Ship/Member: Seokmin/Seungkwan Major Tags: None Additional Tags: high school au, rule 63, peeling tangerines as a love language, the sapphic ordeal of being in love with your best friend Permission to remix: sure!
hi!! i decided to go with girl booseok since i feel like the poem has a lot to do with girlhood- hope that's good!
***
Pushing her thumbnail into the bottom of the tangerine, Seokmin hooks her finger in. She always finds that this is the only unpleasant part of the process, all the nasty parts of the skin getting stuck under her nails. The rest comes easy.
Seungkwan puts her phone down, the open camera now facing the classroom ceiling. “Are my bangs too choppy?” she asks, hand already moving up to mess with them without even hearing Seokmin’s answer. Maybe she already knows it.
“No they’re not,” Seokmin starts turning the tangerine around with one hand, the hook of her left thumb pulling the rind along with it. “You straighten the hell out of them everyday, I think it’d be obvious if they were choppy.”
Seungkwan fusses with her bangs for another second, then seems to give up with a huff. “I guess you’re right,” she agrees, though the pout on her face doesn’t ease. She taps her fingers on the desk, then restlessly reaching out to grab onto her coffee thermos, lifts it to her mouth to take a sip. When she pulls the thermos away from her mouth, there's a drop of coffee sitting on her bottom lip, swollen from biting on it incessantly. Seokmin swallows around empty air.
Looking back down at the fruit in her hands, Seokmin pushes her fingers deeper to ground herself. The sticky juice of it squirts out, some of it landing on the white fabric of her school uniform as a punishment for her assault. A reminder to be careful, to not push too far. Know your boundaries.
Someone walks by them, probably leaving the classroom to go downstairs for lunch. Seokmin doesn’t look up, focused on removing the pith around the slices, the white veins reaching over and under. Seungkwan claims she doesn’t mind them, that a true Jeju native eats tangerines without the fuss the “city folk” create over it, pith and all. Seokmin’s caught her carefully looking at each piece before eating it enough times to know that that’s not entirely true. She doesn’t point it out unless she feels like pushing buttons that day.
Rubbing her fingers together to get rid of the white strings, Seokmin inhales softly. The scent of sweet citrus and coffee fill up her senses, and it feels like everything in the universe—including herself—is focused on the girl in front of her, scrambling to be in her orbit, to be a part of her. It’s a little like drowning.
When Seokmin holds up a piece, Seungkwan opens her mouth soundlessly. “Seriously?” Seokmin wants to ask. But she knows the answer will be something about Seungkwan being bad at the job: the rind removed in countless small pieces instead of a smooth few, juice getting everywhere, her carefully manicured nails getting ruined. “Besides,” she will say. “They’re sweeter when you peel them for me.” She never explains why Seokmin has to feed each piece to her, why she can’t just pick up the peeled pieces from the desk and plop them into her mouth. Seokmin doesn't ask.
Reaching her hand out, Seokmin finds that the piece of fruit between her fingers easily slots itself between glossy pink lips. She wonders what would happen if she reached further, pushed more, fingers asking for permission to be let in. She wonders if it would tickle, the wet warmth of her best friend’s mouth. She feels the ghost of it around her fingers. Her fingertips tingle like static. She pulls her hand back in a way she hopes looks casual.
As if to make sure Seokmin is watching, Seungkwan maintains eye contact as she closes her lips around the fruit. Gaze flickering between the starry pools of her eyes and the cavern of her mouth, Seokmin finds her lips pursing as well.
Seungkwan smiles at her as she’s slotting the next piece between her lips. It’s a small thing, meant only for her in the privacy of the moment, and Seokmin is once again hit with how much she wants.
Seungkwan, with her small smiles, big laughs and even bigger gestures. Seungkwan with her nagging tone and caring touches, Seungkwan with her loving looks and confusing words. Every inch of Seokmin’s being screams: Seungkwan Seungkwan Seungkwan.
When the bell rings, Seokmin stands up and collects the traces of her yearning. Rind, pith, stem. Seungkwan looks up at her, then reaches out to lightly wrap her fingers around her wrist. Sometimes Seokmin likes to think she feels it too, the pull. “Thank you Seokminnie.”
“Yeah,” Seokmin answers, breath caught in her throat. “Anytime, Boo.”
Later, when she notices the lingering scent of citrus on her skin, Seokmin finds her fingers curling around empty air, reaching.
[FILL] you know i'll do anything you ask me to
Major Tags: None
Additional Tags: high school au, rule 63, peeling tangerines as a love language, the sapphic ordeal of being in love with your best friend
Permission to remix: sure!
hi!! i decided to go with girl booseok since i feel like the poem has a lot to do with girlhood- hope that's good!
***
Pushing her thumbnail into the bottom of the tangerine, Seokmin hooks her finger in. She always finds that this is the only unpleasant part of the process, all the nasty parts of the skin getting stuck under her nails. The rest comes easy.
Seungkwan puts her phone down, the open camera now facing the classroom ceiling. “Are my bangs too choppy?” she asks, hand already moving up to mess with them without even hearing Seokmin’s answer. Maybe she already knows it.
“No they’re not,” Seokmin starts turning the tangerine around with one hand, the hook of her left thumb pulling the rind along with it. “You straighten the hell out of them everyday, I think it’d be obvious if they were choppy.”
Seungkwan fusses with her bangs for another second, then seems to give up with a huff. “I guess you’re right,” she agrees, though the pout on her face doesn’t ease. She taps her fingers on the desk, then restlessly reaching out to grab onto her coffee thermos, lifts it to her mouth to take a sip. When she pulls the thermos away from her mouth, there's a drop of coffee sitting on her bottom lip, swollen from biting on it incessantly. Seokmin swallows around empty air.
Looking back down at the fruit in her hands, Seokmin pushes her fingers deeper to ground herself. The sticky juice of it squirts out, some of it landing on the white fabric of her school uniform as a punishment for her assault. A reminder to be careful, to not push too far. Know your boundaries.
Someone walks by them, probably leaving the classroom to go downstairs for lunch. Seokmin doesn’t look up, focused on removing the pith around the slices, the white veins reaching over and under. Seungkwan claims she doesn’t mind them, that a true Jeju native eats tangerines without the fuss the “city folk” create over it, pith and all. Seokmin’s caught her carefully looking at each piece before eating it enough times to know that that’s not entirely true. She doesn’t point it out unless she feels like pushing buttons that day.
Rubbing her fingers together to get rid of the white strings, Seokmin inhales softly. The scent of sweet citrus and coffee fill up her senses, and it feels like everything in the universe—including herself—is focused on the girl in front of her, scrambling to be in her orbit, to be a part of her. It’s a little like drowning.
When Seokmin holds up a piece, Seungkwan opens her mouth soundlessly. “Seriously?” Seokmin wants to ask. But she knows the answer will be something about Seungkwan being bad at the job: the rind removed in countless small pieces instead of a smooth few, juice getting everywhere, her carefully manicured nails getting ruined. “Besides,” she will say. “They’re sweeter when you peel them for me.” She never explains why Seokmin has to feed each piece to her, why she can’t just pick up the peeled pieces from the desk and plop them into her mouth. Seokmin doesn't ask.
Reaching her hand out, Seokmin finds that the piece of fruit between her fingers easily slots itself between glossy pink lips. She wonders what would happen if she reached further, pushed more, fingers asking for permission to be let in. She wonders if it would tickle, the wet warmth of her best friend’s mouth. She feels the ghost of it around her fingers. Her fingertips tingle like static. She pulls her hand back in a way she hopes looks casual.
As if to make sure Seokmin is watching, Seungkwan maintains eye contact as she closes her lips around the fruit. Gaze flickering between the starry pools of her eyes and the cavern of her mouth, Seokmin finds her lips pursing as well.
Seungkwan smiles at her as she’s slotting the next piece between her lips. It’s a small thing, meant only for her in the privacy of the moment, and Seokmin is once again hit with how much she wants.
Seungkwan, with her small smiles, big laughs and even bigger gestures. Seungkwan with her nagging tone and caring touches, Seungkwan with her loving looks and confusing words. Every inch of Seokmin’s being screams: Seungkwan Seungkwan Seungkwan.
When the bell rings, Seokmin stands up and collects the traces of her yearning. Rind, pith, stem. Seungkwan looks up at her, then reaches out to lightly wrap her fingers around her wrist. Sometimes Seokmin likes to think she feels it too, the pull. “Thank you Seokminnie.”
“Yeah,” Seokmin answers, breath caught in her throat. “Anytime, Boo.”
Later, when she notices the lingering scent of citrus on her skin, Seokmin finds her fingers curling around empty air, reaching.