Aveline

taki (3 of cups, 3 of wands, 4 of swords)

taki  seems  to  be  looking  for  someone  who  is  first  and  foremost  a  great  friend.  the  3  of  cups  shows  he  wants  a  girl  who  is  fun,  social,  and  easy  to  get  along  with  in  a  group  setting.  he  likely  dreams  of  a  partner  he  can  travel  with  or  someone  who  has  a  very  open-minded,  "global"  outlook  on  life  because  of  the  3  of  wands.  this  card  is  a  huge  green  light  for  dating  a  foreign  girl.  it  suggests  he  is  interested  in  expanding  his  horizons  and  wouldn't  mind  a  long-distance  connection  or  someone  from  a  completely  different  culture.  however,  the  4  of  swords  at  the  end  says  his  "ideal"  person  is  also  someone  who  knows  when  to  be  quiet  and  just  relax.  he  needs  a  girl  who  can  balance  his  high  energy  with  some  peace  and  low-key  moments.

maki (the moon, the star, 3 of cups)

maki's  ideal  type  is  a  bit  more  dreamy  and  aesthetic.  with  the  moon  and  the  star  together,  he  is  drawn  to  girls  who  have  a  mysterious,  almost  ethereal  vibe.  he  likes  someone  who  is  intuitive,  artistic  or  maybe  a  bit  hard  to  read  at  first.  the  star  indicates  he  wants  a  partner  who  is  his  "hope"  or  someone  he  can  truly  admire,  possibly  someone  very  beautiful  or  talented.  regarding  dating  a  foreign  girl,  the  star  is  a  positive  omen  for  "distant"  connections  or  someone  who  feels  like  a  breath  of  fresh  air  from  a  different  place.  the  3  of  cups  here  shows  that  even  though  he  likes  the  mystery,  he  still  wants  someone  who  can  hang  out  with  his  friends  and  be  the  life  of  the  party  when  needed.  he  wants  a  girl  who  is  both  a  dream  and  a  best  friend.

“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. 

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

@cheolscherries1812 @jungwonsgff @heesoulnotes @kjjupilled @xionvlog

@ikigaijo @0wisewisdoom @minhosimthings @luperque @ikeuholica

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