— Messy Hair, Kissable Lips

my last effing straw */sobs aggressively

⌗ 𝗗𝗔𝗗𝗗𝗬 𝗜𝗦𝗦𝗨𝗘𝗦 !

⟢ SUMMARY. “If you were my little girl, I’d do everything I could.”

WARNINGS. daddy issues, parental seperation (father walking out), insecurity, toxic productivity, toxic perfectionism, inferiority complex, sibling rivalry (one-sided), attachment issues, abandonment issues, lots of tears? (mila cries a lot in this one)

NOTES. so um mila has daddy issues…? who would have guessed? 🫠⌇takes place after young and beautiful⌇“bold italics” = chinese, “italics” (double quote marks) = english, ‘italics’ (single quote marks) = flashback ⌇word count: ~7.7k⌇ requested: mila being insecure about heeseung and kiara

IT WAS QUIET. Something Mila had been used to for a long time — and yet, unlike the other times, this silence wasn’t nearly as stifling. As she lay there, her head on Jay’s chest as she listened to the beating of his heart, she could only feel warmth.

Heeseung stroked the top of her head, lulling Mila into a sense of comfort. She wondered if this was how babies felt when they were in the womb, wrapped up in a cocoon of warmth — and if so, she understood why her mother claimed Mila didn’t want to leave.

‘You were almost harder to push out than your brother,’ Mila’s mother once said. ‘It was like you never wanted to leave.’

Ah, Mila thought. It all made sense now.

Because when you had something like this, it was only natural not to want to let go of it.

“You know you can come to us for anything, right?” Jay asked, kissing the top of her head lightly.

Mila bit her lip.

Since her fainting incident, the boys had been a lot more attentive to her than usual, if that was even possible. And while she was grateful for it — God, she’s never been more grateful for anything in her life than to have them — she couldn’t help the feeling of guilt in her stomach whenever she thought of the pain they had to go through whenever they were with her.

“I know,” she replied. “I’m just… I’m sorry.”

Jungwon frowned, nuzzling his nose into her shoulder. It was times like this where his age showed — the times when it felt like he never wanted to let go of Mila, like a child clutching tightly to their security blanket.

“You don’t have to be sorry for that,” Jungwon said. “Just please… Talk to us, okay?”

Mila closed her eyes for a moment, before signing softly. She lifted her head, silently asking for Jay to let her sit up. And he did. Mila looked across the room at the boys, all of them watching her with varied expressions — but with one thing in common.

Love.

“Still,” Mila said. “I feel like… I think I still have to apologise.” She laughed dryly, fiddling with Sunoo’s fingers, as he sat beside her. “I just find it so hard to open up to people… but- but I should have known that if there was anyone I could open up to, it would be you all.”

The room was silent as the boys exchanged glances. They couldn’t say that they hadn’t noticed the same thing, too. They couldn’t remember the first person who pointed it out, but before debuting — before I-Land — there was such a thing that they had heard about Mila.

She was the famed ‘princess’ — the trainee from China with unreal visuals. Anyone who had the privilege of talking to her could say that, despite her still developing Korean, she was a pleasure to chat with. And yet…

‘Mila is easy to get along with,’ a trainee once said, ‘but hard to get close to.’

And the boys agreed; getting close to her was no easy feat. But slowly, one step at a time, it felt like they were getting somewhere. That she had seemed to be letting them in.

“I want to be open with you though,” Mila said, her eyes trained on Sunoo’s fingers. “I think… I’m just not used to having so many people to talk to. Or anyone. And I… I don’t know, I just— I’m so scared that one day you’ll realise I’m not the perfect girlfriend or that happy girl that you fell in love with…” Mila’s eyes grew distant, as if she were visiting a far away place in her mind.

“You don’t need to be perfect,” Sunghoon said. “None of us are. And that’s okay.”

Mila frowned. “But what if it’s not okay anymore? What if one day, you’ll all just…”

Sunoo frowned as Mila spoke. “We’ll just what?” he asked gently.

“That you’ll just leave.”

Mila swallowed the lump in her throat. She mentally cursed in frustration at the language barrier that prevented her from communicating the depth of how she felt. Because there was so much she wanted to say, and yet the only thing she could say could only show the mere tip of the iceberg that was her mind. 

The boys shared saddened looks, and her heart clenched in her chest.

“We’re not leaving,” Jay said. “I know it’s a lot to promise, but we don’t ever want to leave you. All we want in return is for you to let us know what goes on in this pretty little head, okay?”

Mila swallowed the lump in her throat.

The others didn’t add anything, because Jay had already said what they felt. And even if he hadn’t, it already showed. Mila couldn’t say she was a mind-reader, but their actions today spoke volumes. She wanted them to know, too, what they meant to her.

And so, for the first time in maybe forever… Mila found herself reaching out first.

“Remember that time I mentioned I didn’t have a dad?”

The boys immediately nodded. They could never forget that moment. It was an eye-opener to just how little they really knew about their little ray of sunshine — a metaphorical slap in the face if there ever was one.

It was during I-Land, one of the peaceful times where they were simply relaxing in the living room, sprawled out on the couches as they talked the daylight away. She had been talking animatedly with Daniel about something, and she had off-handendly said that she wished she could introduce him to her parents, to show off the adorable little brother she had gained.

‘Would your parents approve of me?’ Daniel had asked. To which Mila replied, ‘Of course! My mum would love you!’

Daniel’s natural response had been to ask, ‘What about your dad? Would he like me?’

And imagine the surprise of the boys when they heard her next words.

‘I don’t know,’ Mila replied nonchalantly — perhaps too nonchalantly. ‘I don’t have one.’

“I remember that,” Jake said with furrowed eyebrows.

“Until then, I didn’t realise that whenever someone asked about your parents, you only ever mentioned your mum.” Jay frowned, regretful that he hadn’t noticed sooner why she deliberately avoided the use of the term ‘parents’.

“Right. It wasn’t your fault, though. I never really gave anything away.” Mila laughed dryly. “Now that I think about it, I’ve always been pretty good at avoiding talking about myself. I guess I didn’t want anyone to get too close.”

“What about now?” Riki asked curiously.

Mila smiled. “Of course it’s different now. Because I have you.” The boys smiled fondly at her, and she found herself sighing. “I never really talked about it, because I didn’t know what to say. But I used to think that there was no point missing something I never really had… I mean, when my parents split up, I was still really young. I don’t even remember what he looks like.”

When Mila looked in the mirror, she saw a spitting image of her mother. Everything about Mila was so much like her mother that she had, at some point, convinced herself she was entirely her mother’s daughter. That in the same way that Mila’s mother had raised her alone, she too had been made alone. Though she knew she wasn’t.

As a little girl, Mila would be able to picture someone with a similar face to her brother’s, but more mature and aged; a more roughened version of her brother, who didn’t have the soft beauty that both Bai children inherited from their mother’s side. And if she tried hard enough, little Mila could see a set of dimples like her own, which seemed to be the only feature she didn’t share with her mother, and as such could have only come from the man that helped create her.

But one day, when Mila had grown old enough to forget, Mila found herself unable to imagine anything but a shadow. A blurred outline of a figure that wasn’t there. The only thing she could remember when she thought of him was a single memory of her hiding beneath covers with her brothers as two voices argued in the living room. And then the sound of the door being thrown open and slammed shut.

That was when Mila knew that he was truly gone from her life — if he was even truly part of it, to begin with.

“My mum raised me and my brother fine on her own. And my grandparents were there too, so it wasn’t like I wasn’t loved. I didn’t need him in my life. In fact, we were all happier without him.”

Mila frowned.

“But when I think about it now… I realised something. It’s like everything wrong with me was caused by him not being there… Because one day he was there, and then the next my mum told me he was going far away...” Mila blinked as the boys watched her with saddened eyes. And without even realising it, she felt a tear slip down her cheek. “And then he never came back. And I didn’t know why, but him leaving… it…”

Mila couldn’t help the way her shoulders shook from the withheld emotions she was trying to keep locked up, like a dam only just being held back from a broken gate.

Mila didn’t hate her so-called father. He didn’t mean enough — wasn’t there enough — for her to associate any emotions to him other than cold detachment. But she did blame him. She blamed him for making her mother raise two kids alone. She blamed him for making her feel like they — that she — wasn’t good enough to make her stay. She blamed him for a lot of things. But what she blamed him the most for was making her crave affection and love so desperately… yet being too scared letting others close, in fear that they would be like him — that they too would turn their backs on her.

Mila, above all else, blamed her father for making her a coward like him.

“I just don’t understand why someone who isn’t even here can mess me up so badly…” Mila sobbed. “I hate it.”

“Oh, love…” Heeseung frowned, as Mila sniffled, her breath coming out in broken sobs.

The boys could only watch with heavy hearts as Mila continued to pour out her heart to them in what had to be one of her most vulnerable moments so far. They had never dared to ask about Mila’s situation with her parents, knowing that it might be a sore point for her to remember, even if she had constantly assured them that ‘it was fine’ and that she had ‘gotten over it’. But they never could have imagined this. That the reason she had been so scared of losing them, of them leaving her, was because she had already been left. By a man who, by nature, was supposed to love and cherish her above anything else in the world.

They were filled with a mixture of heartbreak, fierce protectiveness and anger, caused by someone they hadn’t even met. They couldn’t comprehend how anyone would be foolish enough to throw away the gift that was Mila… And yet, they could only thank her fool of a father for doing what he did — because he had given them the chance to appreciate the very thing he didn’t.

“It’s okay,” Sunghoon said as he rubbed the girl’s back. “Oppa’s here now.” He kissed her forehead, as Jay cradled the back of her head. “We’re all here now.”

That was all the boys needed as a cue to wrap Mila in their warmth, holding her close to them, whispering sweet words into her ear, so that she would know — even if they couldn’t express with words — just how much she meant to them. And that they, no matter what happened in the past and no matter how long it took to make her understand, were here for her. They would always be here for her.

They were here to stay.

MILA WAS PAINFULLY FAMILIAR WITH THE WORD ‘SECOND’. She was the second-born child, second best, and also second choice on many occasions. And she was reminded of it at the worst of times.

She vaguely remembered a scene from her childhood, where she left her room because of a nightmare that woke her up, only to overhear her mother crying on the phone.

‘They’re having a baby,’ Her mother had said into the phone, sobbing madly. ‘It’s hasn’t even been a year, and he’s already starting a new family. What about my kids, huh? What will they think of they find out their dad is out there happy and raising another kid when he couldn’t even stay for them?’

Like that, Mila had unknowingly found out the reason that her house was missing one person, why their family photos now had tears in them from the forceful removal of one of the figures. And that day must have cemented Mila’s fate. It seemed Mila was her mother’s daughter, through and through — in the best and worst way possible. Because it seemed that no matter how beautiful they were, how kind or gentle they were, they were both doomed to be second to another woman in the eyes of the men they loved.

And the funny thing was, if it was Kiara Park, Mila couldn’t even argue about the fairness of it. Because Mila understood why any person would choose Kiara over her. Depressingly enough, she had even accepted it.

Mila remembered during I-Land, when the older female was considered one of the top trainees. Period. Gender was irrelevant when it came to someone as talented and skilled as Kiara. During those days, Mila could feel that familiar twist in her gut whenever she realised just how wide the gap was between the two of them, and how — despite walking towards the same dream — they seemed to be on severely different paths from one another.

One of them was consistently ranked at the top of every mission alongside the Ace trainee himself, earning the respect and awe of all other trainees. The other had spent more time in Ground than I-Land, weighed down by constant doubt over whether she was there for her visuals rather than her merit.

Mila had envied the older female just as any other girl would. She was everything Mila wanted to be — beautiful, strong, and confident in herself. And being older, Kiara automatically had an air of maturity that Mila — no matter how hard she tried to replicate it — severely lacked. Once, Mila had made a poor joke that if Kiara was fine wine, then she was grape juice, because Mila was every sense of the word immature. She was jealous, clingy, and painfully inexperienced. Everything Kiara was not.

The only similarity the two girls seemed to share — other than being the only female members in Enhypen — was that both of them were (or, in Kiara’s case, was) in a romantic relationship with one Lee Heeseung. The difference there was that one of them was Heeseung’s first choice.

And once again, it wasn’t Mila.

“Why couldn’t it be me?”

Heeseung froze, the smile on his face falling when Mila had finally asked the question she had been wanting to ask for so long. Because it didn’t make sense to Mila that after being with someone like Kiara, he would be able to settle with her. And it was unfair to her to doubt him, to question his loyalty, but this irrational feeling, brought to her by years of feeling worthless — subpar, second place, not good enough — made her wonder why he was still here, holding her to his chest as they lay on his bed, like she were the most precious thing in the world.

“Baby,” Heeseung said softly, as Mila’s eyes teared up. “What’s wrong?”

Mila sniffled as Heeseung gently brushed his thumbs against her now wet cheeks.

“It hurts,” she whimpered.

Heeseung frowned, his eyes full of worry. If he could get rid of her shadiness, he would; he would do anything to make her happy. And he hated that she looked so lost and broken in his arms, without a clue as to why she looked that way.

“What hurts, baby?” He gently pushed. “What’s making you sad?”

“It hurts that I wasn’t the first option,” Mila said with a small voice. Mila inhaled sharply. “Why couldn’t I get you to love me first? Why couldn’t I get to you before Eonnie did?”

Mila had tried so hard to leave it in the past. But she had already unlocked so many memories of the past by opening up to the boys about her childhood, by letting them into that space she hadn’t shown anyone else. And now those thoughts that she ran away from could finally catch up to her.

Heeseung felt his heart constrict painfully in his chest. Mila had been so worried about them leaving her, but all he could think about was how he always managed to — directly or indirectly — cause her pain. And it hurt like nothing else ever could to know that he had done this to her, even unintentionally. Especially after finding out just what she went through growing up.

Whenever Heeseung thought of the image of a younger Mila, lost and alone, he wanted nothing more than to sweep her up and hug her to his chest, telling her that it would be okay. That she didn’t have to grow up fearing closeness or affection. That when she got older, she would meet seven people who would love her like she always deserved, as long as she let them.

But he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t spare her the pain that she had carried with her all these years. All he could do was make up for it with the time they had together.

Starting now.

“Trust me when I say that I loved you for a long time,” Heeseung said. “And everyday I regret that I didn’t realise it earlier. Because the whole time I spent with someone I didn’t even like romantically, I could have spent it with you, holding you like this…” He cradled her head with one hand and the other hand grabbing her smaller hand in his. “Kissing you like this…” He kissed away the tears on Mila’s cheeks. “I could have had you faster, and saved you from hurting like you are now. But I was blind and didn’t even realise it until I almost lost you for good. You were always enough, my love. It was never your fault. You were— are— everything I want and need.”

‘You were always enough.’ ‘It was never your fault.’ Mila hadn’t realised just how long she was waiting to hear those words — from anyone. She didn’t realise just how much she wanted to be told that she — as flawed as she was — was still enough. And yet, just as always, Heeseung knew exactly what to say, and what she needed to hear.

Mila blinked away the tears in her eyes, her heart feeling lighter than it had before. “Really?”

“Really.” Heeseung squeezed Mila’s hand before lifting her to where his heart was, resting her palm flat against it. “Do you feel that?”

Mila nodded as she felt his strong heartbeats against his chest. 

“That’s yours.”

Mila’s breath caught in her throat, her own heart fluttering in her chest, despite her previous state of despair. Heeseung smiled softly as he looked into Mila’s eyes, his own sparkling with adoration that made Mila feel as if she were the only girl in the world.

Did this man even know what he was promising her? Just how much he was placing in her hands? If so, Mila realised she was more foolish than she originally thought. Because no one could ever give away something so precious to someone who didn’t mean just as much — if not more.

“No matter what happened in the past, just know that this—“ (Heeseung rubbed his thumb against the back of Mila’s palm.) “—is yours now. And it always will be. No one else’s. You’re more than ‘first’ — you’re my last. You’re my one and only. You’re it for me, baby.”

When Heeseung looked in Mila’s eyes to see that dazzling look he had grown to love, he knew that he would do anything to keep it. He had given his heart to her already — he would give everything else he had as well.

“I love you,” Mila whispered.

Heeseung smiled. “I love you too.”

Without another word, he leant down and pressed his lips to hers, cherishing the feeling of her soft lips against his. By the time they seperated, the only words they had for each other were the desperate ‘I love you’ that spilled from their lips, which sought each other out like they were lost without them. Then they remained there, no words shared — only kisses and warmth.

And that was enough for Mila.

She was enough.

MILA MISSED HER CHILDHOOD. Not necessarily in the sense that she would relive it, but more so because she knew that she didn’t spend it as she should have. Now she was an adult with a career that didn’t allow her the same freedoms as she had back then, and she found herself wishing she hadn’t been so hard on herself. That she let herself have more fun, that she made more friends, that she played more often. That she let herself be a child.

But she had always been harsh on herself. Even then.

Mila remembered anxiously picking at her vegetables on the rare day that her mother finished work early — because of course her mother had to eat dinner with them on the day that Mila would rather be alone.

‘I heard the results came out today,’ her mother said. ‘How did it go?’

And Mila instantly knew how it would end.

Just like always, her brother had done perfectly. Because when did he not? Top of his class, every teacher’s favourite student, star player on the basketball team, everyone’s role model — including herself. And Mila could wish all she wanted that one day, he might do a little less perfectly, so that she could feel better about not being as smart or sporty or charismatic as him. But then she would hate herself even more, for wishing failure upon her own flesh and blood.

So, she could only quietly eat her food, her head lowered, as her brother continued to talk about the praise he had received from his teachers. And in return, their mother glowed with pride, showering him with compliments.

‘How did I give birth to such a smart son?’ their mother gushed as she liked his plate with the best dishes. ‘Eat more. You need to eat well to replenish all your energy. Actually— why don’t I ask Aunty to make your favourite snacks tonight? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if she heard how well you did.’

‘No need for that, Mama,’ Mila’s brother replied. ‘I’m fine just being able to eat dinner with you and Baobao.’

And Mila’s mother smiled lovingly, pride clear on her eyes. ‘Baobao’ was Mila’s family nickname; a name that meant ‘treasure’. But at times like this, Mila wondered if she was really worthy of such a name — when her brother seemed to shine brighter than she ever could.

Mila could already imagine her mother going to work the next day, bragging to her coworkers about her exceptional son, who was born gifted and talented — and Mila wondered if there was ever a time that her mother had done the same for her. That maybe, there was something worthy about her otherwise mediocre daughter that she could praise to the skies about.

But that was probably impossible, wasn’t it?

‘What about you, Baobao?’ Mila’s mother asked. ‘How were you exams?’

Mila bit her lip as she thought of her highest score — the 92 she had gotten on her English test — and then remembered her brother saying his lowest score was a 93. Even her best couldn’t match her brother’s worst. How sad was that?

‘It was so-so,’ she replied, before setting down her chopsticks. She forced a smile to avoid suspicion. ‘Thank you for the food. I’m finished eating now.’

And without another word, she excused herself from the table.

Mila cried herself to sleep that night — as she did on many nights — wondering when she would ever be able to do something to receive the same praise and recognition her brother did. She chased it so desperately that she threw her youth away. When she wasn’t at cheerleading practise, she was at her desk; and when she wasn’t at her desk, she was at school club meetings. Then when Mila became a trainee, it was like history repeated itself. She put hours upon hours into practice, never resting until she knew she had gotten everything perfect. And if she was anything less than perfect, she simply put in more. More hours, more sweat, more tears.

And it was happening all over again. Her face behind in her arms as she lay on her desk, overwhelmed by the papers scattered around her.

It was her day off, as five of the members (Kiara, Heedeung, Jungwon, Jay and Riki) were filming for a variety shoot. So, she had been locked up in her room for hours by that point, determined to make use of her free time to catch up on the school work that she missed. But looking at content on top of more content, her brain had already reached its breaking point, and no matter how much she looked at the materials in front of her, the only thing she could think was that she was just so tired.

And that was when Jake walked in to see her crying.

“Hey,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t understand,” Mila replied in frustration. “No matter what I do, I can’t get it,” she said quietly. “I feel so stupid.”

“Shhh… hey, hey,” Jake said softly, kneeling in front of Mila and cupping her cheek. “Don’t say that, okay? You’re not stupid. You’re just having a slump. And that’s okay. Because you’ll pick yourself back up again.”

Mila sniffled. “But everyone else is already so ahead of me.” It was like she was a child all over again, chasing after her brother’s legacy. “It’s like I’m the only one lagging behind.”

Jake sighed, his eyes sad for the girl in front of him. He had always admired her ethic to improve — but he often wished she could be kinder and more patient with herself, as she was to others.

“You’re not behind. You just need more take time, and that’s okay. Not everyone gets it in right away— but what matters is you’ll get it eventually.” Mila nodded as she took in Jake’s words, feeling slightly better about her lack of progress. Jake smiled encouragingly. “You’ve been working so hard the past few days,” he said, “it’s time for a break.” He got up and started to pull her out of her seat. “Come on.”

“What?” Mila shook her head. “But I have to finish this.”

“You can finish it later,” Jake replied. “You have all the time in the world. That’s enough to give yourself a break and come back, when you can think clearer.”

Mila bit her lip as Jake called out to Sunghoon and Sunoo, the only other remaining members in the dorm. “Get ready!” he yelled. “We’re taking Mila on a date!”

Mila couldn’t protest anymore. Not when Sunoo and Sunghoon later joined Jake in nagging her, before threatening to carry her to the car themselves. Embarrassed by the mere thought of it, Mila immediately agreed to do what they wanted and let them take her out on a date at the mall. They had just gotten food to eat, when Sunoo noticed the arcade, which in turn made Mila excited.

“Can we go there?” she asked excitedly, tugging on Sunghoon’s and Jake’s sleeve. “Please?”

Taking one look at her pleasing eyes, the boys knew they didn’t have the heart in them to say no. Jake, who Jay had told to be back at the dorms by a certain time so they could all have dinner together, could have said no. Maybe Mila would have pouted a little about it, but they would be able to sweet-talk her and bribe her with the promise of chocolates. 

And yet, without a second of hesitation, he and Sunghoon immediately agreed, letting the girl drag them into the arcade by the sleeves while Sunoo skipped beside them. It was dangerous just how much they were willing to do for her and let her get away with. But it was no secret that they were down bad for their girlfriend — and they weren’t ashamed of it in the slightest. Which is how they ended up following her around after getting their tokens, watching her attempt various different games.

“Wah, that looks cute!” Mila said as she pointed to a crane machine, full of mini plushies. “I’m going to try to get one.”

Mila slipped a token into the coin slot, before grabbing the controls of the machine. 

“Don’t you have too many already?” Sunoo teased.

Mila laughed. “You can never have too many.” She returned her attention to the machine before manoeuvring the hook so that it hovered above a small bunny plush. “I’m going to go for the bunny.”

“Move a little to the left,” Jake said. 

“No, no,” Sunghoon disagreed, “you’re fine where you are.”

Mila furrowed her eyebrows. “Huh? Then do I move left or stay here?”

“Move left.” “Stay there.”

Sunghoon and Jake exchanged looks.

“Just do whatever!” Sunoo interjected. “Don’t listen to them. They’re bad at this game anyway.”

“No I’m not!” The two exclaimed in unison.

“Here.” Sunghoon put a hand on the small of Mila’s back before moving to stand behind her, placing his hands over hers as he helped her manoeuvre the controls. “I’ll help you.”

“Ayeeeee,” Sunoo and Jake chorused teasingly.

Sunghoon smiled shyly, a complete contrast to the confidence in his aura as he helped Mila to coordinate. As soon as he found a good angle at which to drop the crane, he told Mila to press the buttons. And the four of them watched as the crane descended, grabbing onto the bunny’s neck.

“Oh— it’s working, it’s working!” Sunoo announced as the crane successfully picked up the bunny. But halfway to the drop zone, it suddenly fell, causing them all to groan in disappointment.

Mila sighed. “Ah, it was so close…” 

Seeing her disappointed expression, Jake immediately jumped in. “Let me try.” Sunghoon moved aside and let Jake take his spot, watching as Jake did the same movements as he did before. “Okay, try pressing the button now.”

Mila did as Jake said and pressed the button. However, just like before, it only made it halfway. The four of them — too invested in the claw game — stood there for goodness knows how long, trying to get the plushie, until Mila decided to do it herself.

“Okay, last time! Here we go!”

Mila bit her lip in concentration, her eyes fixed solely on the machine in front of her. Sunoo, who was standing beside her, watching with fond eyes, taking in all her features as she remained fixated. It was just like her to be so focused on her goals, and this time, he was glad that even if she never did lose her tunnel vision, she was using it for something other than work.

Mila watched in anticipation as the crane lifted to the bunny, breath baited as she watched it travel over the other plushies below on its way to the drop zone. And when the bunny made it all the way to the end, she couldn’t help her jump for joy.

“I did it!” she yelled before turning to her lovers. “I got it! I got it!”

The boys laughed as Mila excitedly grabbed the bunny from the tray.

“Good job,” Sunghoon baby-talked.

Jake patted her head, as Sunoo clapped.

“It’s cute,” Sunoo said as Mila held it up.

“It kinda looks like you,” Sunghoon added.

Jake laughed. “Right?”

Mila laughed. By that moment, Mila had already forgotten about the sheets on her desk back at the dorm. She had spent so much time on tests and evaluations already, she realised she needed this break. At times like this, Mila realised just how much was out there. How beautiful life could be when she stopped obsessing about numbers on a piece of paper, or the approval of fickle-hearted people who could care less about who she was and what she went through. Especially when she could amend time with the people she loved instead.

This moment right here?

It made her happier than a 100 on any test could.

LONELINESS WAS AN OLD FRIEND OF MILA’S. It wasn’t like Mila didn’t have anyone who cared. Quite the opposite, in fact. She knew her mother loved her, and she knew her older brother would do anything to keep her safe. But when you were a child who had been convinced that you were a nuisance for wanting comfort — by someone who you barely even knew — you just learnt not to ask for anything more than what you already had.

‘Aiya, what are you doing out of bed?’ The housemaid asked one night, when a young Mila would wander out of her room, clutching a stuffed bunny in her arms.

‘I wanted to sleep with Mama,’ Mila replied.

The housemaid clicked her tongue, and put her hands on her hips, looking down at the young girl with a reprimanding stare. ‘Your mama only just got back home from a long day at work, ah. She needs sleep, but she can’t do that if she has to look after you. Do you want Mama to be tired in the morning?’

Mila immediately shook her head. ‘No.’ She looked down at the floor in shame, before asking, ‘Then can I sleep with Gēgē instead?’

The housemaid sighed. ‘Your older brother is tired from studying so hard, unlike you. You shouldn’t disturb his sleep.’ The housemaid held out a hand. ‘Here. Aunty will tuck you in.’

Mila hesitantly took the older woman’s hand, barely even holding on to it. But the woman didn’t seem to mind as she hurriedly escorted Mila to her room. The older woman had barely put the sheets up to Mila’s chin before she was bidding her goodnight and turning the lights off, shutting the door before Mila could even protest.

Mila turned on the bedside light beside her and screwed her eyes shut, forcing herself back to sleep. And the next morning, when she woke up, feeling as if she had barely slept at all, she took one look at her older brother, who had been diligently reading a book at the dining table, while the housemaid smiled fondly and served his breakfast; and then at her mother’s seat at the table which, like always, was empty at this time. And at that moment, Mila realised that maybe she really was just a nuisance. Because everyone seemed to have more important things to worry about than her.

That’s why Mila looked forward to the weekends more than anything — because then the whole family would be complete, and they would spend time together like families usually did. Her mother would take her and her brother to the park, and the two would play tag and other games. And she could pretend for a second that she wasn’t lonely, that she wasn’t desperate for just a little more affection.

But then time passed, her brother finally outgrew his little sister, and her mother had deemed her old enough to look after herself. Then Mila was by herself more than she wasn’t. And so, Mila learnt to enjoy the times she spent in the living room, alone, while she quietly watched her favourite shows on the television; or the times sitting by herself at the dinner table, with nothing but the sound of her chopsticks clicking against the dishes. Because there was nothing else she could really do about it.

But things were different now. Because the thing about the Enhypen dorms was that it was never quiet for long.

“Yah!” The sound of Sunoo’s yell was the first thing Mila woke up to. “Who used my lotion?”

“It wasn’t me!” came Jake’s reply. “Ask Sunghoon!”

Mila could just barely make out Sunghoon’s tired voice asking, “Why are you blaming me?”

With a giggle, Mila rubbed the sleep away from her eyes. But just as she made a move to stretch her arms over her head, she suddenly became aware of the other person occupying her bed and restraining her in a tight hug.

Riki groaned, nuzzling his face into Mila’s neck. “Don’t go…”

Mila laughed and did the best she could to pay his head as he clung to her side. His leg was thrown over Mila’s waist, and his arms over her chest, taking up almost all the space on Mila’s bed, leaving only a fraction of it to her. And yet, Mila couldn’t find it in her to be mad about it. Because she figured, she would rather be squished on a bed from having to fit two people, than to take up the entire space by herself.

“Bǎobèi,” Mila said with a mock stern voice, softened by the use of the pet name meaning ‘Baby’. “You need to wake up before Sunoo comes in here and scolds you for using his lotion again.”

Riki whined and squeezed Mila tighter. There was a reason why Mila was his favourite sleeping buddy. And it happened to be because: one, she was the perfect size to cuddle — like a life-sized teddy bear — and just as soft; and two, as much as he hated to admit it, he loved the way she would baby him in the mornings. He didn’t know that Mila treasured his cuddles just as much as he treasured having her in his arms. But he was just glad she was one of those people she let in — that he could be close to her in ways that some people would never get the chance.

Maybe Mila had been lonely, but Riki would always be here to show her that she could always count on him for company.

Riki furrowed his eyebrows when there was a knock at the door followed by a familiar voice. “Noona.”

“Wonnie?” Mila asked, her eyes brightening. Riki groaned, rolling his eyes as she said, “Come in!”

The door opened to reveal Jungwon, his dimples appearing with the way he smiled so widely, and his  eyes holding a galaxy of emotion. Riki could recognise that look anywhere, because it was the same one that he — that they all — had when they looked at Mila. As if she were the only girl in the world, the only thing that mattered. Perhaps Mila was the only one who didn’t see it. But that was okay. Because they had all the time in the world to show her.

“Yah,” Jungwon said to Riki, poking his side. “Get up. You got to cuddle her the whole night.”

Riki scoffed. He haughtily turned his head away from the elder and pouted as he clung on to Mila. “Don’t want to.”

Jungwon scrunched up his nose in distaste before turning to Mila, who watched the two with fondness on her eyes. She couldn’t help the way her heart fluttered, knowing that they valued her company enough to bicker about it. And her smile only grew when Jungwon pulled out those kittenish pleasing looks of his that he knew she could never resist.

“Darling, can you tell him to go away?” Jungwon asked. “I want to cuddle with you now.”

Mila laughed, before holding out a hand to him. “Then come here. We can all cuddle together.”

Riki smirked smugly, knowing that Mila would never kick him off of her bed. (Or any of them for that matter— but he just wanted bragging rights.) Jungwon looked mildly displeased at the thought of not getting Mila to himself, but then the feeling was quickly replaced by excitement as Jungwon’s eyes flickered with mischief.

As Mila was lying closest to the wall, Jungwon would have to get over Riki first. And being petty as he was, Jungwon — all decorum of a leader cast aside  —  stepped over him, purposely digging his foot into the younger’s side. A look that could only be described as a smug cat-like grin crossed Jungwon’s face when Riki yelped in pain, clutching his side. In the short window of time that Riki’s arm wasn’t on Mila, Jungwon lay himself on top of her, his head on her chest.

“Hyung!” Riki said indignantly. “That hurt!”

Jungwon simply stuck out his tongue before nuzzling his face into Mila’s — or rather, Sunoo’s — hoodie. He sighed in content when Mila’s hand immediately went to his locks, unaware that the other was gently rubbing Riki’s “hurt” side.

“Are you okay?” Mila asked, as Riki scrunched his nose up.

The younger glared at the elder, who was purposely hogging as much of Mila as possible. Feeling petty, he kicked Jungwon’s foot. 

“Yah, hyung, stop hogging and move over.”

Jungwon huffed. “Don’t want to.”

“Moveeee,” Riki whined, before looking at Mila with a helpless look.

Mila laughed. “Okay, okay. Move over a bit.”

Riki immediately did what Mila said and moved to the edge of the bed. Mila then tapped Jungwon’s back and instructed him to squeeze in between Mila and the wall. Just like that, Mila was in between two extremely clingy males who latched onto her like koalas.

“Better?” Mila asked.

“Eung,” both boys replied.

There was a short silence before Jungwon then added, “It would be better if Niki wasn’t here, though.”

Riki’s head shot up. “Then leave.”

Mila sighed as the two went back and forth. And yet, she couldn’t find it in herself to be truly mad. Because how could she, when it showed just how much they cherished her? They found comfort in her, as she did in them. And that alone was enough to fill her with contentment.

“I’m her favourite, anyway,” Riki said.

Jungwon clicked his tongue. “No, you’re not.”

“Who’s the one who got to cuddle her last night?”

“That’s only because it was your turn. Remember that it’s my turn tonight, so you’re not allowed anywhere near her bed.”

Mila laughed.

Yes, the Enhypen dorms were loud. Yes, there was bickering and petty fighting. And yes, sometimes Mila worried that the walls might fly off with how noisy things could get. But Mila wouldn’t have it any other way.

If anything, it just reminded her she wasn’t alone.

MILA HAD ALWAYS BEEN A JEALOUS PERSON. It wasn’t something she was proud of, nor which she liked to admit. But it was true. And it had to be her tragedy that there was always someone out there with something she wanted, but never really had — especially as a kid.

Other children envied the fact that Mila always had a pretty set of shoes and dresses to wear; a different hair clip in her hair every day, a pencil case full of assorted crayons and coloured pencils of the best brand; a shiny car, and not to mention the best snacks for lunch. But they didn’t realise she envied them, too.

Mila wondered if those kids from her youth realised now that Mila would have traded her store-bought food in a heartbeat for their homemade lunches. That even if she had shiny fancy hair clips and pretty dresses, it wasn’t her mother (who was always gone by the time Mila woke up for school) who helped her into them, but something she had learned to do herself, instead. And Mila couldn’t care less about the shiny car that came to pick her up after school, because unlike the other kids, she knew her dad wouldn’t be stepping out of it, smiling, and opening his arms for her to run straight into them.

Instead, Mila would only wait awkwardly in her classroom, watching as her classmate’s father picked her up and kissed her on the cheek.

‘How was my princess’ day?’ Her classmate’s father asked. And then Mila’s classmate showed him the picture she painted that day, of her happy family, to which her father beamed and said, ‘Wow, you drew this? It’s too good to be a pre-schoolers. Why don’t we get ice cream as a treat?’

Mila could only watch in envy as the father- daughter pair left the classroom in a fit of giggles and laughter, just as her chauffeur appeared at the door, gesturing impatiently for her to follow him. Then Mila followed him with rushed steps — scared of annoying him if she took too long — her own painting that she had drawn that day folded and forgotten inside her backpack.

But that was okay, Mila thought. She knew her mother was busy at work, and with playing the role of two parents, so it was hard for her to be there for Mila; and her grandparents lived in a different city, so it wasn’t like she could stay with them either. So she would just have to go home as she usually did, waiting until the time her brother finished training so that she wasn’t alone.

And Mila accepted that. She had gotten used to it. Because she hadn’t known anything else… Until she gained so much more.

“Ayeeeeee!”

Mila had just finished putting on her backpack, she was startled by the jostling of her classmates who had erupted into cheers and wolf whistles. Confused, she looked up to find the source of the sudden rowdiness. And there he was. Jay, standing at the door in his uniform and coat, with a smile on his face.

Mila could only smile back, fondness filling her chest. She knew there a bunch of envious gazes and excited whispers going through the classroom, but she didn’t notice them. All she could see was him, waiting to pick her up from class himself.

“Don’t make the poor man wait,” her classmate said teasingly. “He looks like he’s dying to run up to you right now.”

Without a quick goodbye, Mila skipped up to Jay happily, his eyes brightening with each step she took towards him. When she got to him, his hand immediately found her bag strap, a soft smile on his face.

“Let me carry it,” he said, taking the bag from Mila before she could protest.

Mila giggled. “I can carry my own bag.”

“I know,” Jay replied while chuckling. “But let me do this for you, okay?”

Jay didn’t know if Mila knew just how much it meant to him, having her rely on him for these kinds of things, no matter how small and insignificant they seemed. He knew that if she didn’t want his help, he would have no choice but to respect her decision — and yet, at the same time he couldn’t help the feeling in his chest whenever he looked at her and her bright eyes. The feeling of doing anything and everything for her. For no reason at all except that she deserved it.

Even before Jay knew anything about her childhood — and the empty gap waiting to be filled — he had already promised himself to be someone she could depend on. And now that urge only grew stronger.

“What do you want for lunch?” Jay asked gently as he brushed a strand of hair from Mila’s face. “We have time to get some food to eat before we go back to the dorms.” Noticing Mila’s hesitant lip bite, he added, “Get anything. I don’t mind.”

Mila hummed. “In that case… Is it okay if we go home to eat?” Mila asked shyly. “I really feel like having some of your cooking.”

Jay’s chest was filled with warmth, both pride and joy. He would do anything that she asked if it made her happy. But hearing that she wanted to have his cooking more than any other option made him wish that teleportation existed, so that he could get to the dorm and make something for her as quickly as they could.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll let Sunoo know to meet us at the car.”

Mila could only smile warmly, adoration shining in her eyes like sunlight through a painted glass window — full of vibrant colours that only love could make. The two of them walked side by side, their fingers brushing against each other, not too close as to avoid the curious eyes of their schoolmates.

“How was your day?” Jay asked, tugging her closer to him when a rowdy pair of male students ran past and switching sides with her so she was walking on the less crowded side of the hall.

Mila hummed, before she smiled upon remembering something. “It was good! During Math, one of the teachers asked me to solve the problem on the board — and it was hard at first, but I actually did it right!”

Jay beamed. “Really?” When Mila nodded happily, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. And when they finally reached the less crowded part of the school on the way to their van, Jay leant down to whisper in her ear, his lips brushing against the shell. “I’m so proud of you.”

Mila had almost cried then and there. She somehow made it to the van without shedding a tear. But that afternoon, when Mila sat at the dinner table with Jay next to her, holding chopsticks to her mouth, she really did cry. Her eyes watered, glassy with tears as Jay fed her the food that he had cooked just for her.

“Thank you,” Mila whispered, unable to say anything else. Because she didn’t want to apologise anymore. Jay deserved more than that. They all did. She was grateful for them. Grateful that they loved her. Grateful that she got the chance to love them in return.

And for a split-second, Mila wondered if Jay thought she was odd for crying out of nowhere. But of course, he didn’t. Because that was just who he was. That was Jay.

“Shhh, I know,” Jay whispered, wiping the tears off her face as she chewed on her food. He kissed her forehead and said, “It’s okay.”

And Mila believed him.

Jay was there, and so were the others. And she believed if they were together, then everything was going to be okay. Because the same way she promised — then and there — to do all she could for them, so too would they do the same for her. Would give the world if she asked, wrapped up in a bow. And if she lacked love before, then all they would have to do is make up for it with their own.

Because she was their girl now.

TAGLIST: @lanamoonroh @3amstarlight @nikitopia @one16core @onlyuyu @xinikons @clar-iii @shinrjj @nee-issaire @elizalabs3 @lol6sposts @cyberpunksunwoo @woonkies @wonsctz @euniceruiz11 @curly-fr13s

fall for you | js

pairing: jake sim + reader (she/her) genre: fluff and a tinge of angst warnings: SFW, pg-13, some cussing, mentions of hook ups, kissing, and lmk if i’m missing anything!  word count:  6389 a/n: was planning to make this longer but then i didnt know what to write afterwards fhjasdkhakj if yall got ideas, i’ll take! other than that, pls feel free to leave any comments, concerns, or anything! thaaaaank youuuuuu for reading!

Since middle school, you’ve been best friends with high school’s heartthrob Jake Sim. Never in a million years would you have thought to be more than friends with Jake, and your impatient beating heart tells you to confess every chance you get. Unfortunately, you’re too much of a coward to do so. Besides, Jake keeps friend-zoning you to the point of family zoning now too, and you cringe at it. 

Nevertheless, you still yearn for his dense ass. 

You made a plan after the senior year ended that you were going to confess. All or nothing. If you get rejected, it’ll help you move on. However, seeing Jake flirt with college girls during orientation got your heart churning into sad butter.  

Well then, it looks like you’ll just save it forever and possibly never tell him.

Keep reading

damn, I really have a fat crush on jake idek anymkreJSKAJKSJSKSJS

🗒️ 、KISS IT BETTER BABY

playboy! jake x fem reader 762 words warning kissing genre fluff mikaela’s note this and intentions are literally the same because i love playboys

“You act as if you’re obsessed with me, Jake,” you point out, eyes playfully rolling back at him, the absolute bane of your parent’s existence, your boyfriend.

The dim lighting of the empty corridor only does justice to Jake Sim as he glows, hair slicked back in his all black suit that made him look like Lucifer himself. And it’s utterly ironic, how he tempts you like a sinner then treats you like an angel.

“I am though,” he grins, not a single hint of embarrassment evident in his voice, “sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night screaming your name.” It’s a whisper, yet it’s loud as his words resonate in your chest, sending chills down your spine.

He bends down, your back plastered against the cool marble wall of the fancy hotel that you should know the name of, yet everything is fuzzy as you come face to face with Jake. His effect on you is everlasting, just like it was when you first met him.

Out of the many rules imposed on you, one was written in bold, highlighted in fluorescent, and drilled into your mind — never ever befriend or even talk to a Sim. They’re rude and manipulative, taking every single opportunity to drain you dry for their own gains.

But you couldn’t help your weak heart, especially not when a boy like Jake Sim stood in front of you, face sculpted like a Greek god as he adored you as if you were the one that was otherworldly.

And so it started — climbing through windows unethically when the sky was a stroke of midnight blue, lies and lies that you were feeling unwell just to get pulled into an empty room to meet Jake. It was bad, very wrong, yet not a single tinge of guilt could be found in you.

“Not here,” you mutter, palms placed flat against his muscular chest. “Someone might be watching.”

He groans, “whatever, baby, let them watch.” His eyes are etched on your lips, tongue darting out swiftly before he bends down once again, “wanna show you off for once.”

Your lips are smooth, falling open at the brush of his tongue, welcoming him as his ring clad fingers grasp your hips. It’s heaven on earth, and Jake wishes that he could have you by his side every second of the day, that he could have the only privilege he had ever wanted amidst all in his life — to kiss you whenever he wanted to.

Jake doesn’t know how it happened, maybe it was curiosity or just the pure fact that you were labelled as forbidden that made the thought of you more appealing, more intoxicating, more fun. And he never expected it to be anything more than a game, but here he was, confessing that you were all he could ever think about, dream about.

“Jake,” you whine, pushing him away with great effort before glancing around to see if anyone was watching. Jake thinks he might go insane just looking at you, swollen lips and pretty face as you stare at him in slight disappointment — but how could he ever control the urge to kiss his pretty girl.

“Jake?” He cocks his head to the side, lips slightly downturned as he laments, “we’re alone right now and you’re calling me Jake? You wound me.” He holds back a cocky smirk at the way your eyes dim at the sight of his facade.

“You can always kiss it better, baby.” The playful smirk that he’s unable to hold back now showcased on his face, and it’s times like this that you find yourself cursing Jake Sim and his godly charm. He’s playing with you, and it’s painfully obvious, and you can’t seem to do anything but stare with burning red ears and cheeks.

“C’mon baby, don’t be shy, I’m all yours.” You can feel his hot breath hitting your lips, fingers caressing your waist as he pulls you closer and gives you nothing but teasing glances as he waits for you to initiate the kiss.

“We’re not supposed to do this,” you murmur, yet your actions oppose your words as you close the gap between his lips and yours, pure ecstasy as he smiles into the kiss.

Again and again, as Jake Sim pressed soft kisses on your lips, under the dim lighting of the hallway, just a few metres away from your parents. But he thinks it doesn’t matter what the consequences might be, he’d be fine as long as you were there to kiss it better.

© SJYUNS

121224 ♥︎ drunk tsukishima kei and his insistence of asking you why you love him.

it's already close to midnight when your husband of two years ask you all of a sudden. he's warm, and hazy with alcohol. you're absentmindedly treading your fingers through his soft hair, the floral scent from his shampoo is irresistible. you inhale slowly and plant a small kiss on his scalp.

"why do you love me?" his head buried on the slope between your neck and shoulder, breath a little warm that tingles your skin as he sigh through his nose. you feel his hold on your hip tighten, palm smoothing the crease on your shorts as he travels down to your thighs, giving it a loving squeeze.

you resist the urge to laugh in amusement. you hear your clock from the nightstand tick faintly, the low hum of the ac ebbing and flowing in the silence. you think about the myriad of ways you could respond, yet in all of them, no amount of words will ever reach its essence. no matter how you say it, it will never be enough.

instead, you ask him back, voice low as if you’re whispering, "what's not to love about you?"

he grumbles, and you can almost imagine the little pout surfacing his pretty lips, “do you want me to barf at your sappiness?”

“i’m serious.” you say as you fight a smile.

“prove it.”

“sorry?”

he finally looks at you, a long pause with slow blinking, his hand leaves your thigh, reaches up to brush his knuckles against your cheeks. the ring on his ring finger feels cold against your warm face, light catches gold—are you talking about the ring, or his eyes? maybe both?

you’re a little tipsy yourself. you might as well just kiss him right now because your mouth always fails you to shape your love in the form of words. you’re not eloquent enough to mold a perfect sculpture of sentences, you’re not capable of holding onto a voice but it’s ironic how you’re able to carry a weight of a ton of actions—and you think, maybe he doesn’t need you to be perfect with words.

maybe he just needs you to say it, you love him for all that he is.

you capture his hand, locking your fingers through the gaps and kissing it while holding your stare. such beautiful golden brown who only ever looks at you like this. you don’t want to look away, you want to keep him forever, like he’s a promise you love to keep.

you feign a scoff, “fine. if you want specifics. i love you because you give me challenges, the ones that pisses me off in a good way, the ones that make me a better person, the ones that make me think differently.”

“i love how you argue with me about the smallest things, like which way the toilet paper roll should go, just because you know it gets a rise out of me. i love the way you silently leave the last piece of your favorite snack for me, even though you act like you don’t care.”

“i love that you fold the laundry so badly on purpose just to get out of doing it, and how you mutter ‘you’re welcome’ when i fix it.” you see the slightest of twitch of his brows. guilty.

you rest both your intertwined hand on your chest, hoping he can feel your beating organ.

“i love how you complain about the dishes but still wash the ones i ‘accidentally’ leave in the sink. i love how you steal the blankets at night but always drape them back over me when you think i’m asleep. i love how you sigh every time i forget my keys but still wait by the door to hand them to me, no matter how late i’m running.”

“i love how you can be so stubborn and sharp with your words, but you never let the day end without sitting next to me, even if it’s in silence, just to make sure we’re okay. i love how, after a fight, you pretend to not-so-subtly leave fresh fruit cuts on the counter or let me pick the movie, even though you hate my choices.”

“you choose horror all the time.” he comments without thinking, and you chuckle.

“i love that you can’t handle it. because you can’t help but cling to me after.”

at this point, your voice wavers slightly, the memories tugging at your chest. “i love that, even when we hurt each other, you always find a way to show me you care. you never say it outright, but it’s in the way you stay. you always stay, kei.”

your voice soften as you look at him, his golden eyes searching yours with a quiet vulnerability. “is that good enough of a reason, kei?”

he was quiet for a moment, his expression unreadable, before scoffing softly. “you’re so dramatic.”

right as he bury himself in your scent, lips on your neck that inevitably makes you shiver, you can see his ears turn red—and you think it’s the alcohol, but maybe it’s also because of your sappy shitty monologue. maybe its both.

your head feels lighter, a pleasant buzz on your veins and a thudding heart that can’t quiet itself, maybe you want the world to know just how much you love this man— and to make it even more sappier, he’s your world. it should be obvious by now.

you are dramatic. “hehe, that’s why we’re here. that’s why you love me.”

ever since you became his highschool sweetheart, you didn’t change as much. at least, to his eyes, you remain the love he’s always wanted.

and the things you do to him, for him. leaves him drunk with want. your name on his lips sits like a prayer, a letter of promises forever to keep—committed to keep.

the ends of his lips curl into the faintest smirk, his blush deepening as he muttered, “maybe.”

after a few quiet shifts in position, you both comfortably settle in each other’s arms for the night. he closes his eyes and yet, he can still see you in perfect resolution, as if there’s a screen behind his eyelids. replaying the memories with your words ringing his ears.

he remembers his first kiss with you before he falls to sleep. saw your eyes glossy and glowing, he never told you this but, he wanted to marry you by then. wants you to give him that look everyday, wants your beginnings and your tomorrows.

and—oh, he already has it. huh. wow, he still can’t believe you love him after all these years.

© SOLVISUN 2024. thank you for reading!

I need my won and only in my life too please

raindrops

synopsis — after a long celebration for his birthday, jungwon finally lies down. he loves watching movies to relax, but he definitely loves you more.

warnings — crying (because of the movie), 20th century girl 💔💔 (no spoilers other than it being sad), y/n calls jungwon “a heartless monster” as a joke, lmk if theres any more!

pairing — jungwon x gn!reader

wordcount — 540

a/n — happy jungwon day! hopeyou enjoy this fluff <3 also Who told me to watch 20th century girl (me) because im out for you.

“I can’t believe you’re crying right now.”

“This is one of the saddest tragedies to ever exist!”

You had watched the movie at least five times, and you couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down everytime. Jungwon on the other hand, had never watched it before, yet he had a straight face.

“Baby, you’ve seen this three times. You know what’s going to happen.”

After a long exciting day for you and Jungwon. You were happy when he asked you to hang out at his house afterwards. Sitting close to the other you watch the movie “20th Century Girl”.

You scoff, “You are a heartless monster!” Blowing snot into your tissue, you throw it away into the conveniently placed trashcan next to the couch.

Laughing at your antics, his dimples show through his cheeks. Smiling softly at the sight, you let your head lay down on his shoulder.

He looks at you, watching as tears stream down your eyes. Like the raindrops that come onto his car window, he watches as they race endlessly down your cheeks.

His hand comes to your shoulder, gently rubbing it as you scoot impossibly closer to him.

Jungwon can understand why you’re crying. He didn’t know this movie would be so sad, he wouldn't have picked it if he knew.

Paying attention to the movie he can feel tears start to drop from his eyes. Like the water he spills whenever he fills the cup up too much, he wipes them away.

It’s at the end of the movie when you hear a quick sniffle, you look up to see a few tears falling from Jungwon’s eyes.

“Ha! I knew it! I knew you were going to cry.”

He jumps dramatically, quickly wiping his tears, “I did no such thing.”

“Liar! I saw those tears, I heard those sniffles! That’s plain evidence.”

The pout on his face makes you feel a little bad, brushing his slightly wet cheeks with your hands you mutter a small apology.

When you think you’re done wiping his cheeks, you turn back to the screen, laying on his shoulder you watch him scroll through the endless amount of shows and movies. Clicking on one you were both rewatching together.

“I think I’m going to go to sleep, Won. Happy birthday.”

He kisses your head, “Thank you, and go to sleep you had a long day.”

Nodding your head against his shoulders you wrap your hands around his arm. “I love you.” You let out, the words barely even comprehensible.

“I love you more, now go to sleep.”

“No I do,” You argue, he knows your too stubborn to let him win so he gives up.

Jungwon knows he loves you more. Usually, after a fun day out like today he would want to be alone. Not even allowing Jay to come over.

But you came in, like rays of sun after months of snow. You came in and wiped away his tears and his worries.

So, yes. He loves you more.

Your eyes close, snuggling closer to feel his warmth. And as the clock ticks away, you find yourself asleep before you even know it.

It’s after a few minutes when he whispers back, “I love you more than anything.”

And he finally lets himself fall asleep.

perm taglist — @jwnghyuns @ja4hyvn @trsrina @redm4ri @badmuni @yeokii @enhastolemyheart @softpia @s00buwu @ox1-lovesick @boyfhee @hanniluvi @teddywonss

yenqa © please do not copy, steal or translate.

beloved - Tsukishima and being soft for you and only you

prompt list reqs are: temporarily closed

beloved

tsukishima; 1,787 words; fluff, established relationship, no "y/n", soft!tsukki, kissing and banter, tsukki being... tsukki

summary: 5 times tsukki is soft just for you and 1 time when he doesn't care that everyone else can see

a/n: this is an ancient req but... welp, here we are! u__u

01.

in the middle of the night, his eyes still marred by sleep and the lack of glasses, when the world is a watercolor haze of shapes and softness — he feels you tug away from where you’d been curled up against his chest, shifting under the blankets. he groans and tries to pull you back.

“kei… what’re you doing?”

“don’t go… i was warm.”

there’s a whine in his voice you’re certain he’s never let anyone else hear before, no one other than you and the silent, watchful moon, swinging low in the mid-autumn night.

“i’ll be right back — i need to pee!”

“well pee quick,” he says, voice gravely from sleep as he shoves his face back into his pillows and tries not to mourn the you-shaped emptiness in the bed next to him. he wonders briefly how he’d lived so many years, slept so many nights just by himself in this bed, his body and no one else’s to keep him warm.

he counts backwards from twenty, knowing that by the time he gets to about seven or six, you’ll be crawling back under the blankets, nuzzling into his side. he gets to eight, seven, six —

“there, see?” you shimmy back into his arms and he sighs a sigh that could be misconstrued as exasperated. but you know him well enough (and he knows you do) to know it’s nothing short of absolute contentment.

“mm. sleep,” is his only mumbled reply as he once again buries his face into the soft bend of your neck and breathes.

02.

out shopping, even though he’d made such a fuss about not wanting to go, about how it’s nothing more than a pointless endeavor and only contributing to the economic monster that is capitalism — but the way you press a sundress to your front in front of a full length mirror, the light in your eyes, the bright smile on your lips — it stirs something inside him. it inspires quiet; it inspires… admiration.

you spin around, laughing, clearly delighted to have caught him staring.

“what do you think? does it look good?”

tsukishima purses his lips, schooling his expression back into a frown as he scoffs and casts his eyes up towards the ceiling.

“’s all the same to me.”

“aw… c’mon, you don’t mean that,” you say, twisting back around to tug at the dress, contemplating if it’s worth trying on.

“sure it is. i mean — i’d like you in whatever, so.”

and silently, he thinks that the way you blush at his words is worth the trip… and all the bags he has to carry along the way.

03.

over strawberry shortcake, with two steaming caramel lattes — you humming happily to yourself as you snap one picture after another of the delicious-looking assortment.

“camera eats first!” you declare, snapping your phone shut and reaching out to pick up a fork. you pause over the petal-pink of the shortcake, decorated with three glistening strawberries, the soft white cream light as clouds.

you bite your lips, “ah… it looks almost too good to eat!”

at this, tsukishima sighs, reaching out to stab straight through a strawberry, despite your squeak of indignation and alarm. he wordlessly presses the strawberry to your lips, smirking to himself as he watches the buttercream smear across your mouth before you have the sense to open it and take a bite.

“mm! it’s good!”

“hn. i’d hope so — it was 2,000 yen.”

tsukishima scopes another bite for himself before pausing, his eyes caught on the languid sweep of your tongue across your lips as you try to catch the remaining cream. and, thoughtlessly, almost as if driven by nothing more than instinct and that strange, animal magnetism, he leans forward to swipe a thumb across your lips, pressing the excess into your mouth.

slowly, you close your mouth around his thumb, and he feels the slight pressure of your tongue against his skin. he swallows; you suck, letting his thumb go with a slip pop that leaves tension swelling in his chest like an overfilled balloon.

later, caught just outside the cafe, with his fingers curling into your hair, tilting your head up to meet his — tsukishima thinks that there are some things, perhaps like the strawberry shortcake, too lovely to devour. and then — there are some things, perhaps like your lips, entirely too lovely not to.

04.

after practice, when the moon hangs heavy in the mid-summer sky and the cicadas are singing loud enough to shake loose the stars — tsukishima leans back against your legs, his head falling into your lap as you reach down to slip off his glasses.

“so… how was the training camp?” you ask, tracing your index finger along the high bridge of his nose.

“tiring. the little orange dolt thought it’d be a good idea to break in —”

“break… in?”

“yeah, he just showed up and — i dunno — prayed that no one would notice that he wasn’t invited. idiot.”

your laughter is summer-sweet and full-bellied, and it has you tipping back on your couch with your fingers still tangled in tsukishima’s slightly shower-damp hair.

“it’s — it’s not funny!” tsukishima twists around, frowning hard enough for you to burst into another fit of giggles, reaching forward to run your thumbs along the ridges between his furrowed eyebrows.

“i mean… i think it’s pretty hilarious. that takes balls, doesn’t it?”

tsukishima huffs, swiveling back around, shoulders hunched as he grabs for the remote and clicks on the tv, switching through channels at light-speed. his glasses lay forgotten on the sofa next to you.

“or he’s just too stupid to think about the consequences.”

you reach forward with an indulgent smile, looping your arms around his wide shoulders.

“oh, c’mon… cut him some slack. not everyone can be as tall, handsome, and talented as you are, right?” you say, nuzzling into his cheek even as he swats half-heartedly at you.

“quit it.”

you giggle, hugging him all the tighter until he spins around, pinning your wrists above your head with a speed not usually associated with someone of his height. he hovers over you, his head cocked to one side.

“oh yeah? and what’re you gonna do for your tall, handsome, talented boyfriend to make him feel better after such a stressful day at camp, hm?”

you hiccup, lashes fluttering as he bears down over you.

“i — ts-tsukki —!”

“hn. wrong answer — two more chances.”

you press your lips and glare at him with what you hope is a reproachful air. tsukishima only smirks, shaking his head even as he bends down to press into your space, your chests pressed, his body covering yours and then some. his lips brush the lobe of your ear and he revels in the way you shiver.

“fine line between stupidity and courage, i’d say… don’t you agree?”

05.

before the game with shiratorizawa, with his brand new glasses, and his head bowed low.

“don’t be scared,” you say, reaching down to link his fingers with yours. they’re so long, so strong. the palms peppered with calluses.

tsukishima scoffs, “i’m not scared.”

you smile, rocking up onto your very tip toes to press a chaste kiss to his lips. luckily, tucked behind a large column, around the corner to a deserted corridor, no one is there to see.

“you’re not a very good liar,” you say, falling back onto your heels, peering up at him as he stares down at you with slightly narrowed eyes. then, he bends forward to trap you against the column, his breath hot along your lips.

“and you’re gonna make me late for warmups.”

he pulls back at the last second, leaving you breathless. but the smile that dangles from his lips is less sanctimonious than usual. he reaches up and flicks at your forehead when you make no move to follow him.

“i’m not scared, i’m nervous. but… i guess seeing you in the stands would make that a bit better.”

you bite down on your bottom lip, linking your hands behind your back.

“well then, what are we waiting for?”

06.

after the shiratorizawa match, when everyone is still running high on adrenaline, puffy-eyed with happiness, you bound down to meet him, skidding to a halt just outside the giant gymnasium doors. there are bandages on his fingers and sweat dripping down the tip of his nose.

his cheeks are pink with exhaustion, but his eyes are clear and bright and wanting.

“guess you didn’t have any reason to be nervous after all,” you say, trotting up to meet him as the rest of the team parts around the pair of you like water around a river rock. yamaguchi glances over his shoulder even as he herds hinata and kageyama away, the pair bickering over this or that.

tsukishima crinkles his nose, but his eyes narrow at the sight of the redness beneath your eyes. he reaches up his uninjured hand to trace along the dried tear-tracks along your cheeks.

“what’re you crying for?”

you sniffle, shooting him a glare.

“just because you weren’t scared doesn’t mean i wasn’t either — but you won — so that’s all that —”

he quiets you down with a kiss, standing there, in the open gymnasium hallways, the chattering of hundreds of students ebbing around you both. distantly, you can swear you hear tanaka whoop, only to be cut short by what sounds like sugawara smacking him painfully upside the head.

tsukishima frowns as he pulls back, “y’know… i’d prefer if your mind wasn’t on other things when i kissed you.”

“wh-what — i wasn’t —”

his lips thin into his trademark smirk as he tugs your chin towards him with two fingers, his hold more gentle than it looks.

“hm… seems like you’re not a very good liar either but… guess i don’t really mind that much.”

your retort dies on your lips as he leans down again, and this time, you don’t think about how the pair of you are still standing in the middle of a very visible hallway, how people are probably starting to stop and stare.

this time, you kiss him back like nothing else matters in the world except for his lips and how perfectly soft they are on yours.

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 (𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇)

🏐 — tsukishima kei x f!reader

— synopsis: something about the stars has always intrigued tsukishima, how even in the dusk of the night, the brighest star would light up the world and burn itself in the process. he also didn't know what to do when that star had turned into the person who seemed to make his days just a little bit better.

— warnings: nothing much, except angst. just soft yet also mean tsukishima who doesn't know what to do with those feelings of his. maybe he's a little ooc. based on "andromeda" by weyes blood.

stars, so miniscule, so far away from his touch, so beautiful even with the stygian waters that it swims on.

every night, after practice, tsukishima would walk his lethargic body home with his headphones in his ears, his neck bent backwards it could snap. but he didn't care, he wanted to watch the stars move and follow him.

he wanted to watch all the dead stars who shined the brightest, the stars that had turned into supernovas, the stars that are created. and he felt at peace— the soft rhythm and reverb of the song humming in his ears, and the stars that lead him home.

and occasionally, adding to his visual and auditory senses, a sweet drink on the palate of his tongue made his evenings better.

tonight was no different.

he had just bid his goodbye to his teammates, although timidly and without masking that annoyance he'd always bore against the little tangerine boy who always had a little too much energy.

tsukishima begins his journey, using the stars as his map, putting his hands in his pockets. yamaguchi hadn't joined him for tonight. actually, he hasn't joined him in a while, always walking yachi home, using her "safety" as an excuse (it really was the reason, but obviously there was another one).

still, he didn't mind the absence of his friend.

anri's soft doo-wop brings pleasantries in his ears as the song begins. his fingers tap inside the pocket of his gym shorts. he looks up at the night sky and connects his own constellations. tsukishima wonders if those stars ever know that they're being admired by millions of people in this planet, even if they'd died billions of years ago.

as a child, he used to think that the stars were the meteors that had killed his beloved dinosaurs. and every night, he would refuse to look up. but then akiteru, despite finding humor in his little brother's childish belief, had decided to tell him the difference between meteors and stars. and then added more information about those stars.

so now tsukishima loved three things: dinosaurs, strawberry shortcake, and stars.

his feet patter softly on the cobblestone that serves as a pathway to his home, the cool air drying the sweat off his temples and cooling his back, which reminds him to wipe his sweat when he gets home before he showers to avoid getting sick.

and then he suddenly comes in contact with a small body.

just outside of sakanoshita market, tsukishima's chest bursts in sudden (but light) pain from the person's elbow. and that person had emit a small noise of surprise and pain, stumbling backwards.

tsukishima was just about to snap, tell the person to look where they had been going and call them an idiot when his eyes met yours.

they're wide, irises darkened from the night's haze, and you're clutching your elbow, headphones askew. you rub the soft skin, a small pout on your lips and tsukishima wonders how painful was it for you to pout like this.

then you look at him and he feels the air stuck in his throat.

pretty.

"oh! sorry. i didn't mean to bump into you." you bow in front of him, hands pliant at your sides. tsukishima's at lost for words, lips only parted and looking at you. he still hasn't said anything when you bring yourself back up again.

"it's- it's okay." he finally stammers out, pausing his music and moving his headphones off from one ear. "sorry for not looking either." tsukishima bows slightly, just tilting the top half of his body.

you smile lightly at him, hanging your own headphones around your neck, scanning his figure. he suddenly feels shy under your curious gaze, watching as you read the print on the left side of his chest.

"karasuno...? ka-karasuno! i go there," you laugh lightly, like that discovery was the greatest news you'd ever heard. "i don't think i've seen you around. well, maybe because i'm new. i'm such a dumbass."

though the last sentence being a whisper, tsukishima contradicts: "n-no. i haven't seen you around either." he takes one step forward towards you, didn't expect himself to be nearer than he'd planned. "tsukishima kei."

you tell him yours in a polite manner, with a smile so bright you'd beat the stars that hover both of your bodies. "you're part of the volleyball club, aren't you?"

he hopes you don't see his wavering blush in the dim lights. "yes."

"cool! what position?"

"middle blocker."

"that's so cool," you face him, neck bent upwards to meet his eyes, hands forming into excited fists in front of you, like how hinata would get enthusiastic about something. "you're really tall. i bet, i mean if you could, you'd hit the streetlights when you jump."

that theory piques his curiosity. his eyebrows raise. "i haven't given it a thought. i will try it soon though." tsukishima finally removes his headphones and leaves them around his neck. he points to the bag in her hands. "what'd you buy?"

"chocolate milk. ukai-chan is your coach, right?"

"how'd you know?"

"i see him enter the gym everyday after classes. he owns this store," your head motions behind you. "can you tell him his mom is a little mean? i actually preferred it when he was watching over the store."

tsukishima smiles a little. "can't. he's our coach. he might actually drop us for his store."

your laugh may be brighter than anything else in existence.

"okay, well, see you around tsukishima-san." you smile at him, the pearls of your teeth glinting in the moonlight, the whiskers of your eyes denote the glee you've obtained from him and tsukishima softens just a little. you wave at him and walk past him.

he turns around, and even though your back was to him, his hand lifts and waves at you.

tsukishima walks home happier than he expected, a small smile lingering on his face.

🏐 —

"who you looking for, tsukki?"

yamaguchi serves his friend a teasing smile, holding the tray carefully in his hands. tsukishima looks down at his friend and deadpans:

"shut up, yamaguchi."

"sorry tsukki."

they sit down on the table hinata and kageyama sit on, the two bantering quite loudly on which flavored milk was the best and is advisable to increase their energy. kageyama says: "banana, you dumbass."

hinata argues that: "it's chocolate! it makes people hyper for a reason. could you watch your language?!"

tsukishima and yamaguchi sit beside each other, their backs to the window of the cafeteria, which meant that tsukishima has a view of the entire room, his height being an advantage despite the large crowds.

he blindly brings his bento out of his box, his eyes never leaving the heedless crowd. yamaguchi, ever the curious, most specifically the friend who always wondered what it is that ran through tsukishima's mind, asked again: "seriously, tsukki, who are you looking for?"

tsukishima huffs. "just sawamura-san. i need a-advice. on my blocks." the lie slips easily off his tongue that yamaguchi can't decide between believing him or forcing the truth out of him.

but tsukishima is slightly disappointed that even after five minutes, he still can't see the color of your hair amidst the throng of students. though his face might say otherwise (rbf), he can't help but feel a little sad.

maybe the star isn't shining so bright today.

he pokes and prods at the vegetables placed on top of his rice, stabbing the carrot and shoving it in his frowning mouth. he doesn't notice that hinata has been observing– no, looking at him. because hinata was never the type of person who could be discreet.

"stingyshima, you look sad," he doesn't know if it's a tease or not, but maybe it is. "is he looking for someone, yamaguchi?"

"i don't know," he shrugs. "he says he's looking for sawamura-san."

"he's right there," kageyama jabs his finger behind him, seeing daichi in line for the cafeteria food. "your blocks haven't been good? figured."

"sorry if i haven't lived up to your standards, king." tsukishima sneers. yamaguchi and hinata laugh, kageyama burning in his seat.

eating his lunch ended quite faster than he thought it would, and soon he finds himself walking along the hallway of the school building waiting for the remaining free time to end. so his boredom drags his feet towards the nearest vending machine.

the device on his ears blocked out all the haze and noise of the world, which left him in his own environment. it eased the nerves that trickled along his veins, rubbed the tension off his shoulders. in his own milieu, he could think whatever and say whatever and do whatever.

just like how stars form themselves however they please, explode and die whenever they want to. tsukishima didn't have better knowledge of stars than he knew of dinosaurs, but it was his own thought and he had the freedom to think whatever it is (although of course, with just a little bit of accuracy and validity).

tsukishima's eyes scan the plastic divisions for the sight of any strawberry drinks. when they land on one, he types the number and slips the cash in. the conveyor belts begin to twist.

but much to his dismay, when the drink was pushed, it never fell.

he tuts in frustration, his head falling backwards to release a tired, irritated sigh.

and then you pop up beside him.

tsukishima jumps lightly when he sees you put your head out and smile at him, clutching his heaving chest. somehow, your laugh had managed to drown out the song in his ears; he doesn't mind though. he thinks your smile was the most beautiful orchestra ever conducted.

he puts his headphones around his neck. "they're incredibly annoying, aren't they?" you smile up at him. "here, i'll help you."

suddenly, you begin to violently shake the vending machine. tsukishima almost feels embarrassed for you, but the lack of audience has rid that feeling. you, with your height, looked like a child angrily throwing a tantrum and had transferred your anger towards an object.

nonetheless, adorable.

finally, the strawberry drink fell down, and you squat to pick it up from the port to give it to him. tsukishima takes it from you and says: "thank you."

"no problem!" you beam at him. "i was actually looking for you earlier. i couldn't see you. did you eat at your classroom?"

tsukishima removes the plastic of his straw. "no. i was at the cafeteria." he doesn't want to admit he's looking for you too, but he hopes you can see it in his eyes.

(you don't. to you, he looked uninterested and entertained at the same time. very hard to read)

"aw, alright. well, i was just wondering if you'd like to, uh, switch emails?" you're shy and he finds it amusing. "not switch like i use yours and you use mine, but switch like i take yours and you take mine... so we could text each other..."

he wants to say that he knows, he's not dumb. but you– your eager eyes of softness look up at him and he forgets how to be so cruel and cold. like you were the kind of fire to melt the falling snowflakes. tsukishima nods.

"sure." he pulls his phone out with one hand from his pocket and hands it to you. you take it and give your phone to him, and it felt smaller in his hands.

when you exchange phones again, there's shyness written across your face. tsukishima can't help but blush with the way the sun kisses your skin the way it would to tainted windows– radiating colors so beautiful he can't help but simply be at awe towards you.

a star is created somewhere far away. tsukishima's heart skips a beat.

"i was actually looking for you, too. earlier." he admits, putting his phone back in his pocket. "i couldn't see you. sorry."

"don't be sorry!" there goes that smile again, always making his heart flip. "we both struggled anyway."

"do you want anything?" he points to the vending machine. "chocolate? banana? strawberry?"

"can i try yours first?"

tsukishima pauses, the straw in his mouth just finishing his sip. there's innocence in your eyes that riles him up the wall in ludicrous ways. he slowly takes the straw out between his lips and hands it to you, with you greedily taking it from him before his hand met you halfway.

he swears he could've been redder than any other person in the world when you so shamelessly put his straw in your mouth.

should i be worried about the germs or the fact that we kind of just kissed but not really?

when you sip, you swallow and he can see your brain ponder on what decision you were going to make. you hand it back to him and say: "yeah, i like that one, too."

how could you act like you didn't just drink from his straw?

tsukishima gets you one, this time without shaking the vending machine and hands it to you.

"thank you." you say, your smile adding to your gratitude.

though it seems as if time has reached its end and a familiar sound rings across the hallway that reminds the both of you that the free time was over. tsukishima sees your pout but you don't directly show it to him.

"well, see you around, tsukishima!" you wave goodbye to him, walking away.

tsukishima stands still, staying at his place. his drink was no longer cold, the condensation dripping down his fingers.

somehow, the colors are brighter, the drink was sweeter, the tension from his body had disappeared, and everything else felt lighter. and even if you were no longer standing in his proximity, that luster you left behind etched itself to him.

you were now his new environment.

🏐 —

you. hi tsukishima! 3:13pm

when his phone dings, he places his waterbottle to his side, tuning out the sound of squeaking shoes and bouncing balls. he sees your name on the screen. he doesn't hesitate to text back.

tsukishima. Hi. 3:13pm

his palms sweat from simply typing that greeting. but his heart seems to beat faster and his chest feels light. he didn't expect that you'd text right away. nevertheless, he feels elated to see you text him.

you. didnt see u at the gates earlier during dismissal, do u have training today? 3:15pm

tsukishima. Yes. 3:15pm

you. oh really? until what time? 3:18pm

tsukishima. 7. 3:18pm

you. okay! thats kind of tiring haha. 3:20pm

tsukishima. It is. 3:20pm

he winces at the possible tone he may deliver, so he adds:

tsukishima. Haha. 3:20pm

"bruh, you text so lame."

it seems that tanaka had been peaking over his shoulder as the conversation ensued. tsukishima hugs his phone to his chest and glares at him. "that's invasion of privacy."

"and that's how to lose a girl," he points at his phone. "you text like you're so uninterested."

yamaguchi looks at the two. "who's tsukki texting?"

"some girl named, uh,–"

"no one." tsukishima snaps. "no one."

"oh, it must be the one tsukishima was looking for earlier," hinata runs– or skips towards them. "stingyshima flirting? i wonder how you look like. i'm smart, but i won't tell you that i'm a smartass because i wanna impress you with my blocking skills. i'm so cool and so tall."

tsukishima hates how hinata mimics him. he bites back. "oh, i'm hinata. i'm so small."

much to his dismay, even sugawara had joined in. "you could tell her that, you know, i'm so tired. but i'm drinking water so that's good enough for me already."

he responds with respect, though dripping his annoyance. "sugawara-san, please don't mimic me."

his phone vibrates again, and everyone else leans in to look. tsukishima snarls and moves away from them, clutching his dear phone to his chest.

you. any chance we could drink later? 3:27pm

you. not alcohol, of course. just milk or juice, or a shake, even yogurt. although, we can't drink yogurt... 3:27pm

tsukishima feels yamaguchi peer over his shoulder, and he knows its him because of that distinct smell of his. he doesn't hide the phone away even when yamaguchi says: "she's asking you out! go!"

"calm down, yamaguchi."

he shakily types his response.

tsukishima. Sure. By the store again? 3:27pm

three dots, he's awaiting for your response.

you. okay! see you there :) 3:28pm

🏐 —

his practice ends at 7 on the dot. tsukishima has never left faster in his life.

though he was always the first to leave, bidding them goodbye before walking his way home. this was different– his goodbye bore that sense of urgency with a twinge of excitement as he clumsily slipped his regular shoes on, walking as fast as he could away from the school campus.

coach ukai had actually offered that they go back to the store together, but tsukishima was in a rush.

it was an eight minute walk to the store. he got there in five.

you were no longer wearing your school uniform. you had your hands at your sides, rocking back in forth from the heels of your feet, your headphones bobbing along with your head as you listened to your song. tsukishima wonders how he would approach you.

a tap on the shoulder? yell your name? appear in front of you? should he turn you around violently and smile awkwardly? should he–

"tsukishima-san!"

he didn't realize that he had spaced out, blinking. you approach tsukishima as you discard your headphones to hang them around your neck, stopping just a few friendly feet from him.

"how was practice?" you pip. "you look exhausted."

tsukishima reddens. "i'm alright. same practice anyway," he rubs the back of his neck. "should we go inside? i'm thirsty."

he hopes he doesn't sound too demanding. but you reacted normally, gave him a pretty smile, and led your way towards the store.

coach ukai's mother sat behind the counter, sporting the same cigarette in her mouth, a garbled greeting escaping her without bothering to look up as she read her newspaper. you and tsukishima find your way to the back where the drinks are.

he opens the door for you, the appliance bulb casting a white glow over your face as you bent and searched for what drink made your veins twitch with excitement.

"by the way, you know yachi hitoka?" you balance your hands on your knees, looking up at him. "she's your manager right? i'm in her class!"

"really?" he queries, swallowing thickly. "you're really smart, then. it's one of the higher classes."

"i try," you shrug shyly, looking back at the selection of drinks. "anyway, i asked her about you. she said that you were a middle blocker, 6 foot something, and that she liked your friend yamaguchi? i don't know, she said it then she denied it."

"oh, she likes him alright," he chuckles. "he walks her home every night."

"really?!" you pick up two cans of coke and clutch them to your chest, standing upwards. tsukishima shyly reaches for another strawberry drink. "i'm mad at her for not telling me that."

you make your way to the front with tsukishima following behind you. you place the contents on the counter, the woman behind muttering something you can't discern as she scanned your orders.

"are you allowed to stay out a little longer?" you ask him, the soft beeps of the drinks grazing his ears. he shrugs again, reaching for his wallet.

"yeah, sure. do you want to do something?" he places the payment on the counter before you were able to take your own cash out. you pout.

"i was going to pay for mine."

"it's alright. it wasn't that expensive, anyway." he smiles a little at you. and it was the first time tsukishima had ever smiled kindly at anyone, except yamaguchi, his mom, and akiteru. "you were saying?"

you pop open your can. "i found this really nice spot where you can stargaze. and, honestly, i'm bored and tomorrow's the weekend. i would have invited you to do this tomorrow, but we're here now!"

he laughs through his nose. "i'm free anytime."

when you both approach the exit, coach ukai and the team stand by the open doors. tsukishima stops on his tracks, his mouth parted the slighest as you tip your head back to drink your soda. when your head comes back in place, your eyes settle on the crowd upon you.

"oh, hello ukai-san!"

tsukishima looks at you through his peripherals before darting his eyes back front. they all snicker, eyes widened at the sight in front of them— cold, narcissistic, mean tsukishima kei, with probably the nicest girl in all of karasuno. yachi waves at you.

"is that why you were rushing to get out, tsukishima?" ukai teases, a cigarette hanging loosely off his lips. "i see you've met my number 1 customer."

he blushes when he's exposed, and he ignores the way you give him a surprised glance.

"so you must be the girl he was texting earlier," tanaka approaches you, offers his hand. "forgive him. he sounds lame when he texts, but trust me if you saw his face he looked like–"

"tanaka-san." tsukishima almost pleads.

while shaking his hand, yachi approaches you with yamaguchi behind her. "this is why you asked me about him!"

"shut up, yachi."

tsukishima could die right then and there. melt into a puddle of sweat and embarrassment. there were words exchanged between you and his ever loving team, the heat on his face becoming hotter and hotter at every second.

he wishes he could leave now.

by the time hinata begins to ask you a question about tsukishima's attitude, he sighs loudly. "excuse us, but we have to head out now."

you look at him again. "we do?"

"yes, we do," he looks down at you. "you told me, remember?"

you smile at him, recollecting your invitation. "oh, yes! we should get going."

you offer your goodbyes to the curious group. tsukishima wallows in discomfort, walking away with his shoulders slightly slumped and a hand in his pocket.

"i like them," you tell him, drinking your coke. "they're nice."

"they're really not," he takes a sip of his drink. "if you hung out with them, you'd be just as annoyed as i was."

his "joke" makes you laugh. first he thinks what could be so funny about his comment, then he realizes you don't actually know that he wasn't joking. the thought makes him swoon just a little.

"so why stargazing?" his and your feet are synchronized, stepping on the uneven cobblestone to the destination that tsukishima still doesn't know. your shoulder is closed to his when you walk; he resists the urge to put his hand out so that they'd graze your fingers, feeling the heat rub on his calloused skin.

"yesterday, when you walked home, i looked back and saw you look up at the sky," you reply. "and i realized that "oh, he stargazes too!" so i decided to bring you to my spot."

"your spot?" you hum in agreement. "why?"

"because it's nice to share the feeling of looking up at beautiful stars." you throw your now empty can onto a nearby bin, opening your second one. "i figured maybe you might feel the same way i do."

if it was admiration then yes, he felt the same way you did.

🏐 —

tsukishima realizes the walk was 10 minutes away from his home. now you're both standing at a hill where you can see all the houses nearby and karasuno at the other side.

you sit down on the ground, he copies you. his bottom sits on the soft soil, his fingers prickled by the grass, and the cold smell of the meadow enters his nostrils.

he thinks that everything is happening a little too fast – he had only met you yesterday, exchanged emails earlier, went out to buy drinks, and now you're both sitting at a hill stargazing like it's a date. your optimism and kindness shakes him a little, leaving him with an unknown thought of what he could possibly do as of this moment.

yet he's still here, watching you gaze at the stars, the sheer glow of the moon kissing your cheeks, the stars reflecting off the mosaic of your eyes. you're radiating this cordial heat that wraps around his right arm that rests just millimeters away from you.

"told you it's pretty," you beam, lips parted, never sparing him a glance. "you see that? that's cassiopea right there."

you point to the sky and squint, and it's only then tsukishima takes his eyes off you and follow the direction of your fingerprint.

you trace the invisible strings that connect each star to one another. blearily, his imagination turns those strings into silver. tsukishima draws nearer towards you, his shoulder now bumping yours, his pinkie grazing the skin of your finger.

"andromeda isn't here yet. but it's the one i've been waiting for the most," you turn your head to look at him.

tsukishima's breath hitches when he realizes that he may have underestimated how close the proximity he had created was, your breath fanning his face. he senses your surprise, the way the bottom of your eyes twitch lightly and your nose scrunches a little.

"i figure maybe they arive in a few weeks," he murmurs. he can sense your surprise and says: "you're not the only one who knows about stars."

"yeah? figured you were more into dinosaurs."

"that's true," he sniffles, you giggle. "when i was a kid i thought that the stars were the ones who killed the dinosaurs. so every night, when i see them, i would always cry 'cause i thought that they might fall here and kill us all."

"pessimist, huh?" when your head tilts up, your chin bumps his shoulder. "anything else i should know about you?"

"there's one thing i want to tell you but i've been making it plainly obvious."

"you have a knack for strawberries."

"yes," he smiles a little, the whites of his teeth appearing between his thin lips. "i like music."

"so do i."

"yeah? what genre?"

"...anri..."

"really?" tsukishima's eyes brighten, maybe even brighter than the stars. "i like her music."

"i thought you were kind of a japanese rock kind of guy."

"i can be many things," you look back up to the sky, your eyes darting between each individual star like you're tracing another constellation. tsukishima's tracing the features of your face like it was his constellation.

"yachi says you're mean, but in a way that brings up the team's drive to play harder," you say into the wind. "please don't be mean to me. i cry easily."

tsukishima wonders if he can even smile more than he is now. "i'll try my best. you're giving me a lot of reasons to be mean right now."

"but you're not being mean to me right now," you poke his glasses and shove them to his face, hurting the bridge of his nose. albeit tsukishima doesn't mutter a single complaint. "you're just being dorky."

"i am not!" he balances his body with one hand behind him, the other tugging on the end of your hair.

"now you're just being childish!"

your laugh beats out all the songs he had to search for to complete every single of his playlists. it was as soft as silk, as dulcet as violins; it was something he'd play on repeat when it played on his headphones. and your sweet laughed matched the way your face became even more beautiful.

tsukishima feels his heart beat a little bit faster.

a star explodes. supernova.

he no longer feels wearied from practice, his body languid from comfort in your presence. and just like last night, he was happy his day ended with something that lacked the usual bothersome feeling in his chest, but something that decompressed every constraint muscle in his body and think of something else that made the corner of his lips smile and his heart elated.

that's why when he went back home, when his mother and akiteru (who was visiting) were dead asleep, he silently descended to his room with a smile on his face, brushed his teeth with the sound of your laugh echoing in his ears, changed his clothes with your scent somehow lingering, and went to be thinking about you.

🏐 —

the past few weeks were more eventful than the days he had to train for the inter-high preliminaries.

the more he saw you, the more he felt himself unwinding like a diurnal motion, every trust and rigor travelling through his veins whenever your aura touched his opalescent skin.

you were the succor to his weary bones. you were the happiness that he never truly found in others. you were the light brighter than the stars could ever give him in the dark.

secrets were passed the way notes would in classes.

you got a sweet tooth? what dessert do you like?

strawberry shortcake, tsukishima said. no regrets, no embarrassment. pure adoration.

did you know that velociraptors aren't actually that big?

yeah? how'd you know that, tsukishima?

it's called reading, he'd roll his eyes. you're in the highest class and you don't read?

his retorts were never used to add insult to injury. that's what he liked about you– you knew when he was serious and when he wasn't despite the fact that tsukishima believed that he was hard to read. it seemed like you were able to read him better than yamaguchi has.

his heart aches at the thought. the ache, painful but so good, but something that he could not discern the true intention.

but he could never let you in him. never in his life.

you. saw a frog and it looked like you. loser. 12:51pm

you and tsukishima had exchanged countless of texts that contained topics that he never expected himself to be indulging in. that familiar ding! of his phone reminded him of you already, because you'd been the only one who constantly texted him more than yamaguchi has.

(also because, well, he set up a different tone for you.)

tsukishima sees your name pop up in a rectangular notification on his screen. he opens it with sweaty hands and a towel over his head, his thumbs typing out a snarky reply.

tsukishima. How could a frog look like me, (y/n)? That's dumb. 12:51pm

he ruffles his towel over his damp curls, the sweat on his temples being sucked into the cloth. he watches the three bubbles appear on your side and you say:

you. because i said so. look! 12:52pm

the attached image looked far from what tsukishima looks like. it was a regular frog, beside a pond, with no thoughts. he rolls his eyes.

tsukishima. I don't see it. 12:53pm

you. thats because youre not LOOKING. do u see his eyes? literally you. i think its the mouth, haha 12:54pm

he laughs either way despite not having seen any similarities. but laughing seemed to be a mistake, as he forgot where he was at the moment.

"quit laughing, tsukishima. you'll slack off," kageyama taunts from afar, face etched into an arrogant smirk. yamaguchi approaches him, peeking over tsukishima's shoulder to snoop on the conversation.

"are you worried i'll ruin your game, king?" tsukishima rubs the back of his neck, tilting his chin upwards. "my apologies."

you send him another text: omw there to see u :p 12:59pm

the latter's growl was overpowered by yamaguchi's hum of interest. "tsukki, that frog does look like you."

"yamaguchi, how nosy are you?"

"nosy enough to ask when will you tell her that you like her?"

tsukishima's eyebrows furrow. he did not like you. during those weeks, the both of you did more than just exchange texts in any time of day– often you'd meet after classes and buy a drink when he didn't have practice; sometimes you'd wait for him until seven in the evening so you'd both go up the hill again and talk mindlessly about things that tickled your brains.

in those few weeks, he had learned more about himself than he ever had with anyone else.

and he feels, though never actually given any attention to, that his days ended with a smile on his face rather than feeling boredom creeping up his shoulder like a grim reaper would on a dying soul.

instead, it felt like he was resurrected; tsukishima felt like a shooting star falling through evening, the fire pulsing through his veins as he fell. with you, he felt like everything else had color, that everything else made sense.

his life became brighter that it seemed like hinata's hair was actually on fire from the bright orange hues.

so no, he did not like you.

"i don't like her." he wipes the sweat that dripped onto his glasses. "don't be ridiculous."

"yesterday, when you were eating, you kept talking about how this (y/n) girl told you how the dinosaurs from jurassic park were created. and all of us were talking about one piece."

"so? it's way more interesting."

"but not her?"

"yamaguchi," he bemoans. "nothing is interesting about her."

that lie. that sickeningly, macabre, heartbreaking lie that it even hurt him to say it. tsukishima also doesn't understand why yamaguchi has a horrified face plastered on him, but he realizes he wasn't looking at his friend, and was looking behind him.

he whips his head around.

the tips of your shoes had mud on them from the dampened soil. your umbrella hung loosely around your wrist and dripped on the ground. your fingers clasped around a small contained with what seemed to be strawberry shortcaked that looked delectable enough to make his stomach hurt. and your chest heaved from what he assumed was the aftermath of rapid walking.

despite the sight that had made his head spin, the affliction that twitched from your frowning lips and the gloss that made your eyes shine from dejection had turned the situation into something so monotone he feels like his soul had just left life.

a star dies in the middle of the galaxy.

tsukishima thinks the regret plastered on his face may be seen. he hopes that it is.

the sound of squeaking shoes and ricocheting balls continue, but the ringing of his ears are louder. you swallow thickly, shuffling on your feet, and approach him hesitantly like he'd burn you if you were near him.

"i brought you this because you looked so pale yesterday after you practiced," you say softly, though he could hear the pain in your tone. tsukishima takes the container from your reaching hand, and swears he sees your breath hitch when his fingers graze yours.

"thank you–"

"see you around, tsukishima," you bow, before you hurriedly leave the gymnasium.

it felt like the room was shrinking rapidly on him, his muscles pressing in on his body in a suffocating manner. yamaguchi puts his hand on tsukishima's shoulder, leaning down to check in on his distraught friend.

"tsukki," his eyebrows are raised in concern, voice loud enough to snap tsukishima out of his pity daze but low enough that everybody else remained distracted. "hey..."

"i'm fine," he looks up at him. "it's nothing. i'm- i'm fine. let's just go back to practice."

his fists clench when he shoves the cake into his bag and walks back into the court. his blocks are futile when he thinks of your eyes. his serves hit the net when he thinks of the frown pasted on your lips. and he feels himself at the bottom of the game when another star dies.

he just doesn't know if it was his or yours. could a heart break two times?

🏐 –

tsukishima had a crisp trepidation towards the true veneer of love.

he believes he was too young for that, that he was in a stage where he would have this deep passion for things that were alive albeit something that he can't touch nor interconnect with– hense is unfathomable love for dinosaurs, stars, and strawberry shortcake.

so whatever it is that he was feeling for you – he doesn't know if it's love. tsukishima feels like he could die if he didn't see you for a single day; his feet and his body restless up until you both meet after practice.

tsukishima is even more restless now.

there wasn't a single text from you since 12:59 in the afternoon.

there was almost a hundred texts from tsukishima since 3:00pm, the time he had excused himself early from his practice.

he lays on his bed, his headphones on but no music. he wasn't in the mood to put himself up in brighter spirits. his back rests uncomfortably on the thick mattress, his curls splayed across his pillow, a hand on his chest and a hand holding a fork, his feet spread apart.

and the strawberry shortcake you gave him rests on his chest, half eaten, his mouth chewing sadly on the sweet delicacy.

"do you think stars have thoughts?" you asked. tsukishima found this beguiling and preposterous simultaneously, however the curiosity that happened to lift his lips into a dazed smile made him release a teasing retort:

"you certainly don't."

you threw a grape at him. he caught it with an open mouth. the sun was about to set, but the warmth was enough to prevent the both of you from shivering idiotically on the hill at the cold breeze. "i'm approaching an epiphany, asshole."

your vulgarity made him smile more. "celestial bodies, more specifically stars, do not have thoughts. but they're alive, and they function into a cycle."

"unorthodox minds like mine go out of the box," you rolled your eyes. "sorry, i'll put it in simpler terms so you could understand. i have a very creative mind."

"oh yeah?" tsukishima tilted his head sideways to present his interest. "and what'd you mean by that?"

"you know how stars die and create themselves?" you queried. "it's like how phoenixes rise from the ashes as they're reborn. but when a star resurrects, they're called "zombie stars," right?"

"yeah."

"and i'm not saying that they have a mind of their own, but if you were to input your own thoughts into a star, then yeah, it's like they resurrect themselves to live on with life over and over again, and don't you think that's exhausting? they're like dead stars, and they still shine brightly, and it's ironic, right? because something that has been dead billions of years ago still shine. it has a meaning into it that people just... completely ignore."

"so an analogy?" his eyebrow raised.

"yeah, something like that," you licked your lips. "when you see a bright star, and you don't know if it's a dead star. but imagine stargazing and finding love in something that has been dead long ago."

tsukishima's body softened. "uhuh."

"but what if you keep loving that star? and that star just receives so much of that love that they're able to resurrect themselves. well, obviously loving a star isn't actually gonna bring it back to life because there's a separate scientific explanation for that, but i'm saying that– that if you love something, or someone, hard enough that you're able to bring light into their lives, then that's possible.

and they take all that love for the benefit of their life and... they burst into something beautiful called supernovas."

tsukishima stared at you, his gaze ever so adoringly. "and what's the point of this epiphany of yours?"

"that loving someone that has been gone inside their body is possible to save them and bring them back to life to turn them into someone even more beautiful."

tsukishima sits back up, a whiplash from the quick commotion.

it was already night when his thin curtains were tainted black from the dark glow of the evening.

he pushes himself off his bed, slip his way out of his home and clumsily puts his shoes on to find you.

and he knows exactly where you are.

so it's no surprise when he sees you all alone, laying down on the meadow of the hill, blooming flowers grazing your cheeks in any way the wind blows. tsukishima stands and stares at you longingly, his fingers twitching beside him.

"(y/n)."

he says your name like an oath to the stars. you sit up, hearing his voice, cheeks dry with tears melting onto your skin. tsukishima's heart breaks the slightest when he brings himself up the hill.

"what are you doing here?" you ask him, voice so small he'd think you were whispering.

to his surprise, tsukishima falls onto his knees in front of you. he finds it endearing that despite the reduce of his height, you still look up at him. then he takes your hands into his, his thumbs tracing every ridge of your knuckles, looking deep into your eyes.

"i didn't mean what i said." he declares like he was under jurisdiction of the judge. "you are–... the most interesting woman in the world. the most beguiling, the most entrusting, the most beautiful."

your eyebrows furrow, hands shaking in his grasp. "what are you saying?"

"that i'm an asshole." he admits. "you are so interesting that every epiphany of yours pulls me back on the ground and into you. that epiphany you had about dead stars that resurrect themselves from getting so much love? shit, (y/n), that may be me."

you let out a tiny gasp, maybe a breath of reliefz his face is so close to yours, his knees in between your legs, bumping the side of your thighs. "what?"

"i–... i don't know if you love me. you don't have to. but you've made my days brighter and gave my life meaning that i felt like i was resurrected. like all the pieces in me were brought back together. and everything else just felt... alive."

finally, you smile. just a little, but it was enough to make the grass greener and the color of your shirt turn pastel, your eyes vibrant in the night. "yeah?"

"yeah," he laughs, idiotically he may add. "i like you. i like you so much. i like you more than i like dinosaurs."

you guffaw, throwing your head back, hands never letting go.

a star resurrects. a supernova explodes.

"i like you more," you say, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

it was enough for him to jump on you to press his lips on your awaiting mouth, gently pressing you down on the grass, his hand on the back of your head to soften the blow as he settles himself in between your legs.

his mouth, sweet with strawberries and ardor, his hair soft like flowers when your fingers tangle on the golden locks, his glasses pressing against the space between your eyebrows and the bridge of your nose, his tongue that hovers respectfully on top of your bottom lip.

innocent, lips full of solicitude, he kisses you deeper and with care, his head tilting to open his mouth the slightest so that he could get closer to you. the small sound that emits from your mouth makes him pull back and smile shyly.

his eyes had the galaxies reflected off his eyes that it made space seem like they were golden from his irises. you take his glasses off, placing them beside you, and let your hands rest on his face; tucking his hair behind his ear as you do so.

and above your intertwined bodies, andromeda swims across the stygian night sky, traced by invisible strings. just as tsukishima predicted.

tsukishima could stare at you for the rest of his life.

tsukishima loved four things: dinosaurs, strawberry shortcake, stars, and most especially:

you.

reblogs and feedback are appreciated!

look. all of them were so adorable and handsome but lee know was serving. lee know owns the mv for ‘There’.

 [-note] 221102 SUNOO