— 엔하이픈 getting sick - enhypen x reader ₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎
pairing ⊹ ࣪ ˖ idol! heeseung, jay, jake, sunoo and ni-ki x idol! reader. ||× genre 𖹭: fluff !! note: writing this while i'm badly sick, i want them to take care of me too and i wrote a bit too much on the ni-ki part
heeseung ˎˊ˗
It was the middle of summer, and god—it was hot.
You had been under the sun for nearly three hours, recording a new music video, your throat sore and dry from yelling out directions to the equipment, dancing under the hot spotlights, and shooting scenes that needed to be shot over and over again. And even though your group's performance was later that evening, your body had other plans.
You'd already been fighting off a sore throat all week, but now?
Your manager had to rearrange everything last minute. You didn't even have the energy to check your phone. So Heeseung came. Using the spare key he quietly carried around in his wallet, he opened the door to your apartment to find a disaster—tissues everywhere, the air was warm and stuffy, and you were curled up on the bed, nearly falling off your shoulder.
You were breathing heavily, slow and shallow, head burning up as he placed the back of his hand on your forehead.
You let out a soft whine at the cold touch.
"...Hee..." you croaked, blinking open your eyes to find him kneeling beside your bed.
"Take it slow, baby," he said softly, brushing your hair back slowly. "I'll make you some soup, okay?"
You managed to give a small nod before he disappeared into your kitchen, and somehow just hearing him move around your apartment was comforting and made you feel at home. You pulled yourself out of bed just enough to wash your face and slowly shuffled into the living room.
Heart pounding, you opened your group's Instagram and Weverse notifications—the announcement was out. You weren't going to be performing today. Your fans were already asking questions and worrying about where you were.
You suddenly felt a little guilty, so you opened the live and set your phone up on the table in front of you, curling up on your couch. "Sorry, gu—" you broke into a rough cough, already hoarse.
Your fans could tell immediately that something was wrong. Your usually radiant skin looked pale, your lips were dry, and even though you had attempted to brush your hair just a little, you still looked awful and tired.
"I'm sick, so I'm not going to be performing," you mumbled, voice soft and cracked. "I'm sorry, bunnies... I promise I'll do my best when I recover."
From the kitchen, Heeseung watched with a faint smile as he poured soup into a bowl and brewed some herbal tea. He made sure to stay out of the camera's view, even as he walked over and gently placed the bowl of soup in front of you on the coffee table.
But your fans were fast.
"WHO JUST GAVE YOU SOUP?!"
"wait was that a GUY'S HAND???"
"THOSE RINGS..."
"that looked like Heeseung's ring. DON'T PLAY WITH ME."
You panicked, barely having the energy to lie properly. "It's my friend, guys... she's taking care of me right now."
Your voice broke again in the middle of a sentence. You coughed, even warmer, and could feel the throbbing in your temples return worse than before. Even the fans were chirping at you to log off. Heeseung gave you a slight reprimanding look through the screen before you pouted.
"Okay, bye guys!" You rushed out with a heavy wave as you ended the live.
You let out a long exhausted sigh and melted into the couch. Heeseung walked over as you leaned on him, and he hugged you against his chest, trying to invite a little warmth into your cooled body. You could hardly even keep your eyes open.
"Mm... shh," he whispered, and gently kissed your cheek. "I'll bring the food to the table, okay?"
He fed you the soup slowly, helped you take your medicine, and let you rest on his lap while stroking your hair. His phone buzzed. It was Jake.
jake: "bro get on fortnite rn we're wait-"
jake: "WAIT. LOOK AT THIS." [link to a post comparing the rings on "your friend's" fingers to Heeseung's]
Jake was panicking. Heeseung only sighed, one hand still running along your forehead as you quietly whined in your sleep about the air conditioning being too cold.
Who cared if people suspected?
Let them talk. Let them wonder.
As long as you were by his side—and he could take care of you like this—Heeseung didn't care who found out.
jay ˎˊ˗
You were staying over at Jay's place because last night the rain came down in thick sheets and thunder rumbled so loudly you didn't dare walk home—he'd insisted you stay. And now, less than twelve hours later, the sun was scorching hot outside like it hadn't just stormed. The kind of sudden weather switch that made you feel like your body had been hit by a bus.
And with your weak immune system?
Yeah, you were fucked.
You hardly noticed Jay skittering around in the bathroom, brushing his teeth and lightly humming to himself as he prepared for morning practice. The ache in your head made the world feel as if it were spinning. You opened your eyes slowly, blinked a couple of times, throat was prickly, nose congested, and your head was cloudy.
Jay appeared from the bathroom a second later, towel around his neck, wearing a large smile that was fading fast—until he caught a glimpse of the haze in your eyes.
"Morning, princess," he said, walking toward you to kiss your forehead, never fully finishing his motion, coming to a halt. "...Baby, are you sick?" he said quickly, his brows knitted together as he placed his palm onto the back of your neck.
You were burning up. You gave him a weak nod and curled into the blanket, voice barely above a whisper. "I think I may have caught something..."
Jay wasted no time. Guilt written all over his face. "God! I should have brought an umbrella last night. We should never have been out in the rain..."
You sniffled and reached for him. "It's okay, Jayjay..."
He melted at how you held on to him like a sleepy koala, giving a soft sigh before scooping you up and moving to the bathroom. He wiped down your forehead and back with a cool towel in order to bring your fever down, mumbling apologies while he scrubbed the sweat off of your skin.
Once you were settled back on the couch, propped with all the pillows, Jay tucked a blanket in tight, told you not to move, and raced off to the nearest pharmacy for medicine. You knew he was worried, Jay always had that look of a worried parent when you were sick—the deep furrowed brow and concerned furrowed forehead.
While you waited, you made your way over to Jay's vinyl collection. He had played records for you before; the best jazz and mellow artists, that always felt warm. You picked one and let the soothing piano notes fill the apartment as you tucked back on the couch, missing Jay already.
You must have fallen asleep because the next thing you felt was his soft voice waking you up. "Sweetheart... wake up just for a bit... I made food."
He fed you warm homemade chicken soup with veggies, spoonful-by-spoonful, and made sure to watch closely to see that you ate enough before giving you medicine.
You took a quick photo of the meal after he left the bowl on the table, a cute little spread of home-cooked dishes. You uploaded it to your private account with a soft, simple caption:
"oops 🍵💤"
Immediately, fans flooded the post trying to guess if you had caught a cold. Some mentioned how comforting the food looked and a couple of the sharp eyed ones spotted the shadow cast by the glaring sunlight—two shadowy silhouettes.
One of the shadows had a slight fluff of hair that some fans questioned if looked... familiar. Some even commented that the food looked very similar to something Jay made during a prior cooking live.
Whoops.
But no one could really tell. No name. No face. Just a soft launch gone slightly sideways.
Jay didn't care. When he saw the post he softly chuckled under his breath then lightly rubbed your back while whispering, "Next time I will make sure my shadow is more subliminal."
You just smiled sleepily resting your head against his shoulder. Fever aside, you always felt better when Jay was near.
jakeˎˊ˗
Jake had finally recovered from his weekly IV drip—the kind he still got squeamish about despite being used to it—and now, right on cue, you were sick too. Perhaps it was the cold snap, perhaps it was the jet lag from flying out to Japan with him right after you had your own tour, either way, your immune system didn't stand a chance.
Still, you showed up for him.
You sat in the VIP area with a few friends, bundled up in his favorite black leather jacket. Fans began murmuring, cameras clicked, whispers started going around on online forums. Eventually, even the loudest people in the room went quiet when they noticed you were there; at first trying to guess which member's jacket it was.
"That jacket looks like Sunghoon's. Didn't he wear that in a photo a few weeks ago?"
"Wait no, isn't that Jake's?"
Then someone zoomed in and caught the tiny detail no one expected: a small, gold retriever pin tucked near the zipper. The same pin Jake had worn a few times—once on his bag, once on his jacket in a Weverse live.
Oops.
Fans connected the dots faster than you could sneeze.
"SHE HAS THE SAME DOG PIN AS JAKE."
"Didn't she say on live last month she said she loves golden retrievers too??"
"Is this a soft launch or we keep being delusional again?"
Some were in denial, just a coincidence.
"No way. Everyone loves dogs. It is probably just a similar pin. She probably got it after seeing Jake wear his 🫠"
But others were already finding and editing side by side images. And in the middle of all this chaos, you were just sitting back stage, tissues in hand, warm paper cup of water providing lukewarm comfort for your raw throat. The lights and audience made your head spin so a staff member helped you find your way behind the stage, as you were trying not to faint.
Jake, while performing, had been searching the audience for your face. His heart sank when he was unable to see you anywhere. Then he rushed back stage during break and saw you right away, tucked away on the bench, passed out, bundled up in his jacket and sniffling miserably.
"Y/n," he said quietly, crouching down in front of you. "Why did you not tell me you felt this bad?"
You blinked up at him. "Didn't wanna distract you. You're mid-show, Jakey."
He exhaled softly, brushing your hair behind your ear. "You're more important anyways."
A manager filled him in—how you'd likely gotten sick from the back-to-back traveling and sudden cold winds. Jake stood, nodding, then pressed some cash into the manager's hands.
"If she gets worse, take her to the hotel. And please grab some soup for her. Something comforting. Nothing spicy," he added with a knowing glance, knowing your love for spicy stuff.
Before he headed back to the stage, he kissed your temple, his hand gently cupping your cheek for a little too long. "I'll be back soon, angel... just wait for me."
Later that evening, Jake quietly opened the door to your hotel room, tossing the key card on the table before he slipped his shoes off completely. You were there, curled in a burrito of blankets wearing one of his oversized white shirts—legs bare and cold feet tucked into the covers. The tissue box was nearly empty on the nightstand and your nose was an angry red from previously blowing it so often.
He smiled softly, slipping between the sheets next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling your back against his chest. "You took the medicine, right?" He murmured against your hair.
You groaned. "I hate that syrup. It tastes so bitter.
Jake chuckled, kissing you softly first on your forehead, and then your cheek, and progressing to kissing your jaw. "You need it, bitter or not."
You shook your head, trying to hide under the blanket again, but he gently pulled you back. "Baby," he whispered, "I'll kiss you every time you take a sip."
Your eyes peeked out. "Everywhere?"
His smirk was immediate. "Everywhere."
You sighed dramatically. "Fine."
He held the cup up, waited while you pinched your nose and gulped it down, then kept his promise—pressing warm, feathery kisses all over your face, down your neck, even to your shoulders.
"See?" he whispered, settling under the covers with you again. "Not so bad."
You nuzzled closer. "You're lucky you're cute."
Jake chuckled, kissing your nose. "And you're lucky I'm hopelessly in love with you."
The fans could speculate all they wanted. But your head on Jake's chest, his arms tight around your waist, his whispered I love yous between medicine doses—was real, and he was yours only.
sunooˎˊ˗
Lately, you and Sunoo had been obsessed with spicy food—spicy fried chicken, spicy tteokbokki, even spicy ramyeon at 1 a.m. The cravings hit both of you hard, and after every fiery meal, you two would cool off with mint choco ice cream like it was your thing.
The thing was—your spice tolerance wasn't like Sunoo's. Your throat was starting to bother you, but you didn't want to ruin the fun so you kept quiet.
Not the best move.
That night, after the spicy food coma set in, you and Sunoo did your skincares together—Sunoo dabbing toner with a cotton pad to your cheeks, while adjusting your headband like the skincare king he was. He laughed when you pouted at your sniffling, red, nose. "Too much spice, baby," he teased. You smiled, snuggling up beside him in bed, swiftly falling asleep.
Then the alarm rang the next morning.
You blinked awake slowly, throat so dry it felt like paper, damn near scratchy as hell. You reached over to shut the alarm off, hardly able to hum at all. Sunoo was already awake, arms around your waist softly, scrolling through his phone.
He looked down to you the moment he felt movement in bed.
"Morning, baby," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
You hummed again. That was when he noticed.
His head snapped up. "Wait... are you sick? And you didn't tell me last night?!"
You croaked, "Sorry... it's just my throat."
"Ugh, you're going to go from that to coughs to fevers. We've been eating spicy food and mint choco like it's a game! Why didn't you tell me?!" Sunoo groaned dramatically as he pulled you closer.
You gave him a small shrug, feeling too tired to faze it. He didn't scold you for long.
He wrapped you tighter in his arms, guiding you to the kitchen, making you sit while he brewed warm herbal tea. He even gave you one of his throat-soothing pills from his little skincare/pill kit. He showered you himself, rubbing your back gently, then gave you little massages where your muscles ached, whispering, "My poor baby..."
"Next time," he said shyly with a pout, "we're eating sweet and sour food only. No crazy spice unless I approve." You nodded into his chest, throat sore but heart completely full.
Later that morning, while bundled up in Sunoo's hoodie, legs over his lap as he massaged your calves, you posted on Weverse:
Never eating spicy food and then mint choco again 😿
It was innocent, but your fans immediately caught on.
You never mentioned mint choco before—always claimed it was "too toothpaste-coded." And last night, Sunoo posted a picture of a spicy feast and a suspicious bowl of mint choco beside it.
The comments flooded in.
"Wait didn't Sunoo post the same food?? 👀"
"THE TIMING DON'T PLAY WITH US"
"Bestie just soft launched her bf I fear 😭"
"Omg are you and Sunoo dating?! This can't be a coincidence."
Meanwhile, Sunoo peeked over your shoulder, reading the comments and laughing.
"You outed yourself," he teased, pecking your cheek. "My little mint-choco victim."
You groaned, voice still raspy. "Worth it... maybe."
He giggled. "Next time, we're eating rice and soup. That's final."
ni-kiˎˊ˗
You had just gotten off the plane and already felt like you were in hell. Your hoodie was glued to your skin, your cramps were worsening by the second, and to top it all off=—your period was going rogue in the middle of an extremely busy airport.
The air conditioning were blasting, but you were sweating as if it were 40°C. Fans were cheering, calling your name, waving signs and phones in your face. You loved them, just not today. Not when your head felt heavy, your body felt weak, and every nerve ending was screaming for silence and space.
You were wearing a baggy grey hoodie—Ni-ki's hoodie, of course—and a cap low over your face, a black mask covering your pale skin. You didn't want anyone to see how bad you looked. You just wanted to make it to the SUV outside. That's all.
Unfortunately, today wasn't going to be easy.
The sea of fans was insane. Bodyguards were attempting to keep the fans away, but some even the male fans were just pushing in too close. You kept your head down, ignored the flashing cameras, and didn't wave—not that you didn't care to, but your body wasn't processing the situations engendered by fandom.
That didn’t stop the fake fans from filming you anyway, uploading clips online with captions like:
"She didn't even smile."
"Why is she always acting like she's better than everyone?"
"Ugh, such a bitch. Not even a wave?"
"Look at her face, it's like she's disgusted by her own fans."
"I've supported her since debut but this? I'm done."
Real fans, however, were not buying the charade at all. They saw the slumping shoulders. The members gently holding you. The sweat on your forehead. The mask was hiding a certain paleness. And they came to your defense as much as the posted needed, writing:
"Guys... she looks sick."
"Leave her alone, she literally looks like she's about to faint and y'all are screaming in her face."
"Fake fans are exposing themselves fr."
"Protect her at all costs. She doesn't deserve this hate."
From the opposite gate, Ni-ki spotted you instantly. You were hard to miss, even in disguise. The hoodie. The posture. He could tell from meters away something was wrong. Your head was down. You were barely moving. You looked like you were seconds away from collapsing. And then... you did.
Your knees gave out, your vision went black for a second, and you dropped.
Chaos broke loose. Fans gasped, phones shot up, and your members swarmed to you. But it was Ni-ki that got to you first, pushing past airport staff urgently to reach you, gently grabbing your shoulders and saying your name softly. His group's SUV had just arrived, and without missing a beat he wrapped you in his hoodie, hiding you from view as he helped you inside the car.
Fans lost it.
Photos and videos of the two of you were circulated on the internet within minutes. The matching grey hoodies. The careful way he was holding you together as if you were glass. The way he pulled you into his car.
And of course, the rumors began to explode. The supportive fans were the first to jump into the fray:
"He literally carried her into the van. He didn't care who was watching."
"That's his hoodie. That's HER hoodie. That's THEIR hoodie now."
"Ni-ki was livid when he saw her faint. He cares so much I'm crying."
"Whether they are dating or not, she needed help and he was there. Respect."
But the toxic crowd quickly followed:
"So unprofessional of her to faint in public."
"Why is he babying her like she's five?"
"I swear if they're dating I'm unstanning."
"She's not even that pretty why would Ni-ki go for her?"
"She always needs someone to save her, can't stand girls like that."
When you saw the trending Twitter tags - #ni-ki, #getwellsoonY/N, #matchinghoodie, #Y/Nattheairport, you clicked into the replies.
Bad decision. You scrolled on in silence, chest tightening with every scornful reply, tears in your eyes, not just from being sick but from the sheer stupidity of it. That was when Ni-ki took your phone away.
Locked it up with one hand and put it out of reach. "You're not looking at that garbage," he said flatly.
"But-"
"No. I don't care what they say. You're sick. You fainted. And I'm here. That's what matters." He tucked you into the hotel bed, hoodie still wrapped around you, soup warming on the tray table.
He massaged your temples and brushed brushes hair out of your eyes, kissed your forehead and whispered, "They don't deserve to know who you really are anyway."
Later on, that night, the hate just got worse. Clips of you fainting. Of Ni-ki helping you. Of the hoodie. The SUV. Fan edits with sad dramatic music. People scrutinizing every breath you took like it was a crime scene. And I mean the comments... they hurt.
So you went live. You just couldn't stay quiet any longer. You popped on wearing your pajama hoodie, your nose visibly red from blowing it so often. Your voice came out raspy, lower than usual, broken by coughs and sniffles every few words.
"Hey... I just wanted to clear something up" You began quietly and within seconds thousands of people were lifting up your notification. "I wasn't trying to be rude. I wasn't trying to ignore anyone when I was at the airport. I've been sick... I've been really sick."
Fans started flooding the comments:
"You sound so sick omg :("
"Don't explain yourself we understand!!"
"Your voice TT please rest!!"
"Red nose and raspy voice oh no baby T_T"
"We love you no matter what. Health comes first."
You gave a weak laugh, sniffling. "Even though it was cold at the airport, I felt like I was burning up. And I was on my period, I... I genuinely thought I was gonna faint. I didn't mean to look cold or annoyed. I was just trying to get to the car."
You sighed, taking a sip of tea.
"And about Ni-ki..." you paused. "He just happened to be there. He brought his SUV before ours, and he helped me out because—Well, he's nice. That was all, I didn't ask him to help me, and it was dead nice of him." You bowed your head a bit, saying in a quiet voice, "I am sorry I didn't smile or wave or stop. I truly am. I just wasn't okay."
Comments blew up with reassurance, hearts and "it's okay's" galore. But then—just as you wiped your nose and reached for another tissue—your hotel room door creaked open behind you.
You didn't even realize at first. Ni-ki came into frame, barefoot, hair a mess, wearing a black tank top and your hoodie wrapped around him. He noticed your propped-up camera, and paused.
"...Are you live right now?" he asked, confused.
Your eyes widened in horror, slowly turning your head towards the camera and blinking. "....Yeah," you whispered.
Ni-ki squinted at the screen, and then at you. "Wait—wait, did you you just apologized?"
"Ni-ki—"
"Are you kidding me?" He stepped fully into view now that he was visibly annoyed. "Why are you saying sorry when it's not even your fault?"
The comments exploded:
"WAIT HE'S IN HER ROOM??"
"NAH. NAH. NAH."
"YALL LIVE TOGETHER??"
"So, they're DATING???"
"Is this a soft launch or a HARD EXPOSE???"
You panicked to mute the mic, eyes wide and waving your arms. "Ni-ki, you're on live—!"
He blinked. "...So?."
You turned back to the camera all flushed, "So... yeah."
He leaned in and didn't even bother to conceal it now. "Hey. I'm already here—she's not going to read any other comments tonight. She's going to get rest. That's all we have. Goodnight."
Just like that, he ended the live for you. The screen went black. But the internet exploded.
"he's literally so protective over her??? ending her live, talking about 'us' not even'‘her'😭😭 "
"just say you're dating already omg we're not stupid"
"they didn't even hide it... same hoodie, same room, same SOUL"
"my mama and papa"
"he said 'she's not gonna read comments tonight' like who gave you husband rights?? oh wait"
"this is literally their soft launch and I'm crying"
"they're not even denying it anymore lmfao"
"she looked so sick but he looked at her like she hung the stars???"
"you mean to tell me ni-ki's been taking care of her while she's sick and getting hated on?? king behavior"
"y'all bullied a sick girl and then watched her bf walk in and protect her like a k-drama. embarrassing tbh"
"we owe her an apology fr she didn't even do anything but exist and faint"
Though of course, there's still bitterness going around:
"she's milking this for clout now"
"i bet it was staged. who goes live when they're sick?"
"not her crying again"
"ni-ki deserves better"
"This isn't professional. Idols dating is okay, but being messy with it? NO WAY."
But that was immediately drowned out. Because the next trending comment thread was:
"anyway, when's the couple vlog?"
"pre-debut we got hints. WE BEEN KNOWING."
"them in grey hoodies is more iconic than the Eiffel Tower now"
"I'm framing that 'she's not reading comments tonight' moment. ACTUAL HUSBAND ENERGY."
Ni-ki chuckled softly as he scrolled through the flood of comments, the glow of the screen reflecting in his eyes. You were curled up against his chest, face nuzzled into his hoodie, barely keeping your eyes open from how drained you felt. Still recovering, still tired—mentally and physically.
"Look," he murmured, tilting the phone a bit so you could see. "These are the ones you should be reading."
He gently tapped the screen, showing a thread of sweet comments.
You hummed weakly, barely glancing, your forehead still resting against his chest. He could feel how warm you were—your fever hadn't fully gone down—but you managed a small smile at the corner of your lips.
Ni-ki kissed the top of your head and whispered, "That's more like it." Then, with one arm still wrapped protectively around you, he set the phone down again and pulled the blanket tighter around both of you.
"You don't have to deal with any of it. Not when I'm here," he whispered.
