classmate!jo... who you've had your eye on since the school year started.
classmate!jo who always had his headphones during break time, not wanting to be bothered by anyone else.
classmate!jo who was so quiet that people sometimes forgot he was in their class.
classmate!jo who when the teacher first called on his name for attendance, his soft deep voice made your heart skip a beat. ֶָ֢𖹭
classmate!jo who always scored really well in basketball during P.E class that the coach recruited him to the school's official basketball team.
classmate!jo who looked sooo cool on the basketball court, it had you shooting heart eyes at him. you didn't miss the pink of his ears.
classmate!jo who was the total opposite off the basketball court. so shy and polite, never starting conversations first but was a patient listener.
classmate!jo who got regular confessions by other girls but always shyly rejected them.
⤷ when he would get called outside and come back with cheeks as red as cherries, you knew he'd been confessed to once again.
classmate!jo who felt you watching him, feeling your adoring gaze at the back of his head like he'd hung the moon and the stars.
classmate!jo who felt burdened by the girls around him, but never felt that way with you, stealing glances at him from afar.
classmate!jo who was concerned when he didn't see you in your seat, you're always there before him, waiting to greet him with a head bow and a tiny wave.
⤷ he looked out the window when he heard your high-pitched giggle. you were playing around with your friend by the water fountain, splashing water at each other.
classmate!jo who was glad that you were okay, small smile on his face as he watched you.
classmate!jo who now has his own crush to admire. 𖹭
ꨄ︎ warnings : very angsty, a lot of bullying, poverty, mentions of parent loss, grief, religious debate, injuries, mentions of blood, kissing, major character death, suicide (TW)
ꨄ︎ word count : 7.1k
ꨄ︎ author's note : inspired by mieko kawakami’s beautiful novel of the same title. i tried to change up my writing style for this one, let me know what you think! it’s meant to be diary-esque whilst still in 3rd person…? this took a long time to write. anyways, all support is appreciated, hope you enjoy jokitties 🪽
it was the first friday of april, a chilled breeze drifting in through the classroom window. unzipping your pencil case, a small, folded note fell out, landing on the wooden surface of your desk.
in delicate pencil writing, it read:
‘i want to be your friend.’
that is all it said. one simple sentence. the handwriting was small, small enough that you needed to lean closer to read it. it wasn’t a handwriting you recognised.
you glanced around the room, eyeing each of the students. checking to see if any were watching you, waiting for a reaction. but no one was looking at you. they were all busy talking, in their worlds separate from yours. you wiped your sweaty hands on your skirt, putting the piece of paper back into your pencil case, burying it under pencils and pens. it was probably a prank orchestrated by someone. it had to be.
but the notes kept coming, one hidden somewhere every day. they started appearing between book pages. taped to the underside of your desk. in the pocket of the jacket you left on the back of the chair. you couldn’t help but feel slightly cautious. who was doing this?
the notes seemed relatively harmless to your surprise, curious questions scribbled in pen, sometimes in graphite pencil.
‘do you prefer day or night?’
‘what’s your favourite colour?’
‘do you have a favourite movie?’
nothing seemed different once the notes started. that was the weird part. the girls never looked at you funny. they just continued acting as they usually do, loud and obnoxious at the back of the class. you had even checked their literature books and compared the handwriting - it wasn’t a match. it wasn’t them. you had no clue who it could be.
checking for the notes became a daily habit of yours, a step of your school mornings. the notes would always be there. but you never replied. where would you even leave them?
nearing the end of may, you received another small note from your anonymous messenger.
‘let’s talk. face to face. meet me at the swings down the street. june 3rd at 5pm.’
a small wave of anxiety washed over you again. your hands shook. what if it was the girls? what if it was a setup, and they would beat you up like they had done before? you shoved the note into your pocket, reciting the date and time in your head. maybe you should go. just in case it was real. you felt sick for the rest of the day, hands sticky with sweat.
june 3rd finally came around, and as soon as the final bell rang you shot out of the school, sprinting home to avoid bumping into any of the other kids.
when you pushed open the front door with a grunt, your father was laying on the couch, coffee mug empty in his hand. he nodded at you, a faint smile on his cracked lips.
“good day?”
“yeah.” you kicked your shoes off by the door.
“want somethin’ to eat? i think there’s some leftovers in the fridge. i can heat ‘em up.”
you hesitated before shaking your head.
“i’ll eat later. i have to go to the library quickly.”
he nodded before turning back to the television. you took the chance to get changed quickly, grabbing your jacket. you left the house at 4:30 on the dot.
you walked slowly, giving yourself time to come up with a plan if it really was a set up. you’d take the beating, apologise, shrink into a ball at their feet like you always do. but when you reached the swings, the girls weren’t there. it was shigeta harua. he was the other quiet kid in your class, the boys’ designated punching bag. he was like you.
you approached him carefully, sitting on the swing beside him. harua was short and skinny, tiny in every aspect. he was pretty pale too, despite always wearing shorts. his white school shirt was wrinkled, untucked. he seemed to have came here straight from school.
“i didn’t think you’d come.” harua said, his legs swinging slowly. you nod, forgetting he wasn’t looking at you.
“i’m glad you did, though.”
the sound of distant cars filled the beat of silence.
“sorry i never answer your letters.” you muttered, and harua looked up at you for the first time since you got here. he offered a small smile.
“it’s okay. i liked to guess what your answers would be.”
everything went silent again.
“i want to be your friend.”
your eyes widened slightly. you weren’t surprised, you’d known that was his intention. it was just how straightforward and blunt he was.
“we can be friends, sure.”
“cool.”
the two of you sat together, gently swinging, when harua’s phone buzzed. a brief glance at the screen, and he stood up.
“i’ve gotta go.”
“oh, okay.”
“can i write you another letter?”
you nod, and so does he. that’s that, you thought.
you watched as he walked down the street. you went home ten minutes later.
---
“still poor, hm?” one of the girls teased, her nails digging into your shoulder. the others laughed, pulling your bag from your grip and rifling through your stuff. you wanted to shout, tell them to stop. but your voice never came. it never seems to, these days.
the girls in your class had always picked on you, made fun of you for your family’s money struggles. you’d told them countless times that your dad tried his best for you. but they never listened. you’re still in poverty, aren't you? they’d say. he isn’t trying hard enough.
you’d known them since you were little kids, when you had all joined kindergarten. young and unaware. oblivious to differences. your flaws didn’t exist yet. you were 10 years old when it all started. when they noticed how you skipped meals, how worn out your shoes were.
“are you listening, idiot?” one yelled, and you were pulled from your thoughts. they were ripping your bag, emptying your belongings onto the floor. your pens and pencils. your books. your p.e. uniform. all of it, on the muddy ground.
“you really have nothing at all, huh?” the girl holding you down muttered into your ear, her voice smug. “pathetic.”
she dragged you to your feet. you were barely stood up properly when she shoved you down hard. you landed on the pile of things, the sharpened pencils stabbing into your skin. you stayed on the floor until they left. when you finally stood up, blood pricked on your knees. the stinging lasted the whole walk home.
that same evening, you decided to write back to harua. you wanted to make up for all the letters he had wrote for you, which you had never replied to.
‘the weather was pretty good today. i decided to wear a short sleeve shirt under my jacket. i had tan lines by the time i got home! i haven’t caught the sun like that since we went on vacation when i was a kid. i think i was 7. where have you been on vacation? where do you want to go in the future?’
‘my dad made me the best meal ever today. he cooked chicken and added my favourite seasoning. there were some side dishes too. i was so full after. it’s been a while since i’ve felt so full. what’s your favourite food? i feel like you enjoy sweet foods. i don’t like them too much, i’m scared my teeth will fall out.’
‘a cat approached me at the park last week. i was sitting on the bench, and it came and laid down next to me. it was purring. it’s fur was soft too. i wish i could have taken it home. i’ve always wanted a pet.’
with every letter written, harua wrote back with just as much enthusiasm. it was interesting how you got to know him through the notes, got to know the real harua, he was much more outgoing on paper. harua was quiet at school, sitting in the front corner. he stayed hunched over his worksheets, never making eye contact with anyone. he stayed quiet all the time. even when the guys were shouting at him, hurting him. he just stayed still, like a statue. they would push him against the wall, steal his stuff when he wasn’t looking. they’d even put gum in his hair. he had to cut it out at lunch. his haircut the next day was wonky, and they bullied him for that too.
you never found out why they bullied harua the way they did. he wasn’t poor like you. he wasn’t ugly, or smelly, or mean. he was just harua. shy, gentle harua, who never did anything. maybe that’s why they did what they did. just because they could.
it was another warm day in june. the students were cleaning the classroom, sweeping the wooden floors and wiping down the desks. in the back by the window, you noticed that harua was being cornered by the boys. you took a few steps closer, “busying” yourself with rearranging the books on a table nearby. you eavesdropped as they teased him.
“careful, dude. he’ll get us sick.” one of them laughed, poking harua’s chest.
“get rid of him.” another ordered, and they grab him by the arm, pulling him past you and to the door. you were curious. what did they mean harua could get them sick? you hadn’t heard about any illness. maybe he had a cold or something. they pushed him out of the classroom roughly. the group disappeared down the hallway, his arms in their grip.
they were gone for exactly 5 minutes and 12 seconds. you counted. but when they returned from wherever they took him, harua wasn’t with them. you didn’t want to know what they did to him.
moments like this reminded you of when the girls had pulled you by your hair outside, in the harsh winter cold last year. it was nearing christmas break. they had used the school hose on you, claiming you needed to be cleaned. filthy dog, they had called you. nothing but filth. when they were done, they locked you out of the building. you were stuck in the cold, your uniform soaking wet. you gave up and went home. you were sick for a week after.
you met harua again that weekend. he looked a lot paler than usual. you don’t mention it. your meeting point was the swings again, you were first to arrive this time.
“the sun is bright these days.” he said, shoes kicking up the grass underneath him. you hum in response.
“yes, it’s super hot.”
“yeah.”
the breeze was calmer today, blowing your hair softly. it felt nice on your skin, a cool contrast to the warm humidity.
“do you ever go anywhere when you need an escape?” harua asked, looking over at you. you thought for a moment.
“...no. do you?”
“yeah.”
“where do you go?”
“there’s this rooftop near the hospital. it’s completely empty. i like going there to be alone. to feel normal for a moment. you ever wanna do that? feel normal? i want to all the time. i like sitting on the edge. the thought of falling is scary, but sometimes the risk makes me feel more alive.”
“oh. that’s cool.”
“it is.”
harua coughs before continuing.
“the rooftop doesn’t compare to heaven though.”
you blink at him.
“heaven?”
“yes. heaven. my heaven.”
you were confused. harua giggled at how your brows furrowed.
“i found it in the city over from ours. it’s this beautiful field down a country road. it’s on top of the hill with the train station. you can see the whole town from up there.”
“wow.”
“yeah. i haven't told anyone about my heaven before. you’re the first.”
“thanks.”
he smiles at you, and you smile back.
the two of you ended up talking about other mundane things, like your favourite animals, recent dreams you’d had. it was nice getting to know harua.
the conversation was cut short when harua’s phone buzzed. he didn’t even look at the screen this time.
“i gotta go.”
“aw, okay. bye.”
“bye. don’t forget to write back!” he called, already halfway down the street. you gave him a thumbs up.
you were only 11 when your mother died. it was sudden, unexpected. lost control of her steering one winter, the roads icy and slippery. they found her car in a ditch. she was long gone by the time the paramedics arrived. that’s what the police officer told you at the door on the evening of the accident. it’s what the news reporter on the television said too. you were young, but not young enough to misunderstand. she was gone. forever. your beloved mother.
it took a toll on your father. you could see it. he loved her so much. she had loved him so much, too. it seemed like the light in his eyes had died with her.
when both are loyal, it is time that cheats.
he was quick to pick up drinking after the funeral. he drank a lot. but he never hit you. not once. your father was not that type of man. instead, he got emotional, tired. he was tired a lot these days. you could hear him cry most nights, calling for your mother. or when he wasn’t crying, he was dazed, in some sort of sluggish state that nothing could pull him from. the spark he once had was gone, quietness replacing it. eventually, he lost his decent job. it took him a few weeks to find a new one, a cleaner job in a local store, and now he barely makes enough money for the two of you. but he was alive, and that’s all that mattered to you. he was all you had left.
---
it had finally reached the end of june. the heat had intensified greatly, each day easily reaching 30 degrees or more. you found yourself sweating constantly. you were glad the teacher allowed for the windows to be left open throughout the day. you and harua were still exchanging notes, now more comfortable than ever. you knew a lot about him. he felt like your one true friend. a genuine, real friend.
you had found another one of his letters in your pencil case on the monday of the last week of school.
‘if you are free, i want to take you somewhere during summer break. heaven. you remember that place i told you about, right? i want to show you it, if you’ll let me. second week of summer. it’s only an hour on the train. it’s not far away, don’t worry.
- harua’
harua was inviting you to his special spot. no one else. just you. maybe he thought you were special? you shook that thought from your head immediately.
you wrote back the next morning.
‘i would love to. it sounded beautiful from what you told me. what time should we meet? and are we meeting at the train station? let me know the details. i can’t wait. thank you.
- y/n’
you received another letter wednesday morning.
‘i’m happy you want to see it. we should meet at the station at 12pm. i’ll try to get there before you. i’ll pay for your ticket, okay? my treat.
- harua’
you were excited. and curious. and also a little nervous. what would this ‘heaven’ be like? would you like it? harua seemed to think it was amazing, so maybe you would too.
lucky for you, the final day of school went by in a flash. the last bell dismissed the students, and you were so happy to finally be free from school for nearly 2 months. as you got up to leave, you were shoved to the side, your shoulder crashing into the wall. you didn’t care. in fact, you smiled. because all you cared about was your trip with harua in 2 weeks. just you and your friend.
---
the 14 days passed rather quickly and now you were stood at the station, skirt fluttering in the gentle wind. harua said he would be here before you, but he wasn’t. you stood awkwardly by the ticket machine, contemplating just buying your own ticket. harua appeared behind you a few moments later, panting. his cheeks were rosy. it was cute.
“sorry i’m late. let me get the tickets real quick.”
you nod, watching him feed his money into the machine. harua was wearing a white long-sleeve button up, and blue shorts that stopped at his bruised knees. he had even styled his hair. he looked quite different to how he usually looked at school. he looked nice.
“really feels like summer now, huh?” harua said, passing one of the admission tickets to you.
“yeah. it’s hotter these days.”
“mhm. my grandma made me put on loads of sunscreen before i left.”
the two of you giggled at the sticky residue that shimmered on his forehead.
it was insanely humid on the train, the carriage packed with people. looking out the window, you watched the sea of green fly past you, fields upon fields of crops. the countryside was beautiful. you listened to the loud chug of the engine, the faint chatter of people barely intelligible. harua was sat next to you, his knee brushing yours with the motion of the train. his bruises were a pretty shade of purple. they were new. his hands were fiddling with the sleeve of shirt, pinching and folding the fabric between his thumb and pointer finger. your eyes found his. he looked away almost immediately, flustered. the two of you didn’t speak on the train ride.
“come on, it’s this way.” harua insisted, the two of you walking down a country lane. it was more quiet here. eventually you found a tall hedge, and harua led you through a small gap between the leaves and branches. on the other side was a large field - heaven.
“we’re here. this is my heaven.” he said, hand wrapping around your wrist as he pulled you further into the field.
“it’s beautiful.” you murmured, letting him pull you along. you found a place to sit, right where you could see the city at the bottom of the huge hill. harua was right. it was a beautiful view. you were glad the train station was at the top of the hill. it was amazingly steep.
“how did you find this place?” you asked, leaning back on your hands.
“i came here alone a few months ago. was just wandering around and found the little gap. i really liked it here, so i kept coming. mainly on weekends.”
you nodded, the conversation gradually fading out. both of you picked at the grass, the green blades soft between your fingers.
“y’know, i think you’re right. this place is beautiful.” you said, looking over at him. harua looked back at you. the eye contact had it’s own silent conversation.
“you think so?”
“yeah.”
harua simply watched you for a moment. you stared back. neither of you said anything more. he moved first, leaning closer. you copied his movement. your lips pressed against his. warm. that’s how his lips felt. he pulled back, blinking at you slowly. the feeling was fleeting, gone as quickly as it came. you had kissed. it felt right. and that was that. neither of you said anything about it.
“i brought lunch.” harua eventually announced, pulling his backpack onto his lap. “my grandma made these for us.”
harua held a bag of slightly squashed sandwiches, offering them to you.
“thank you.”
you ate quietly, watching the clouds pass in the sky above you. sweat dripped down the back of your neck. another incredibly hot day. the sandwiches were really good, though.
on the train ride back home, the carriage was a lot quieter. it was later in the afternoon, nearly 5pm, and the breeze was cooler now. harua was on your left. you hadn’t spoken once since you got on the train. you assumed he was tired. your eyes caught the single tear that slid down his face, all the way to his chin. the silence stuck. eventually, harua cried quietly, his hands pawing at his eyes. teardrops landed on his shorts, leaving a pattern of dark spots. you don’t ask what’s wrong. you don’t say anything at all.
when you reached the station, you thanked harua for taking you to his heaven, for paying for your ticket.
“it’s okay. thank you for coming with me.” he replied, his eyes slightly puffy. he gave you a small, sheepish smile.
“…will you still write to me?”
“yes. of course i will.”
“great. i’m… i’m glad.”
with the confirmation, he bade farewell, waving at you as he walked the other way. his house was on the opposite side of the town. you walked home with a smile on your face. your finger swiped over your bottom lip. warm.
now you have the rest of summer to do your favourite things - read, draw, and stare out of your window - without having to worry about school, about the girls.
---
as summer break passed, you sunk into a deep solitude. you were comfortable in your bedroom, unseen and unnoticed. you spent most of your days reading, avoiding social interactions. you only spoke to your father at breakfast and dinner. sometimes your brain drifted to your classmates. whether they’d notice your absence at the start of next semester. you would love to disappear. if only it was that easy.
despite the relaxation, anxiety and worry still churned in your stomach. your money situation wasn’t getting any better. and neither was your dad. he barely did anything other than go to work, sleep, and occasionally buy groceries. you were worried about his mental health. he was never great at opening up, so you had no idea how he was feeling. he only worked 4 short shifts a week, so most of the time he spent at home was by himself. you were at school all day. he was alone. he never used to be, though. your mother used to be the one to keep him company when he felt lonely. but she’s gone, and now he’s lonely all the time. your mother was your best friend as a kid. when she died, you became lonely too. you’d lost your only friend, aged 11. after her death, you yearned for connection - but your dad was off limits, cut off emotionally. harua was your only chance now, and you wanted to be around him all the time. you really enjoyed being with harua. you longed to connect with him.
as summer break neared its end, september less than 2 weeks away, you started to spiral about having to face the students again. you know that the bullying would only continue. you didn’t want to put yourself through that again. hopefully having harua by your side would provide you with comfort.
your dad had woken you up at 9, tapping your shoulder.
“hey, kiddo. there’s a letter for you. just got delivered.”
you rubbed your eyes, taking it from him. once he had left, you opened the envelope. the letter was from harua. how the boy found your address you had no clue.
‘it’s been a while. i was thinking, why not give you my number so we can talk on the phone? it will be a lot easier i think. call me!
- harua’
at the bottom of the page, his number was scribbled in red sharpie, a small heart at the end.
you called him an hour later, after brushing your teeth and eating breakfast.
“hello? harua?”
“y/n! yes, it’s harua. i missed you.”
harua had missed you. the thought made you smile.
“i missed you too.”
“really? you did?”
“yeah. i did.”
“i’m glad. um… i wanted to ask if you wanted to hang out in person again. it’s been a while since our trip, huh?”
when you thought about it, it had been a while since you last saw harua. over a month. almost two.
“yeah, it has. i’d love to hang out.”
“great! meet me by the hospital. we can go to the rooftop i told you about.”
“okay. see you soon.”
by 12, the two of you were sat on the rooftop, legs dangling off the edge. the view from the roof was nice. you understood why harua came here so often.
“it’s nice up here,” you said, turning your head to harua. “relaxing, in a way.”
“yeah, it is.” harua smiled softly, nodding in agreement. “i come up here to escape life. no one is ever here apart from me. well, except you.”
you returned the smile.
“is it bad at your house? is that why you come here?”
“no, my house is okay.” he shook his head. “i live with my parents and my grandma. we live just one street down. it can just get loud sometimes, so i prefer coming here for peace and quiet.”
“ah, okay.”
“they’ve been arguing a lot recently. my parents. they’re worried. there’s a lot of bills they have to pay… expensive ones. we’re practically poor now, and they’re worried about grandma and i.”
“i’m sorry.”
“it’s okay. they’ll… we’ll be fine.”
you noticed how his demeanour changed. he was being vague. you don’t ask any questions, not wanting to pry or push your friend.
“sorry.” he whispered. you tilted your head.
“what for?”
“complaining about my life. i know that you’re struggling just as much. maybe even more. i heard about your, um… mom. i’m really sorry about that. i know you and your dad struggle too. you don’t deserve it.”
his words hit you like a truck, that churning feeling returning to your stomach. your eyes stung. please don’t cry, you thought. not now.
“you don’t deserve any of the bad things that have happened. you’re sweet. really sweet. it makes me sad that no one else can see that. but a part of me is glad that only i can. it’s like something special, just for me to have. sorry. that sounds selfish.”
harua’s voice faded out eventually, his rambling coming to an end. you cried quietly next to him, hot tears dripping down onto your lap. harua passed you his handkerchief without a word. it smelt like him.
the two of you sat in shared silence after that, your thighs pressed against each other.
“do you believe in god?”
his question pulled you out of your thoughts.
“uh, i don’t know. maybe. do you?”
“no.” harua’s answer was quick, blunt. it caught you off-guard. “because if he really loved his creations, he wouldn’t make them suffer. he wouldn’t give people sickness. innocent people. and so much suffering. it’s unfair.”
“...that’s true.”
“i’ve prayed before. begged for my own suffering to go away. yet he never answered. i’m a good person. don’t i deserve a good life too?”
you’d never seen harua angry before. not until now. it made you feel sorry for him. he must have so much pain he never let out. so much frustration. you both went quiet. harua calmed down.
“you know, you’re really pretty.” he said, his eyes fixed on the horizon ahead of him.
“no i’m not.”
harua’s hand found yours, squeezing it.
“yes, you are. super pretty.” his voice was softer now. “those girls that call you ugly are all wrong. you’re beautiful. inside and out. don’t let their lies get to you too much.”
you heard the buzz of his phone again, and harua’s sigh.
“i’ve gotta go again. get home safe, okay?”
“i will. bye, harua.”
“bye.”
you sat there in silence for a while, processing his words. harua thought you were pretty, beautiful even. the thought made you feel slightly better.
---
when school finally started in september, nothing had changed. your classmates were still as rowdy as they were last semester. loud and annoying, making stupid jokes when the teacher wasn’t paying attention, messing with each other’s work books. the usual. harua stood out to you, his quietness contrasting the ruckus of the class. just sat at his desk, writing. nothing else. your heart ached. he was so innocent. yet what they did to him was nothing short of corrupt. you wanted to stick up for him so badly. to protect him from the horrible things they do. you wanted it all to stop.
half way through september, harua didn’t come in for nearly 2 weeks. you were so worried about him. you had tried to call his house phone, but none of your calls were answered. the last friday of september was when you finally heard from him. he had left a note under your book.
‘hi y/n. sorry i’ve been gone for so long. i hope you didn’t miss me too much, haha. i miss you a lot these days. i’ve been feeling tired constantly. the doctor gave me medicine for that, so don’t worry! all is well. take care of yourself too, okay? i’ll be back in school soon, promise!
- harua’
you were relieved to hear from him after a fortnight of radio silence. but something was off. he seemed… happy, despite what he was telling you in the letter. he was sick, it seemed, yet he wrote like it was just any other day. it was very different to how he usually wrote, but at least it was something. you were just glad to finally get an update on harua.
your luck ran short on october 1st. you’d been caught by the girls just as you were leaving class, insisting you come outside with them.
“we’re bored.” one said, her nails digging into your wrist as she dragged you outside. “need some entertainment.”
they got straight to work once you reached the school court. your cheek slammed against the cold concrete of the ground. time felt like it slowed down with every blow to the stomach, every hit to your head and back. the girls were always relentless with you. the metallic taste of blood coated your teeth, trickled down your chin. it was on your hands too, scraped from when they pushed you over. everything ached and stung, a sharp buzz rang in your ears.
you spotted harua stood at the other end of the court. he just stood there, frozen. didn’t run. didn’t help. harua didn’t do anything. he was stood there like a deer in headlights. you didn’t bother calling for him.
the boy stayed at the other side silently until the girls left, jogging over once the coast was clear. your head was pounding. harua helped you sit up, the blood dripping down the side of your head. you felt the warm liquid slide all the way to your neck. it tickled. harua wiped at it with the back of his hand. his touch was tender.
“why did they do this?”
“i don’t know. because they w-wanted to.” you murmured, bottom lip trembling with adrenaline. harua sighed knowingly.
“you don’t deserve it.” he said. you noticed his shaky breathing. “not at all.”
the two of you trudged to the school gate, reaching the street. the sound of the cars did nothing to hide the sound of harua’s sobs.
“harua, please don’t cry.” you whispered, your hand squeezing his.
“i-i’m not.” he insisted, wiping his face with his sleeve.
both of you stood in silence as he cried. he swiped at his eyes, trying to hide the tears. you saw them anyway.
“i’ve gotta go. i’m sorry. please stay safe.”
you nodded, and he left you, walking down the street. guilt washed through your damaged body.
the blood had crystalised on your face and hands as you walked home. shock covered your dad’s face when you walked through the door, rushing over to check on you.
“what the hell happened to you?”
“i tripped over and fell hard. nothing too bad, don’t worry.” you led through your bloody teeth. “i’ll be alright, dad.”
he didn’t seem too convinced as you limped past him, climbing up the stairs agonisingly slow. you rush to your bedroom, collapsing onto your bed with a pained sigh. you cried yourself to sleep that night, blood still dry on your skin.
the pain thumped through you for days after. any bruises and marks were covered with makeup. as good as new. almost.
---
the sick, anxiety-inducing feeling in your stomach only got worse as time passed. your father insisted on taking you to the doctor’s clinic for your busted lip. it had gotten infected. you refused to go, trying your best to convince him that you were fine really, and that it’ll heal on it’s own. you didn’t want to go to the doctors. that would only make you feel worse.
you ended up skipping school for a few days, not wanting to face the girls again. at least not until your injuries were fully healed. harua noticed your absence immediately. he started sending letters to the house again.
‘i hope you’re okay. you haven’t been to school in 2 days. let’s hang out on the rooftop again? i’ll be there at 6 either way.’
‘there was a fight at school today, it was sooo funny. sad you missed it. wish you were here. can we hangout today? if you’re feeling better?’
‘i miss you, y/n. it’s been 5 days. please talk to me. i’ll be at the swings later. please come.’
you never answered his letters. you never showed up at the rooftop or the swings either.
you didn’t leave your bedroom much at all, actually. instead, you stayed laying on your mattress, staring up at the ceiling for hours on end. you sifted through hundreds of thoughts, what ifs. as the cold autumn wind blew in through your open window, your skin pricked with goosebumps, you thought of death. it always lingered in the back of your mind, but these days it was pushed up to the front. you questioned the concept of suicide, the ending of all of your problems. they wouldn’t exist anymore, you would be free. it sounded enticing. perfect. you’d always wondered what it would be like. maybe dying is akin to eternal sleep, where you aren’t aware that you’ve disappeared. forever relaxed, all anxiety gone. forever.
forever sounded nice.
eventually your father persuaded (more so begged) for you to try to go to school. you went to keep him from nagging too much. another letter from harua sat on your desk chair when you came back in after lunch.
‘hi y/n, i hope you’re okay. i’m glad you’re back at school. i missed you so much. recently, i’ve been really worried about you, especially after they beat you like that.
i know it’s so hard for you, everything seems to be against you. but i want you to know that i’m not. i never will be. please don’t give up. not just for yourself, but for me too. if you give up, i might too.
- harua’
the piece of paper was damp by the time you put it in your backpack.
---
a few days after halloween, november 4th, your dad had an accident. he broke his arm. he was trying to fix the upstairs window on the outside of the house, and the ladder gave way. there was blood all over his clothes, and you swore you could see the bone poking out of his forearm. a gruesome sight. he left the house immediately, rushing to the hospital.
you sat by the front door all day, only getting up to go to the bathroom. it was 5 in the afternoon when he came back, arm in a cast and sling. you thought he looked kind of cool like that. hopefully he’d let you sign it later.
“you sat by the door?” your father asked, chuckling.
“yeah. i was worried about you.”
“have you eaten anything today?”
you shook your head, and he ruffled your hair with his free hand.
“you’re something else, kiddo. let’s get you some dinner.”
the past few weeks had caused you and harua to drift slightly, your absence from school stretching the distance between you both. he hadn’t sent many letters to your house. maybe he was waiting for you to reach out. you wanted to apologise to him and go back to normal. how things were before.
‘hi harua. i’m really sorry about everything. so much stuff has happened in the past month and i’ve kind of been struggling. my dad broke his arm. you should’ve seen it. super gross.
i miss you. i don’t think i’ve said that as much as i should. i want to see you again. by the rooftops? i promise i’ll be there this time.
- y/n’
you had pushed the letter into his pencil case on the 22nd and prayed he answered. the next day, when you walked into the class, harua was staring directly at you. when you looked back, he gave you a simple, knowing nod. that was all you needed.
after school, the two of you sat on top of the rooftop, legs dangling off the edge like usual. everything felt almost back to normal now.
“sorry for ignoring your letters.” you muttered, picking at the loose thread of your hoodie. “i just felt a little… off. but i’m all good now, promise.”
“it’s fine, you don’t need to apologise. i get that feeling sometimes too. as long as you’re okay, i forgive you.” harua’s hand found yours, his fingers interlinking with yours. warm. like always.
“i’m glad we’re good again.” he added, a smile on his face.
you had completely ignored him for days. he seemed to have forgiven you too quickly. the guilt still sat deep inside, but harua seemed perfectly fine. it was confusing.
something was off. but, as usual, you don’t question him about it.
the two of you stayed on the rooftop until the sun had fully set. it was cold. very cold.
---
everything happened so fast.
it was december 7th when word got out, spreading around the school like wildfire. a student at your school, gone. died of a terminal illness. it was harua.
he hadn’t told you about it. not one hint or mention of any illness. but it all made sense. the expensive bills, staying near the hospital, his pale skin and weakness. the bullying. it all made sense now. and it hurt. so bad.
you left school immediately after you heard. you just ran - out of the class, out of the building. away. away from everyone. the tears never seemed to give up, a stream falling down your face, a melancholy river. you felt scared, heartbroken, alone. your only genuine friend, gone. just like that, as if his existence was a brief figment of your imagination. you felt lied to. harua had never told you about his illness. maybe he was too afraid of what you might think. the thought only made the pain worse.
the days dragged by numbingly slow. you stopped going to school. you couldn’t face any of them anymore. not without harua. you spent hours upon hours just walking through the town, dragging yourself through each winding street. maybe you were searching for harua. you didn’t know. you walked with your headphones in, drowning out all other noise, pencil and book in your bag. they were your sacred belongings now. holding the memories of your hundreds of letters written to him. a part of you felt his presence whenever your hand held the pencil, traced the spine of your book. as if he was still there, waiting for your response.
it had been 10 days since harua’s death. you talked to a lady who you recognised to be harua’s grandmother. she had dementia. she told you the same story five times. it was about harua, and how he had returned from school one day talking of you.
“he spoke so highly of you, that boy.” she said, sighing. “the ‘pretty girl from school' is what he had called you.”
she told you how her heart broke when he died, his slow battle with a lifelong illness. all you could do was understand her pain.
the two of you parted ways after an hour.
walking by the hospital, you wondered if when you yourself become 84, your legs having walked for decades, your brain no longer able to catch up - that all you would have left is the same stories about harua. the same stories that broke your heart to think of when he died. the same feelings and memories that you held in place of him.
---
sometimes, if you focus hard enough, you can still remember how harua’s lips felt against yours for that brief moment last summer. the kiss barely counted, but it was a kiss. just for you and harua. you wished you had a chance to kiss him properly. feel every ridge and flaw of his lips, every movement of his tongue against yours. please, you’d whisper in the dead of night. please just one more kiss.
you never admitted to yourself, or to anyone for that matter, how much you liked the kiss you shared with harua. you could only hope he did too.
it was warm. so warm.
you decided to write harua one final letter, a letter of confession, feelings and thoughts you never earnt the courage to tell him with.
‘my angel harua,
the first and only time i kissed you was in heaven. your heaven. one kiss, i was totally hooked. addicted to you. i was too afraid to tell you. forgive me.
being your friend, i wanted to make up for all the love you thought you didn’t deserve. i love you, shigeta harua. i’m sorry i never had the chance to tell you.
i could never love anyone the way i love you. i’d follow you across every universe. and that’s what i intend to do.
see you soon, okay? wait for me.
- the pretty girl from school.’
you folded the note and shoved it in your pocket, your hair blowing in the cold wind of the evening. the wind was always stronger when you were standing on the rooftop.
you closed your eyes once your feet were planted on the edge. a wave of warmth washed over your skin. it felt like harua. you were ready.
and when you finally let go, it felt nice to fly. really nice.
shigeta harua x reader
word count ⸝⸝ 4k
content warning ⸝⸝ fairy!Harua, human!reader, afab reader, implied customizable fairy dick via sexual essence, exhibitionism, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v.
silke's notes ⸝⸝ i started this idea a while back as a drabble but i felt like i needed to add more to it bc fairy rua is just so dear to me! i initially started writing this for sabby but then i got high off that rua pill ill stop rambling pls enjoy! (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ
They had always warned you not to wander around near the forest. ‘It is dangerous’ a villager would tell you, ‘Many monsters lurk around,’ and ‘Whoever goes in never comes back out,’ another would exclaim yet every time you looked toward it—you found yourself doubting their words.
How could something so beautiful be dangerous?
The forest sat at the edge of the village like a living painting. Towering lush, emerald trees stretched towards the sky, wildflowers bloomed in bright, verdant colors along the paths filled with vibrant blooms, luring you into the green woodland.
Like a siren’s song to a sailor, the forest called to you.
It was meant to be a short walk, that’s what you kept telling yourself as your feet carried you in deeper and deeper, just a quick look to satisfy the gnawing curiosity in your chest. You followed a narrow path covered in green grass and sunlight, birds singing overhead while flowers brush against your ankles.
You kept walking into the forest— unaware of how long time has passed, minutes turning into hours ‘til you found yourself standing before a dazzling blue lake. The water sparkled like liquid sapphire beneath the sun, crystal-blue ripples danced across its surface, reflecting fragments of light.
Near the outskirts of it, flowers bloomed in abundance with breathtaking colors, surrounded by all kinds of lively fauna and the sight was enchanting, almost magical, then you saw it — a large pair of wings, fairy wings pink and blue in their hues, their edges pointed upwards as they glittered under the fleeting light.
You instantly hid behind a tree bark.
At first, you couldn’t believe your eyes, but then you leaned a bit to the side to see clearly — soft, blonde hair that had been grown to his shoulders, dainty pointed nose and plush rosy lips. He looked unreal, doll-like in his nature, which almost made you think you were dreaming. His back was covered with the beautiful wings you had glimpsed earlier — big in their size, almost covering his entire figure as they glittered and sparkled under the sun.
His voice was sweet and enchanting, singing to the plants he was tending while rabbits and other young animals surrounded him. He looked like a daydream and you were a keen observer.
Your attention, however, was stolen when you heard a twig snap somewhere close, so you knew you had to leave, your feet hurriedly carrying you out of the forest and back home.
That night, you laid in bed restless, wide awake with the scene you saw playing in your head on repeat — it became extremely difficult to move on from the allure you witnessed.
So, when the sun shined and birds chirped again, you went back in the next time.
Same path, same as the last time — you were hiding behind the same tree bark and watching the beautiful man in the forest live; he sung and tended to the plants around him, fed the animals at his feet, gently pet and cared for them.
This slowly became your routine, a guilty pleasure you indulged in — watching the fairy live his life in the forest, his peaceful home as thoughts of him plagued your mind completely until he became all you could think about.
Until one fateful day, everything changed.
The fairy decided to stop pretending he couldn’t sense you, your watchful eyes were a presence he could no longer ignore. So, when you came to the forest at the same time for the nth time so he started to expect you—keeping his back towards you, luring you into a sense of safety.
Today, he decided to turn around and your breath hitched.
“Show yourself, it’s quite rude to stare, you know?” His words flowed palatably, his doe brown eyes gazing into your own, and you felt exposed — no longer hidden behind the bark you sheltered yourself with, yet you remained unmoved. “There you are.”
He stood up, graceful as the fauna surrounding him shifted, and he walked towards you, majestic and breathtaking in his nature. “You’ve been watching me for a while, what are you planning to do, little human?”
Failing to reply, you shifted on your legs, your cheeks bloomed pink at his confrontational words, hot white embarrassment ran through your veins. “I-I don’t — uh, I apologize for intruding,” you paused for a beat, “It’s just… Hmm… You’re beautiful to look at and it became hard to look away.” You were looking down while the truth spilled out of your lips like the water he poured over his crops — over brimming ‘til it flowed down.
He reached out, nimble fingers finding purchase under your chin, compelling you to look up to him with bright, wide eyes.
“Is that so, little human?” Amusement laced with his words, a small smile curved on his lips and he leaned even closer to you, his warm breath fanning against your face,“you’re not a bad sight for my eyes… I’d say the feeling’s mutual.”
His words only caused your ears to flush even more, your throat bobbing as you swallowed nervously, “t-thank you, uhm …?”
“Harua.”
“Thank you, Harua.”
“And you are…?”
In return, you whispered your name to him, and he repeated it. You thought it sounded sweeter from his lips.
“Hmm, then, next time how about you join me instead of hiding like a intruder?”
His fingers released their grip on your chin, his hand extended out for you to take. You didn’t hesitate, letting him lead you to sit by the lake, surrounded by the very view you admired from afar and yet, you thought, he was the most radiant view of them all.
You sat shoulder to shoulder, conversation flowing smoothly as you talked about everything and anything; he told you about his life in the forest, teaching you the names of the animals he cared for, showed you around his garden and all the crops he was tending to. In exchange, you told him about your life in the village, your home, family and all interesting things you could think of.
Before you knew it, the sun was setting and you had to go back.
“Let me escort you back, it’s the least I can do,” he offered, and you couldn’t refuse him, nodding with rosy cheeks and a subtle smile — he took your hand gingerly, his warmth seeping into your skin causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach.
“You didn’t have to but, thank you Harua.” He nodded in reply, only letting go when you reached the entrance to the forest and he was sure you can return to the village safely.
Your relationship with him naturally deepened.
You visited everyday and he sat you down with him to talk to you all about his plants, the animals, things he had been trying and many other topics and you listened like always with a soft smile and big sparkly eyes, in sheer awe of his beauty, as well as his care for his surroundings and his knowledge of the forest.
“How about I teach you something today, little human?” he probed, legs stretched when he stood up, pulling you up with him as well.
“What are you gonna teach me, Rua?” Your brows raised and mouth opened in excitement, grabbing his hand and he smiled sweetly.
Harua rested his hand on the small of your back, leading you towards his garden. “Your lesson for today is how to harvest fruits properly.”
You found yourself standing before the berry bushes, waiting for Harua to get his tools and come back to teach you when one of his bunnies brushed against your leg—asking for your attention. You crouched to pet the soft fur.
“Ehm. I think that’s enough of petting Robin,” he grumbled, handing you the basket. “Now, pay attention, this is how to harvest berries.”
His hand reached out to tug delicately at the hanging fruit and placing it in the basket once it was off the branch, then looking at you encouragingly to do the same so you followed his lead and successfully got some berries.
“Aren’t I good at this, Rua?”
“I think you might be a natural, little human.” You beamed at his compliment. “Come here, there are a few strawberries hanging, let’s get those.”
He crouched, a pair of garden scissors in hand as he snipped a strawberry from its branch — turning around to place it in the basket before handing you the scissors, so you crouched right next to him, tongue poking out in utter focus snipping the strawberry just like he did.
“Good job, little human. You’re doing so well.” His words send a flutter in your stomach, ears blooming into their familiar pink whenever Harua dotted on you.
“Look, Rua! Isn’t it pretty? It looks so yummy, I wanna taste it so bad ~”
“Not yet, little human. We need to finish harvesting the rest of the fruits then we’ll wash them and enjoy them together, okay?” You pouted at his words, so he pinched your cheeks teasingly.
You hesitantly nodded after a beat, following him around the garden and copying what he told you to do, the basket filling up with various kinds of fruits.
“Rua, what about your citrus tree?”
“What about it?”
“You keep telling me about it, I wanna see if we can harvest some fruits.”
“It’s not ripe yet.”
“Ruaaa~”
“No, little human. You keep asking about it, but it’s a delicate thing, it needs time to bloom,” he huffed, rolling his eyes in faux annoyance.
“Please, I just wanna see and if there’s nothing I’ll drop it!”
He squinted at you, finding difficulty in believing your words especially with such unwavered eagerness so he reluctantly agreed. “Okay, fine… let’s go check on it.”
Squealing excitedly, you followed him ‘til you both were standing right before the citrus tree — a few oranges hanging ripe from its branches.
“See, I told you!”
With the basket placed on the ground, your now free hand reached out to tug on the orange and it easily came off its place — you went up to him with the said fruit in hand, looking up with wide eyes: “Please, Rua, I think it’s ripe enough, I wanna taste …”
The fairy couldn’t deny you, not when you gave him a saccharine smile that made him dizzy.
With gentle hands, he took the fruit from your grasp and started cutting it with a pocket knife, sharp enough to tear you a slice. He handed it to you — hearts practically spilled from the love he held in his gaze, watching you eat the fruit of his labor with a warm smile while his cheek rested on his hand.
“Try it, little human. Tell me is it good?”
You nodded eagerly, swallowing the mouthful of fruit but mouth still full of the sweet sourness.
“Give me a taste,” he mumbled, hands now resting on your cheeks as he pulled you in for a sweet kiss, lips coated with the syrupy juice of the fruit.
You stood there frozen in shock for a few seconds before your body acted on its own — kissing him back feverishly, relishing in the taste of his lips against yours.
“Mmmh, it’s good. I did well,” he said once he broke the kiss, flashing you a cheeky smile. “Don’t you think so, little human?”
“W-what was that, Rua?” Your hand gripping his shoulder for support, shrouded in dizziness after your intense kiss.
“Tasting the fruit of my labor.”
“You kissed me …”
“Yes, I have, little human,” he paused before adding, “you taste delectable, and I’m not just saying that because of the fruit I gave you.”
“Well, what does that mean for us?”
The harvesting basket alongside the cut orange long forgotten, his hands reaching out to cup your cheeks warmly, his brown eyes staring deeply into your own.
“It means I can grow the finest of fruits in my garden.”
“Rua!” you teasingly slapped his chest, your other hand still holding onto him to keep yourself grounded.
“I jest, I jest. I’m very interested in you, little human and I’d love to keep courting you until the time is perfect for us to be together.” His honesty startles you, red blooming all across your face and skin.
“Yeah … I think I’d like that.”
As more days passed, you grew closer to the enchanting fairy that resided in the heart of the forest.
At some days, when you would lose yourself into each other and time passed without a care — the night settled before you could get home, Harua would offer his place for you to stay, voicing his worries of the dangers that lurk in the forest at night, so you always obliged.
It started slow. He’d offer you his bed while he slept on the hammock until you insisted that he stopped and joined you on his bed instead.
“It’s not comfortable for you, Rua especially with your wings!”
“Little human, you worry too much …”
“Ease my worries, won’t you?” You huffed, pout formed on your lips as you crossed your hands stubbornly so he hesitantly joined you, hands wrapped securely around our waist, warmth blooming in his chest once your pout turned into a satisfied grin.
When you woke up in the morning, missing his comfort, your feet padded softly against his wooden floors ‘til you found him in his kitchen preparing breakfast for the both of you — your teeth sinking into the flesh of your lips to hold back the smile that threatened to reveal itself.
“You’re staring again,” he muttered, focusing on cutting up the fruits and carefully placing them next to the bread he’d baked for you.
“I can’t help it, the view is mesmerizing,” and Harua can practically hear the grin from your tone, turning around to flash you a bright smile.
“You’re not too bad yourself, little human.” The plates in his hands were gingerly placed on the table once you took a seat, and the domesticity of it all sent a flutter down your belly.
You spent the entire morning basking in delightful conversation, the delicious food he prepared and fleeting touches that bloomed red all over your body.
This wasn’t the last time this happened, in fact it became a common occurrence for you to stay the night, held in the fairy’s warm embraced then awaken in the morning to the delectable aroma of his cooking and he made sure to prepare the best meals for you.
Until one night, everything between you shifted.
It was dark out, you both laid by the lake stargazing, your head laid on his chest while his hand rested gently on your shoulder as you pointed out the different shapes you saw yet you can feel Harua’s gaze lingering on you rather the shinning stars.
“Stop staring at me to distract me!”
“Oh, I’m not staring at you to distract you, little human.”
You almost gave yourself whiplash from how hard you moved to look at him, your eyes widened while red heat bled into your cheeks — he looked down to you, a smirk adorning his rosy lips.
“What are you trying to do, Rua?” You eyes fell on them briefly before looking back up.
“Isn’t it obvious?” The space between you decreased, his warm breath mingling with your own, your heart felt like it was about to leap out your ribcage.
Like anyone — or, anything born of the forest, Harua was not as gentle as he looked. He tried to hold it together for you, unwilling to frighten you, and soften his brutish tendencies. Deep down, all he wanted was to kiss you until you were left winded and weakened.
“Do you know what you do to me, little human?” he groaned, his lips were barely hovering against your own while the tension shifted between you both like a pendulum, neither of you making the first move yet.
“How about you show me instead?”
That was until Harua couldn’t hold himself back anymore, ultimately capturing your lips in a searing kiss — it turned wet, sloppy and lewd when his hand moved to rest on the back of your neck.
You pulled away when your chest tightened, the dizzying sensation had you gasping for air — your fingers digging into the welcoming flesh of his shoulder, a method to keep yourself grounded.
“What else would you …” He gulped, looking at you with wide, glassy eyes, “like me to do?”
“I want you to give me all of you, every part, every emotion, your everything. I want it, Rua.”
His hands now settled on cupping your cheeks, “you’re driving me crazy, little human.”
“You like that ~”
“That I do and I’m gonna show you exactly how much I do.” he groaned, his hands now resting on your waist as he flipped you over, his entire figure towering above yours — the lush green grass digging into your supple skin.
Harua leaned down to kiss you feverishly, raw in his desire and you reciprocated. Your hands found purchase draped around his neck, pulling him closer to you in response.
His hands, however, started to wander all over your body. Beginning with your chest, his fingers flicked the hardened peaks, a soft whimper falling off your lips which he swallowed as he kept kissing you. His hands the squeezed your waist, lowering it to settle on your thighs — squeezed the soft flesh gently prompting your legs open.
“Rua~” you moaned so sweetly, like sugar on his tongue, he couldn’t get enough. He needed more.
The fairy’s nimble fingers got to work, tugging your panties to the side and slipping a digit into your wet folds, arousal leaking all over his fingers and down your cunt, your thighs twitching at his ministrations.
“You’re so sweet just from a little kissing, little human,” he said, his tone amused, “do you like me that much?”
You whimpered in response, head thrown back, mouth hanging open while your soft noises echoed through the calm forest.
He slipped another finger, curling just the right ways at the right places to stretch you out enjoying the way you responded to his touches — tears clung to your lashes, your thighs shaking and your grip on his tightening.
A pretty pink flush painted your body, he couldn’t help himself from breaking the kiss to bite the welcoming flesh of your neck.
Legs around his torso as he kissed you hungrily, hands already plunging into you, stealing you of breath and words. “Tell me, little human, how do I make you feel?” He asked, his fingers squelching in and out.
“So good Rua, but not enough. Need more.”
“What do you need? Use your words.” The fairy mumbled against your flush skin.
“Ah, need to cum, Rua.”
The fairy’s gentle hands already went back to plunging into you, stealing you of breath and words, your heart racing as the fire in your abdomen grew — chasing your climax.
Clinging to his shoulders, your hands shook a little bit, and your hips started rocking lazily onto his digits — feeling those bolts of pleasure all over your body, a new wave of need washed over you. The sound of your arousal squelching as his fingers massaged your insides only served to build up your orgasm.
You came all over his fingers, blood rushing to your head. The fairy maintained eye contact as he gathered the wetness from between your legs with his fingers and he started sucking them off with a satisfied hum.
“Fuck, close your eyes for me.”
You obeyed, darkness engulfed your vision, unable to see him smear your arousal all over his lips, breathing heavy, and lean down to kiss you with it leaving you dizzy.
By the virtue of being born from a flower, Harua had little to no experience in intimacy — or so he thought ‘til he had you a whiny pretty mess underneath him.
A quick peek wouldn’t hurt, you thought to yourself, slightly squinting to see his blurry figure towering over you.
He took his wet fingers out, palm facing downwards, he trailed his hand upwards — fairy dust trailing his digits. Using his magic and the remains of your essence that coated his hand to provide you with what you needed.
He unhooked his underclothes, letting them fall to the ground — heat spreading under your skin as he used one hand to keep you spread open for him while the other guided his length to your wetness.
He slid it over your cunt, wetness dripping down and onto your thighs while his hands found their place on your hips.
“Feel good?” Harua asked, his voice was hoarse, “Tell me, is that what you wanted, little human?”
You nodded, your hips rocked to let him slip even deeper into you. “Yes, Rua. I need you inside me, so bad.”
His hips pushed deeper and deeper, ‘til he was buried fully inside you and he was big — the stretch burned, feeling almost addictive from how good it was.
“You can move, Rua. Fuck! please, Rua ~” You started pleading him once the stretch became bearable, crescent-like marks branded on his back thanks to your nails digging into his back.
The fairy didn’t need to be told twice. He started to thrust out then back in, the slow drag driving you crazy, especially when his thrusts were hitting the spot that had you seeing stars.
Every thrust, every push was felt, every drag of his cock against your fluttering walls, watching you intently as your back arched pushing you into him — laser focused on you and only you.
“More, more. Need more, Rua,” you babbled, your moans mixing with his own filling up the quiet night.
“Are you sure you can take more?” He asked, his voice rough and breaths knocked right out of his chest — desperately restraining himself, his spine coiled tightly.
You looked him straight in the eyes, daring, “you know I can.”
That was all it took for the dam gates to break loose.
His fingers tightened their grip on your hips, holding you in place and he was watching you with a piercing gaze — his forehead falling against yours as his pace picked up, thrusts sharpened.
“That’s it then, take what I give you, little human.”
Loud moans escaped your chest freely, toes curling over his lower back, all your could hear was the growing buzz in your ears mixed with his sweet moans — your heart rattling against your ribcage.
Your grip around him was tight like vice, wrapping around him and not letting him go and you both weren’t going to last any longer — not when his thrust became rougher, deeper. The restraint he was holding onto was no longer existent.
Harua was thrusting hard, always hitting that one spot that turned your brain into mush.
“Rua~” his name fell off your lips sweetly, overwhelmed by the pleasure he was giving you. You were so close to your breaking point, the coil in your stomach near unraveling — your orgasm was shattering, feeling it from your cunt to your limbs.
One last thrust lead you to break and fall apart, an orgasm so good you could see white behind your eyelids, his voice becoming feral against your ears, his teeth sinking into the welcoming flesh of your lobe, your walls clamp around him making him moan your name as he came.
Shock waves washed over your body, shaking some more under him just as kept spilling deep inside you, his hand pressing you against the lush grass. You both stayed there for a few minutes, breathing heavily as the silence took over.
You opened your eyes, your hands cupped his cheeks and pulled him close until your noses were touching, rubbing them together lovingly.
“Was it to your expectations, little human?”
“It was perfect, my darling fairy.”
“I’m glad.”
His lips curved into a soft smile, gathering you in his arms and lifting you up to head inside for a much needed shower and a dinner made by yours truly just the way you like.
warnings: suggestive!!! making out, jealousy, euijoo is a teeny tiny bit of a tease maybe
a/n: yay euijoo!!!!! i just know my love mona will love this (i mean i hope so… it’s euijoo) but anyways i love ariana i love this song
i ain’t talkin’ money i’m just physically obsessed
and i’m greedy
byun euijoo was an angel sent upon this earth.
he was everything anyone could ever dream of - considerate, gentle, loving, thoughtful. he remembered all his friend’s birthdays, he made sure that everyone he cares about felt appreciated, he was always there whenever you needed a lending hand. he was also extremely goddamn attractive.
his face was sculpted by gods themselves. euijoo had the figure of an angel, a waist women would get jealous of, and a pair of eyes so enthralling it would be a crime not to stare into them. every single time your eyes glanced his way, he’d send you a smile - that damn smile, so stupidly perfect it made you melt even on the coldest of days, heart fluttering each time. you tried your best to bury those feelings, though. he was your best friend, after all.
you always danced around that thin line between friends and something more - tiptoeing around it with careful steps, neither of you sure whether to cross it or not. to strangers surrounding you, it looked like something more than just friendship: a bond filled with tension, touches lingering just a second too long, eye contact kept far longer than necessary. neither of you acted upon it, though - maybe because you were too shy, maybe because you were too unsure of whether he actually reciprocated those feelings which you hid deep within.
it took one party for all of it to change, though.
one girl getting a little too close to euijoo - her hand on his shoulder, laughing at something he said, body leaning into his in a way which made your stomach turn and your jaw tighten.
it took you exactly a week filled with enormous amounts of frustration every time you looked his way to realise exactly why it was bothering you so much. you liked him. you didn’t want to deny it anymore. you couldn’t. the line you thought you were dancing around all this time has been long crossed, and it just so happened that your dear best friend had a similar realization not long ago.
which was exactly how you found yourself at his apartment.
your hands flew to his brown hair, tugging at it lightly as you got lost in the kiss - the moment a mix of pent up frustration and desire flowing deep within your bodies, lips moving against each other with hunger. his chest felt hot pressed up against you, perfectly contrasting the cool sensation coming from the wall behind you.
‘she was too close.’ you mumbled against his lips, hearing him chuckle into the kiss at your words. ‘touching you like you were hers. annoying.’
euijoo’s hand went up to cup your face, his fingers gentle against your flushed skin.
‘it’s been a week since that happened.’ he chuckled, cheeks rising as he smiled, a hint of cockiness clearly visible in the way he stared at you. ‘did it make you that jealous?’
‘mhm.’
euijoo leaned back for just a second, eyes scanning your face with need, and yet holding back from kissing you again just yet. his smile turned into something more sinister, almost as if he wanted to toy with you a bit before actually giving you what you want.
‘i’m afraid i didn’t hear an answer, my love.’
you sighed, defeated, euijoo’s smile only growing in size at your reaction.
‘it did. it did make me that jealous.’ you admitted, arms crossed over your chest, seeing his eyes glint with a hint of something darker, almost primal at your words. ‘i guess i’m just that greedy.’
‘oh, is that so? that’s… cute.’ euijoo murmured as he inched closer, a newfound confidence taking over him. his face was mere millimetres from yours - so close that you could feel his hot breath hitting your face, the proximity making him even more irresistible.
and to think just last week you still pretended he was only your friend.
your lips connected with his once more - the kiss hungry and passionate, your hands grabbing his shirt to bring him as close as humanly possible, wanting there to be no space left between your bodies. his hand slid lower, his grip on your waist firm and you couldn’t help but melt into his touch, almost at the mercy of his every move.
you never felt like this with anyone else before: but euijoo was different. you loved him - it wasn’t just a physical attraction, but something deeper, something that had been growing and blooming for far longer than any of you have truly realised. an adoration that might’ve as well been growing ever since you first met, ever since his eyes first met yours long ago.
euijoo was… special.
his plump lips moved to the side of your jaw, tracing kisses down your neck, tongue dragging along your skin in a cool sensation. you gasped at his actions - only fuelling his confidence.
‘i’m glad you finally stopped denying it.’ euijoo mumbled against your skin, moving up to your lips again.
‘denying what exactly?’
‘that you like me a tad bit too much to be just friends.’ his voice was almost a whisper, his breath hot on your skin as he inched closer, noses brushing. ‘i don’t think i could’ve waited any longer.’
you smiled at his words, the look in your eyes soft and adorning for just a few seconds.
‘you’ll never get rid of me now, you know?’ you joked, looking up to meet his eyes. euijoo chuckled.
Oh nooo I had a great idea for a headcanon but your reqs are closed 😢 will they open soon??
hi dear anon (ㅅ´ ˘ `) they're closed bc i literally can't sit down n write anything atm (not even physically like i can't put butt to chair and type mm-mm) due to my exams !
i also have enough reqs for now that i need to finish up (some of them WAAAAY past a month now oh god) + my own writing that i want to start o(╥﹏╥)o
when they'll open will depend on when im able to finish the things i already have on my list!
there are so so many amazing cool talented writers on lunéblr, so instead of waiting for me to finish my exams (i would also LOVE to be done with my exams ive been taking these shits since MARCH.) pls share ur lovely idea with the amazing writers of lunéblr◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜!!! i haven't read a fic from any of them that has disappointed me at all mhm (very cool n amazing n talented ppl)
7ayatiii sabby have u seen this dolly rua pic i'm not over it he's so pretty so glowy and gorgeous aaaaaaaa (づ◡﹏◡)づ
7ABIBIII SILKEEEE YESYESYES
god this rua lives in my brain rent free he's so dreamy in this weverse con (,,>﹏<,,) like spot the difference here? u can't, it's actually the same exact picture 𖹭
synopsis | the only thing worse than kissing euijoo while wearing your stickiest lipgloss was not kissing her at all.
details | fem!euijoo x female!reader, fluff, yearning, tension, flirting, mutual pining, first kiss, GIRLS KISSING, slightly suggestive material but nothing explicit, reader has experience with makeup, cursing, playful banter, redundant use of makeup terminology, there are only so many words for lipstick, lowercase intended
wc | 4.3k
from the author | MY FEMTEAM DEBUT !!!! 1/3 wishes granted for @yuyuppie
“quit blinking”
“quit stabbing my eye.”
she sank her head deeper into the pillow in an attempt to escape your deadly weapon, which was just an old eyeshadow brush. it was frayed from years of use but still soft enough to use on your best friend’s precious eyes. you dipped into a muted, very loved light brown eyeshadow, packed neatly into a very loved palette, and you swirled it over euijoo’s fluttering, very loved eyes.
“you asked me to, remember?” you taunted, dipping the brush back into the pigment, and euijoo took the opportunity to shove your shoulder as you leaned back down over her. with your weight settled low on her hips, you felt her stomach tighten with stifled laughter. the movement only made her situation more dangerous, made the brush in your hand unstable and the loose powder on the tip of it scatter on the roundest parts of her cheeks.
“i asked you to do my makeup,” she mumbled, and she flinched, creasing the skin around her eyes as she squeezed them shut in short bursts, “not give me a black eye.”
“like the one you’re gonna have when i beat you for wasting my expensive products?”
euijoo cracked one eye open, tentatively checking your expression and gauging the sincerity of your threat, only to find your brows raised with pure amusement. in fact, you were smiling, like it didn’t bother you at all that she had you try three different foundations because the first two felt too sticky. they were all sticky, meant to stick to your skin all day long, but you gladly wiped the tint away with a cotton pad, silently musing over the way her natural skin looked better than any of the gunk you were about to layer over it. she had the perfect natural complexion, and you loved making her laugh because you got to see it a bit brighter, a bit louder.
“you could have used the cheap stuff,” euijoo argued with a sigh, shifting her posture beneath you, “i just wanted you to make me look pretty.”
she said it like it was nothing: make me look pretty. like you were a wizard with a staff or a genie in a lamp and she had just swiped her hand over the worn bronze edge of your prison. if that were the case, it was the kind of demand that would’ve resulted in hundreds of workarounds to make happen. you hesitated to press the brush into the fold of her eyelid; her hair was fanned out over the pillow, scrunching up with every flinch and laugh, and her lips were slightly downturned in a pout, naturally, as nothing was ever good enough for her. she had to have control of the music in the car, she demanded extra butter on her popcorn when you would spend an entire day movie hopping at the cinema, and she had to be prettier.
the words fell from your lips, casually, softly, “you’re always pretty.”
and though you continued the same as before, the cautious graze of the brush’s fibers on the delicate skin of her eye, the infamous battle of trapping her sweeping lashes in the eyelash curler without somebody bleeding out on the bed, and the light pressure of the powder puff on her forehead to seal in all of your hard work, it felt different, disturbed, like you had flipped the light on or taken the first breath in the middle of a tunnel, your lungs concave in your chest. euijoo was less relaxed, too, if it were even possible. she didn’t flinch when you rolled the mascara through her unfairly long lashes, and she kept her eyebrows relaxed as you dragged a pencil over the tails of them, despite her incessant joking earlier in the night that she was going to wiggle them like worms just to get under your skin. as if she wasn’t already there.
you dusted the finishing touches of powder over the curves of her cheeks, reluctant to dull her glow but necessary to preserve the work of the last hour. she did look pretty– you’d be lying if you said she didn’t. but she looked so different; the dark brown and pink shadow sank her round, glossy eyes into the even, somewhat lifeless complexion your foundation gave her. and as she opened her eyes, you noticed the smoky pigment on her lashline made her dark brown irises even richer. it was as if they were swirling, like frothy, hot coffee in a handmade ceramic mug. you didn’t even realize you were staring, eyes adjusting to this new version of your best friend that you, unexpectedly, didn’t exactly recognize. until she smiled.
“all done?” euijoo asked, raising her eyebrows and visibly recoiling at the feeling of the hairs gelled in place, “can i see?”
“all done,” you confirmed and leaned back to grab your mirror from behind you. you felt euijoo’s hand slide up the back of your leg, holding you in place as you craned your body haphazardly. it was typical of her to keep you upright– she was always your shoulder to lean on, physically and emotionally– but, now, your stomach tightened, and not just to engage your core and keep you from sliding all the way off the bed. no, it flipped. it was like opening a bottle of soda from the most aggressive vending machine and twisting the cap off, slow, the wet hiss of the pressure a warning and a temptation.
the mirror was heavy in your hands as you held it, blocking your face and perfectly centering hers in the reflective glass. you peered over the top, watching her tongue poke out of her mouth as she examined the textures of the products on her face, the precise layering of color on her eyes, and the intensity of it all. euijoo glanced once, quickly, at your focused stare, your mouth slightly agape and hidden behind the mirror, and fought a smile. you cleared your throat, adjusting your position on her lap, if only just to get her to drop her hands from your legs, to stop the goosebumps from pinching your arms and the butterflies’ unwavering beating against your stomach, your chest, all the way to your throat. there was no doubt that she could hear them as you asked, “do you like it?”
you didn’t miss the way her eyes lingered on you as she answered, “yeah.” euijoo reached up, then, and wrapped her fingers around one of your wrists, angling the mirror downward, bringing it a little closer. she furrowed her newly penciled-in brows for just a second, lips pulled to one side contemplatively, like she were solving a puzzle or counting tablespoons of sifted flour. she poked her cheek with one finger, “i’m not sure about this, though.”
“what?” you dropped the mirror, leaning closer. did you smudge the mascara under her eye? did you forget to wipe away the fallout from the eyeshadow?
“all the blush,” she admitted in a hushed voice, clearly regretful to be criticizing your work, “its… a bit much.”
your faces were so close, closer than they had been before when you were packing shades of tan against her honey-toned canvas. you breathed a laugh at her innocent, guilty expression, and she laughed, too, just happy that you weren’t upset. one thing you were completely certain of was that you could never be upset with her. throughout your years of friendship, euijoo had been racking up a list of lines to be crossed. she had accidentally signed you up for an automatically renewing subscription service for bales of organically grown hay when you lived in an apartment and had, not only no need for multiple bales of hay every month, but no space for multiple bales of hay. your couch still smelled like straw. euijoo had invited your exes to parties by sending the invite text to everyone in her contacts, but she only had your exes’ numbers because she signed them up, too, for the hay bale subscription. after she realized how powerfully inconvenient it was to have an abundance of alfalfa. but at the end of every day, it was euijoo on facetime with you, decompressing after a shitty day at work, making cheap noodles on the stove and fanning the smoke detector after burning them, too invested in your conversation to notice the smoke rolling over the pan.
the blush was prominent. it was a saturated peach, pink on the edges and flushing so evenly across her cheekbones and nose that you almost didn’t realize it was also on her ears, melting down her neck and onto her chest. and it only got brighter, or darker, rather, under your study. you had thought about what shade to use on her as you were gathering your products. before you had even began, you pondered a cherry red, a blistering pink, or a light wash of coral, all of which would have looked gorgeous on her. but after her dilemma with the feeling of the product on her skin, you had decided to skip out on the color. you could always add it on after the fact, if she asked for it. you broke the news carefully, “you’re not wearing blush.”
“liar,” euijoo sat up slightly, craning her neck to the pile of makeup next to your perpendicular bodies and sifting through the palettes and compacts, searching for a brush with red bristles. the color was flaming bright on her ears, now, the skin there unmuddled by concealers and powders. she reached for the mirror again, “what’s this, then?”
“that’s all you, juju,” you teased, earning another shove from her as she forced the mirror back in your hands. she reached up to cover her face, a habit you secretly adored, but stopped just short of making contact with her face, like she remembered she was about to touch paint that hadn't yet dried. she balled her hands into fists instead, containing her frustration or embarrassment or some combination of the two that only happens when you’ve been found out. like she had cheated in a game of cards and still lost. you continued, less teasing and more explanatory, “i didn’t use blush or lip color because i didn’t know if you’d like it.”
you reached behind you again, and there was her hand on your leg, steady and warm. you felt that same warmth blooming in your chest and wondered how far it would spread before she noticed. how much could your hand shake as you blended the color seamlessly into her skin, blending even when the lines are blurred to perfection just to quiet your racing thoughts? you assumed your feelings for euijoo had fizzled out to nothing after all this time, but there had been a muffled voice you’d grown accustomed to ignoring deep, deep down. it sounded like it was drowning and its mouth had just sank below the water’s surface, whatever message it had been trying to send you reduced to helpless splashes and erupting bubbles. now that you were drowning, too, you could hear it clearly; now that you were pinning her to your bed with your hips and tilting her face like a doll with your fingertips on her chin, you could hear it louder than ever.
you picked up the three lip colors you were considering for her, similar tones as the blushes but with different finishes. you selected a matte burgundy, a satin pink, and a gloss with coral undertones, all of which sat behind you untouched until now. you dangled them in front of euijoo’s still flushed face, opening each bottle and pulling the applicator out with a suctioned pop! that made her smile each time, her brows raising higher with each option. taking the dusty pink one, she held it up to your lips, comparing the colors. she frowned slightly, “i want whatever you have on.”
you felt your breath catch as euijoo’s finger dragged, lightly, over your bottom lip. you gulped, tongue darting out instinctively as soon as she dropped her hand back to her chest and started flipping the lipstick bottle in her grasp. your lips were shiny with spit, no doubt, from having your lip tucked between your teeth in concentration. they were probably red for that reason, too. giving you a bitten, ruby hue that was impossible to recreate with product. just-kissed lips, euijoo would taunt you when you would send her selfies after your past successful dates. you laughed the tightness in your chest away, “i’m not wearing any lipstick,” you deflected, tapping the bottle in her hands, “i like this one, though.”
“okay,” euijoo said, reluctance dripping off each syllable. she reached for the mirror, “can i try it?”
she rarely wore makeup, and when she did, it was concealer on a pimple or some mascara if the occasion called for it. she loved lip balm, though, and took pride in her collection of flavors. it was more frequent for euijoo to match the flavor of her lips to her outfit rather than the color. neutrals called for coconut or vanilla whereas cool toned blues or greens were to be worn alongside blackberry or watermelon. even if no one knew but her, she would coordinate with clear, non-tinted lip balm. she made the mistake once of applying a strawberry balm that had the most pigmented sheen you’d ever witnessed in a chapstick, applying it in messy circles and overshooting her lipline by a mile. so, when you nodded, you expected much worse from her application of the pink, creamy lipstick.
she focused in the mirror, pulling her plush lips taut and gliding the applicator along the expanse of pink flesh. carefully, euijoo traced the edges of her lips, dancing along the sharp line you’d created with the concealer earlier; the bottom lip was smooth, but the top lip posed a new challenge as she tackled the curve of her cupid’s bow. it took everything for you to not reach forward and confiscate the wand from her, to not just do it yourself. you had looked at her lips a thousand times– surely you could do it with your eyes closed. but you didn’t. you let euijoo press her lips together, a finality in any lip product application. she flinched slightly in surprise at the way her lips adhered to each other, the satin finish leaving them slightly tacky. she put on an exaggerated pout in the mirror, angling her head dramatically, “how’d i do?”
“not too bad,” you said, truthfully, although you gingerly extended your arm and placed your thumb under the shadow of her bottom lip. with barely any pressure at all, you swiped your nail along the edge of her lip, dragging all the way to the corner and cleaning up her messy application. euijoo melted into your touch, her mouth slightly open, lip slack under the pull of your finger. absentmindedly, you wiped the excess lipstick on the side of your bed, clearing your throat as she stared, dazed. you shifted the vibe, quickly, tossing the mirror onto the comforter bunched up next to the two of you. “it looks better on me, though,” you teased, lifting your leg to slide off of her, finally finished with the task at hand, which was to do your best friend’s makeup and none of the intimate touching or staring you’d caught yourself in.
but euijoo’s fingers tightened around the back of your leg, keeping you in place as her other hand mirrored the gesture, feathering her nails up your skin. you didn’t mean to look as shocked as you did, lips parting and the skeleton of a gasp slipping down your throat, but euijoo looked just as surprised if not more. her chest heaved noticeably beneath you, fingers drawing circles on your calves. she narrowed her eyes, pupils blown wide against the dark brown smoky shadow you packed under her lashes. she looked intense, far different from the euijoo who tried to do a flip two hours prior and almost broke your lamp because she didn’t realize she was that close to your nightstand. or that she was incapable of doing a flip. you would have placed a bet, though, that she would have looked just as intense if you wiped all the makeup off. her eyes were that sharp, burning hot, like holding an ice cube for too long. the moment right before your flesh goes numb and you can’t feel the damage anymore– a perpetual limbo between feeling everything and nothing, a fever.
“i don’t think i’ve seen you wear this color before,” euijoo spoke like she wasn’t burning holes into you everywhere your bodies were connected, “i would have noticed.”
“then you need to pay more attention,”.you laughed, but she didn’t, “i wear it all the time.”
“when?”
it sounded more like a demand than a question, but you struggled to answer it nonetheless. you wore a lot of different lipsticks, as one does, but this one was one of your favorites. the tone complimented your skin, and you liked the finish more than the matte colors in your collection. it wasn’t transfer proof, so you didn’t wear it on dates or anywhere you knew you’d have a drink or a meal. it was an activity color, so you guessed, “um, last week? when we went to that craft fair.”
“wrong,” euijoo breathed, “you wore a gloss. your hair kept getting caught in it.”
“then, the movies,” you shrugged, “i dont know why it matters so much.”
“because you’re not wearing it with me,” euijoo relaxed into the pillow beneath her again, but her hands wandered further up your legs, over your knees, teasing the lower half of your thighs, “and that means something.”
it did mean something; you just didn’t know euijoo had caught onto your code. you always wore lipgloss around her, which had been the only thing keeping you from this exact situation several times before. you had a strict no kissing policy when wearing lip gloss; it was messy, sticky, and ruined your makeup without fail every time. so when euijoo would invite you to hang out, you coated your lips in a gooey shimmer. you could flirt with her all you wanted, play it off as friendly banter, but it would never go further than that. you didn’t know if she would even allow it to go further, and that, the prospect of demolishing such a perfect friendship, scared you more than ruining your makeup. to ruin your friendship and your flawless base at the same time would have been a major low for you.
you didnt know what to do with your hands, no longer holding the mirror, no longer holding a brush. now, euijoo was the artist, painting your skin with heat, with chills, like a master of the elements– she contorted your being like clay. she always had.
“euijoo…” you sighed, attempting to brush away the embarrassment. somehow, she knew your feelings before you did. usually, she was good at that, though; she anticipated your sadness, keeping a bag of your favorite snacks on her counter in case you had a rough night and needed a pick-me-up, and she knew all your tells for when you were about to explode from anger, even over the little things.
“can you do something for me?” she asked, ignoring every tell you were showing. you nodded despite yourself. you hoped she would tell you to stand up and let her feel the lower half of her body again, or that she would ask you if you wanted to order something to eat. anything that might signal to you that she was more oblivious than you assumed. she reached over into the pile of makeup and picked up the peach-toned lipgloss. “put this on?”
she watched as you worked from muscle memory, no mirror needed. the gloss was thick, shiny but not shimmery, just clear and syrupy and a the rim of a glass’ worst nightmare. it accentuated the plumpness of your lips like a spyglass, reflecting the warm light of your bedroom. surely, euijoo could see herself in it as she stared at you from below, her eyelids still heavy. you lightly rubbed your lips together and twisted the lid closed. your brows raised, silently asking euijoo if she was satisfied with her request.
but she wasn’t finished, as was typically the case with her.
“can you do something else for me?” euijoo’s voice shook, barely noticeable over the sound of your heartbeat in your ears as her hands slid up your thighs and settled on the curve of your hips. you breathed deeply, once, and nodded again. she craned her neck up to you, and her freshly rose-colored lips grazed your sticky, peach ones, “kiss me?”
it was like one of the unthinkable ultimatums they gave the heroes of action movies, only instead of saving one man or an entire city, you had to preserve the perfect application of your lip gloss or kiss your best friend, whom you had been silently and helplessly in love with for years. decisions, decisions. you imagined this moment a dozen times, and every time it was you initiating it, making the first move and taking her breath away. one scenario was sweet in a traditional, rom-com way, hands held over an expensive meal, one kiss stolen quickly under harsh restaurant lighting; another placed the two of you in a haunted house with your fingers interlocked, moments shared in strobing flashes, gasping through the burn of artificial fog; one scenario even took place at the aforementioned craft fair, where one vendor was drawing live portraits and the hypothetical, self-induced idea of kissing euijoo for fifteen minutes straight, holding back laughter as it became incredibly awkward, made you so nervous that you nearly fainted. you blamed it on the unusual warmth of the evening and the excess of sugarly lemonade, then, but the same could not be said for right now. there was in fact no lemonade, only the sweet scent of euijoo’s perfume wafting from the heat of her chest as she lingered in the space between you.
the only thing worse than kissing euijoo while wearing your stickiest lipgloss was not kissing her at all.
your stomach flipped and urged you forward, until the gap was closed and your lips were on hers. euijoo sighed, quietly, almost with relief like she didn’t think you were going to oblige, like there existed any version of you that would deny her anything. her hands bunched up the sides of your tshirt, pulling you closer, while yours found either side of her newly painted face. the powder made the plush skin in the hollows of her cheeks undeniably soft; the pad of your thumb glided over it like silk on silk, like twisting in rich sheets. the weight of her lips on yours was unlike anything you had imagined. your scenarios failed to account for the addictive yield of her lips against yours, the way she folded so easily.
it was only one kiss, one to start or end it all, and when you finally pulled back, you felt your skin crawl at the way your lips refused to part from hers. it was like your body was rejecting your wishes, keeping the two of you anchored together. you peeled away from the kiss, lips heavy with the mixture of product; your gloss swirled with euijoo’s pink lipstick and left traces of each other on your mouths, traces of each other on your hearts, too.
tentatively, you dipped your lips back to down to hers, leaning her back until euijoo was flat on the pillow again. your kiss pushed her deeper into the cushion, her lips slotting perfectly between yours. you didn’t care about the gloss anymore, how it was undoubtedly smeared and collecting in the corners of your mouth. all you could taste was the waxy, bitter paste of the lipstick with the faintest hint of euijoo’s lip balm at the tail end. she was the first taste of a ripe peach on the verge of spoiling, almost too sweet. euijoo kept you flush to her, so close that her chest grated against yours with every heavy breath that fanned over your face, every gasp between open-mouthed kisses. beside you, the pile of makeup tins and brushes clanked and clattered as they rolled closer to the dip in the mattress that cradled your bodies, burning with excitement, with the spontaneous revelation of feelings long suppressed. not just by you but euijoo, too, her tongue swiping over the sticky substance on your lips to slip into your mouth.
it was the weight lifted off your chest, the pulling of the drainplug that had left the voice in your head submerged for so long, to be kissing her, to be in love with her. maybe you’d tell her that, soon. maybe you’d tell her that in a few moments. but for now, you disconnected your mouth from hers, leaving her gasping and confused, just for a second, as you turned to your never-ending pile of makeup supplies. euijoo sat up on her elbows, concerned, “what’s wrong?”
you turned back with a cotton pad, a bottle of makeup remover, and a determined expression, which turned soft at the sight of her downturned eyebrows. lipstick was fucking everywhere. you doused the little white circle and swiped it across your mouth, erasing all traces of the goop that you’d began to almost associate with euijoo by how often you wore it with her, afraid of falling victim to your feelings. you wiped and wiped until your lips were totally bare, completely natural and sensitive.
“nothing’s wrong, juju,” you cooed, dousing another cotton pad with remover and bringing it to her lips. you ran a hand through her hair, pushing it back from her beautiful, flushed face, “i’m gonna wipe this shit off so that i can kiss you and actually feel it.”
and maybe after, you’ll tell her you’ve loved her for an embarrassingly long time.
ⓘ i've added a femteam option to my taglist post! if you are on my nsfw or sfw taglists and wish to be tagged in future femteam works of mine, please let me know!!
ellievsbear
pixelskylines
prguitarman
jbbartram-illu
stormborns
