los angeles, and so she just felt a little stuck. "layers. that's always a good idea," she replies with a nod before standing up to go through her closet to find a few light jackets to pack.

"a little? i don't know. i'm more excited than anything, but the idea of cameras following us around is a little nerve-wracking, for sure." nevertheless, she was glad that the concept of a debut was just around the corner. "how about you? how are you feeling?"

[hdchaeyeon]

Okay, ouch. Chaeyeon blinks, the paper cup in her hands going cold too fast in the early evening breeze. Her smile flickers, not quite vanishing, but settling, really tight around the corners. Like it's been folded up and tucked away behind her molars. She stares at Nayoung's profile, the perfect slope of her nose, the wet shimmer clinging to lashes that refuse to drop another tear. Chaeyeon doesn't know what she's supposed to do with that now with this version of Nayoung. The one who sighs like Chaeyeon's very presence is an inconvenience to air quality.

She doesn't move. Doesn't storm off, doesn't fill the air with more chatter like she usually would. "You don't like me, do you, Nayoung-unnie...?" Chaeyeon says finally, more to the air really. Her voice is soft, but stubborn.

She sips her drink. It's terrible now. Lukewarm and kind of bitter. "I mean, it's okay. Not everyone has to. I'm… a lot. I know that. I just wish you'd say it instead of looking at me like I tracked mud into your favorite boutique."

nayoung doesn't look at chaeyeon. just stays there, curled into herself like the wind might knock her over if she lets it. her eyes are rimmed red, lashes damp, but she blinks slow like nothing's wrong. like maybe if she keeps staring at the skyline hard enough, she'll forget she was ever crying at all.

"i don't like crowns." she says. not cold, just... worn. "they're heavy. and they fall off when people start watching too closely."

her sleeve twitches where she wiped her face before chaeyeon showed up. she hates that she's here. hates how bubbly chaeyeon is. hates that she saw any of it. "you know, you always show up where people don't want you," she mutters. still not looking. "why are you like that..." she scoffs, and shifts just enough to put a little distance between them. she's protective. of the silence, of whatever this was before chaeyeon filled it with her bright eyed commentary and paper cup and thousand unspoken things.

[hdchaeyeon]

໒꒰ྀི ˶• ༝ •˶ ꒱ྀི১ ♡

[hdchaeyeon]

𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒎𝒚 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆 —

𝒇𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 written for 𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞 ( @averyxhd ) ♡

Studio 6, 20:47.

The beat stutters through the speakers again, her cue clear (too clear) and yet her arm jerks a half-second late. Ugh. Again. Chaeyeon groans softly and rewinds the track on her phone, sweat sticking her oversized tee to her back as she throws herself back into the routine. Third time's the charm, right? Or… fifteenth. Who's counting.

She kicks, spins, and nearly slips on the polished floor. The move that was supposed to look snappy ends up looking like she's dodging a bug. She huffs, puffing her cheeks out and glaring at her reflection. She's sweaty, her ponytail's lopsided, and her confidence? Currently buried somewhere under the toe of her left sneaker.

And then, that feeling. That someone's watching me feeling.

She freezes mid-step, eyes darting up to the mirror. There's no one behind her in the reflection, but still, the hairs on her neck prickle. Slowly, she pivots toward the door, heart thudding. There he is. Tall, unfamiliar, with an expression somewhere between awkward and curious. Chaeyeon's heart skips. Or crashes. Or maybe both. "Oh," she blurts, voice way too high. "Um… hi?"

[hdchaeyeon]

Chaeyeon flopped backwards onto her bed with a soft pomf, a scrunchie between her teeth as she tied her hair up into a messy bun. She watched Miru shuffle through her drawers with a pout.

"A list?" she repeated, tilting her head. "I mean, not a real list list, but…"

She rolled over onto her stomach and grabbed her phone from the nightstand, scrolling through her very long notes app, "Okay, so this one says: Do cool magazine shoot, preferably in Paris, maybe with a horse? And then this one says make at least one fan cry by what i'm wearing (in a good way)." She let her phone drop, and laughs. Hearing the zipper of Miru's suitcase jangle, she sat up a little.

"LA’s gonna be warm but weird, like, the kind of warm that tricks you into thinking you don't need a jacket, but then you freeze the second the sun goes down." She bit her lip, "Pack layers. And comfy shoes. And maybe something that makes you feel like you, y'know? In case the cameras get too much."

She glanced at Miru, her voice a little softer now. "You nervous?"

𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒓, @hdchaeyeon

the word debut had felt like a dream to miru, so upon hearing of the pre-debut survival reality show that the hydra trainees would be participating in almost sounded like a lie at first. with their flight to los angeles being the day after tomorrow, miru had already begun to pack, excited about what awaits for her in the future.

"is there something you really want to do once you debut?" she tried her best not to get ahead of herself and so she hasn't given much thought to specific activities she was looking forward to upon debuting. however, she's heard of trainees and how they had lists and lists of things they wanted to achieve. she was curious to know if chaeyeon had a list of things as well.

taking a look down at her suitcase, it was still mostly empty because she had no clue what to expect of los angeles. "i don't even know what else to pack," she admitted with a slightly embarrassed chuckle as she dug through her drawers once more.

[hdchaeyeon]

𝒔𝒐𝒇𝒕 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒓 —

written for 𝐥𝐞𝐞 𝐧𝐚𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 ( @hdnayoung ) ♡

The hallway lights are dim, maybe someone's already started shutting off the power on the trainee floors. Everyone's either packing or pretending to sleep in their dorm beds. Chaeyeon isn't doing any of those.

She has bubblegum in her mouth and a hoodie pulled over her head as she climbs the metal stairs to the rooftop. The air is cold, the kind that bites your cheeks just enough to remind you you're alive. And there she is. Nayoung. Already up here. Of course. 'You always look like you belong in a music video,' Chaeyeon thinks. 'The wind hits just right on you. That whole silent-swan posture. Like if someone had a good camera, they'd catch a whole mood in a single still frame. Ugh, I totally wanna' be her!'

But Chaeyeon doesn't have a camera tonight. Just a paper coffee cup she hasn't finished and a thousand words pushing into the back of her throat. She sits down next to Nayoung, legs pulled up to her chest. "I thought maybe I'd be alone up here.” A pause. Then a laugh, small, breathy. "But then again, of course you'd be the type to watch the city one last time. Like, 'farewell, Seoul. I'll return with a crown.'"

[hdchaeyeon]

@hdrookies instagram update !

hehe

[hdchaeyeon]

Chaeyeon shifts in her seat, heart skipping once, then again, for different reasons. She glances around the café, oversized hoodie pulled a little tighter like a shield, oversized sunglasses still on even though they're totally indoors. Always watching. Always pretending people are watching.

Her glossy lips twitch into a nervous smile. "Riyan…" she says softly, half a warning, half a sigh. "You know we can't just appear at one of those things right now. Not with our project underway and filming approaching. I can't skate on thin ice like you."

She's not rich like the other trainees, she can't afford getting kicked out. "But," she says, dragging the word like silk, "if we're talking subtle chaos… minimal cameras—" She leans in, her perfume a soft contradiction to the edge in her voice. "Then yeah. I'm in." A pause. Then she smiles, this time fully, a wicked little thing. "But only if I get to wear my brand. If I'm possibly going down for this, I'm going down on brand."

Riyan smirked slowly and deliberately, as if the city moved for him and not the other way around. Her kiss hits his cheek - one, two - and he closes his eyes for a second to soak in the attention.

"Emergency?" he echoes, sipping the word like it’s overpriced wine. "Please. I just needed someone who wasn't trying to book me, date me, or fix me."

His phone buzzes again. Riyan flips it face-down with a flick, then sighs - loud enough for her to notice, but not enough to invite pity.

"So," he says, twirling the straw in his latte again, still not drinking it. "Father dearest has returned to New York. Brought him with him - perfect son, teeth like capitalism. They're throwing a gala this weekend. Real elite nonsense."

Riyan leans forward, dropping his voice like he's about to spill a conspiracy. "I got the invite yesterday. Forwarded. No name, no plus-one, just 'we'd love to see you… If you can behave." He laughs, bitter-smooth. "They always say that like it's a real option."

He takes off his sunglasses, hooks them onto the front of his mesh shirt, and locks eyes with her. "So I thought - why not build something better? Something messier. Something us."

A dramatic pause. "Tell me you're in, Chaeyeon. I need a co-conspirator. Preferably one with good shoes and zero moral compass."

[hdchaeyeon]