Sky Flip Fairytale
SKY FLIP FAIRYTALE;; PG
A broken Jongsica fic (ofc) written in the weirdest way because I have permanent writer's block. Enjoy!
Sometimes Jessica pondered what it would be like to kiss Siwon. He was tall, had a statuesque aura about him that was unlike most men she had met in her life and above all he was quite good looking, one could admit. She wondered what it would be like just once to reach to the highest of her tippy-toes barely to meet his chin until he bent down, gazed at her once with those twinkling eyes and kissed her gallantly on her own lips, suavely like those men in dapper suits were meant to kiss. Yes, she would quite like that, Jessica knew. Just once.
But alas, they were just friends and had always been friends, sometimes on the verge of being fairly distant with one another when they hadn't seen one another in quite some time but they were friends nonetheless, in the most utterly, purely, platonic sense. So Jessica would wrinkle her nose, tsk a little under her breath whenever those thoughts came across her mind and turn a heavy hand towards herself.
Alas, she would flip open her phone instead and scour over her text inbox and sigh furiously, once, no twenty times and mumble to no one in particular. 'I miss you,' 'Please forgive me,' 'Will you be my friend at least,' 'Life has no meaning without you, elephant,' would fill her inbox in the most frustrating way - for all Jessica would have really liked is to find the last text from her mother, 'Are you taking care of yourself, my baby?' and read it over and over before she went to sleep, and really, it was rude of these incessant texts to get in her way.
He was a rather insipid, insolent fool and she didn't know why he bothered texting her anyway when he was the one who turned his back the moment she left the country for a bit; only to return to the most bothersome news ever. Not that she cared of course. Jessica was beyond all that. So what if he had a girlfriend? So what if they had only spent the past seven months texting each other lame jokes constantly, pushing each other down the stairs at the company building, cuddling while watching movies with everyone else, sneaking off together to eat quaint meals on the rooftop underneath the beautiful city lights. So what if she cherished all those moments secretly and looked forward to those most past those mind-achingly long rehearsals and thought of nothing else to keep her motivated when she spent endless hours working and working toward a seemingly endless goal? So what.
It's not like Jessica had feelings for him. At least none that she would ever care to admit to. Why would someone like her go for someone so, so juvenile, so irritatingly smug at the wrong times, silly, cocky and short. He wasn't like those actors she deemed quality men. He was, in fact, the exact opposite and embarrassingly so. And his worst attribute was that he thought he would sing. She had always felt that way, indeed; and whenever opportunity would strike she felt compelled to rub it in his face that Kyuhyun far exceeded whatever singing abilities he felt that he had. To which he would just pinch her cheeks adoringly and say in that uber-greasy voice of his that he would work on his vocals until he could melt her heart into oblivion.
Trouble is, he already had. It was a shame Jessica couldn't admit it to herself. For unlike Siwon, she had never been friends with the inspid fool - never even close. They had started out as an awkward trainee and sunbae, evolved into a cordial sunbae and hoobae, and fast forwarded into a trainwreck of mishappened flirtations and deep crushing and mad chasing and maddened heartbreak all too fast, and it had ended before it had even started. No, no, they were never friends and never will be friends and Jessica had disallowed it in her heart for them to ever be anything more than friends at this point.
Her heart was lusty and in denial. All for the wrong prince.
Jessica tossed her phone on the wooden floor, a teensy portion of her hoping that it would break upon arrival. No such luck, it was infallible as ever, all those stupid texts intact. She mumbled a bit more then, before stomping upright, leaving the office space to get a refreshing beverage. Writer's block was the worst and she was having a serious case that would just have to make her terrible composition wait.
She was never much of a writer in the very least. Only a cassanova who wooed girls and broke hearts could find inspiration to write in such silly times.
As she opened the door, the composer walked in, his permanent smug smile quickly fading at the sight of her scowl and peculiarly it never crossed her mind to lighten up and try to smile. They were friends of course. But somehow she didn't think he was deserving of a smile, and when he bowed she could see that perpendicular weird patch of hair that grew in an opposite direction on his head that made the odd sensation of wanting to vomit come upon her.
"Sica," he started.
"Sica noona," she stated coldly and for a second she did not know why she corrected him. They had dropped the formalities a long time ago, but somehow had started using them once again and perhaps, she was using them as a barrier, just perhaps. But this was her fairytale, and only her prince could call her what she wanted him to. He was not her prince.
"How are you?" What a stupid question to ask. Of all the things to say, only one who lacks creativity would ask something so simple minded.
"I'm fine. Thirsty," she managed to sound a tad less icy this time as she tried to walk past him, only to be met with a firm, steady hand gripping her arm. The sensation was immediate - warmth crept inside her body, every hair on her arm prickled with yearning, and her heart began to tremble despite her resistance. She would've liked nothing more than to kiss him right then, tip-toe slightly (less than she would've if it was Siwon) and be wrapped in his warm embrace.
"Sica noona, talk to me. Please." His voice was aching and she did not dare look in to those melting, puppy eyes of his. "Do you hate me?" He was inches away from her now, his breath falling upon her, his other hand cupping her chin in a very romantic, princely way. But her eyes were becoming acquainted with the floor, and she was memorizing the patterns weaved into it very well.
"Do you hate me?" he whispered again, softly this time. She felt her arms slack against her will, felt herself weakening in his hold, wanting nothing more than to feel his own heartbeat against her own, feel the pitter patter like a rhythm she could compose to. If only.
It was he who made the next move, silently but brilliantly. Before she knew it he had buried himself into her hair, smelling it, inhaling it, memorizing the familiar scent that he, oh, so loved, he had once told her. She could feel his breath upon it, ever so sweetly and she felt like the floor was crumbling beneath them.
"No." She said, hating herself as her voice cracked despite her efforts for it to not and she started to crumble along with the floor as those two sturdy arms enveloped around her in one of those hugs, their hugs, tightly, closely, personal. She couldn't resist it much furthur and before she knew it she was on half of her tippy-toes, snuggling her face right into his welcoming neck, now smelling that familiar scent of toasty cologne that she could never really place. Unconsciously, two of her fingers trailed up his chest before resting upon those moles on his lower chest that she adored so much. She let her fingers play there for a bit, leaving incoherent circles upon them.
"I've missed you so much," he mumurued, and she could feel his mouth moving in her hair with every syllable. She drew nearer to him, avoiding his gaze as much as she could muster, tears lining the lids of her eyes, daring to fall down. She nuzzled even farther upon his neck, feeling the sweet goosebumps upon her own breath, her lips slowly parting once they met with the skin there and a few kisses escaped from her lips upon the melodic softness of his skin. She could feel him rustling in her hair even more, but she could not bring herself to unlock from her position. How she longed to stay there forever.
"Are you still with her?" Her own abrupt words surprised her, as she felt him tense everywhere, the goosebumps on his neck suddenly cold to touch with her lips. He pulled back, those familiar warm arms, loose yet unwilling to part completely. He untangled himself from her hair, looking down at her, but she would not look at those puppy eyes whatever the cost.
"Yes." Came the answer all too soon with a choke, and she broke from his grip quickly, one hand taming her hair, the other patting her clothes to look pristine and proper like it should have been. She made her way towards the door, not daring to look back, the last hair on her body still prickling from his warm touch. "B-but...but we're still friends, right?"
"I have to get something to drink." The iciness in her voice was back, not kind, and not inviting in the slightest. But that's how ice princesses react to the idea of being friends with such an imposter of statements, and she knew in her heart that the ice would never be melted like it once was.
Fairytales, were just that after all. Fairytales.
END!
A broken Jongsica fic (ofc) written in the weirdest way because I have permanent writer's block. Enjoy!
Click to viewSometimes Jessica pondered what it would be like to kiss Siwon. He was tall, had a statuesque aura about him that was unlike most men she had met in her life and above all he was quite good looking, one could admit. She wondered what it would be like just once to reach to the highest of her tippy-toes barely to meet his chin until he bent down, gazed at her once with those twinkling eyes and kissed her gallantly on her own lips, suavely like those men in dapper suits were meant to kiss. Yes, she would quite like that, Jessica knew. Just once.
But alas, they were just friends and had always been friends, sometimes on the verge of being fairly distant with one another when they hadn't seen one another in quite some time but they were friends nonetheless, in the most utterly, purely, platonic sense. So Jessica would wrinkle her nose, tsk a little under her breath whenever those thoughts came across her mind and turn a heavy hand towards herself.
Alas, she would flip open her phone instead and scour over her text inbox and sigh furiously, once, no twenty times and mumble to no one in particular. 'I miss you,' 'Please forgive me,' 'Will you be my friend at least,' 'Life has no meaning without you, elephant,' would fill her inbox in the most frustrating way - for all Jessica would have really liked is to find the last text from her mother, 'Are you taking care of yourself, my baby?' and read it over and over before she went to sleep, and really, it was rude of these incessant texts to get in her way.
He was a rather insipid, insolent fool and she didn't know why he bothered texting her anyway when he was the one who turned his back the moment she left the country for a bit; only to return to the most bothersome news ever. Not that she cared of course. Jessica was beyond all that. So what if he had a girlfriend? So what if they had only spent the past seven months texting each other lame jokes constantly, pushing each other down the stairs at the company building, cuddling while watching movies with everyone else, sneaking off together to eat quaint meals on the rooftop underneath the beautiful city lights. So what if she cherished all those moments secretly and looked forward to those most past those mind-achingly long rehearsals and thought of nothing else to keep her motivated when she spent endless hours working and working toward a seemingly endless goal? So what.
It's not like Jessica had feelings for him. At least none that she would ever care to admit to. Why would someone like her go for someone so, so juvenile, so irritatingly smug at the wrong times, silly, cocky and short. He wasn't like those actors she deemed quality men. He was, in fact, the exact opposite and embarrassingly so. And his worst attribute was that he thought he would sing. She had always felt that way, indeed; and whenever opportunity would strike she felt compelled to rub it in his face that Kyuhyun far exceeded whatever singing abilities he felt that he had. To which he would just pinch her cheeks adoringly and say in that uber-greasy voice of his that he would work on his vocals until he could melt her heart into oblivion.
Trouble is, he already had. It was a shame Jessica couldn't admit it to herself. For unlike Siwon, she had never been friends with the inspid fool - never even close. They had started out as an awkward trainee and sunbae, evolved into a cordial sunbae and hoobae, and fast forwarded into a trainwreck of mishappened flirtations and deep crushing and mad chasing and maddened heartbreak all too fast, and it had ended before it had even started. No, no, they were never friends and never will be friends and Jessica had disallowed it in her heart for them to ever be anything more than friends at this point.
Her heart was lusty and in denial. All for the wrong prince.
Jessica tossed her phone on the wooden floor, a teensy portion of her hoping that it would break upon arrival. No such luck, it was infallible as ever, all those stupid texts intact. She mumbled a bit more then, before stomping upright, leaving the office space to get a refreshing beverage. Writer's block was the worst and she was having a serious case that would just have to make her terrible composition wait.
She was never much of a writer in the very least. Only a cassanova who wooed girls and broke hearts could find inspiration to write in such silly times.
As she opened the door, the composer walked in, his permanent smug smile quickly fading at the sight of her scowl and peculiarly it never crossed her mind to lighten up and try to smile. They were friends of course. But somehow she didn't think he was deserving of a smile, and when he bowed she could see that perpendicular weird patch of hair that grew in an opposite direction on his head that made the odd sensation of wanting to vomit come upon her.
"Sica," he started.
"Sica noona," she stated coldly and for a second she did not know why she corrected him. They had dropped the formalities a long time ago, but somehow had started using them once again and perhaps, she was using them as a barrier, just perhaps. But this was her fairytale, and only her prince could call her what she wanted him to. He was not her prince.
"How are you?" What a stupid question to ask. Of all the things to say, only one who lacks creativity would ask something so simple minded.
"I'm fine. Thirsty," she managed to sound a tad less icy this time as she tried to walk past him, only to be met with a firm, steady hand gripping her arm. The sensation was immediate - warmth crept inside her body, every hair on her arm prickled with yearning, and her heart began to tremble despite her resistance. She would've liked nothing more than to kiss him right then, tip-toe slightly (less than she would've if it was Siwon) and be wrapped in his warm embrace.
"Sica noona, talk to me. Please." His voice was aching and she did not dare look in to those melting, puppy eyes of his. "Do you hate me?" He was inches away from her now, his breath falling upon her, his other hand cupping her chin in a very romantic, princely way. But her eyes were becoming acquainted with the floor, and she was memorizing the patterns weaved into it very well.
"Do you hate me?" he whispered again, softly this time. She felt her arms slack against her will, felt herself weakening in his hold, wanting nothing more than to feel his own heartbeat against her own, feel the pitter patter like a rhythm she could compose to. If only.
It was he who made the next move, silently but brilliantly. Before she knew it he had buried himself into her hair, smelling it, inhaling it, memorizing the familiar scent that he, oh, so loved, he had once told her. She could feel his breath upon it, ever so sweetly and she felt like the floor was crumbling beneath them.
"No." She said, hating herself as her voice cracked despite her efforts for it to not and she started to crumble along with the floor as those two sturdy arms enveloped around her in one of those hugs, their hugs, tightly, closely, personal. She couldn't resist it much furthur and before she knew it she was on half of her tippy-toes, snuggling her face right into his welcoming neck, now smelling that familiar scent of toasty cologne that she could never really place. Unconsciously, two of her fingers trailed up his chest before resting upon those moles on his lower chest that she adored so much. She let her fingers play there for a bit, leaving incoherent circles upon them.
"I've missed you so much," he mumurued, and she could feel his mouth moving in her hair with every syllable. She drew nearer to him, avoiding his gaze as much as she could muster, tears lining the lids of her eyes, daring to fall down. She nuzzled even farther upon his neck, feeling the sweet goosebumps upon her own breath, her lips slowly parting once they met with the skin there and a few kisses escaped from her lips upon the melodic softness of his skin. She could feel him rustling in her hair even more, but she could not bring herself to unlock from her position. How she longed to stay there forever.
"Are you still with her?" Her own abrupt words surprised her, as she felt him tense everywhere, the goosebumps on his neck suddenly cold to touch with her lips. He pulled back, those familiar warm arms, loose yet unwilling to part completely. He untangled himself from her hair, looking down at her, but she would not look at those puppy eyes whatever the cost.
"Yes." Came the answer all too soon with a choke, and she broke from his grip quickly, one hand taming her hair, the other patting her clothes to look pristine and proper like it should have been. She made her way towards the door, not daring to look back, the last hair on her body still prickling from his warm touch. "B-but...but we're still friends, right?"
"I have to get something to drink." The iciness in her voice was back, not kind, and not inviting in the slightest. But that's how ice princesses react to the idea of being friends with such an imposter of statements, and she knew in her heart that the ice would never be melted like it once was.
Fairytales, were just that after all. Fairytales.
END!