Unread Skz Fics
(Open, Moderated)
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“Would you still think I’m a good roommate if I admitted I’ve spent the last few months pretending I don’t wanna kiss you all over?”
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“Hyung?” Jisung murmurs. Minho hums, listening. “Have you ever had car sex?”
Especially with Han Jisung.
Minho likes to think he’s mastered the art of nonchalance, but sometimes Jisung knows exactly how to veer him off track, knows what to say to surprise him.
Minho sputters, swerving. “Jesus—“
Another beat or three of silence. "Hyung?” Jisung squeaks. Minho hums again. “You— uh— you never answered my question.”
“Why? Why are you asking me that?” Minho’s lip catches between his teeth.
He sees Jisung shrug from his periphery, a small lift of his shoulders. “I dunno. Curious, I guess.”
Minho swallows around the lump in his throat. “Have . . . have you?”
“I asked you first.” Jisung’s reply is almost instant, his eyes back on Minho.
“No, I haven’t.” The answer feels like he’s coughing up water from his lungs, a sudden breath of fresh air.
There’s a brief pause between them as Minho presses the gas when the light turns green before Jisung mutters, “Neither have I.”
(OR minho is in love with jisung and will do anything to make him happy. even if that means retaking his virginty in the front seat of the car in the middle of the night.)
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Minho wishes he could see the thread linking Grandma to her other half, but it is something that only soulmates can witness. Once, she told him once about how it looks like one of the knots she crochets; she picked up the yarn, as red as her string, and showed him the split knot, placing it perfectly on Minho’s right pinky and told him; “this is what mine looks like.”
As an adult, Minho still wonders what his thread would look like; would it be soft like yarn or silky like ribbon? What shade of red would wrap around him? Is the thread on his pinky, like his Grandma’s? Or is it on a different finger? Or perhaps on his wrist… He is not too hopeful that he will ever find out, mostly because the reports on soulmate findings have become more and more rare.
Why would Lee Minho, of all people, find his?
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“There we go,” Changbin said.
Seungmin raised an eyebrow. “What?”
He smiled widely. “You’re cuter when you’re not trying to bite.”
A flush spread across his cheeks. Cute? What the fuck?
“Fuck—fuck off.”
“Like a puppy without training.”
He was lost for words, completely embarrassed, not even knowing what to say. Was he calling him a dog? What an asshole.
or Seungmin is intrigued by the smart guy on the wrestling team
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Summary
Everyone knows Han Jisung and Lee Minho hate each other. The media loves it, the league markets it, and their teammates are way too entertained by it.
But being forced to room together at national camp starts blurring lines Jisung was very comfortable keeping buried.
Or: Jisung learns very quickly that hatred and attraction feel alarmingly similar when you’re sharing a room with your biggest rival.