The Fast Lane : Part 2 (bangchan X Reader X Felix)

fever - kim seungmin

pairing: kim seungmin x reader

summary: seungmin's sick and you try to take care of him

genre: fluff, idol! au, descriptions of having an illness (obvs), sick seungmin :(

a/n: everyone say it with me, my fics are yet again... not proofread ! yay ! (no one's surprised)

You shut the apartment door and hurriedly slip your shoes off, depositing your bag on the table and moving through to the hallway. You half-undress as you go, loosening your tie and almost tripping trying to pull one of your socks off. Finally making it to the bedroom, you glance at the bed, hair half-hanging down, your tie and pins a cluttered mess in the palm of your hand.

"Seung?" you say softly.

A muffled groan sounds from under the rumpled duvet. Seungmin's head pops up into view, hair ruffled every which way, and your heart twinges. He must have been tossing and turning for most of the morning.

He sits up with some difficulty, the mattress under the blankets a mess of crumpled tissues. He's taken his hoodie and sweats off, and you can see some of his hair plastered to his nape. Sighing and moving to turn the fan on, you direct it at him in a gentle flow and move to sit on the end of the bed.

You place a hand against his forehead. "You were fine yesterday, hmm? What happened?"

Seungmin groans, clearly not pleased with the prospect of being ill. "Just felt ill this morning, and next thing I know, Chan-hyung is manhandling me out of the studio. And then he told you that I was sick. Such a snitch."

You push his shoulder gently. "Don't get mad at him for caring about your wellbeing. Better to heal now than work while you're sick and end up feeling even worse."

Seungmin groans and flops onto the bed again, his hair mussing even more. You touch his bare chest lightly, reassuring; it's covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and the skin feels like it's burning.

Probably a good thing Chan told me, you think. He must be feeling really ill if even the fan isn't helping cool him down.

"You're burning up, Seung-"

"I'm sorry I distracted you from work."

His sudden apology comes as a surprise; Seungmin isn't really one to apologise or talk about his feelings much. The sudden admission makes your mouth press into a thin line.

"It's not your fault, okay? You're ill. And I'm glad Chan called me. You must be feeling terrible with a fever like this."

He responds with a muffled whine, burying his head in the sheets. His arm moves to fling itself dramatically over the side of the bed. You chuckle and pat his forearm softly, moving to get up.

"I'll go get the medicine, okay?" you pick up his half-empty waterbottle from the bedside table. "Drink that while you wait, and stop pulling the duvet over your head, it'll only make you feel worse."

A high-pitched, mimicking, whiny lilt comes from under the covers, and you punch the sheets lightly, not enough to cause any damage, but still making Seungmin yelp. A smirk makes its way onto your face.

"You're well enough to make fun of me, so I should just leave, then-"

"No- wait.."

You chuckle and pat the duvet, pulling it down to reveal his sweaty, flushed face. You stand and begin moving towards the door, intending to go fetch medicine and a snack for him.

"Give me a minute. I'll be right back, okay?"

a/n: this is so rushed i'm sorry

𝙗𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙡 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩 ⊹ 𝙜𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙧

pairing: bang chan x reader

summary: chan's been busy, so you decide to surprise him.

genre: fluff, idol! au, comfort, extreme softness, reader is a sweetheart, chan is also a sweetheart (but what's new), i cried writing this oops

a/n: happy birthday, channie ♡ (seungmin in the background) "chan you're half 56-"

The evening sun casts a golden glow across the rooftop of the studio, its last rays spilling over the horizon, tinting the sky in hues of pink and orange. The city below was alive with the hum of traffic and distant chatter, but up here, it felt like another world — quiet, intimate, serene.

Just the two of you.

Chan leans against the railing, a soft breeze ruffling his hair. He turns his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a playful smile. “I still can’t believe you managed to pull this off,” he says, his voice a mix of surprise and affection.

You smile, shrugging your shoulders casually. “Well, you’ve been working non-stop for weeks. I figured you deserved a break.”

It had taken weeks of secret planning, coordinating with the studio staff, and a few sneaky conversations with his members to set up this surprise. You’d transformed the usually empty rooftop into a small, cozy haven. It had taken a while, with several near-accidents (mainly involving a certain Han Jisung trying to hang up the lights, but you appreciated the help nonetheless).

Fairy lights twinkled above, casting a warm glow over the space. A small picnic setup was laid out with Chan’s favorite snacks, and in the centre was a guitar, propped against a chair.

He steps closer, his eyes scanning the space, clearly touched by the effort. “This is amazing,” he whispers, his hand finding yours, fingers intertwining subconsciously.

“I wanted to do something special,” you admit, looking up at him. “You give so much of yourself to your music, your fans, and your members… you deserve a moment just for you.”

Chan chuckles softly, cheeks dusted pink, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You know, you didn’t have to go this far for me.”

“Of course I did,” you reply. “You work hard every single day. I see it, and I know how much it means to you, but I also know how much you need to breathe sometimes.”

He was quiet for a moment, his eyes soft as they gazed into yours. “I don’t think I thank you enough for always being there.”

You squeeze his hand softly, gazing at him. “You don’t have to thank me. I just want you to be happy.”

Chan pulls you into a gentle embrace, his chin resting on the top of your head. “You make me happier than you know,” he whispers. His voice, though quiet, carries the weight of his sincerity.

After a few moments, he pulls back slightly, his eyes twinkling with a familiar spark of adorable mischief. “Alright, what else do you have planned? I can tell there’s more.”

You grin, stepping back and gesturing toward the guitar. “I thought you might want to play something. You’ve been working on so much music, but I haven’t heard you play in ages.”

Chan’s eyes light up, and he reaches for the guitar, settling onto one of the cushions you’d laid out. He strums the strings lightly, testing the sound before looking up at you with a grin. “Anything you want to hear?”

You tilt your head thoughtfully. “How about something new? Something you haven’t shown anyone yet.”

He chuckles, his fingers already moving over the strings, creating a soft, melodic, lilting tune. “Alright, but this is still a work in progress.”

The melody that followed was gentle, the kind that made you close your eyes and lose yourself in the moment. His voice, smooth and filled with emotion, carried through the quiet evening, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. As he played, the world seemed to shrink, leaving just the two of you and the music, hung in the air, making the twinkling lights seem brighter with the shining, incandescent melody.

When the song came to an end, you open your eyes to find Chan watching you, a soft smile playing on his lips. “What did you think?”

You sigh, completely in awe. “It was beautiful. You always manage to create something so… real.”

He blushes slightly at the compliment, setting the guitar aside and reaching for your hand again. “Thank you,” he murmurs, “for all of it. This- everything… it’s so perfect.”

You lean into him, your head resting on his shoulder as the golden hour fades into twilight. “You’re welcome,” you whisper. “But it’s only perfect because you’re here.”

The two of you sit in comfortable silence, watching the stars begin to twinkle in the sky. Your hand, the one that isn't holding Chan's moves to your pocket, slipping inside to brush against something. You glance at Chan to see if he's noticed, but he's too busy looking at the twinkling fairy lights, the golden shine reflected in his dark eyes.

He looks so beautiful.

Your voice comes out a hushed, almost reverent whisper.

"Chan?"

He hums, dragging his gaze away from the lights and onto your face. His eyes seem to shine even brighter, and he smiles, making an all-too familiar warmth settle in the pit of your stomach. You inhale.

"Do you remember when we first came up here?"

He nods, recalling the memory. You know it's one of his favourites.

"I was getting stressed from all the schedules we had planned. I was supposed to fly out to Shanghai for the fanmeeting and concert the next day... I got so close to honestly just crying, and you came up onto the roof after Felix snitched to you about where I was."

You smile ruefully, remembering it all too well. Chan continues.

"I remember you told me that it would all be okay, and you gave me this," he shows you his hand, a silver ring with a movable chain running through the middle. "You said that you noticed I was fidgeting a lot recently because of the stress, so you got me this to help me stop messing with my hands."

He spins the little chain twice with a smile before continuing.

"I remember flying out the next day, sitting on the plane, watching the ground fall away, taking me away. From home, from you. But you told me before I left that the ring was a little part of you, that I could take with me while we weren't physically together," Chan's eyes are suspiciously bright. He takes a shaky breath, smiling.

"I never took it off, even when I slept. The stylists kept getting frustrated with me because I refused to take it off, even when it didn't match what I was wearing. But I kept it on, during the fanmeeting, the concert, the activities with the Kids, everywhere, all the time. Minho used to say to me during the trip, "Hyung, did she glue the ring to your finger?"."

Chan laughs then, and so do you. He had pretty much kept it on all the time.

"Even when I returned, I kept wearing it. It stopped being a part of you and became a part of us. I felt wrong without it, and during the recent events where the stylists insisted I take it off, I wore it on a chain."

You giggle, leaning into him. "I remember you ran to hug me after the concert and the chain hit my cheek. I wondered what you were doing, wearing it all the time."

Chan huffs a small laugh, exhaling. "It's a part of me now. Forever."

Your smile fades, replaced with a soft, affectionate look.

"Channie, I did all this tonight because I wanted you to have a break. But I also did this because I need you to know how much I love you. You mean so much to me, and you're always spoiling me and doing things for me, so I wanted to give back. I know that love isn't grand gestures or fairy lights or guitar music, but you deserve this. So much.

And I'm glad you played the song for me. It was so beautiful, it felt like I was floating up into the air, I felt so free and at peace. I know you always say that music is the way to capture emotions, but no song could ever capture how I feel for you, or how much I love you. Music helps us to express our emotions and fond memories, but no melody, harmony, or tune could ever express how much you mean to me. And it's frustrating because I want you to know, I want you to be able to feel it-"

"I do feel it," Chan interrupts, grabbing your hand and gazing into your eyes with a soft smile. "During the hectic last-minute dance practices with Hyunjin, where you cheer me on, or during late night conversations, our chaotic dates, or all-nighter studio producing sessions. I feel your love wherever I go, because it's always with me. It chases me like a light and spills into everything that I do."

You smile, squeezing his hand again, and continuing a little quieter. "I've been by your side through everything, Chan. The moments of joy, the quiet sadness, the doubt, the excitement. I've seen it all. I've been right next to you through it all, and you always tell me that I'm your biggest supporter, your best friend, and more than you ever thought you deserved. But you do deserve it, Chan. All of it. I always try to make moments like this perfect for you, but the truth is, any moment with you already is. Whether we’re laughing, or even just sitting in silence… I realised that I've been searching for something, and all along, it was right in front of me.

When you're working away at producing with me on your lap, when we're running through the streets at night holding hands, taking photos of each other at ridiculous angles, and fighting over the last chip, it's perfect. Even during the rare moments when we disagree, or get frustrated with each other, that's perfect too. Because no matter what either of us feels, or what we're going through or facing, I know I can turn around, and you'll always be there. And you know I'd do the same for you, in a heartbeat. Always.

Channie, I know you always say that I'm a part of you, and so is that ring you never take off, and the chain too. I know my happiness and sadness and doubt and fear and love and affection is exactly what you feel, too. The members always joke and poke fun about how we're glued to the hip and can't go a day without each other, but for once, they couldn't be more right."

You let out a shaky exhale, eyes meeting Chan's.

"I know you love that silver ring, Channie, but I want to replace it."

You smile softly and reach up to wipe away a glittering tear from your cheek. With a startled realisation that Chan is also crying, you smile softly before reaching across to do the same for him, your voice soft.

"Bang Christopher Chan, will you marry me?"

a/n: happy chan week, everyone. i hope someone does this one day for him, he deserves it all ♡

lonely st. ✧ chapter vi : broken mirrors

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader (y/n)

warnings: introducing a new character! jisung is the bestest ever and the biggest babygirl, sweet hyunjin, my nervous shy boy, very very fluffy, very soft, hyunjin keeps being clumsy

a/n: writing jisung is so ridiculously fun you have no idea

series masterlist | skz masterlist

Y/n glanced across at Jisung, trying not to smile. He was busy bopping his head to the beat of whatever was playing in his headphones. His textbook was open in front of him, his laptop propping it up. His headphones were plugged into it, the excess cord wrapped loosely around his wrist.

Y/n put her pen down and leaned back in her chair, trying to see what he was listening to. She'd been finished with the assigned math work for the double lesson and she was watching Jisung. He was perfect entertainment.

Leaning back just a little further, she noticed his work was half-done. He was doing it at least; for the past couple of lessons he'd done nothing but bother her; asking for help on miscellaneous questions, not listening when she explained them to him, whispering rude jokes to her, doodling on her hand. Or all three of them if he was hyper enough. Y/n had learned to identify when he'd been gulping those sugary energy drinks Hyunjin refused to touch under any circumstances.

Now she knew why.

Not that she minded. It was fun to finally be able to sit next to someone. And Jisung didn't seem to mind that she wasn't much of a talker, excitedly filling the space between them with whatever happened to be occupying his mind at the moment.

Y/n failed to keep the smile from twitching at the corners of her mouth. His Spotify was open, a half-window, playing some song on full volume.

Queencard, she thought, smirking. Isn't that some popular (G)-IDLE song?

She leaned forward and tugged loosely on his sleeve. He pulled one tangled earphone out of his ear and looked at her with wide eyes.

"Whatcha listening to?" she asked, trying not to laugh.

"Oh, this one really good girl group song. Here," he shoved one of his earphones at her and she took it, grinning unconsciously as the beats filled her ear.

Jisung was doing the dance to the song in tiny, haphazard movements, completely focused. His eyes were trained on his math notebook but Y/n figured his head was somewhere else entirely. If she listened, she could hear him singing under his breath in the low chatter of the classroom.

Y/n huffed out a tiny laugh. A boy with freckles and blonde hair turned back from the seat in front of them to face Jisung. He was grinning ear to ear.

"Jisung, I know you love that song, but Mr Yang said he'd give you a detention if you didn't finish the classwork."

Jisung swore and hunched over his math book. There wasn't much class time left, and Y/n saw his pen scribbling messily over the paper, scrawling equations and diagrams. Her eyes widened. She'd never seen him write that fast in her life.

"There," Jisung said, clearly satisfied as he put his pen down. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a grin.

The blonde boy deadpanned. "And we have to show Mr Yang that we finished it before we're allowed to leave. Why do you think Y/n got up, like, half an hour ago?"

Groaning, Jisung tugged out his headphones with a sigh and snatched his book from the desk, marching up to the front of the classroom. Y/n watched with an amused smile as he practically shoved his book in their math teacher's face, clearly eager to show his finished work.

The blonde boy turned to Y/n. "I was lying to him about the detention part. But I get tired of having to explain everything to him when he could just do the work in class," he grinned.

Y/n brought her hand up to cover her smile. He had a point; Jisung never finished his work, no matter how much the teachers nagged him.

"Clever tactic," she mused.

The boy huffed out a laugh as Jisung came back down the desk aisle with a self-satisfied smile. He pushed his bleached fringe out of his eyes, his freckles changing positions as he smiled at Y/n again.

"I'm Felix, by the way."

Y/n laid her head on her folded arms, trying not to fall asleep. Breaktime seemed so long ago, and Y/n glanced at the clock above the board, wondering when the bell for lunch would go. It currently read 5:33 PM. It was midday.

They should really get that replaced, she wondered idly.

She'd sat through three mind-numbingly boring lessons, having already gone ahead and finished most of the work for the classes. Not that she found the content very riveting anyway. It was amazing how boring the teachers could make a curriculum.

She blew a stray strand of hair out of her eyes and let them droop shut, fighting the urge to close them completely and succumb to a deep, dreamless sleep. She let out a little squeak as someone poked her in the side.

Turning her head and prepared to snap at whoever it was that had disturbed her, she locked eyes with a familiar, smiling face.

Hyunjin.

She huffed at him anyway, glaring at him in mock disapproval.

"What?" she whisper-shouted at him.

Hyunjin bit the corner of his lip and leaned forwards, eyes flitting to the front of the room to check that the teacher was occupied. Which he was, scrawling unintelligible diagrams on the board.

Hyunjin grinned at her and passed her a slip of paper, folded over three times. Raising an eyebrow, Y/n turned back to her desk and unfolded the paper. He'd written a single sentence at the top.

It's been a while since we talked.

Y/n side-eyed him and picked up her pen. She scribbled a reply and handed it to him, eyes not leaving the teacher.

It's been a day, Hyunjin. You're such a drama king.

Y/n saw him fight a laugh in her peripheral vision. He wrote his reply and held it out to her.

So? I missed you.

Y/n felt her heart drop to the bottom of her stomach. She wasn't really sure what that meant. Did he miss talking to her? Or being around her? What did he mean?

She knew one thing for sure. Tapping her pen against her knuckles, she paused, hesitating, before writing out a shaky reply and passing it back to him, biting her lip nervously.

I missed you too, Hyunjinnie.

Y/n didn't dare turn her head, fighting to keep her gaze locked on the much-less-interesting view of the diagrams on the board. Which she had no intention of copying down, by the way.

Would Hyunjin think she was weird for saying it back? Maybe it had just been a casual, chill sort of thing, not a sentimental 'oh, how I missed you so much' thing. She began to panic, her knee bouncing rapidly under the desk. She ran her fingertips along her pen, feeling the ridges and bumps of it as she fretted silently.

Y/n didn't know how long she sat with her eyes locked on her work, though it was finished. She didn't dare look across at Hyunjin, though all she wanted to do was gaze at his stupid face and gauge his reaction to her reply.

Maybe he would think she was just saying it out of pity. Or for the politeness of it. Or maybe he would think that she was a weirdo for calling him a nickname. Shit, she hadn't even asked him for permission to call him Hyunjinnie... Would he mind?

But we've been friends for long enough, right? I mean, we pretty much spend time together, alone, just the two of us, in the library every day. Maybe he won't mind. Oh no, maybe he might. Shit, why did I write that? He might think it's weird...

Hyunjin held the note out to her again between two long, slender fingers, not looking away from the front. Y/n kept her gaze trained on the front of the classroom too, reaching blindly across the aisle. Her fingers brushed his and a sudden chill ran down her spine. Taking the note, she pressed her fingers together around it. Like she could make it disappear if she just squeezed her fingertips together on the paper hard enough.

Biting the inside of her cheek, and trying to calm down her heart, which was racing suddenly for no foreseeable reason, she unfolded the note.

I passed by your math classroom on an errand for my teacher earlier. I saw you sitting with Jisung, listening to his music.

It was cute.

Y/n felt her cheeks tingling, her heart thudding so loud she was sure he could hear it. She swallowed, the action almost hurting, her throat was so dry. Like she'd been wandering for days in a desert.

Glancing down at the note, she noticed his handwriting had changed on the last sentence, like he'd paused before writing it. Her mind became a mess of jumbled, mushy thoughts.

Does he mean Jisung's cute? Or I'm cute? Or the fact that we were just sitting together...? I feel so hot of a sudden. Is the AC on? Wait, he probably wants me to reply...

She thought hard for a second, pen flicking between her fingers, palms unusually clammy. She let her tongue push into the hollow of her cheek, wondering what would be a reasonable, rational response to his reply.

Before the tip of her pen could touch the paper, Hyunjin outstretched his hand, letting it hold in the space between them. They were at the very back of the classroom, so he clearly wasn't concerned about anyone noticing.

Y/n's mind short circuited as she saw the movement, his fingers flicking back and forth in a 'give me' motion. Wait, what did he want? Something from her pencil case? Her pen? Maybe her book?

There was only one conclusion.

Reaching out her hand, Y/n shakily interlaced her fingers with Hyunjin's in the space between their desks. He froze for a second, hand limp in the air, before his fingers closed around hers.

All of the breath whooshed out of Y/n's lungs, leaving her surprised and breathless. She couldn't think; all she could focus on was the warm, dry feeling of Hyunjin's palm, and his long, slender digits lacing with hers in what felt like the perfect solution to a puzzle. The missing piece.

Hyunjin squeezed her hand softly before letting go. He made the flicking gesture with his fingers again. Y/n was looking at him through her peripheral; all she could see was his hand. He was doing the same.

The realisation hit Y/n like a slap in the face as her eyes locked onto the unfolded note on her desk.

Fuck.

He wanted the note.

Feeling her cheeks flush with embarrassment, Y/n quickly withdrew her hand, taking the note from her desk with fumbling fingers and shoving it into his hand. Her heart sank.

You idiot.

She'd just held his hand. Hwang Hyunjin, the star basketballer, the school's it boy with his perfect charm and stupidly handsome face.

Wait, handsome?

Unable to stand being within a metre of him any longer, and feeling increasingly confused about her sudden change in attitude towards her friend, Y/n raised her hand, asking some question about the nature of the umpteenth diagram currently being drawn by their teacher on the board.

The action reset her mind a little and she focused intensely on her teacher's reply, trying to block out everything else. And her mind, and her swirling mess of emotions and thoughts, and the strange tingling sensation in her palm where Hyunjin had held it. Her stomach felt all swirly and fuzzy too.

The teacher finished answering Y/n's question and turned to flip through his textbook. Y/n's heart jolted as Hyunjin held out the folded note to her again, not looking at her.

Her heart sunk even further and she braced herself for an insult or a rejection as she took it, making sure not to brush his fingers again.

She unfolded the note again, eyes flicking across the row of numbers he'd scribbled down.

Jisung told me he gave you his number. Thought I'd do the same.

He'd doodled a stupid drawing of some cartoon ferret next to it. Y/n peered at the drawing, noticing how he'd added a little mole under its left eye, just like his real one.

Y/n kept inspecting the drawing, tilting her head to make sense of the doodle. It was sort of cute. She liked it.

She didn't notice the way Hyunjin's cheeks were dusted in pink.

Y/n made her way down the hallway, eyes fixated on the beams of sunlight spilling into the corridors from the large windows. The sun was always nice at this time of day; all warm and golden. She hoped she'd get home later just before the sun turned to its usual setting; blistering, bright, and glaring.

She didn't feel like going to the library today. Her routine with Hyunjin wasn't definite; sometimes she would sit down at the usual table and he'd already be there, or he'd come in a few moments later, setting down his belongings and scooting his chair a little closer.

Today, he wasn't there.

Y/n was beginning to feel a little braver in not going to the library during all of her breaktimes. It still felt strange to wander around the hallways, hands in her pockets, but it somehow felt more appealing than spending another forty minutes in the dim bookshelf corner by herself, like she used to.

She felt a little guilty for some reason; the library had sort of been her home for most of the year, and now that she wasn't showing up there as often, she worried the place might lose some of its charm.

Pondering this as she passed by the lower levels of the school, her thoughts were sidetracked by the faint sound of thumping basketballs and squeaking shoes.

That's right, she remembered. Hyunjin is practicing today.

Peeking inside, she noticed first the brilliant sunlight streaming in from the high rafter windows, reflecting off the walls and casting a lovely, warm glow across the polished court floor. She noticed Hyunjin's smile emitting the same radiance.

She spotted Jisung and Felix with him too, the three boys the only occupiers of the space. They were tossing a basketball between them. Jisung's tie was undone, his shirt untucked, and so was Hyunjin's. Both boys were missing their sweater vests. Only Felix was wearing his, though it was slipping off his left shoulder as he tossed the basketball back to Jisung.

The boys weaving their way down the court with such precision and fluidity that Y/n could do nothing but watch. She stood, transfixed, hands pressed against the wall, fingers gripping the threshold.

They were amazingly, breathtakingly good.

Y/n watched as Jisung took a shot, but he was too far away to make it. The ball rebounded off the hoop backboard, sailing through the air, and rolling to a stop near the door, right near Y/n's feet.

She peeked through the gap in the double doors before timidly stepping into the gym and picking the ball up. It felt textured and unusually heavy in her hands.

Felix waved a hand at her, grinning ear to ear. Jisung let out a happy shout and Hyunjin smiled.

"Yah, Y/n!" Jisung shouted at her, beaming almost as bright as the sunlight filtering into the gym. "Pass it back!"

Y/n blinked at him, then back down at the ball, feeling awkward and unsure. She tilted her head at him, confused. She glanced at the ball again. Did he want her to throw the ball to him?

"Yeah, come on, throw the ball back!" Felix called kindly, clearly sensing her uncertainness. He held his hands out.

Taking a deep breath, Y/n mustered her strength and tossed the ball back, her wrists flicking out. It was a short throw, much to her embarrassment, and Felix jogged forward, catching the ball effortlessly, seemingly not minding.

"Sorry," she said quietly.

Felix smiled at her kindly. "It's okay. Throwing takes some time to get right. You need conditioning."

Jisung jogged up too. Peeking behind him, Y/n felt a pang of disappointment as she saw Hyunjin walking away, moving to his bag that was shoved up against the far wall next to his friends' bags. Maybe he was upset with her for some reason... or maybe it was because of how she'd mistakenly held his hand during class earlier.

"Did you wanna play?" Jisung asked her eagerly. Felix looked at her expectantly, and Y/n took a step back, not wanting to make herself look stupid in front of these stupidly talented players.

"No, I'm okay-"

"Nope! Come on," Jisung took her upper arm and marched her to the middle of the court. Y/n weakly protested, Felix pushing the ball gently into her hands as Jisung positioned her right before the hoop.

"I don't think you have a choice," Felix whispered to her apologetically before smiling cheekily. "We could do with the teaching practice. It'll be fun."

Y/n sighed as Jisung stood several metres away from her, holding out his hands with a cheeky grin.

"So, you push the ball forward and then flick your wrists out," Felix stood beside her, making gestures with his wrists.

"Like this?" she copied his motion, tossing the ball about half a metre.

Felix nodded. "Yep! Then put some force into it."

Y/n glanced at Jisung before doing as Felix said. The ball flew in a perfect arc and Jisung caught it easily, cheering. Hyunjin watched with an amused smile from the far wall, his arms crossed over his chest. Felix clapped her gently on the back.

"Now you just gotta do that while dribbling. You know how?"

Y/n nodded. Hyunjin had regaled her with training tactics and basketball tricks during their library sessions, so she knew how.

In theory.

Fifteen minutes later, Y/n let the ball fly from her hands, tossing it to Jisung. It made sense now, and the feeling of the basketball's textured material felt natural and familiar under her palms. She liked the thumping sound the ball made as it hit the court, again and again and again.

She felt slightly sweaty, but exhilarated. She understood why the boys always seemed so alive whenever they played. There was something exciting about being on constant alert for the ball, catching it and passing it, and feeling the anticipation hanging in the air as the ball skimmed the hoop before dropping inside with a soft whoosh.

They'd been playing what was called 'two-on-two' for around fifteen minutes. Felix and Hyunjin were on one team, Jisung and Y/n on the other. Felix had proposed they flip a coin to decide the teams, but Jisung had seized her arm as soon as the words had left Felix's mouth with a frenzied, eager shout. That had settled it.

Y/n felt tired and her arms were beginning to ache, but it was the satisfied kind of ache that comes from doing something you enjoy. Grinning at Jisung as he shot a hoop, she moved to sit down, attempting to catch her breath.

She felt so free. Like a bird that had lived its whole life in captivity, the cage door had unlocked and she was allowed to soar through the sky, no limits, no rules. Just her wings airing her up against the current. She wondered if the boys felt the same way.

Felix flopped down next to her, and Y/n panicked briefly. Had Hyunjin told him and Jisung about what happened with the note in class? She subtly pressed a hand to her blazer pocket, where she'd tucked the note inside it. She glanced at Felix, but his eyes were trained on the court, where Hyunjin was currently dribbling down the side, trying to stop Jisung from taking it from him.

"Hey," he panted.

"Hi."

Felix grinned at her, sweaty and gasping. "You're not bad at basketball, you know? Pretty good for a first try."

Y/n flushed at the praise. Coming from someone as talented as Felix, that meant the world. And it felt genuine. She tried convincing herself that maybe he was just saying it to make her feel better about her awful skills but the thoughts wouldn't come, and somehow she refused to believe it. The thought made her smile, a hand coming up out of habit to cover her mouth.

"Thanks."

Felix batted her hand away. "Don't cover your smile."

"W-what?"

"Don't cover your smile," he repeated. "It's nice."

Y/n was sure her face was scarlet by now, but she appreciated his gentle honesty nonetheless. She lowered her hand.

"There you go," Felix grinned. "Just like the sun."

Y/n huffed a little, shy laugh and looked away, feeling suddenly vulnerable. Fortunately, it didn't last long, because she was disturbed by a shout from the court.

Hyunjin was on the floor, Jisung straddling his waist. Both of them had their arms wrapped around the basketball, tussling for ownership amidst accused shouts and loud whines.

Felix slumped back against the wall, rolling his eyes. "This happens every single practice."

Y/n chuckled. "Must get old, huh?"

Felix smiled. "Nah. It's a bit irritating sometimes, for sure, but they're my best friends, so I don't mind that much. And it's funny, to be honest."

Y/n glanced across the court just as the ball slipped from Hyunjin's grip, rolling away. Jisung let out a shout and scrambled for it just as Hyunjin did. There was a brief kerfuffle.

She chuckled. It was funny.

The bell rang.

*texting unknown number* y/n: hello? y/n: is this hyunjin? unknown number: oh hey! unknown number: i was worried you'd forgotten about me haha y/n: no, i just had tutoring after school so i didn't get time. sorry... y/n: but i have time now unknown number: oh, cool, all good unknown number: hey, so do me a favour y/n: ? unknown number: change my contact number to something really cool and awesome

Y/n chuckled and sat upright on her bed, letting her phone rest on top of the duvet as she thought hard. The sky outside was fading, streaking cotton candy across the clouds and melting into a deep shade of ocean blue to the left.

An idea popped into her head and she picked her phone up, clicking on the contact and editing the name.

*y/n changed 'unknown number' to 'hyunjinnie 🏀'*

y/n: i changed it hyunjinnie 🏀: alright, cool hyunjinnie 🏀 i like it :D y/n: well now you have to change mine so it's even hyunjinnie 🏀: hmmm hyunjinnie 🏀: let's see *hyunjinnie 🏀 changed 'y/n' to 'y/n 🌸💫'* hyunjinnie 🏀: there. how's that? y/n 🌸💫: a flower and a star? hyunjinnie 🏀: yeah, because i saw you doodling flowers in your book earlier during class hyunjinnie 🏀: and you always draw a star next to your name whenever we get worksheets

Y/n blinked at his message. He was right. She was doodling flowers earlier and she did always draw a star next to her name when she received class work. Flushing at his keen observation, she typed out a reply.

y/n 🌸💫: i like it hyunjinnie 🏀: i'm glad hyunjinnie 🏀: aren't i so smart? y/n 🌸💫: whatever makes you feel better hyunjinnie 🏀: ouch, okay hyunjinnie 🏀: fine, i see how it is... i thought you were my FRIEND

Y/n laughed and set her phone aside, momentarily getting up to open the window, since it was getting dark. It had been hot lately, humid and temperate, and Y/n wanted all the cold air she could get, even if that meant letting in some unwelcome insect visitors. Her fan was broken, so she had to make do.

Flopping back down on the bed, she picked up her phone, smiling cheekily.

* y/n 🌸💫 changed 'hyunjinnie 🏀' to 'drama king 🏀'* y/n 🌸💫: there y/n 🌸💫: now it's perfect

On the other side of the line, Hyunjin chuckled and shook his head. He brushed a strand of dark hair from his face and rolled to his side, resting his phone on the pillow and propping it up. He typed out a reply.

drama king 🏀: very creative. speaking of, it was nice having you playing basketball with us at lunchtime y/n 🌸💫: yeah, it was fun y/n 🌸💫: you guys are so unbelievably talented drama king 🏀: you're talented too, i've never seen anyone who can sketch like you can y/n 🌸💫: thanks, hyunjinnie drama king 🏀: maybe you could show me during class drama king 🏀: i mean, i do sit across from you drama king 🏀: so

Hyunjin bit his lip. Would it be weird if he asked her over text? Would she forget by the time she actually walked into class? Why was he so nervous? She was his friend, so why did his heart race faster at the thought of spending so much time next to her? Nothing had happened when they were both alone at the library.

So why did it feel so different?

He let out a soft groan, vying with his rationality.

Fuck it, he thought, eyes fixed on the screen as he typed out a message.

drama king 🏀: did you wanna sit together next class?

He waited anxiously for a response. How long had it been? Two minutes? Two hours? Why wasn't she replying?

Gritting his teeth, he chucked his phone onto the bedside. She'd just denied him and now he felt like an idiot. He went too far and now she might hate him for all eternity. Hyunjin felt somehow winded, like the one time he fell over during a tournament game and one of his opponents stepped on his middle for good measure.

Rolling his eyes at the memory, Hyunjin swung his legs up, pressing a hand to the firm, flat expanse of his stomach. He'd just have to explain himself to her the next day. The thought of having to see her disapproving glare at his clingy offer made him feel surprisingly disconsolate.

He laid back down and tried to occupy his mind, attempting to forget about the blameworthy device resting on the bedside table. Failing miserably, he huffed and swiped a hand across the table, sending his phone skidding under his bed with a thud.

He'd just try and forget about it for the time being.

A distant ting made him shoot bolt upright. His head spun and he pressed a hand to his forehead, hissing, before frantically checking the floor for his phone.

Dropping to his stomach on the floor, he scrabbled around under his bed and tried to reach his phone. His fingers brushed the device and he stretched, grabbing it with a sigh of exertion. Forgetting half his torso was stretched out under the solid wooden bedframe, he made to get up, hitting his head solidly on the wooden slats.

Hyunjin groaned, wincing, and opened his phone, shuffling out from the dark, enclosed space. Climbing onto the bed again, he opened the message bar and swiped into the chat.

y/n 🌸💫: sorry, the wifi's been cutting out here a lot so i couldn't reply straight away y/n 🌸💫: but if you want to sit together during class next time... y/n 🌸💫: sure

Hyunjin collapsed into the pillows with a sigh of relief.

taglist (open) : @kozumesphone @bangchansgirlsblog @ms-flowergirl @stayriversflow

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asking skz hyung line - "would you still love me if i was a worm?"

pairing: ot8 hyung line x reader

summary: you ask skz hyung line if they would love you if you were a worm.

genre: fluff, non-idol! au, crack

a/n: lmk if you guys want the maknaes !

bang chan

chuckles when you ask him

then goes quiet

he def thinks for a moment before answering

is mildly confused by the question but his eyes are twinkling as he replies

hes so soft and gentle about it pls

"A worm, huh? Well, i'd probably be super confused at first, because the love of my life suddenly turned into a worm, but i would find a way to keep you safe. Maybe i would make a little worm home for you, with the best soil so you could be happy and live a comfortable life. But honestly, it doesn’t matter what, or who you are. Love isn't about appearances; it’s about the connection we have. So, yeah, even if you were a worm, I'd still love you. I’d probably talk to you all the time, even if you couldn’t talk back to me. And knowing you, you'd still find a way to make me smile, even as a little worm."

lee know

almost instantly jokes about frying you in the airfryer with hyunjin

starts googling 'tasty worm recipes'

but when he notices that you're serious about it he stops and reassures you he's joking

looks at you for a long time, head tilted

when he responds it's very thoughtful

"Well, I'd probably have to find a nice garden for you. Maybe you'd enjoy digging around in the dirt, finding cozy spots to burrow into... But honestly, I’d still care for you. It might be strange, but love isn’t something that disappears just because of a change in appearance. I’d find a way to keep you safe, and who knows? Maybe I'd learn to appreciate worms a lot more. I’d probably keep you in my pocket so we could still go everywhere together. It’d be different, but I’d still love you all the same."

changbin

bursts out laughing at the question

100% caught off guard

smiles wider and wider as he responds

is very animated and keeps gesturing with his hands

starts looking online for pet worms so he can buy one and show you how well he would take care of it as proof

"A worm? You’re really asking me that? I don’t think I’d ever expect to hear you ask me something like that. But okay, let’s see… if you were a worm, I’d make sure you had the best worm life possible. I’d probably take you on all my adventures, keeping you safe in a little jar or something. You being a worm wouldn’t change how I feel. I’d probably talk to you every day, telling you about my day and everything i did. Oh, and i would make you little protein shakes so you can be a strong worm. So, yeah, even if you were, I’d still love you. You’d be my special little worm."

hyunjin

ah, our romantic lover boy...

smiles softly when you first ask him

slowly becomes more thoughtful as he thinks about his reply

when he speaks, it's soft and tinged with affection

he loves you with all his heart but he secretly hopes you don't turn into an actual worm (he doesn't like slimy things)

"A worm? Well, if you were a worm, I’d probably carry you around in a little glass vial, close to my heart. I’d talk to you and make sure you’re safe and comfortable. It’d be a strange situation, but I’d find a way to make it work. Love isn’t just about what someone looks like. It’s about how they make you feel, and you make me feel loved and happy and complete. So even if you were a worm, I’d still love you. I’d probably end up writing cute poems about you on little pieces of paper, my little worm muse."

a/n: should i do the maknaes? comment if you want a second part !

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彡 sfw writer - bts skz ults ⋆⸝⸝ call me ttokki .. 𓏲 ๋࣭ ˖

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⛓️ 𝔰𝔱𝔲𝔣𝔣 𝔦 𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔢: kpop fanfictions, currently only for stray kids. fluff, angst, comfort, hurt/comfort, domestic, and so on. you can see all the categories on my masterlist below .

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skz masterlist ✧ skz prompt list

(( requests currently open ))

๋࣭ ⭑ — ❝미치지 않으려면 미쳐야 해, hey na na na...❞

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dividers by @bernardsbendystraws | @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

raspberries - hwang hyunjin

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader

summary: hyunjin comforts you after a long, painful day

genre: idk!au, soft hyunjin, really angsty, comfort, fluffy, sad, reader is depressed and is having a tough time, mention of throwing up, mentions of eating and ed, please be safe, and remember that you are loved

a/n: sad :( also requests open

You storm through the front door, almost tripping over before tugging off your shoes and slamming the door shut. Huffing, and on the verge of tears, you trudge down the hallway, every single step aching with a week's worth of disappointments, one after the other.

Entering the bedroom, you throw yourself on the bed, rolling over. Tugging off your work shirt, you groan and run tired, aching hands through your hair, just before the nauseating sense of overwhelm sets in.

You bury your face in the bedding and cry.

.

"Love, I'm home," Hyunjin calls from the doorway.

He's busy kicking off his shoes, about to leave them in their haphazard position on the floor, before he notices something. Your own shoes are strewn messily in the gangway, something that normally never happens.

Hyunjin can recall hundreds of times when you'd made him retrace his steps to the door and put his shoes away neatly in the cupboard. It was a familiar and somewhat comforting routine (though a little unnecessary, Hyunjin thinks).

He frowns before picking each shoe up and putting them carefully in the cupboard. Satisfied, he begins moving through the hallway, before quickly retracing his steps and putting his own footwear meticulously into the cupboard next to yours.

Hyunjin moves through the house, peeking into each room, trying to find you. He pokes his head into the bedroom, immediately noticing your spreadeagled state. He chuckles before moving to your dazed form, lying face down on the mattress.

Hyunjin pokes your side. Nothing.

He figures you're asleep before his hand moves to your hair, ruffling it gently. You let out a muffled whine and shake your head, batting his hand away.

Retracting his hand in surprise and mild confusion, Hyunjin peers down at you as you raise your head. His brow furrows in concern as your eyes meet his.

You look miserable.

Lowering his voice, Hyunjin kneels by the bed, cooing softly.

"Hi," he says quietly. "What happened, my muse?"

A fresh wave of tears fills your eyes and you choke back a cry, mouth parting in distress. Hyunjin is immediately next to you, tugging you gently into his lap, rocking back and forth. Sweet nothings and whispered reassurances leave his mouth in a steady, comforting stream, but his usually soothing voice does nothing to calm your frazzled nerves.

It's all too much.

You sob like a child, leaning into Hyunjin. He notices with some worry how your shoulders are tightening in anxiety, and your hands that are balled into fists, clutching his shirt. Like you don't want him to leave, like he might disappear at any given moment.

You don't know how long it's been before your sobs quieten down. Hyunjin is still rocking you gently, kissing the crown of your forehead every now and then. You raise your head and look at him with red, puffy, exhausted eyes, cheeks streaked with hot, sticky tears.

Hyunjin smiles warmly at you regardless, seemingly not minding the large, soaked patch on his white shirt or the mess you've made of your hair and face. The adoring look in his eyes makes you want to cry and sob into him for another hour. It feels like it's been an hour.

At least, your current feelings are so overwhelming that you can do nothing but open your mouth, staring up at Hyunjin like he's the cure. But the usual, pretty, princely smile doesn't penetrate your heart with a beam of sunlight, and the sky outside feels so much dimmer. Everything feels lonely, like you're a sinking stone, trapped under the cool, dark, icy surface, chilled to the bone.

Like you're watching everything going on above water, where there is warmth and smiles and laughter and compassion, while you sink to the bottom of the deep, dark ocean, heavy and burdened and forgotten.

Hyunjin has been speaking for the last few minutes, his voice careful and soft, but you haven't been listening, too occupied with the numbing, aching feeling settling unpleasantly in the pit of your gut. An uncomfortable cloud of guilt settles over your head, sinking into your being and infusing through your skin like the cloying, sharp scent of cheap perfume.

Your head begins to swirl with a mass of racing thoughts, so fast you can't even comprehend. You feel like you're being squeezed, the life draining out of you, the edges of your vision blurring and darkening.

It's not enough. You're not enough, nothing will ever be good enough, no wonder people don't like you, why can't you just be normal, why can't you just be normal-

"Love, you need to breathe, okay? In and out for me, come on. You can do it."

He sounds so far away...

"Jinnie," you choke out, heaving. Tears stream down your stained cheeks.

"I'm here, I'll always be here, okay?"

You shake your head, sobbing. Your hands are tingling but you can vaguely feel something solid and warm against your palm. Looking up with a tremendous amount of effort, you notice Hyunjin pressing your palm to his heart. Through a haze of tears, you can feel the steady, solid thrum of his heart against your tingling, shaking fingertips.

"You're safe, okay? I'm gonna stay right here with you, just breathe in and out, you can do it, love. You're doing so well."

You choke in a heaving breath and Hyunjin coos encouragingly, still rocking you gently in his lap. Your breathing begins to even out, albeit extremely slowly.

Hyunjin doesn't let go.

.

You wake to something cold and damp being swiped gently across your face. Spluttering, you shove it away before sitting bolt upright, immediately regretting it as you feel the strength pour out of your body in a dizzying wave.

Hyunjin pushes you to lie back gently against the pillows, picking up the damp cloth and continuing to wipe gently at your stained, sticky cheeks and nose. You flush, feeling a bit pathetic, but he doesn't seem to care. His voice is soft.

"You fell asleep again, so I laid you down. What happened, hmm?"

You sniffle. "Everything is a mess."

Hyunjin nods understandingly, cooing as your hands come up to gently clutch at his wrist. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

You shake your head, even that simple motion feeling like a test of ultimate strength. And you're losing the battle.

Hyunjin lets out a soft noise, gesturing to the bedside. "That's okay. Whenever you're ready, my muse. I just want you to drink water and eat something, and then we can do whatever you want."

You sniff and look to your right. On the bedside is a bottle of water, a hydration sachet, a couple of painkillers, and a little bowl of something fresh and red.

You look at Hyunjin, voice croaky. "Raspberries?"

He smiles, nodding. "Bought them this morning. It'll help you feel better, they're really good."

"Jinnie-"

"You need to eat something, okay?" Hyunjin's voice is soft but firm. "Please. It'll help, I promise. You've been running on fumes lately."

You look away guiltily, feeling a bit sick. Hyunjin's long, slender fingers come up to your face, the other holding one of the little berries.

You sigh and relent, chewing slowly on the fruit. And he's right. They are really good.

Hyunjin smiles proudly, like you've done something incredibly amazing. Ruefully, you think that in his eyes, you probably have. And it makes you feel just a tiny bit better inside.

He kisses your forehead. "I'm going to get changed, and then we can watch a movie or cuddle, or do whatever you want, okay?"

You nod silently, exhausted.

Hyunjin leaves and shuts the bathroom door, leaving you with the bowl of little red fruits. You eat slowly, nibbling, not wanting it all to come back up. Every movement is an effort, but slowly, you feel your strength ebbing back in tiny, flowing rivers.

The sky outside lightens, just a little.

a/n: *incoherent sobbing* *sniff sniff*

asking skz maknae line - "would you still love me if i was a worm?"

pairing: ot8 maknae line x reader

summary: you ask skz maknae line if they would love you if you were a worm.

genre: fluff, non-idol! au, crack

a/n: here's the hyung line version <3

han

bursts out laughing

pokes fun at you "why'd you turn into a worm of all things?"

squints at you and pretends to think

googles pictures of worms to show you what he thinks you would look like

an absolute clown

"A worm? Where did that even come from? Hmm... I guess I’d keep you in a little terrarium and make sure you have the best worm life ever. I’d give you the fanciest dirt and the coolest little rocks to crawl around on. But y'know, if you were a worm, I’d still find a way to love you. I’d probably talk to you all the time, even if you couldn’t respond. And hey, maybe I’d write a song about my worm partner. It’d be weird, but it’d be our weird, and I’d love you all the same. Maybe I could even change the lyrics of my songs to be about worms for you!"

felix

also a soft boi

think about it for three seconds then responds

is trying not to giggle

hes so silly pls

does his best worm impression afterwards to demonstrate his worm-loving capabilities

"A worm? That’s a new one! Well, if you were a worm, I’d make sure you’re the happiest worm ever. I’d keep you in a little jar with the best soil and maybe even decorate it with tiny things to make it cozy for you... maybe even a mini Bbokari so you won't be lonely and you have something to cuddle with! But sunflower, I’d still love you. It doesn’t matter what you are because my love for you goes beyond appearances. I’d probably carry you around everywhere with me, so you wouldn’t be lonely. We’d still have our special moments together, just in a different way. And who knows? Maybe you’d be the cutest worm ever. I’d love you no matter what."

seungmin

deadass stares at you

this man is thinking up the most savage reply but then decides not to

bc he doesn't want to hurt your feelings too much

is soft about it but also threatens to use you as fishing bait if you get worm slime everywhere

also hopes that you don't actually turn into a worm

"A worm? You’ve really outdone yourself with this one. If you were a worm, I’d probably keep you in a little terrarium with all the best dirt and leaves you could ever want. I’d make sure you have a comfortable life. But in all honesty, it wouldn’t change how I feel about you. Love isn’t just about physical appearance or form; it’s about the connection we share. So even if you were a slimy worm, I’d still care for you. I’d find a way to talk to you and spend time with you, even if it’s different from how we are now. You’d still be you, but a disgusting, stinky worm, and that’s who I love."

help

jeongin

is genuinely horrified at first

a worm?? of all things??

does eventually laugh at the idea

finds a picture of a worm and draws your face on it

keeps it in his phone case bc he thinks it's funny and cute (but he's macho so he's not gonna tell you that)

"A worm? That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard all day! But if you were a worm, I’d make sure you have a nice little home. I’d probably keep you in a small, safe place where I could always see you and make sure you’re okay. I’d still love you, you know. Love isn’t just about what you look like; it’s about who you are inside. So even if you were a worm, I’d still find ways to spend time with you. I’d probably talk to you all the time, telling you about my day and everything. It’d be different, but I’d still care for you just as much. Maybe I could even find you other worm friends to hang out with!"

a/n: i laughed so hard writing seungmin's

hello 🙊 for the prompt list thing may i request 17 + 28 with lino or jisung pls 😌 excited to see what you'll come up with heheh

i had fun with this request, anon. it's kind of sad so maybe i'll write a little part 2 to it but ig we all need some angst from time to time. i was actually going to write jisung for this fic but i'll save him for another ><

rose - lee minho

pairing: lee minho x reader

summary: you and lee minho, the smartest student on campus, get unexpectedly paired up to work on an assignment

genre: kinda angsty ngl, escalates quickly, college!au, mutual pining, mentions of being thrown out a window (it's a minho fic what do you expect)

a/n: this isn't really how i saw it going but fuck it we ball. dividers by @kodaswrld

⛓️ prompts: 17. "Why are you looking at me like that?" / 28. "You're looking at me like that again."

skz prompt list | skz masterlist

"It doesn't make sense," you groan, dropping your head into your hands. Giving up completely, you drop yourself further into the mess of books and papers scattered across Minho's low desk.

Today, the sun is watery and filters weakly through the wide windows of Minho's dorm bedroom, making everything seem pale and slightly colder than usual. You rub your feet together under the desk, your fluffy socks providing some comfort, before it evaporates as you turn back to the part of the assignment you've been struggling over for the past hour.

Minho is sitting across from you, embedded in his own section of the assignment; his head is bent and he sits with his back straight, his elbows positioned so that they just touch the edge of the table. He is pale in the weak sunlight and the only movement he makes comes from the slight flicking of his wrist as he neatly scribes down notes, apparently unaware of your predicament.

He looks like a statue, you think.

"Hey, Minnie," you hum lowly, resorting to annoying him instead of re-attempting your part of the assignment. "Help me out."

"No. And don't call me that."

You groan, pressing your fingers down onto the table and pushing several miscellaneous papers his way. A couple of sticky notes go flying too, and Minho sighs irritatedly as he plucks one off of the collar of his pristine white shirt.

Your eyes follow the trail of his hand as he lowers it, before it creeps back up. His top two buttons are undone and you can see the attractive glint of a necklace, a sleek chain perhaps, against the perfect porcelain skin of his throat-

You sigh. Of all people, why him?

You wish you'd been allowed to choose your own partner for the project. But your professor had other ideas in mind and decided to pair up random people 'to facilitate teamwork and spark new connections' or whatever. Something like that.

Much to your disappointment, you'd been separated from your friends and teamed up with Lee Minho. You knew of him but had never actually talked. Unless you counted that one time where you'd run face-first into him as he'd been coming out of the college library. And all that had been was a rushed apology from you and a slight, huffy glare from him.

He was kind of strange, you thought. He always sat at the front of every lecture, always finished his work way before it was due and scored perfectly every time. Without missing a beat and without breaking a sweat. It was so incredibly irritating.

On top of that, he was popular, usually swarmed by friends and other students whenever he walked the halls. Not that he seemed to notice most of the time. Or maybe he just didn't care. Maybe he was a robot. It would explain his behaviour.

A really attractive robot at that.

You crane your neck a little, peering over the stacks of books between the both of you and see that he's almost done writing up his notes for his section. All without even so much as a glance in your direction. Your page isn't even half-full and you're stuck.

"Why'd you ask me to come to your dorm if you were just gonna ignore me?" You whine.

"Because," he says calmly, "it's easier than having to do it over the phone."

Little shit.

"What about the library?" You retort. "We could have just gone there."

Minho doesn't take his eyes off the paper and he doesn't reply either. Faint colour rises in his cheeks but you're too wrapped up in your own current problems to notice.

"Minho, come on. We're supposed to be working together." You tilt your head and fix him with a pleading gaze, half-despair, half panic. You're not dumb, and maybe not incredibly smart like Lee Minho either, but this assignment is difficult. And it's harder when he's refusing to help.

You don't take your eyes off of him, deciding to keep your gaze fixed on his face until he chooses to acknowledge you. You wait almost ten minutes before he looks up again, and he jolts slightly, like he hasn't realised you've been fixated on him all that time.

He stiffens. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because. I need help."

"You're clever. Figure it out on your own."

Your heart flutters from the rather direct compliment but you choose to ignore it. "Minho, please."

He smirks suddenly, a short bout of apparent confidence, teasing as he imitates you. "Minho, please."

You swear and lift a fist but he doesn't even flinch. He looks at you quietly and his smile disappears, then he gets up and crouches down beside you, poring over your page.

He hums. "You didn't write shit."

You groan. "Yes, I know. Thank you for clarifying."

"You're welcome," he murmurs, unfazed, eyes fixed on the page.

It's then that you realise how close he is; he's not sitting down fully, leaning on the balls on his feet, a temporary sitting position. One hand is on the desk and he's leaning in a little, his mouth moving slightly as he exhales out words, skim-reading your page.

He smells good, you think.

Minho is there for what feels like hours but is probably a few seconds, and then he leans back, fixing you with a stare. You feel the unusual warmth of his presence near you fade, like a mug of hot tea gone cold, and a bitter feeling rises in your throat. You open your mouth a little, maybe to prepare for whatever insult he's concocted, but it doesn't come.

What does come is an unexpectedly gentle explanation of your section of the assignment. He moves a little closer to point things out on your research papers, so close that if you turned your head, the tip of your nose would brush his chest. He's looming over you a little but you feel strangely protected, and you find yourself relishing in the almost-contact of Minho being there beside you.

So much so that when he leans back to clarify that you've understood what he's been saying, you find yourself as a loss for words. All you can do is gaze up at his stupidly perfect face, mind whirring with many thoughts but none as present as the fact that you hadn't been listening and now he will probably throw you out the window.

"Y/n."

You blink once, slowly, stupidly.

"You're looking at me like that again."

And maybe it's the fact that this whole thing feels unreal, or that the assignment has you so dazed, or that you're working with Lee Minho of all people, but you suddenly find your hand reaching up to brush a strand of soft hair out of his eyes. It trails down until your thumb rests gently in the middle of his plush bottom lip. You expect him to move back, chide you, glare, push you away.

But he doesn't.

Later, you will be embarrassed by this memory, and the fact dimly registers somewhere in the back of your mind.

It seems to register in Minho's mind too, because his eyes widen a fraction and suddenly you find yourself falling off the soft, ethereal cloud of fantasy into the real world, where consequences and rational thoughts exist, though they didn't several seconds earlier.

You jerk your hand back and he looks almost disappointed, but you don't notice. A strand of fumbled apologies leaves your mouth as you stand, almost tripping, and quickly collect your belongings.

Minho has his hands out, seemingly trying to stop you, but his face is burning and unsure and you brush past him, fleeing as your eyes sting with tears. You rush through the unfamiliar setting of his dorm and eventually find the door.

"Wait," Minho gasps, seemingly out of breath. From what, you don't know. He still has his hands out, but he doesn't move to touch you, maybe afraid that he might scare you or cause some sort of unwanted reaction. Not that you're not already having one.

"Please," he says, quieter. You're still fumbling with the lock on the door, back to him. And you're not listening, too dazed and afraid to turn and face him. Humiliation washes over you in waves.

You feel so embarrassed.

But Minho has yet to throw an insult or a glare. He's just standing there, his hands out, almost reaching, and an expression of near-worry on his face. It looks strange, like he's not quite sure how to move his features to express it. In other situations, you would have laughed. Now all you want to do is cry.

The lock on the dormitory door finally gives and you rush out, disappearing down the hallway in a blur. Minho lets out a last, frantic 'wait' and considers rushing after you, but his rationality tells him it would just make things worse.

He pushes the door shut in a haze and sinks down against it, his hair ruffling against the smooth, white wood. He finds himself out of breath again, like he's been running, though he hasn't, and his stomach feels funny. Like something is leaping around inside it.

It's not unpleasant, almost a nice feeling, but it's unfamiliar and Minho has learnt to recognise that unfamiliar is usually not a good sign. He's supposed to know things and the feeling won't stop, so he puts both hands on his stomach to try and press it out, maybe.

But it doesn't work. Flashes of you run through his mind and the feeling only intensifies. His face feels like it's burning and he is bewildered, rosy in the weak sunlight. And he has a sudden, strange longing, yearning, maybe, to see you again.

Is it because you touched his face like that and he kind of liked it, maybe? Is it because he enjoyed having you around even though you're not a friend, or is it because you're a familiar face at college, and familiar is good and familiar is safe? He doesn't know.

A rather raw feeling surfaces in his chest and he almost gags at the unexpectedness of it. Suddenly he's on a stormy ocean, waves ravaging and lightning flashing all around him. He falls off his boat and loses his grip on the anchor and sinks into the cold, dark sea.

It runs down his cheeks, staining them wet and salty. And he's not one to be overemotional or show much of it in the first place unless there is a real reason, but he can't stop.

Minho puts his head in his hands and cries.

a/n: part 2?

hihi can i request 66 w/ Jisung? Kind like crack were you are both dead sick or smth? anyway have a great day/sleep (๑>◡<๑) ur write is to die for btw

— anon 🐣📎

hihi yes you can~ sorry this took a while to post lol, lots of wips. aww thank you, giggling n kicking my feet rn <3 here you gooooo my little chick paperclip anon lol

hot soup - sick bf!han jisung x sick!reader

pairing: sick bf!han jisung x sick!reader

summary: you're suffering with jisung through a cold (that he gave to you)

genre: fluffy to the max, idol! au, this is honestly just crack, sick lil jisungie and reader

a/n: han would be the type of make funny noises when his nose is bunged up don't even try to change my mind

"You do it."

"No, you."

"I did it last time."

Jisung groans and heaves himself upright, tissues falling off the sofa like a mini avalanche. He sluggishly gets up and drags himself to the coffee table for the remote control, pressing the select button to play the next episode of the kdrama you're both watching.

He sniffs and flops back down on the couch next to you, groaning as the intro begins to play for the umpteenth time. "Y/n?"

His nose is bunged up so it sounds funny when he talks, and your voice is no better as you respond. "Mmm.."

"I'm hungry."

You whine and roll over, burying your face in the blanket. Jisung adjusts himself so you're lying on his chest, cuddled in each others' arms. Blankets swamp both of your bodies, so that if anyone were to look at both of you, they would see just a large lump of fabric. A very sniffly, sick, snotty lump of fabric at that.

You groan and let out an ungraceful sneeze, almost projecting yourself off the sofa. Jisung closes his eyes, mildly put out.

"I don't wanna get up," you sigh, burying your face back in his chest. He smells warm, the skin radiating feverish heat through the material of his hoodie, and the faint, spiced smell of vapour rub hangs distinctly in the air. Not that it seems to be helping. "But I'm hungry as well. What should we make?"

Jisung doesn't even have to open his mouth before you both agree on soup. There's a large pot in the fridge, courtesy of a disgusted Minho, who packed a bag and refused to return to the dorm until both of you were better.

The pot is about half full- you lift it with almost shaky arms and place it on the stove, switching on the heat. Jisung stands beside you as you begin to stir, watching how the chicken shreds and green onions spin in a mesmerising circle. Little oil bubbles rest on the top of the liquid, simmering deliciously as the soup heats up, and by the time it's ready, both of you are salivating.

You ladle half of the pot into each bowl and hand one to Jisung, who reaches into a drawer for a pair of chopsticks. You pause and watch as he sleepily dips them into the soup, clearly too dazed and ill-ridden to understand his amusing actions.

"Sungie," you croak, trying not to laugh. "It's soup."

"Mhm.."

"No," you correct him, "You can't eat soup with chopsticks..."

He blinks, once. Then twice. And then, very slowly, he adjusts his grip on the chopsticks and continue dipping them into the soup, bringing them to his mouth to lick off what little broth remains on the utensils.

You sigh and bring a spoonful of the hot, nourishing liquid to your mouth and groan as its warmth saturates the inside of your mouth, instantly comforting. You'll have to remember to thank Minho later, and maybe ask for the soup recipe too, so you can make it when you're not feeling so sick in the future.

You climb with some difficulty onto the counter and continue ladling the soup into your mouth while Jisung stands, sock-footed on the tiles, sluggishly licking broth off his chopsticks. You tilt your head at him.

"I still don't understand why you're doing that," you say quietly, letting the steam from your bowl soothe the congestion in your sinuses.

"Because," Jisung croaks. "My throat hurts and swallowing feels icky to me."

"That soup will be ice cold by the time you finally get to the bottom of it. That is, if you even make it that far. Go to sleep."

He whines and sets the bowl down, taking a plate from the dishrack to cover it. "You're telling me to sleep as if you don't look like a walking zombie yourself..."

You huff and kick him lightly in the stomach, swinging your legs off the counter. "I wouldn't be a walking zombie if you didn't get me sick in the first place, Sung."

"It wasn't my fault-"

"Yes it was," you croak, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "You kept me here all night cuddling without telling me you were sick."

He pouts. "But I wanted to be with you."

"So you purposely got me sick, is what you're saying."

Jisung looks away, a tired smirk making its way onto his features. "I just wanted to spend some time with my beautiful walking zombie baby. Can you blame me?"

You throw your spoon at him. "Han Jisung."

He ducks just in time, the spoon clattering to the floor. "Okay, okay, relax. I didn't know apocalyptic monsters were so temperamental..."

"Shut up and finish your soup."

"Okay, sorry."

a/n: i want soup so bad rn