#aki sickfic

[whats-k-popping]

Hello! For the prompt list, could you write 5 & 49 with Seonghwa as the sick one and San as the caretaker? I love their brotherly dynamic~ Thank you!

I'm so sorry this request is about 9 months old! If you're still here, anon, I hope you enjoy this fic. I really did enjoy writing it and I love the dynamic between these two!

Pairing: Seonghwa x San - platonic intentions, but read as you please

Prompts: "Try and get some food down. Anything" || "Sorry. I'm… I'm really dizzy" 

Words Count: 2489

Warnings: Illness || Emeto || Graphic Descriptions of Sickness

San doesn't usually wake up in the middle of the night. He has a very thorough nightly routine that he completes meticulously each evening. He spends upwards of an hour in the bathroom each night, completing his skin care and dental care and emptying himself of anything that might disturb his precious hours of uninterrupted sleep. He swears by this routine. Sleeping in his own bed is a luxury these days, so he doesn't even want to waste 1 precious minute on something as trivial as using the bathroom. 

So he's naturally disgruntled when he wakes in the middle of the night unable to quickly doze back to sleep. Despite his nightly rituals, he still finds himself having to pee at half past 3 in the morning. He blames it on drinking Mingi's leftover coffee. Can't let precious caffeine go to waste either. He only feels a hint of remorse. 

Begrudgingly, he throws the covers off of himself and hustles down to the bathroom. If he's quick, he might be able to get it done without losing the fuzzy feeling of sleep. In and out, then back to sleep. That's the plan. 

That plan comes to a screeching halt when he enters the bathroom to find Seonghwa draped across the toilet seat, skin white as a ghost. And if the sight isn't enough of a clue, there's an overpowering stench of vomit lingering in the air. 

"Hwa-hyung!" San exclaims. He stands petrified in the doorway, like he's awaiting further instruction. He's not really sure what he's supposed to do. Seonghwa is the caretaker of the group, how is he supposed to take care of him. 

Seonghwa lifts his head to look at San, a pained expression on his face and a vacant look in his eyes. He shushes the younger, "You'll-" He cuts himself off with a nauseous burp, "You'll wake Mingi."

Of course, even draped helplessly over the only toilet in their apartment, looking minutes away from comatose, Seonghwa is still thinking about the others. San clicks his tongue. And Mingi, of all people, a historically heavy sleeper. The building could be mid-demolition and he'd be none the wiser. "No I won't," San says confidently. Still he lowers his voice just for good measure. 

The remnants of sleep are gone and he's on high alert now. He knows he won't be able to go back to sleep knowing that his hyung is feeling so miserably unwell. So he enters the small bathroom and closes the door behind him for privacy. He also turns on the bathroom fan, to hopefully ventilate some of the smell out of the room. 

"Don't come any closer, San-ah." Seonghwa stops mid-command to gag. It's unnaturally loud, echoing in the now sealed room, but unproductive. "I might be contagious." 

"I don't care." San replies without thinking, like it's the most natural response in the world. "You need help." 

Seonghwa shakes his head, not making any eye-contact with the younger. "I can take care of myself." He says in such a way that San can't help but be skeptical. "You're younger than me. I'm not your responsibility." 

"You're my hyung," San stands his ground, already resolved to help Seonghwa. At least through the night, he can let Hongjoong know in the morning and they can work out a more long-term plan from there. "And my family is my responsibility." 

Seonghwa looks like he has another objection queued up, but before he can respond he bows his head into the toilet bowl when the formerly unproductive gag returns. This time, a slurry of sick pours out his open mouth. The oldest whimpers and moans as he stomach convulses to get every last drop out of him. 

San notices it's mostly clear and speculates that Seonghwa has been throwing up for so long that he's empty. Since they all ate the same thing, he concludes it's likely a stomach bug, not a lone case of food poisoning. While Seonghwa continues to stare into the bowl, San takes the opportunity to approach his hyung. He crouches down next to him and runs a hand along his back, "You're okay. Get it out. That's good." He whispers sweet reassurances until the episode is over. 

All the tension leaves Seonghwa's body at once, leaving him slack against the toilet seat. San's hand on his back distracts him from the cramping in his stomach, so for now he stops trying to shoo the younger away. The attention actually feels kind of nice, reminds him of home, of being the youngest in the family. Reminds him of how much he misses it. 

The porcelain seat is cold, but San's body is teeming with warmth. He craves that warmth, the comfort that comes with physical contact. It's more alluring than the ceramic bowl. It takes way more effort than it should, but he pushes himself off the toilet seat and into San's open arms. 

San sees Seonghwa's intention and helps him settle in, wrapping his arms comfortingly around his hyung. He uses just enough pressure so that he's hugging, but not squeezing. "Poor hyung, you really must not be feeling well." He soothes, pressing a kiss to Seonghwa's sweaty temple.  

Seonghwa whines, a long drawn out sound that might be an affirmative. He mumbles something about "hurt" and "cold" but all the words are muffled against San's shoulder. 

"C'mon, why don't we get you back to bed?" San suggests. He contemplates getting his hyung in the shower, but decides against it given the elder's weak state. Maybe when some of his energy returns, he'll push for a shower. 

"Couch," Seonghwa counters. 

San's eyebrow raises in curiosity, "You don't want to sleep in your bed. It's much more comfortable than the couch." He recommends, "If you're still worried about waking Mingi, don't be. His door is closed." 

Seonghwa shakes his head the tiniest bit. If San hadn't been critically analyzing his hyung's every movement, he would have missed it. "Not about Mingi," Seonghwa insists. His eyes start to water and his lower lip quivers. "Please, just couch." He begs through a sob. 

Though San doesn't totally understand why, he can tell it's a sensitive topic and surrenders. "Okay, okay," he hushes, "I'll take you to the couch. I'll set up a nice, soft blanket for you and get you extra pillows. Okay, how does that sound?" Seonghwa does like the sound of that, he affirms it with a small "mmhm." 

San pushes Seonghwa away just long enough to stand up on his own. Once he's on his feet, he holds out a hand to his hyung, "Can you stand?" 

Seonghwa holds the outstretched hand, squeezing it with all the might he can muster. He uses his other hand to hold into the edge of the sink, trying to get himself up. He makes it onto his knees, but can't make it any further. With a sniffle, he shakes his head sadly at his dongsaeng. 

San doesn't question it or force anything more from his hyung. He simply steps in and helps Seonghwa to his feet, shouldering much of his hyung's weight onto himself. "There we go, wanna try walking?" When Seonghwa doesn't object, San takes a tentative step forward, out of the bathroom. Seonghwa follows on wobbling knees. 

They make it to the entrance of the living room area when Seonghwa nearly throws himself against the wall. He clings to the wall, slowly sliding down until he's on the floor, head pressed against the wall. San crawls next to him, "What's wrong?" 

"Sorry, I'm… I feel really dizzy." He explains his sudden transition to the floor. "I just need a minute." 

There's a cold hand pressed against Seonghwa's forehead, something to focus on that will hopefully make his world stop spinning. Even with his eyes closed, he feels like he's riding a carousel at 160 kph. "You're burning up." The younger gasps like this is new information. Seonghwa has known of the fever for hours. "And you're probably dehydrated too. We've gotta get some liquid in you." 

A panic shoots through San as he scans the room, hoping that by some miracle someone might be there to help him. But he knows deep down that it's a lost cause. It's still the middle of the night. And the only other person in the apartment is sound asleep. So it's all up to him. "Stay here, okay?" He encourages, "I'm gonna get stuff ready for you." 

Seonghwa just nods, hand resting on his bloated stomach. Without San's cool hand to ground him, his mind is back to whirling around the carousel. He presses his head against the wall and whimpers until San's return. He has no way of knowing if seconds, minutes, or hours pass in his misery. 

San can hear Seonghwa's lonely cries as he passes through the apartment. He starts in the kitchen, setting on a kettle for tea and rummaging through the mostly barren cabinets, swearing up and down that he'd seen a sleeve of crackers lying untouched just a few days ago. When the crackers don’t turn up, San whispers out a curse and peers around for something else that would be easy on his hyung’s stomach. A bowl of jook would be ideal, but that will take a long time to prepare. Seonghwa needs nutrients now. 

He creates a tray of snacks, containing stray food they had in the apartment. He slices up every kind of fruit he could find, microwaves an instant noodle cup and set the flavor packet aside, and he borrowed one of Mingi’s favorite jello cups. San pours the whistling kettle over a peppermint tea bag and allows it to steep for only 1 minute, not wanting the tea to be too strong. Then he adds an electrolyte drink to the tray for good measure before carrying it out to the coffee table. 

He passes through the corridor again, paying Seonghwa little mind. It seems the older has started to drift off as he rested against the wall. San figures it just buys him time to finish setting up the living room. He takes a quick detour to his hyung's room to gather some additional supplies. 

Upon entering the room, San's hit with the smell of vomit. It doesn't take him long to notice the shallow pool of vomit beside the bed. He follows the trail up and sees another small puddle among the bedsheets. It's suddenly abundantly clear why Seonghwa was so adamant about not returning to his room, feeling too sickly to face the mess he'd made at some earlier point in the night. 

He decides to leave the mess for now, recentering his goal of getting Seonghwa nourished, medicated, and rested. He pulls out some fresh clothes for his hyung, figuring that his current outfit is either sweat soaked or vomit stained. Likely a putrid combination of both. 

He forgoes stealing the blankets off Seonghwa's bed and opts to take the bedding from his own room. But he makes sure to pick up Seonghwa’s Star Wars blanket for some familiarity and comfort. It's a child sized blanket. It hardly covers his torso effectively. But it's a great comfort to Seonghwa, especially when he's feeling sick or overly tired. 

Once San spreads out all the blankets to cover the scratchy fabric of the couch, he returns to find his hyung dozed off right where he's left him. He nudges the older awake. “Hwa-hyung, wake up.” He whispers, “You shouldn't sleep here.” 

Ever the light sleeper, Seonghwa rouses, though he immediately resumes his whimpers. “don't wanna get up.” A sob dies out in the back of his throat, “don't feel good.”

“I know you don't hyung,” San sympathizes, “but I have some things set up that will make you feel better.” He doesn't allow time for Seonghwa to refute before he's helping the older man to his feet and guiding him to the couch. 

Seonghwa's whole weight falls onto the couch, ready to sleep as soon as his head hits the pillow that San had laid out for him. He draws the Star Wars blanket close to his face and lets out a relaxed sigh. It feels like home. 

“No, not just yet hyung.” San nearly shouts just to get his hyung's attention. “First, try and get some food down.” He gestures to the options displayed on the coffee table. “Anything, please.” 

“Sannie, my stomach hurts” The older man slurs. “I don't think I can eat anything.” 

“Hyung,” San's voice morphs into a gentle scolding tone. “You need to eat something.” 

“No!” Seonghwa whimpers. “I just need to sleep.” 

“You know if the roles were reversed, you'd be trying to make me eat something.” San doesn't back down, despite his hyung's bratty behavior. He gives up on asking, opting to use a bit more force. He picks up the electrolyte drink and points the straw to Seonghwa’s lips. “take a sip.” 

When Seonghwa opens his mouth to refuse, the straw slides between his lips. He manages three small sips before he pushes the straw out of his mouth. “Cold.” He whines. 

“How about some tea, it's nice and warm by now.” San replaces the drink bottle with the tea cup. “Sit up a bit, I'll help you.” 

Seonghwa finally does as he's told. Propping himself up enough so San can tip the cup against his lips. The tea is warm, sends a wave of comfort through his chilled limbs. And the weak peppermint flavor coats his bubbling stomach. Still, he pushes San away before he's finished the cup. He just found this new comfort, he doesn't want to risk it by filling up too fast. 

San sets the cup down, “jello or apples?” He offers, figuring that the noodles may be too much for his hyung's stomach right now. He's not ecstatic, but he's satisfied with the amount of liquid Seonghwa managed to take but just wants a few bites of food in him as well.

He decides on the jello, likely a result of his natural sweet tooth winning out. San spoon feeds him an astounding five bites before he purses his lips and puts a hand on his stomach. “Done.” The sick man insists. 

“Okay,” San confirms. “Take a little medicine, then you can sleep again.” 

Seonghwa nods and takes the pills San hands him. He only sips a bit more of the electrolyte drink to force the pills down. And finally, he lays back down, settling into the couch and curling himself into a small ball. “You'll stay?” He looks pitifully at San. 

“Of course, hyung. I'll stay.” He leans against the front of the couch, resting his head on his hyung's thigh. 

“Thanks, Sannie.” Seonghwa’s breathing starts to even out as sleep overtakes him, “for taking such good care of me.” 

“Sleep well, Hwa.” San also starts to drift back to sleep, the adrenaline of the past hour finally dying down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Sorry again for another long absence in sharing fics. I have a few more request fics I'm actively working on and some original ideas I want to flesh out. I know my motivations have been wavering, but I'll get through them in time. I'm finally starting to feel more like myself again, so hopefully, I'll get out of this funk soon. But I make no promises to timing. Just know that I'm still here, still writing as I'm able to. Please accept this overdue Ateez fic as a token of my gratitude.

As always, thanks for reading to the end! I really appreciate each and every one of you who make it this far! Feedback is always appreciated. And please let me know if I missed any tags or TWs. And please call me out for any errors you notice!

🧡 Aki

#ateez sickfic #ateez emeto #ateez fever #sick!Seonghwa #caretaker!San #seonghwa x san #aki requests #aki writes #aki sickfic #tw illness #tw emeto #tw fever

[bugbytez13]

ooooh id LOVE to see some tummy ache aki :00

hi anon!! i’m not sure if you meant a fic or headcanons, but i’ll just do both!! probably won’t have a fic out for a little while since i’m working on a few others atm, but i can provide you with some headcanons to hold you over!

TW: EMETOPHOBIA

he’s very unused to being cared for when sick! first time he got sick in front of power and denji he was very surprised that they even tried to care for him (though it was very clumsy on both of their parts). he definitely cried a little bit

has the worlds most sensitive stomach when it comes to food 😭 he can’t eat much without getting sick poor guy 😭

he has ibs sorry nawt sorry ‼️

gets hiccups when nauseous. since he’s pretty stoic with his emotions and everything it’s the easiest way to tell when he’s not feeling well

if you guys have any headcanons as well pls pls pls send them my way 🤲 aki is my little blorbo and one of my favorite characters to write for… i love him

#csm #aki hayakawa #csm headcanons #emeto #stomach ache #sickfic #sickfic headcanons

[moon-lv3r]

to be cared for ~🦊

🦋 category: fluff, one-shot, gn!reader, sickfic

🦋 characters: aki, power and denji (minor appearance)

🦋 summary: in which you fell sick right after a mission

🦋 warnings: nil (does slight ooc count?)

🦋 notes: i proofread this a little (shocker !!)

here’s a short one-shot after disappearing for months… a lot has happened… life has been wild and shit. its crazy what happened tbh LMAO but i’m back !!! hopefully my writer’s block also left bc i actually struggled with finishing this because my brain was just DEAD. this was a draft from september 2023… IMAGINE THAT

“Hayakawa, I said I’m fine!” You began after Aki placed a hand on your forehead, sensing a fever emitting through your skin. He had noticed that you seemed to be having a hard time walking properly, prompting him to check to see if there was anything wrong with you.

He sighed and shook his head before answering, “Y/n you’re having a fever for goodness sake!” And he was right, there was something wrong with you.

Your body temperature.

“No I am not!” You protested, despite feeling the feverish temperature all over your body. You just wanted to let Aki know that you could handle yourself on your own.

It was just a fever, what was the worst that could happen? At most, you’d just suck it up and return home, seeing a doctor the next day if it still lingered. The sole problem was that your home was quite the distance away… A whole town away.

It was impossible to die from a fever, it's not like you were terminally ill or whatever… You could manage the distance…

It was just your body temperature rising, you could take care of yourself. What was the big deal?

Your legs suddenly felt weak and you could barely stand, almost falling into the arms of the man standing in front of you. He had a look of shock and worry spilling over every corner of his face. He just grabbed you awkwardly, hands fumbling about, not expecting the sudden situation. What was a man supposed to do in such a situation… All he could do was to help you stand, you could feel the embarrassment heating up your cheeks… Suddenly the pavements looked blurry… like there were lights shining from every direction, distorting every corner, making it look like there were angles overlapping.

“Just…” Aki began. “Just stay over at my place for tonight. I don’t think you can go home on your own like this.”

It was after a mission, one where you and Aki barely managed to complete as you suddenly felt unwell. The mission went on for hours, with the devil being evasive and you feeling sick throughout the entire ordeal. Which was why Hayakawa Aki decided to bring you back to his home as it just so happened to be nearby. Denji and Power were both already asleep by the time Aki returned with you. Your body had been drained, ever so drained. Drained of every energy and essence you had left. It was supposed to be a simple mission, one deemed as safe and only needed two people… Well look at how that went…

“I didn’t want to be an inconvenience,” You began as Aki placed your arm over him and began to carry you home slowly.

It was a good thing that his home was nearby. There was not much ground left to cover, so he wouldn’t have to carry you for long, especially after such a hectic day. Sounds of his free hand fumbling about his pockets for his keys… the jingles as he searched for the right one to open the door to his home… Slowly placing you over on the couch as it seemed to be the only available space that he could immediately find.

Aki paused as several thoughts ran through his mind, piquing your interest. “Perhaps I could sleep on the couch tonight…” He muttered. “This isn’t inconvenient or anything. It’s just for a day.”

You weakly got up to face him, frowning at the sudden words that your ears had just picked up, your eyes analysing the foreign environment to the best of their abilities. You were just co-workers, surely there was no need to do all of this… right? It was just a fever…

“I’ll be alright, Hayakawa,” You responded. He might not feel that way but you sure did. You just didn’t want to owe anyone anything. It felt like you owe someone a huge debt and you do not like that feeling. The sudden urge to return the favour was not a feeling that you enjoyed.

Aki didn’t seem to care about your response, instead, he continued with his actions. He was already beginning to make his bed more hospitable for someone like you. He was already moving some of his items out so that his room would accommodate your needs more. He did not have to do all of that, yet here he was.

“Seriously Hayakawa!” You began. “You don’t need to do all of these!”

“Denji and Power are sleeping,” Aki responded in a soft and gentle tone, while signalling for your volume to resemble that of a feather dropping. The sounds that both Denji and Power were producing during their sleep were the only things that could be heard.

You stopped responding after that and just let Aki do whatever he wanted. You did not have the energy to stop him anyway. The energy in you felt as though it was slowly being syphoned out of you, like there was some leech sucking away on the very essence you needed to even do basic functions. Your body began to slowly feel weaker as your vision destabilised. Perhaps Aki was right…

It had been hours since the both of you last ate as well. The mission had stolen dinner time away from the both of you. It was unfortunate. The growl of your stomach could be easily heard amidst Denji’s snoring. Aki could definitely differentiate between those two sounds as well, having his head turned to look into your eyes the moment his ears picked up on the message your stomach tried to scream.

“Sorry…” You uttered awkwardly as you laid down. Aki was already done arranging some of the items in his home to accommodate a guest.

“I think there should be some items that I can cook with,” Aki pondered, his words growing softer as his mind was riddled with memories of his own fridge, wondering away about how filled it was. Perhaps he could make the both of you a meal before resting for the day.

“Just…” You mumbled as the energy slowly left your body. You had never felt weaker. “Something… small and… make it quick.”

Aki nodded as his figure disappeared into his kitchen, leaving you laying on the couch, soaking in your weakness. Perhaps he was right, you wouldn’t be able to go home after all. Maybe you shouldn’t have tried to stop and protest when he insisted on taking care of you. Well its not like you could just go now, you were stuck in his home.

He didn’t strike you as the kind that would… care this much. He always seemed so nonchalant. It just didn’t seem like something he would do. Had he always been this nice? Perhaps you just never noticed… Watching as he focused his energy into making the midnight snack that your sick body long has yearned for ever since the mission. Something in you just felt… different. Foreign even.

All you could do was to stare in silence as the man before you began to busy himself. Sounds of slicing, dicing and boiling filled the air as you looked at his focused face. He always had that serious look, didn't he? You wondered if he had ever at least given himself time to relax and give the stoic face a rest. Did he even have other expressions? Suddenly you were interested in knowing more about your fellow colleague.

The once familiar high ponytail was now replaced by his hair down, reaching for his shoulders, slightly swaying as Aki focused on the task at hand. It was slightly odd, to see your fellow colleague out of the office. It was a sight that you could get used to though.

Denji and Power seemed to be sleeping soundly despite all of the noises filling the house. Even Meowy was obediently staying silently asleep. Suddenly everything was going so well, aside from your unwell body of course.

“Y/n,” Aki called out, carrying bowls and plates of his latest dishes one by one and placing it on the table in front of you. “Just eat slowly, it’s alright.”

“T… Thanks,” you uttered, suddenly feeling as unwell as ever. It felt like a needle was suddenly trying to pierce its way into your mind. The pain felt so sharp, and it felt like it was at one spot, but it also felt like it was all over your head. You just couldn’t focus at all, the pain seemed to be unbearable for you to even hold your head up properly.

“Are… you alright?” The man before you asked, the gaze of concern filling up his eyes.

You could only respond with a small nod, having little energy to respond. Though you managed to squeeze out the fact that your head currently felt like it could burst into bits of flesh any moment.

“Just have a bit of these first, slowly,” said Aki with a spoon in hand, ready to feed you if he had to.

You gently took the spoon from his hand and picked up the bowl of rice. You weren’t so weak that basic human tasks seemed treacherous to complete. You could still eat, maybe just not everything. Your appetite seemed far too sickly to consume the normal amount. You simply could not bring yourself to fill up your growling stomach. It didn’t go unnoticed by Aki of course, being the ever so attentive co-worker that he was.

“You don’t have to finish everything,” He said. “Just have a little bit.”

You did your best, slowly taking bites and swallowing whatever amount your stomach allowed you to. You couldn’t even force yourself to eat if you wanted to, you didn’t have the right amount of energy to do all everything that you have ever wanted.

Perhaps this was a result from all of those times you had overworked yourself beyond your limit. Maybe this was just your body’s way of begging for a break. You should really start taking proper care of yourself. When was the last time you had gotten a proper sleep? You could not remember. Maybe that was why your body chose to collapse, because you just needed the break.

Maybe your body torturing you was its own way of telling you that you needed a break. You have no choice but to abide. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to be unwell… It was nice being cared for… was it not?

Your eyes glanced over at Aki, the way he was slowly feeding you… You’ve never seen him this… caring… Were you hallucinating?

“Have the rest of the bowl,” said Aki as he placed the bowl and spoon before you, then he got up. “I am going to do something…” His voice trailed off, fading into the air as sounds of hinges vibrated in the air around you. He had just entered a room.

You slowly helped yourself to the meal that Aki had made for you. He was usually the silent and nonchalant type. No wonder he was suddenly gone just as you were eating… Maybe he wasn’t used to spoon feeding someone, like you were some child.

“When you’re ready, just sleep in this room,” Aki’s voice gently pierced your ears, letting you know of his offer.

“Thank… you,” you managed to utter. He didn’t respond.

The bowl remained at half full, you could not bring yourself to finish the remaining half. You tried, you really tried. Not wanting to waste a single bit of Aki’s efforts, you tried to finish it all, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to take another bite. It seemed as though your body was suddenly sick of something else. This wasn’t good, you felt bad. He was trying to care for you here, yet your body was barely cooperating with anything. How’d you let yourself get so weak after a tough mission? How could your body give up on you just like that?

You slowly got up, to dump the wasted effort of Aki’s cooking and to wash the utensils. You were still a guest, there was no way you would just leave dirty dishes hanging, no matter how sick you were. It was basic manners.

“Y/n?” The closeness of Aki’s voice almost shocked you. He was right behind you, looking as you washed the dishes, before pushing you away and finishing the work. “Could’ve asked me to do it for you,” he said.

“I know how to do dishes,” you responded. “Just because I am sick doesn’t mean I am suddenly handicapped.”

Aki nodded, finally letting you be, and headed back into his own room.

It felt as though you had suddenly been reduced to that of a porcelain doll. Ever so fragile, so breakable that one mustn’t treat it with any malicious intent. Suddenly you became something that had to be treated with the most care anyone can give. All you had was just a fever…

Was it a good feeling? You could not tell. Did you enjoy being treated like a fragile doll that could break any moment? Was it nice, suddenly receiving such care? Perhaps you should enjoy it while it lasts…

Once you were done with everything, you headed into the room in which Aki prepared for you. It was neatly arranged. It had taken you a while to realise that it was his room, considering the fact that you just walked in on him still arranging it.

“Just uh, rest here for now,” Aki muttered as he heard your footsteps, turning to face you. “Take the medications by the bed, its for your headache.”

You nodded, slowly allowing yourself to adjust to the foreign surroundings that felt… so familiar and calming. You wonder why…

Nevertheless, you closed your eyes, trying to get as much sleep as you could milk out of this stupid sickness. Your body was tired… ever so tired… Your head hurts…

Why was it hard to fall asleep? Why was it hard for your mind to finally rest? Why does your body hate you so much? It was stupid…

As your eyes slowly closed, your muscles relaxed, you could make out a faint figure standing in front of you. Strands of shoulder length hair tickle your face as you finally found the energy to rest. The feeling of a blanket slowly moving to cover your body…

Throughout the silent night, you remained blissfully unaware of the hardworking man by your bed, working to get your temperature back down to normal. Who knew taking care of someone with a fever could be so tiring?

Aki changed the towel resting on your forehead every once in a while, the moment it lost the ability to cool your body due to gaining too much heat. It seems as though he was sacrificing his rest to ensure that your body got all of the rest you deserved.

The silent night was deafening for him, why was he doing so much? He had begun to question himself. What was he up to now?

The stars sparked at each and every one of his thoughts, leaving him wondering about his actions and the sick person before him. What would Denji and Power say of this? What was going to happen?

What would the others say of this? Makima… Himeno… What would they think?

As the night went on, Aki soon found that time was slowly draining his energy as well. He was too, a human, and he too, needed rest. No human can go on without any rest at all. He could not collapse onto his bed for a rest when you had already stolen it from him.

The sun rays found its way into his home, spilling its way onto the floor as noises filled the corners. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out the causes.

Denji and Power.

They had found you, and Aki resting his head on his own bed, sitting down beside it.

“What’s Topknot doing not sleeping on his own bed?” Power wondered, confused at the foreign sight. She frowned even more as she recognised the person sleeping on Aki’s bed. Someone she had worked with, unwillingly, on multiple occasions.

You.

“Ah! He has got himself a partner! Maybe he is planning on kicking us out soon!” Denji replied. Perhaps it was the morning, or maybe that he was just plain dumb, for not being able to recognise you.

And with a little bit of back and forth between two mindless individuals. Somehow the agreement of removing both you and Aki from the room was agreed upon. Never allow those two to plan something. At least, at some point, Denji finally came to the realisation of your identity as a fellow co-worker, and not some random stranger Aki decided to bring back to his home.

Perhaps it was the morning, so maybe that was why their brains were not fully functioning. But they did try out their idea of kicking the both of you out, though the only outcome was that Aki had woken up and saw the scene that was slowly unfolding. He wasn’t even surprised, just sighed and brushed the incident off while explaining the truth.

The smell of Aki’s morning smoke filled the air as he began to prepare himself for the day, he can never begin a day without his cigarettes. It was rare for him to get peace now that he has tenants in his home. Denji and Power were being quieter, discussing what you and Aki could be doing together like they were a bunch of gossipers. At least they decided to be quieter now.

It had taken you a few more minutes before being able to open your eyes and adjust your body to the new day shining upon you and your sick body. There Denji and Power stood, acting like your maids and waiting for your command. You could not have known of their earlier antics, nor would you have even realised that this was their punishment. What on earth happened while you were knocked out and recovering?

“Since when are the both of you so… obedient?” You asked, trying to adjust your eyes to the light as your body felt better compared to the previous night. You could finally function as a human again. The throbbing pain that lived in your head finally got evicted by the medications Aki gave you, though you still felt slightly light-headed.

“Topknot made us,” Power replied, appearing annoyed by what she was made to do. You laughed while getting up and exiting the room, only to be greeted by the sight of the man with his hair down and making breakfast for everyone.

“I take it that I will be able to leave by the afternoon?” You said, leaning against the door frame, watching as the raw food became edible. “I feel much better compared to last night.”

“Don’t blame me if you feel sick again while on the way home,” Aki responded. “Buyt you do look better.”

Denji and Power exchanged glances as the scene unfolded before them, a sudden possible realisation dawned in their synced minds. “Don’t tell me that you’re planning on asking us to walk Y/n home!” Denji shouted.

“That’s a great idea actually,” You replied, before heading to the toilet to wash up for the day. Soon, you walked over to the couch and took a seat, where you had been the night before, as sick as a dying old man.

“Hayakawa, you done yet?” You asked, trying to sneak a glance at him, only to see him walking over with plates on hand.

Aki was a great cook, and the breakfast proved it. A pity you were too sick the night before to try out everything that he made. But hey at least you got someone to cook and take care of you…

Well well… wasn’t it fun, being sick by Aki’s side.

#chainsaw man #aki hayawaka #hayakawa aki #sickfic #csm fic #one shot #i think my brain is cooked #LMAOOOOOO #this turned out better than i thought look #hopefully my writer’s block is gone now #pls pls #i love aki #sm #aki x reader

[danafeelingsick]

ɴᴏᴠᴇᴍᴇᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 2022

@monthofsick

ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛ ʟɪsᴛ | AO3 ᴄᴏʟʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

ᴅᴀʏ 26: Multiple sickies

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 4,3k~

hi, id like to request prompt 26 (multiple characters sick) with Itto, Kuki, Heizou sick and Sara as caretaker? a stomach flu/food poisoning situation would be nice

ᴀ/ɴ i've waited the whole month for this one 😳🤓

TW EMETO

         Kujou Sara was dozing off in her office when a strange sound came from down the hallway, snapping her awake. At first, she thought someone had dumped water on the floor by accident, but listening closely to it, she noticed the faint string of coughs following the splash.

         It was far past working hours in the Tenryou commission, no one was supposed to be around anymore, not even her. But some matters still demanded the general's attention. It didn't help that she had skipped several minutes with a blink, but the scare successfully drove away all the exhaustion from her body, at least for the time being.

         Still listening to whoever it was hacking up a lung in the distance, Sara pushed out of her chair, carelessly tossing documents onto her desk in a hurry. She was already down the hallway when the near choking broke into another heavier splatter, it sounded like someone had emptied a bucket now.

         “F-Fuck…”, she heard that same person groan and cuss.

         Closer now, she could recognize the voice and sighed in frustration when she remembered the cause of her extra hours. A bothersome crimson Oni she had to keep watch, the reason why he had been apprehended since buried under the piles of documents in her office.

         “Arataki Itto!”, she called loud enough to be heard from the other side of the police station, hoping the anger in her voice would be enough to stop whatever that stupid Oni was plotting. “What was that noise?”

         He went silent for a short moment, only the sound of her wooden heels on the cold tiles and the jingle of keys on her hips could be heard. Soon the coughing resumed, more violent than before as if holding it had taken a bigger toll on his health.

         “K-Kujou Tengu, is that you?” His voice came from behind a few corners and she knew right away something was up from how disoriented he sounded.  “Ugh, d-don't come here. I just... threw up all over the floor.”

         She walked even faster, a scowl already twisting her face.

         “I swear if this is some elaborate plan for you to escape I’ll -”, she turned a corner, the pungent smell of fresh sickness immediately assaulting her nostrils.

         She found the Oni inside his holding cell like usual, but she didn’t expect to find him hunched over a puddle of steaming vomit. Her stomach flipped over when she immediately recognized the dish they had served earlier in the mess hall, now odd��colored by stomach acids and glistening with bile. The Oni acknowledged her glossy-eyed, sniffling like a scolded child when her expression darkened.

         “Plan? What are you, urp, talking about?” Itto rasped, briefly closing his mouth under the threat of another gag.

         “Y-You, ugh! Why did you have to make a mess?”, her expression twisted into anger, and she realized she had raised her voice when the Oni seemed to flinch at her. She didn’t back down. “Didn't you have a bucket or something?”

         “S-Sorry… Been asking for one”, Itto responded, his voice coming from deeper within his throat sounding like he was holding back tears. “E-Everyone just dismissed…”

         Sara is taken aback by his words, only momentarily because her disgusted expression never leaves, every time she thinks of feeling pity the smell reminds her of how disgusting that Oni can be. With an annoyed sigh she makes sure he heard, she unlocks the door to his cell and steps inside.

         “You better not try anything”, the tengu says coldly, standing over him and staring him down as silence lingers between his shuddering pants. “What are you feeling? Are you going to vomit again?”

         “Hmm… hard to tell”, he mutters, running the back of his hand under his mouth, but keeping it there when his chest hitches slightly, only a small hiccup coming through. “It feels like it, but… I haven’t eaten much.”

         “Stand up, I’ll take you to the restroom”, Kujou Sara doesn’t ask but does lean over him as she takes one of his arms and throws it over her shoulder. “Don’t forget you’re still under custody.”

         “Yeah, yeah…”, the Oni mumbles, clenching his eyes shut when the sudden motion has his stomach flipping uncomfortably. Each step to the door of his cell threatens to send him to the floor, but the tengu is surprisingly resilient as she guides him, nearly supporting all of his weight on one side. “O-Oh, man…”

         “And if you vomit on me!”, she threatens sincerely, but continues walking.

         “Can’t really guarantee that…”

         Arataki Itto manages to make it to the small station restroom when the nausea rolls back again, leaving him gagging emptily over Kujou Sara’s shoulders as she doesn’t even bother to close the door behind them. The general all but drops him in front of one of the squatting toilets, grabbing the large Oni by the sleeves of his coat when he looks like he’ll just tip forward.

         “I’m gonna puke”, he announces, just in case the green color his face takes wasn’t enough of a tell. Sara wordlessly tightens her grip on him as the Oni lunges forward with a guttural retching throat. “EeuuURRrRrrgh!”

         Itto struggles with his mouth open, his stomach clenching painfully as it fights to get more of that lumpy mixture up his throat. Through gurgling retches, he chokes up a mouthful of barely digested stomach contents, and the remnants of his meal fall to the white porcelain with a heavy splatter. Clumps of chewed-up rice, mushy vegetables, and bits of white meat swim in a thick broth of miso soup and acidic bile. Itto isn’t sure what part of it is leaving the spoiled taste on his tongue, but it only takes a few loud heaves for him to get a second serving of it.

         “You have to breathe too, Arataki Itto. You’re going to choke like that”, the tengu says as she firmly pats his back, albeit begrudgingly. Itto tries to keep it in mind as more dense vomit spews out of his mouth, but all that it amounts to is the desperate noises stuck in his throat. It sounds like he’s drowning as the spell tapers into a watery surge, but doesn’t stop until he manages to cough it all up. “There you go, see?”

         “Ugh… fuck…”, the Oni spits out, wasting the split moment he had to catch his breath before his mouth fills with vomit again.

         ***

         Shikanoin Heizou wishes he could sleep it off over his desk, or rather, the communal office all the other doushin used for various purposes, but the awful churning in his gut simply will not allow it. To think emptying his stomach onto the floor would do him any good was stupid, but even after cleaning it as best as he could, he still can’t believe he let himself do that. Now that sour smell is stuck to his nose and his mouth.

         An even worse idea was to trust the mess hall’s food for once in his life. He was sure something in his now empty plate had gone bad, but it was hard to tell when everything they served there already tasted spoiled, undercooked, or sour. Sometimes all three. Heizou felt his throat tighten at the thought, his mouth flooding with saliva, and he tried to shove the all too detailed memories to the back of his achy mind.

         The sound of the door creaking open was the thing on the forefront, and he barely raised his head, staring at the visitor through his eyelashes. Kujou Sara was standing in the doorframe, her expression as sour as his mouth tasted, something akin to murderous intent in her golden eyes, but Heizou was too out of it to even register.

         “Heizou, what are you still doing here? Your shift ended hours ago!”, she said between her teeth but went to search around the office instead of waiting for his answer.

         “Madam Kujou? Sorry, I was just... going through some cases and must've lost track of time”, he responded, hurriedly straightening himself and managing to ignore what the sudden motion did to his already queasy stomach. “I-I'll be gone in a minute."

         "Have you seen any of the cleaning supplies?" she asked over her shoulder and thankfully didn’t notice when he went pale, already choking on an answer. “Arataki Itto vomited all over his cell, can you believe that? That useless Oni!”

         “They are right there”, Heizou mumbled and pointed to the side of the desk, where a large wet spot still hadn’t dried and said supplies were scattered around it. He would’ve made himself useful and grabbed them for her, but just thinking of his own vomit soaking into the tatami floor had him trying not to gag.

         “If you’re not in a hurry”, Sara caught him halfway through the open door, and the doushin turned stiffly, his throat tense as he held back the nausea. “Can you go check on him for me? That waste of space is in the restroom. And he’s still under custody, so don’t let him out of your sight.”

         Heizou agreed shakingly, that was where he was heading already. The tengu was so busy she didn’t even bat an eye when he turned on his heels and sprinted down the hallway.

         “E-Excuse me? I’m coming in”, Heizou knocked on the door and said, hearing a large someone shuffling behind the door.

         The sour stench of vomit was the first thing the detective noticed as he stepped into the restroom, then breathing through his mouth, he saw the tall man sitting on the grimy floor, his back against the stall. He would’ve looked like a fresh corpse if not for his exposed torso, heaving rapidly as short gurgles came from within his belly.

         “S-Sorry, dude… this one’s taken”, he said, and weakly waved with his head to the toilet, filled to the brim with bubbling puke. Heizou tried not to look at it directly, instead focusing on the long red horns sprouting from the middle of his messy white hair.

         “Kujou Sara… sent me here”, he stammered, watching as the man’s shoulders kept jumping, his toned abdomen clenching incessantly as nausea bit at him too. “She told me to keep an eye on you.”

         “Mmmrff, how nice of her. EuRgHh!” Itto commented with all the sarcasm he could spare, and retched emptily over the full bowl. Chuckling dejectedly when his stomach finally gave him a break. “You can tell her I'm alright, not that she cares at all.”

         Looking at the detective from over his shoulder he noticed him trembling slightly, his hand hovering close to his middle, the other on his mouth. They were almost at eye level, with him sitting on the floor, but it was nice to have to look up at someone for a change. “Are you okay, though? You're not squeamish, right?”

         “Y-Yeah… I’m fine. I'm n-not”, Heizou lied and tried to look away, but it was already too late. Breathing through his mouth was only making his stomach more restless, he could feel the acidic burn reaching for his tongue. In desperation, thought of making a break for the sink, but he doubted there would be enough time. “Actually, c-can I…? Do you mind sharing?”

         “Sharing?”, Itto tilted his head in confusion, but it quickly dawned on him when he saw the doushin's face turning a sickly green. “You're gonna barf, alright! Here, here. Aim for the toilet.”

         With all the gentleness of a giant, Itto pulled the young man to the floor by the wrist, forcing him to kneel to not lose his balance. Just in time, Heizou pitched forward and burped a stream of stomach contents onto the toilet, most of it spilling out the sides as Itto failed to hold him in time. 

         “Fuck, take it easy”, he exclaimed, both hands closing around Heizou's sides as he nearly fell forward. He trembled violently under his touch, and mercifully another steady stream of puke erupted out of him without much struggle. “Looks like you're sick too, little guy.”

         “Mess hall… food, eurgh”, he slurred in between bouts of vomiting, unable to catch a break. Itto cocked his head to the side, trying to decipher his words. 

         Heizou was sure his whole body was in free fall as he kept spewing, everything was spinning wildly before his eyes, and he couldn't tell which way was up. But as he started slumping forward, runny puke still pouring from his lips, the Oni lifted him slightly off the ground with a short huff, just enough to plop him back down seated in the space between his legs.

         “I've got you”, he reassured, resting a big hand on his back, feeling him wince under his wait.

         Heizou was kneeling on that grimy cold floor, groaning as nausea wrecked his body, his stomach still churning relentlessly. He leaned forward, grabbing the Oni's ankles with both hands as exhaustion finally won over him. The vomiting spell quickly drained all the energy he had, but it didn't seem to be over.

         Itto slowly petted the doushin's back, trying not to look at the growing mess of the toilet because he knew it would be over for him as soon as he did. With a wet burp, Heizou produced another sizable gush of stomach contents over the rim of the toilet, coughing wetly as it tapered off into a trickle.

         The detective groaned, seemingly deflating under Oni's touch as he pulled back, bile and drool still clinging to his chin.

         “Wow, that was a lot for a guy your size”, Itto commented, still rubbing his back as the doushin grunted weakly, trying not to cough anymore. His throat was sore and achy after such a violent spell, but he still mustered a weak apology.

         “I… I'm pretty sure it was the mess hall's food”, Heizou slurred, after a moment of awkward silence.

         “It seems like it”, Itto added, peering into the full toilet and immediately looking away when the sight made him recoil. “Ugh… think you're okay to get out of here?”

         Heizou nodded weakly, not about to refuse the offer to leave that gross stall. He felt weak and sweaty like he had just run a marathon on an empty stomach, everything ached from head to toe.

         Itto got up first, grabbing onto the wall as he tried to flush the toilet, but all it did was make a deep gurgle, the layers upon layers of now cold vomit staying there, unmoving. The two just shared a tired knowing look as Itto helped the detective stand, firmly holding his shoulders when his knees seemed to nearly give out. 

         They were halfway to the door when it clicked open, none other than the Kujou Tengu stepped inside, her eyes widening as she saw the whole scene.

         “I think your guy here is sick”, Itto told her simply, pointing to the nearly unconscious Heizou he was holding under his arm.

         “By the love of… This can't be happening”, Sara blinked in surprise, pinching the bridge of her nose and letting out an exasperated sigh. “Just… Just take him to my office. Ms. Shinobu is there too.”

         “Oh, Shinobu's here? Didn't think she would come”, Itto sounded almost surprised, but just hearing a familiar name put him more at ease.

         “I'll bring some medicine for the two of you”, the tengu responded, looking at them up and down, noting how much Heizou was shaking and the sweaty mess he had become. “Some spare clothes too.”

         “Humpf, alright”, Itto huffed as he went past her, trying not to let his sudden anger show, but it was hard not to when she looked at him like he was some kind of animal.

         *** 

         “It's okay, just let it out”, Kujou Sara whispered softly, holding back moist strands of burgundy hair as Heizou dry heaved under her, struggling through the motions of unrelenting nausea.

         It took him a couple of harsh retches, but eventually, he managed to bring up a thin wave of runny vomit. Most of it was the water he had downed minutes before, slightly cloudy from the little time it spent inside him, but now littered with clumps of the food he still regretted eating.

         “I'm so sorry… urp, madam Kujou, but I told you I wouldn't be able to… guh, keep it – urGHH!”, Heizou tried, but soon he was diving back down, tears gathering in his eyes as he retched violently, bringing up yet more watery vomit onto the small bucket Sara was holding in front of him. “Ughh… guh— ...euRrrgh!”

         She didn't say a word, just kept shushing him as Heizou struggled to expel another watery surge of warm bile. Rubbing his back slowly, she could his musculature shivering, heat rolling off his skin, and rapidly drenching his spare shirt in more sweat. It broke her heart to see him like this, but not knowing from the start made her feel even more guilty.

         On the other side of the office, Kuki Shinobu had somehow managed to put the rowdy Oni to rest for a few minutes. His head was resting on her lap as she gently brushed his messy hair away from his face, his expression still pinched in disgust. An improvised container waited by her feet, thankfully empty as Itto couldn't vomit anymore than he already had.

         A soft sigh left the deputy leader's mouth, muffled by her grinning devil mask, the only barrier between her and the smell of vomit permeating the room. Admittedly she wouldn't mind if the situation had been any different, she was no stranger to caring for sick friends after all, but today her stomach was a bit unsettled being around so much sickness.

         Itto tossed in his sleep, and as noisily as his size demanded, he turned on his side and hugged his middle. His back now faced the tengu sitting across from them, doing her best to hold the sickly detective still shivering in her arms. She raised her eyes to Shinobu, giving her a sympathetic smile.

         “Is he asleep?”, Sara asked coyly, hoping for any sliver of good news.

         “Hum, I think so”, she answered after clearing her throat, dropping her gaze to look at the Oni. He certainly looked like he was sleeping, but his pained expression and the way his breath hitched slightly told her it wouldn't stay like that for long. “Did you serve anything he's allergic to?”

         “Of course not”, Sara scowled but regretted being so quick to anger at such a harmless question. “He only ate the food we serve here, and I made sure it was safe for him.”

         “I was just checking”, Shinobu responded, letting out another sigh as her stomach shuddered thinking of what could've possibly made them two so sick. She gulped a mouthful of saliva before she spoke again: “What are you planning to do now?”

         “If you think I'm just going to let him go because he's sick, then you're wrong” Kujou Sara jumped to the conclusion, her expression turning sharp the moment she looked from Shinobu to the Oni.

         His shoulders hitched slightly, almost unnoticeably, followed by a long wet gurgle coming from deep in his bruised belly. That had become normal at that point, Itto just curled further into himself, nuzzling into the comfort of Shinobu's hands. So far so good, he was managing to keep the water and medicine down, and even sleep a little on the hard tatami floor. 

         “Sara… All he's in for is a noise complaint”, the deputy leader shrugged, looking down at Itto when a weak sickly groan came from him.

         It was all the warning they got before there was a bubbling gurgle in the sleepy Oni's throat, bursting at the root of his tongue as he suddenly let out a surge of murky watery vomit. Shinobu froze in place, feeling the disgustingly hot surge cover her midriff and drip down to her thighs.

         “Boss! Boss!”, was the first thought in her mind as she heard him start to choke, but his eyes remained closed.

          Shinobu quickly rolled the Oni onto his back, frantically tapping his cheek as she tried to wake him up. He spat and gurgled, his eyes fluttering open only to go wide as he realized he couldn't breathe.

         Kujou Sara was by their side in seconds, motioning for Heizou to stay where he was as she helped push Itto into a half-sitting position. The Oni folded and broke into a violent fit of coughing, he couldn't even gag as a warning before he was covering his own lap in murky vomit. Sara was able to shove the bucket under his mouth in time to catch the next wave, holding it there as Itto emptied his stomach of what little he was able to hold. 

         Shinobu was still taken aback by the suddenness of the situation but quickly busied herself with pulling Itto's already soiled hair from the line of fire. He winced as her fingers brushed his neck, prompting her to shush him and rub slow circles on his back. It took all of her to hold back her own gagging and ignore the cold vomit now soaking into her clothes.

         “Boss, can you hear me?”, she called when he seemed to catch a break from puking, pulling a few sweat-soaked strands off his face as she peered over her shoulder. The sight of that soup-like mixture filling the bucket made her recoil. “A-Are you alright?”

         “Yeah… s-sorry about that…”, he mumbled and spat. “I thought I was empty.”

         “Hey, it's fine. Just don't scare us like that again”, Shinobu reassured, her voice trembling as her own nausea inched closer. “Try to stay awake from now on, okay?”

         “Until we're back. We'll go grab some… more spare clothes”, Kujou Sara added, raising to her feet. “Think you can be on your own?”

          “Sure, yeah. I'll be fine”, Itto reassured, giving his still-sensitive stomach a few gentle pats. And with sarcasm, he added: “You two have fun.”

         ***

         Shinobu was nearing her limit as she sat there in the dusty locker room while Sara searched for anything that could fit her. She was trembling and not because her vomit-soaked shorts were now atop a pile of dirty clothes, or the dry towel wrapped around her waist.

         Her stomach tossed uncomfortably, letting out short gurgling noises and small burps she was forced to swallow. Where she had gotten herself sick?, she had no idea. Both Itto and Heizou's sources were clear, and she was fairly sure no one had sneaked the infamous mess hall food onto her plate. If the slight suspicion she had was true, this wave of sickness had been brewing for a long time, as most of the Arataki Gang had already gone through it.

         Itto just had the bad luck of being arrested by the Tenryou commission, and poor Heizou must've gotten caught in the crossfire. As for her, bad luck and too much compassion applied.

         Shinobu hugged her middle tightly in hopes of muffling the noises coming from it, but didn't realize this only threatened to expose her condition even more. Leaning forward like that, she could already feel the bile crawling up her throat. 

         “Think you can wear this?” Sara turned with a fairly worn hakama, the same one the guards of the tenryou commission would use.

         She saw right through the worried look Shinobu responded with, her posture tense as she tried to keep herself from shivering. The tengu sighed as she up the pants aside and walked up to her. "What's wrong?”

         “Nothing's wrong”, Shinobu responded promptly, straightening her back as the woman stopped in front of her, towering over her. “I swear, I'm– ah!”

         Shinobu was sure she must've let out a yelp as Sara leaned forward and placed a hand on her forehead, evaluating the heat coming off her skin. Her expression was unreadable, but to her surprise, the tengu just shook her head, her gaze softening as she realized how tense she had gotten. 

         “You feel a little warm…”, she said softly, her hand grazing her cheek before she pulled away. “You should've told me.”

         “No, I… you needed my help”, Shinobu groaned, feeling her throat tightening. “Please, don't worry about me. I swear I can– mmm, guh.”

         Caught in her lie, Shinobu stopped talking and pressed her lips tightly, her stomach suddenly lurched, filling her mouth with bile. She tried to swallow it down, holding her mask firmly as if that could stop what was about to happen.

         Thankfully she didn't need it, because Kujou Sara gently guided her forward, holding a newfound towel under her mouth. Shinobu wanted to protest, but as she pulled away her mask she realized she was out of options.

         “It's okay”, Sara coaxed her, taking the mask off her hands and putting it aside, devoting her full attention to the sick shinobi in front of her.

         Kuki Shinobu parted her lips, trying not to make a huge mess as she burped a stream of thick vomit onto the white towel, staining it beyond repair. Her eyes were affixed on it, watching as the orangish-brown puke spread onto the fabric. It smelled horrible, but thankfully it cleared her head enough to pull back, running a hand under her mouth. 

         “I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…”, she said, fighting to swallow the following gags. Any more and she was sure Sara would bite her head off. 

         “Shh, I already said it's okay”, she whispered, and to Shinobu's surprise, none of her previous anger was in her expression. She looked tired, but still mustered a small reassuring smile. “It's going to be okay.”

         Shinobu wasn't sure if she believed it.

         ***

         True to his word, Arataki Itto kept awake until the two returned, keeping watch of Heizou as the detective tried to sleep for a bit. What he didn't expect was to see Kujou Sara, carrying a shivering Shinobu on her arms as she entered the office.

         The night couldn't get any longer.

#novemetober 2022 #nov(emeto)ber 2022 #tw vomit #genshin emeto #gen/shin imp/act #sickfic prompts #tw emeto #vomiting #emeto #gen/shin imp/act ku/ki shin/obu #ku/jou sa/ra gen/shin imp/act #gen/shin imp/act arat/aki it/to #shik/anoin hei/zou gen/shin imp/act #dana//emeto fic #my writing

[cyb3r-st4t]

Sicktember, Day 11

Beginners Guide to Faking Sick.

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Warnings: This is a sickfic, if that’s of no interest to you, DNI! This Fic contains loss of appetite, skipping meals/eating less than normal because of appetite loss, refusal to eat due to fears of throwing up, subtle suggestions to a character having emetophobia, and self isolation. Keep yourselves safe! If I forget anything, let me know!

Characters: Hajime and Chiaki.

POV: In attempts to give himself alone time, Hajime does makes his get away excuse that he’s not feeling well… only he actually succeeds in making himself sick by accident…

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It wasn’t necessarily out of the ordinary for Hajime to want to be alone. Sometimes it was unbearable to hear bickering… or just plain old uncomfortable conversations from the people around him. It got to the point where being around them simply made him lose his appetite. So to combat that, he would just take small things to his room, and stay there.

It was always the same excuse.

“Don’t feel well” “I’m not feeling well.” “Sorry, I’m not feeling well.”

Though, at first, it may have been a lie… it started to become the truth.

Leaving his room was harder, and actually finding the ability to think about larger meals was becoming insanely difficult without falling nauseous.

Today was another day that he failed to show up to breakfast that morning… even if it was to grab something small and take it away to his room.

Chiaki stared at the exit to the restaurant for a long while before looking to the food set out again.

Mahiru sat in front of her after noticing her moment of spacing out.

“Hey.” Mahiru smiled, “What’s up?”

“Hmmm…” Chiaki hummed before turning her attention to Mahiru, “I’m just worried.”

“About Hajime?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, me too. Wanna take something to him? See what’s up?” Mahiru suggested.

Chiaki nodded.

“Yeah, but if he’s not feeling well… I don’t know what I should take him.” She looked back to the options laid out. She wasn’t entirely sure what would be too light, or too heavy on one’s stomach. That’s just not something she ever thought about.

“I can help!” Mahiru smiled warmly, “I just hope he talks to you, I tried the other day but… well— he wasn’t so willing.”

Chiaki sighed while she nodded.

“Yeah, me too…”

Together, they both put a plate together for Hajime, all things small in size, and light to avoid making Hajime any more sick than he might already be.

Chiaki stared at the plate as she held it, and looked back to Mahiru with a smile.

“Thank you, I’ll let you know what’s going on after I talk to him.”

Mahiru smiled, giving her a light nod.

“Of course! I look forward to the update!”

Departing from the restaurant, Chiaki watched the plate carefully as she walked, making sure nothing would fall off the plate so easily. She wasn’t too clumsy, but things like that tended to happen to her quite often.

Arriving to Hajimes room, she stared at the door a minute before gaining the courage to knock. She knocked once… twice… three times… and four times before it finally cracked open a bit.

Through the crack in the door, she saw one of Hajime’s eyes… a tired one at that.

Upon recognition, Hajime opened the door just a little more.

“Do you need something…?” He asked, his voice groggy.

“I just wanted to check and see if you were alright, I even brought you a plate in case you were hungry… I know that recently you haven’t been feeling well— but you still need to eat like the rest of us do.” Chiaki stated as she held the plate out closer to the door.

As Hajime looked at the plate, he felt his stomach cramp uncomfortably. He knew he needed to eat, but at this point he was too afraid of losing everything he consumed.

Swallowing thickly, Hajime gave a tired smile before he shook his head.

“I really appreciate it… but I don’t think I can stomach it…”

Chiaki tilted her head.

“You’re not even going to try?

Hajime hesitated.

“I want to… but I also really don’t want to throw up…”

“Don’t you think you’re feeling that way because you’re hungry?”

Hajime thought for a second before nodding.

“Uh… probably… but my—”

“Then maybe you should eat, Hajime.” Chiaki interrupted, “You don’t have to eat a lot, but you should try.”

Hajime hummed in a bit of annoyance as his head spun with thoughts.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She added.

Hajime shrugged.

“I don’t know… It’s stupid so there’s probably no point.”

“It’s not stupid if it’s hurting you.”

“Hurting me?”

“Yeah… when’s the last time you talked to someone?”

“Uhhh…” Hajime thought, “A day or so ago…?”

“Like… actually talked to someone. You haven’t talked to any of us this long since… a while ago… so maybe you should talk about it.”

Hajime shrugged.

“Are you giving me a choice?”

“Maybe not, but I think not giving you a choice is good for you.” Chiaki smiled.

“Tch…” Hajime scoffed, “Right.”

Hajime opened the door, allowing Chiaki to step inside. Together, they sat on Hajimes bed.

Silence pierced the air between them as Chiaki tried to think about where to start.

“So… how come you started to hide away so much?”

Hajime sighed as he thought through the situation all over again… simply thinking about it made him want to throw up.

“I don’t fit in with any of you… and some of them make me insanely uncomfortable. It all started out with just losing my appetite over just being around everyone, but I guess that hiding away so much just ended up making me actually sick.” He finally admitted.

Chiaki nodded.

“I understand, some of them make me uncomfortable too… but that’s why I just talk to those who don’t make me uncomfortable.” She smiled. “So, at first, you weren’t actually sick then? It was just an excuse?”

“Yeah… it was just an excuse.”

Chiaki laughed a little.

“That excuse turned real for you too… how unfortunate.”

Hajime chuckled.

“Yeah… I guess so.”

“Well… from now on— if you want, we can stick together. It would suck if this became your normal, y’know?” Chiaki suggested, and Hajime was more than willing to agree to that.

“That sounds better than wasting away in here, I guess… thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Now, eat up so we can get back to getting you out of here.”

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

#cyb.stat fics #sicktember #sicktember day 11 #sickfic #dangan//ronpa #dangan//ronpa fics #dangan//ronpa sickfic #cyb.stat bleh… #haj//ime #chi//aki

[dudadragneel]

Hii, can i be “🧶” anon? So then you know it’s me when I interact, I wanna know what your favorite sickfic tropes are, like what are the things that just make you go 💓💓👀

Hello dear annon! Of course! Welcome 🧶!!! 😁

Hhmm, this is interesting let's see 🤔

- When a strong character, who usually deals with everything on their own, finally asks for help when sick? Like, specially when they suddenly and unknowingly, reaches out for physical contact to make themselves feel safe. Much like what I wrote for Bakugou in a few of my fics! And when they just have a mental breakdown, like what I did to Midoriya in one of my fics!

- Whenever there's touch between the sickie and the caretaker. Like, when they hold the sickie's hand, specially if the latter reaches out first. Or when they rub the sickie's back when they get sick, I feel like there's some sort of feeling when this happens?

- When a character halts on their feet because they started to feel faint and sways forward and someone holds them. Or when they just suddenly collapse, out of exhaustion or fever.

- When they have that labored breathing because of how sick they are and they started to lose their balance, even when seated, and the caretaker notices this. (Specially anime)

- Oh, I do like that detail (in anime) when we cant see the characters eyes when they are feeling sick, and about to collapse.

- Oh oh oh! The grunts of pain when a character is hurt. Special attention to Aki from Chainsaw man (his grunts are just 🤌)

- Hmm, oh! When a character suddenly falls to their knees and throws up. Or when someone finds them being sick somewhere! These two just make me go 💓💓

- characters being sick and we being actually able to see and hear what's happening! Plust thr caretaker rubbing their back.

- when a character says "I dont feel good" with a shaky voice. ( speacial attention to ep 5 of Banana Fish!

Detail: for irl situations, whenever they say "I dont feel good" or just bend over or sits down. Or, usually during pranks (when it comes to kpop) when they say "I think I'm gonna throw up", like Doyoung from NCT.

Well, this is longer than I expected but mainly I think this is it 😅

Come back any time, 🧶!

#emeto #sickfic #whump #anime fainting #anime fever #kpop sickfic #kpop emeto #anime emeto #Sickfic tropes #Emeto sickfic #anime sickfic

[aki-draws-things]

"come here lay with me" for Hydrawinterhusbands from the nightmare prompts? 🥺🥺

Sorry it took me a lifetime, but it's there! In his hurt/comfort glory!

Hope you'll like it! @miii-chaaan

#Hydrawinterhusbands #Jack rollins #Brock rumlow #james bucky barnes #Sickfic #Hurt/comfort #Fever induced nightmares #Also guilt.. Jackie doesn't do things the easy way #Marvel fic #Aki writes

[giggly-squiggily]

☁️Let’s Go Cloud Watching! (WIP List)☁️

Heyo! I saw that some of my amazing mutuals have "What's Brewing" lists on their blogs of all their current works in progress, so I figured I should make one too! :3 I don't know how often I'm gonna update this- but I'll try my best to remember! :3

Little notes: While I’m gonna try my absolute best to fill every request, some might not be filled. I apologize if this happens!

Thanks for reading!

Latest Weather Map (Updated): March 17, 2023

☁️☁️Overcast ☁️☁️

Itallics: Written and scheduled

Black Clover

Langris Finral sickfic

Blue Lock

Lees!Kuon, Gagamaru, Raichi, Lers!Bachisagikunigiri

Kunigami x Reader Tickle Fight

Lee!Bachira, Ler!Isagi

Lees!Reo, Chigiri, Ler!Kunigami

Chigiri x Reader comforting each other during a thunderstorm

Spider Shivers Game with Kunigiri

Nagiri tickle fight

Kunigami Barou Shidou Tickle War

Bungo Stray Dogs

Lee!Fyodor, Ler!Dazai

Lee!Kunikida, Ler!Dazai, Atsushi

Lee!Dazai, Ler!Chuuya

Lee!Akutagawa, Ler!Atsushi

Chainsaw Man

Beam/Denji Chaos

Lee!Aki, Ler!Himeno

Danganronpa

Lee!Gonta, Ler!Kirumi

Ler!Togami x Reader

Dr. Stone

Demon Slayer

Zenitsu x BodyConscious!Reader

Lee!Douma, Ler!Reader

Switches Gyomei, Nezuko

Lee!Genya, Ler!Tanjiro

Douma and Gyutaro get Akaza

Tanjiro and Genya get Muichiro

Inosuke is too powerful. Time to bring him back

Lee!Douma, Ler!Akaza

Lee!Tanjiro, Lers!Tengen, Rengoku

Switch!Akaza, Ler!Kokushibou

Giyu made food based on a tiktok?

Lee!Rui, Ler!Akaza

Fire Force

Fruits Basket

Switches!Yuki, Kyo

Haikyuu!!

Suna, Reader, Miya Twins

Asahi and Kuroo Flustering (might include the tickles)

Shirabu getting tickled by the third Years

Hell’s Paradise

Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure

Rohan x Reader

Lee!Bruno, Ler!Giorno

Jujutsu Kaisen

Lee!Haibara(?), Ler!Nanami

Lee!Gojo, Ler!Nanami

Lee!Megumi, Ler!Itadori

Ler!Gojo x Lee!Reader

Lee!Geto, Ler!Gojo

Gojo and Geto having a brotherly tickle fight

SatoSugu tickles and fluff

Lee!Gojo, Lers!Yuji, Nobara, Megumi

Lee!Inumaki

Lers!Shoko, Geto, Lee!Gojo

My Hero Academia

Lee!Dabi, Ler!Shigaraki

Todoroki x Reader

One Piece

Lee!Zoro, Ler!Luffy

Pokemon

Bonnie and Clemont being comfort buddies

Lee!Red, Ler!Blue

Sacredshipping tickle fight

Ortega x Reader

HassBrassLarrry Tickles

SK8 the infinity 

Lee!Tadashi, Lers!Reki, Langa

Spy x Family

Twiyor, Anya

Lee!Damien, Lers!Anya, Bond

Toilet Bound Hanako-Kun

Lee!Kou, Ler!Mitsuba

Tokyo Revengers

Lee!Draken

☁️☁️Sun Showers ☁️☁️

Remaining Headcanon Requests

Kokushibou Tickle Headcanons (Demon Slayer)

Arven Comforting Reader Headcanons (Pokemon)

Arven Winter/Christmas Headcanons (Pokemon) **Oh Hold until Winter**

Ler!Nemora Headcanons (Pokemon)

Arven with a gift giving partner headcanons (Pokemon)

Arven x Scared!Crush Headcanons (Pokemon)

Ler!Arven Headcanons (Pokemon)

Aoyama Headcanons (MHA)

Cherry Tickle Headcanons (Sk8 The Infinity)

Penny Headcanons (Pokemon)

☁️☁️Cotton Candy Clouds ☁️☁️

Fic Ideas I have that I might create. Putting them here for maximum motivation.

Ler!Tschuchigomori, Lees!Hanako, Nene, Kou **More an Idea** (TBHK)

Todobaku ice fight turned tickle fight (MHA)

Something With Vanessa cause she's amazing **More an idea** (Black Clover)

#Squiggily's cloud watching #works in progress #wip #fics #requests

[stillnotovermylordsixth]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Given (Anime), Given (Manga) Rating: Teen And Up Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Kaji Akihiko/Nakayama Haruki, Satou Mafuyu/Uenoyama Ritsuka Characters: Kaji Akihiko, Nakayama Haruki, Satou Mafuyu, Uenoyama Ritsuka Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Love, Friendship, Illness, Hurt/Comfort, Haru gets strep throat, Aki being a caring bf, Light Angst, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, here have a bucket of feels, Kissing, Boys In Love, Sickfic, holiday vibes, Snowmen, Given Winter Holiday Event 2020 Summary:

Haruki feels down in the dumps after strep throat keeps him from playing at the winter festival. Akihiko makes a wonderful nurse and has a surprise in store to cheer his boyfriend up.

DAY 6: DECORATING

@givenevents

#given #akiharu #nakayama haruki #kaji akihiko #winter2020 #given manga #given anime #ultra fluffy

[ao3feed-ladynoir]

Sickbug

Sickbug by Aki

“M-Milady, what do you want me to do?” He asks urgently, aware that there's no way she can get home alone in her current state and he wouldn't be much of a gentleman if he left her out here, even if it was just long enough for their Miraculous’ to recharge. “You're nearly out of time…and…” And I want to see you, but I don't know if that's what you want…

Words: 6544, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Miraculous Ladybug

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/M

Characters: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug

Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug

Additional Tags: Sickfic, Sick Character, Secret Identity, Secrets, Revelations, Truth, Trust, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Realization, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

Read Here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/17364374

#AO3 Feed #FanFiction #AO3 Adrienette #💚 #💖 #❤️ #Adrienette #Miraculous Ladybug #♥ #R:G #A:Aki #Sick Fic

[ladysunamireads]

Sickbug

Sickbug by Aki

“M-Milady, what do you want me to do?” He asks urgently, aware that there's no way she can get home alone in her current state and he wouldn't be much of a gentleman if he left her out here, even if it was just long enough for their Miraculous’ to recharge. “You're nearly out of time…and…” And I want to see you, but I don't know if that's what you want…

Words: 6544, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Miraculous Ladybug

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/M

Characters: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug

Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug

Additional Tags: Sickfic, Sick Character, Secret Identity, Secrets, Revelations, Truth, Trust, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Realization, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

Read Here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/17364374

#AO3 Feed #FanFiction #AO3 Adrienette #♥ #Adrienette #MLB #🐞🐱 #Sick Fic #A:Aki

[whats-k-popping]

Cuz you're amazing. Wooyoung in his Bouncy era and the prompt “I got your hair, it’s okay.”

Thanks for requesting Anon! 🧡🧡🧡

Pairing: Wooyoung x Hongjoong - platonic intentions, but open interpretation.

Words: 1916

Warnings: Emeto || Graphic Descriptions of Vom!ting || Stomach Ache

Inspiration: Bouncy Era Wooyoung. (Using content from the MV filming with creative liberty).

“Cut!” The director calls out and all eight members drop their characters, trying to regain their breath after filming the group dance scene. “That’s a wrap for this location. San-ssi and Wooyoung-ssi, you’re off to the next location to film your scenes. Everyone else, filming resumes tomorrow.” Crew members hustle around the set to collect the equipment. Meanwhile, the members all walk back to wardrobe to get back into their street clothes. 

Wooyoung and San are quickly ushered away by the managers toward the van waiting to take them to the next location. Hongjoong tags along as well. If anyone asks, he just wants to monitor their progress. But the two 99z know Hongjoong’s going to keep an eye on them. And they can’t blame him for it. Not since their last solo shoot. 

“Can we get food on the way?” Wooyoung asks whoever is listening. “I’m starving.” He emphasizes, rubbing a hand over his stomach with a defined pout. 

“Wooyoung-ah, you still have to film. You don’t wanna dance on a full stomach.” Hongjoong reminds, “You’ll make yourself sick.” 

“Just a little something? Please,” the youngest pleads, “It’s mostly acting in the next scene. I don’t really dance. And my outfit’s loose too.” 

Hongjoong reviews the plans for San and Wooyoung’s solo shoot, reading over the notes. And Wooyoung’s right. There isn’t any choreo to film. So he doesn’t see why Wooyoung couldn’t eat something before the shoot. He sighs, “I guess there’s no reason you can’t get a snack.” 

Wooyoung’s pout morphs into a wide smile. “You’re the best, hyung!” He hugs the leader, much to his displeasure. 

Wooyoung chooses tteokbokki as his snack, despite Hongjoong warning him that something spicy might not be the best idea. The youngest 99 disregards the warning, reminding the leader that he loves spicy food. And he can totally handle it. Hongjoong’s skeptical, but the satisfaction on the younger’s face as he slurps up each rice cake eases him. 

“Spicy,” Wooyoung exhales slowly as he swallows the last bite. 

“Cheon-yang gochu vibe” San sings in response. Even Hongjoong has to laugh at the remark. 

When they arrive at the set, the three members separate. Wooyoung is set to shoot first, so he rushes off to wardobe. San’s directed to make-up to start applying his fake injuries. And Hongjoong reviews the set to make sure everything’s in order. He chats with the director and other crew members while he waits for Wooyoung to join them. 

Wooyoung’s not a man of many regrets. He trusts his decisions and makes choices passionately, even if they aren’t always the best choices. He sees no point in reflecting on the past or thinking in hindsight. And he always looks for the bright side of every situation and doesn’t try to assign blame. 

But this time. This time he thinks he’s made a mistake. His stomach gurgles while he’s getting his hair done. He knows something is wrong, and he hasn’t even moved around too much. Even though he’s not dancing on the set, he’s still moving around. And the remnants of his tteokbokki snack will be sloshing around with him. He finds himself wishing he hadn’t chosen such a spicy dish for his snack. 

They’re on a tight filming schedule. So he’s going to have to push through the discomfort and get in character. A few deep breaths and he’s ready to head out to the set. Wooyoung immerses himself in the character in order to suppress his angered stomach. 

The first few takes go on without a hitch. He has to suppress a few sour burps here and there, stifle hiccups every now and then. But there's not much movement. He just needs to sit in the van and let his expressions do all the work. 

He stands close to Hongjoong as they walk toward the boxing set. He contemplates telling his leader about his upset stomach, but he fears the barrage of 'I told you so's and 'I tried to warn you's that he's sure the leader would unleash upon him. So he fidgets with the hem of his button down and listens to Hongjoong's voice as they walk. 

Hongjoong is actually praising him. Or rather, praising his character, as they walk on. "This concept really fits you, Young-ah. The long hair really compliments your visuals." The leader plays with the ponytail, "I think Atiny will really like it." 

Typically, Wooyoung would bask in his leader's praises, even if it's just complimenting his consistent visual role in the group. He would usually bat his long lashes to get more attention. Or tease Hongjoong for showing any kind of affection. But he can't even force a smile. It's taking all of his effort to swallow the growing nausea and keep it at bay. 

The rapper also notices that Wooyoung's not responding to the compliments in his typical fashion. He had suspected that something was wrong during the van filming. He'd caught the younger member grimacing between takes with a fearful look in his eyes. He figured it was just nerves. So he's trying to boost the younger's confidence. It doesn't seem to be working. "Wooyoung, are you okay"? Before he even gives the other member time to answer, he continues, "You know to tell me if somethings wrong." 

A few seconds of silence pass between them and Wooyoung fidgets more. Hongjoong has to stop him before he rips a button of the shirt pulling at the hem like that. "Hyung, I-" he's about to confess when the director calls him to the set. His whole demeanor changes. "I'll tell you later." And he scurries to find the director. Hongjoong sighs as he goes to stand by the monitors. He ensures to keep an eye on Wooyoung and pull the plug if anything seems out of sorts. 

Wooyoung doesn't have any specific role here. He's just supposed to move around the boxing ring. They'll cut the best clips for the video later. It's both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, he doesn't have to move too much. But on the other, it leaves too much time for self-awareness. 

"Can't you give it more passion, Wooyoung-ssi. You're lacking energy." The director scolds. Wooyoung's movements aren't exactly aligning to the beat of the song. Wooyoung is obedient, so he starts jumping around the ring, all smiles and sexy expressions as if his stomach isn't tumbling inside of him. 

"Much better! Keep it up," The director praises. After who knows how long, the director calls a cut. "Okay, how about some shots jumping on the ropes?" The camera crew rearranges to shoot the far corner and Wooyoung gets into position. He turns his back to the camera and rubs his stomach, pleading that it holds out until after the filming. 

He does what he's asked to do. If he were feeling better, he might actually enjoy swinging and jumping around the ropes. But his stomach has had enough of it. The burps are coming more frequently, and they're getting harder to stifle. And each one brings back the spicy flavor of the tteokbokki that he's trying to forget. 

While he plays on the ropes, he feels his hair tie loosen, and with the next throw of his head, the strands fall around his face. The director quickly cuts the cameras and calls for the hair crew on set. 

Wooyoung jumps off the stand and runs off set. Hongjoong assumes at first he's rushing to the monitor to review, but the younger member sprints past the monitor area and past the crew. The leader watches as the long strands of hair bounce as he exits the stage. Before the director can yell at him for unprofessionalism, he apologizes and assures to bring the other back quickly. 

Hongjoong chases after Wooyoung, not with anger but with worry. He follows the patterned button down shirt all the way to the bathroom. "Wooyoung-ah!" He shouts to get the younger’s attention. 

Wooyoung can't turn around, too fixated on making it to the toilet in time. He hovers over the nearest sink with his lips pressed tightly together. As he stares down at the drain, he watches his long strands of hair dangle around what would inevitably be the splash zone. He tries lowering his head, but his hair just ends up sitting in the sink. And that's objectively worse. 

A long belch nearly tears his lips open, filling his mouth with foul tasting sick. But he manages to hold it back with a muffled whimper. He clenched his eyes shut and shakes his head, frustrated with the whole situation. He vows he'll never eat tteokbokki again after this fiasco. 

It's the calming voice of his leader that soothes his nerves. Long, gentle fingers scrape against his hairline, pulling the long strands of hair back. Hongjoong tightly grips the strands to keep them out of Wooyoung's face. 

"I've got your hair. It's okay." He coaxes the younger, placing his free hand over one of Wooyoung's against the edge of the sink. "You can let it out." 

It's embarrassing vomiting like this in front of their leader. But Hongjoong is the only person he feels like he needs right now. He parts his lips just enough to let the sick he had stored in his cheeks fall into the drain. Undigested chunks of tteokbokki fill the sink, too large to fit down the grate. The sight and the smell force another wave before he even has time to breathe. 

While Wooyoung catches his breath, Hongjoong guides the vocalist into a stall. He's easy to maneuver, relinquishing all control to the captain. The rapper situates him in front of the toilet and readjusts his grip on Wooyoung's ponytail. When Wooyoung doesn't immediately puke again, Hongjoong speaks, "Do you think you're done?" 

Wooyoung shrugs his shoulders. He certainly hopes so, but there's still a sour feeling in his stomach. 

"Do you think you can finish the filming?" He asks. He releases Wooyoung's hair, tucking the strands behind each of Wooyoung's ears just so they're out of the way. He makes a mental note to redo Wooyoung's ponytail once they're out of the bathroom. 

Wooyoung knows he doesn't really have a choice in the matter. "Can Sannie film now? I'll finish, I just need a few minutes." 

Hongjoong nodded, "I'll talk to the director. I'll let him know you're not feeling well, and see if they can film San's scenes now while you rest." 

"Thank you hyungie." Wooyoung cuddles against the elder. Hongjoong doesn't shy away despite his distaste for skinship or the putrid odor clinging to the vocalists lips. 

Once Wooyoung's stomach feels settled, he and Hongjoong make the journey back to the greenroom. "You know, this wouldn't have happened if-" 

Wooyoung cuts the leader off, "Hyung, no!" He whines, drawing out the last syllable. "Please no 'I told you so's. I don't feel good. I can't sit through a lecture right now." 

Hongjoong chuckles at the whiny member clinging to him as they shuffle through the studio. "Alright, I'll save it for later," He pets the younger's hair as they walk, thinking to himself about how much he likes the long strands. "kind of like you should have done with the tteokbokki." 

Wooyoung's stomach gurgles at that and a small burp jolts his body, like the mere mention of the food is enough to make him sick, "Hyung~~~." 

"Okay, okay." Hongjoong soothes, "You just rest, Young-ah. Hyung will take care of everything."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I had tried listening to Bouncy on repeat while writing this, but eventually had to stop because I kept getting distracted by the chorus choreo. I had to stop. If this song isn't my Spotify #1 song, I will be legitimately surprised. I listen to Bouncy at least 5 times a day. I also watched the music video a ton and took notes from the MV Filming to include in this request. To say I'm obsessed with Bouncy era would be an understatement. So thank you for the request!

As always, thanks for reading to the end! Feedback is always appreciated. And please let me know if I missed any tags or TWs. Please call me out for any errors you notice!

#kpop sickfic #ateez sickfic #ateez emeto #ateez #ateez bouncy #sick!wooyoung #caretaker!Hongjoong #ateez canonverse #tw emeto #emeto fic #aki writes #aki sickfic #aki requests

[whats-k-popping]

sick han with prompts 1, 31, 81 and caretaker chan?

Remember back in July when I opened requests for this prompt list?? I'm so so sorry it's taken me this long to finish! But I hope this anon is still around! Thanks for requesting it. Despite the long time it took me to finish, I really did enjoy writing for Stray Kids. While I really enjoy them, it's the first time writing them. I hope the characterization is decent.

Pairing: Chan x Han - platonic intentions but read as you want.

Prompts: "You're burning up" || "Hey, are you still with me?" || Holding your hair as you're vomiting into the toilet. You keep apologizing, but seriously I don't mind.

Words: 2197

Warnings: Fever || Emeto || Graphic Descriptions of illness || Slight Angst

Jisung's been staring at the same piece of paper for hours now. He holds his head in his hands as he watches the words blur together, swimming around whatever percentage of his vision hasn't been plagued with floating black spots.

He promised Chan he would finish these lyrics, but he hasn't been struck with a single ounce of inspiration. And he's been re-reading the draft for so long that the words he's already written hardly make sense anymore. As much as it pains him to admit, he's not going to be able to finish it. 

Chan is sitting at his desk, while Jisung's sitting cross-legged on the floor. It's amazing, Jisung thinks, just how focused and dedicated his leader is. It's nearly 2 AM, and they've been holed up in this studio trying to finish this song since 6 PM. Chan hasn't complained once. He hasn't so much as stopped for a bathroom break, still clicking away on his laptop. Meanwhile, Jisung is putting all his energy into making the words on the paper stay still. It's just not fair. 

Eventually, the swirling syllables make his head pound and his stomach roll. He suddenly feels like he's on a boat in the middle of the ocean during a tropical storm. If he so much as glances back at that paper, he's going to lose his dinner. So he pushes the pages aside. 

The rapid fluttering of the paper startles Chan, who turns and looks at the youngest producer for the first time in hours. He looks confused, "You good?" 

Jisung nods, one up and down motion because anymore may make him dizzier than he already is. "I just need a little break. Been staring at the same thing for too long. It's starting to look like gibberish." 

Chan smirks, knowing he's been there before. He glances at the time and is shocked at just how much time has passed. Working until the early hours of the morning is nothing new for him, but usually Jisung calls a quits around midnight. Especially if they have early schedules the next day. 

The leader walks over to the younger member and drapes a blanket over his shoulders, "Take a rest. It might help refresh your mind." 

Jisung only protests for a moment before he rests his head against his folded arms. The blanket brings him a warmth he didn't realize that he was missing,  "Wake me in 30 minutes." He requests before quickly succumbing to the exhaustion. 

30 minutes passes like seconds to Chan, never an expert at keeping time when in the production zone. He falls so deep into the track he's working on that he forgets Jisung is even in the room with him. He's reminded when the young rapper lets out a whine loud enough to break through the leader's headphones.

Chan turns his chair to look at Jisung, who is still curled over the table asleep. Despite the whine that alerted him, he seems rather peaceful. So the leader assumes that it was just Jisung talking in his sleep. He's no stranger to the younger mumbling weird and random things in his sleep. 

He spares a glance at the clock and finds that two hours passed in the blink of an eye. It's after 4 now and Chan thinks maybe it's time the two of them head back to the dorm. Before Jisung wakes up with an awful cramp in his neck and an ache in his lower back. They have dance practice in the afternoon, and Chan knows Minho will not shy away from scolding him if Jisung's not in his best condition. 

Making sure he's triple saved his work, he shuts down his station and slides himself beside the sleeping rapper. As he scoots a little closer, he notices that Jisung's face is glistening with sweat. And his skin is noticeably pale even under the dimmed studio lighting. Weird, he thinks, Jisung seemed fine when they were working earlier. He presses one hand against Jisung's forehead and the other against his own. Jisung's skin is blazing compared to his. 

When Chan pulls his hand away, Jisung subconsciously follows. And when he can't find the cool hand anymore, he blinks himself awake with a quivering pout. His eyes eventually settle on Chan's figure beside him and he whines. "Hyung, where'd the cold go?" He slurs the words together, it's nearly indecipherable. 

Chan quickly realizes what Jisung wants and holds his hand back out for the rapper. Jisung takes the hands and holds it close to his face like a stuffed animal, nuzzling his cheek into the leader's palm. "Feels nice." He mumbles, nearly falling asleep again. "I feel funny," he admits.

"I'd bet you do," Chan uses his other hand to play with the rapper's sweaty strands of hair, "You're burning up." 

Jisung shakes his head, and Chan feels it in both of his hands more than he sees it happening. "No, not that. My tummy." He whines, "my tummy feels funny." 

At that, Chan moves the hand from Jisung's hair and presses it over his stomach area. He finds the rapper's middle swollen. And he can feel the organ gurgling angrily through the fabric of Jisung's shirt. "Oh, Hannie." Chan comforts. "You must've caught some kind of bug. Poor thing." He rubs the younger’s stomach, trying to relieve some of the pressure. 

Jisung leans into the touch longingly, inching himself closer to Chan. "Hyung, ‘m sorry," he whines, "I don't think I can finish the lyrics tonight." The words fall out of Jisung's mouth like an afterthought, a similar slur to his sleep talking voice. 

Chan clicks his tongue. In all honestly, Chan had even forgotten about the lyrics and deadlines and group responsibilities. His sole priority right now is Jisung's health. “Don’t worry about that right now, Sungie.” he reminds in a soft voice as he strokes through Jisung’s sweaty hair. “Let’s just get you back to the dorm.”

What’s usually a simple task seems impossible. Jisung is so out of it, he can’t even force himself to stand on his own. Chan has to pull him up by the armpits. And even once he’s on his feet, Jisung sways a little before his head falls against Chan’s shoulder. “Hey,” he nudges the younger, “Are you still with me?” he panics, thinking Jisung had passed out on him. At this point, he’s thinking of skipping the dorm altogether and going right to the hospital. Jisung’s gotten too sick too quickly. 

When he feels Jisung nod his head against his chest, he relaxes a bit, just relieved that his dongsaeng is still conscious. He does his best to keep Jisung engaged while he thinks up a plan to get them back to the dorm. Walking doesn’t seem like a reliable option. 

While Chan comes to terms with the fact that he’s going to have to carry his sick member home, Jisung pushes Chan away with a force the leader didn’t know he still had. Jisung’s eyes widen and he lets out a wet hiccup. Clamping a hand over his mouth, Jisung runs out of the studio. Chan doesn’t have time to question the newfound burst of energy as he bolts after him. He follows him into the bathroom and into the largest stall at the far end. Jisung doesn’t even try to waste time locking the door. There are no obstacles in Chan’s way, which he greatly appreciates. 

Jisung bends at the waist over the clean bowl, stomach contents immediately slip between his finger tips, staining the seat and the walls. Some droplets splatter on the floor in front of him. He removes his now vomit soaked hand and uses it to grip the side of the bowl, mirroring his other hand. For a second, they are the only thing keeping him from smacking his head against the porcelain. But two hands support him quickly, one on his waist and the other on his shoulder. Jisung doesn’t have the mental bandwidth to resist as they guide him into a kneeling position. It’s probably for the best. His legs have nothing left after his sprint from the studio.

“Okay, okay,” Chan soothes. “I’ve got you.” 

Jisung just shakes his head, tears streaming down his cheeks as he continues to heave into the toilet. He has so many things he wants to say, but he can’t get a syllable out between gags. It’s warm and it burns his throat. The taste left behind just makes him more nauseous. When he sniffles, the sting of vomit burns the back of his nose. It’s a miserable experience. 

Strands of Jisung’s longer hair dangle in front of his face, frequently getting caught up in the sick pouring from his mouth. Chan does his best to pull them back, but every time he thinks he has them all one strand falls loose and dangles around the younger's mouth. It's a never ending cycle of carding and tugging at Jisung's hair. Chan even gets remnants of vomit on his hands in the process. But he manages to hold back the grimaces of disgust to spare Jisung's feelings. 

Jisung momentarily loses his sense of awareness to his surroundings. The only thing he can think about is the eruption of mostly digested food, stomach acid and bile pouring out of him. Every time he thinks it's over, he's starting again before he can even get in a decent breath. After 10 agonizing minutes, Jisung finally catches a break. He's able to take a deep breath that doesn't trigger a wave of nausea and assumes his whole body is empty. There's a hollow feeling in his abdomen and he briefly wonders if he's actually thrown up all of his organs in the midst of it all. 

He's shocked into reality when present company tugs at his hair, jostling his whole head. He's got a headache now, and that didn't help. He looks at the offending individual with as much malice as he can muster. It's a mere 2% intimidating. 

"Do you feel a bit better now that you've gotten it all out?" Chan asks, so gentle and kind and hand still clamped to the back of Jisung's head. He doesn't look mad. 

Jisung can't understand why he isn't. He sniffles, trying to ward off a new wave of tears. He's not sure why he's crying now. Maybe it's shame, or guilt. It could be the headache. It's probably the fever. But there's a lot going on. Jisung is overstimulated by his own emotions. It pours out of him like a fountain. "I'm sorry, hyung!" He whimpers. 

"I'm sorry for being so gross. I didn't mean to. And you had to stay with me." 

"Hannie-" 

"And I missed the toilet a bit. I made a mess here. And some of it got on you. I'm so sorry," 

"Han, it's-" 

"What if you get sick now? How will we get work done?" Jisung's eyes widen, "and I didn't finish the lyrics like I promised. I'm sorry, hyung! I tried. And you couldn't finish your work either. You stopped to take care of me." 

"Han Jisung!" Chan tried a third time in a more demanding tone. It startled the younger rapper, which Chan feels bad about. His dongsaeng needs comfort. Not scoldings. But it did finally got him to stop rambling. He softens his tone quickly. "You don't need to apologize for anything, alright?" He assures. 

Jisung just continues looking at him, still too stunned by his hyung's authoritative tone to react. 

"Everybody gets sick sometimes. It's out of our control. It's my job, as your leader and your hyung to take care of you when you need it. So I need you to let you me. And don't worry about work or the deadlines. I know you're doing your best with the lyrics. And they will still be there when you're feeling ready to finish them. But for now you need to focus on your health and getting better. Do you understand?" Jisung nods. "Good, now. How are you feeling? Any better than earlier?" 

Jisung shakes his head this time. "My tummy feels empty now. But I have a headache, and I'm really really cold." He admits, "Hyung, I just wanna go home." 

"That's my Hannie," Chan smiles, petting the younger man's hair. "Let's get you home. I'll get you two days off schedules so you can rest up. How does that sound?" 

Jisung smiles a bit. Chan thinks it's the smallest smile he's ever seen in his life. "Thank you, hyung" 

"You're welcome Sungie." He helps the younger to stand up and guides him out of the bathroom. He asks Jisung to wait on a hallway bench while he calls Changbin. It's nearly 5 AM now, and the third 3racha member is probably waking up to get ready for his morning workout. Probably the only member ever willingly awake this early, besides the ones who don't sleep.

While they wait for their fellow producer, Jisung bobs in and out of sleep leaning against the bathroom wall. Chan's taken to cleaning the mess that became of the stall without complaint. Because that's just what hyungs do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: The ending feels a little rushed to me. I always feel like I want to keep writing until the sickie feels better, but that would be a super long fic. So I apologize for the abrupt ending.

As always, thanks for reading to the end! I really appreciate each and every one of you who make it this far! Feedback is always appreciated. And please let me know if I missed any tags or TWs. Please call me out for any errors you notice!

#stray kids #stray kids sickfic #skz sickfic #sick!Han #caretaker!Chan #skz fever #skz emeto #tw fever #tw emeto #aki sickfic #aki writes #aki requests

[whats-k-popping]

Not Valid

Summary: Just pulling the phone closer to him hurts his muscles. And the bright light of the screen has him seeing stars. A new headache pulses behind his eyes. But all he has to do is pull up Mingi’s contact and press the phone button. He can manage for that long. 

Pairing: Minsang - Platonic intentions but open interpretation.

Words: 3236

Warnings: Illness || Fever || Angst || Non-graphic Nightmares || Mingi Hiatus era

Inspiration: Loosely inspired by canon Minsang phone number incident. Modified events to fit into this story.

“He’s finally asleep,” Seonghwa sighs, shoulders slumped as though they may fall right out of their sockets. He exits the bedroom corridor, joining the members waiting in the living room. 

Hongjoong hangs up the phone as he emerges from the kitchen entrance, sitting around the other 6 members. “Managers said anything above 38.5 is excused from schedules. Anything over 40 and it’s a trip to the hospital.” 

“He’s still just over the 39 mark. His fever hasn’t gone lower than 38.8 all night,” Seonghwa admits, throwing himself on the couch despite the fact that it’s already occupied by the three youngest. He had volunteered to stay up with Yeosang through the night. He’s exhausted and not the least bit excited for their daily schedule, but he’s already resolved to nap on the drive to their filming location. 

Hongjoong’s already texting the manager and alerting them of Yeosang’s most recent temperature. He’s also asking (demanding) that his schedule be cleared for at least two days. Seonghwa makes himself comfortable on Wooyoung’s lap, “Even if he wasn’t excused, there’s no way he could make it through the day. He can’t even sit up on his own.” Silence falls on the room, the other occupants looking between the two eldest, unasked questions like elephants in the room. Hesitation on the tip of their tongues.

Hongjoong feels the tension like cement blocks on his shoulders. It’s his job to anticipate these things. Though no one had expected their resident Doberman (read: Maltese) to get sick, especially as quickly as he did. Regardless, his job is to make sure the members are taken care of. And their physical condition comes first. “Mingi, what’s your schedule look like?” 

“Just vocal recording.” the fellow rapper replies. Since he’s returned from hiatus, upper management has decided to ease him back into the idol lifestyle so as not to overwhelm him. He’s only had one or two simple schedules a day for two weeks now. And while he’s grateful for the accommodation, he can’t help but feel he’s not really pulling his weight for the group. But he’s talked about these feelings with his members and they’ve all reminded him that it’s best to go at this pace to avoid a relapse. And silver linings, he’s available when the members need help.

“Sangie should be fine on his own for an hour or so. Honestly, he’ll probably stay asleep most of the day since he didn’t get much last night.” Seonghwa supplies. 

Mingi realizes quickly where the conversation is headed. “I’ll look after him once I’m done with recording,” he volunteers, like it’s not already the decided answer to unasked questions. 

Wooyoung wraps his arms around Mingi’s broad shoulders, hugging him tightly, “Take care of my best friend, Minnie.” 

Mingi pats Wooyoung’s back with a wide smile. “And here I thought I was your best friend,” He says sarcastically. 

San scoffs and mutters “Get in line” to which Wooyoung’s jaw drops to the floor and the rest of the room bursts into laughter. Mingi has to admit, it’s good to be back. 

Hongjoong takes one more trip down the bedroom corridor to check on Yeosang before their managers arrive. The leader smooths out the younger’s hair and sets a few things within reach should Yeosang wake up urgently. He then joins the other members as the vans pull up in front of their dorm. Mingi gets into one van while the other six pile into the other. 

As expected, Mingi finishes his schedule quickly and he’s back to the dorm an hour later. The first thing he does after kicking off his shoes is make sure that Yeosang’s still alive. He peeks his head inside and finds the older vocalist curled up under the covers. Exactly how Hongjoong said he left him. He looks peaceful, contrary to how he’d seen Yeosang staggering through the dorm last night. After the night he knows Yeosang had, he doesn’t want to disturb him. So he softly closes the door and notifies the group chat that he’s back and Yeosang is officially in his “very capable hands.” It wouldn’t be the member’s LINE group chat if Wooyoung doesn’t make a dirty joke out of it. 

He goes back to the living room and connects his switch to the TV. There’s a game he’s been meaning to play. And usually he feels guilty playing during the day. But he figures there’s nothing else he should be doing as long as Yeosang sleeps. He’s not due for another dose of medicine yet, and Yunho prepared food to heat up if Yeosang wakes up hungry. So he leans against the back of the couch, an excited smile on his face as he boots up the game. He even remembers to turn the volume down so he could hear Yeosang call for him. 

Yeosang tosses and turns in the throes of yet another vivid fever dream. He always gets them when he’s feverish. When he was younger, they used to be filled with truly terrifying things, like clowns and cartoon monsters. And that one about bees that unsettles him to this day. But recently they are always the same plot. Now they always involve the members. Sometimes, the members are mad at him. Sometimes, he leaves the members. Sometimes there’s a tragic accident. No matter the preface, the ending always remains the same. Yeosang always ends up alone. 

This one ends with a devastating plane crash and the sight of his member’s mangled bodies. It’s the visual of San’s severed head that shocks him to consciousness. The first thing he notices is his heart beating against the wall of his chest. With enough force, it might bust through his rib cage. He tries to take a deep breath, but quickly realizes that no matter how hard he tries, the air won’t come through. His breaths are short and ragged. Then he feels cold tracks running along his cheeks. Tears. 

He reaches for where he usually keeps a water bottle next to the bed. Or, rather, he tries to. The simple action of extending his arm hurts. Every joint aches, sending signals of pain to his clouded mind. Just taking his hand from the warm encasing of the covers sends a sharp chill all the way to his spine. And suddenly his whole body feels 20 degrees below freezing. He’s still crying. 

It takes more energy than it should for Yeosang to grab the water bottle, only to find it empty. Feeling the air light bottle shatters his heart. He’s already crying, and he won’t stop anytime soon. He feels betrayed for a moment, astounded that someone would drink his water. He doesn’t remember drinking it. But he doesn’t remember much of the last 12 hours, actually. Glimpses of the last 12 hours flash through his mind. There’s only bits and pieces of members’ faces after deciding that Jongho’s lap would be a good place to rest. He should apologize to their maknae.

Rather than launch a full scale investigation on the case of the missing water, he focuses on where he’s going to find more. He’s losing water faster than he can replenish. With the sweat and the tears, he’ll risk dehydration soon. And even his fevered foggy mind knows that is something he would like to avoid. He can hear Seonghwa’s soft voice in his head: “You need to drink, Sangie. We can’t have you getting dehydrated.” So that’s where his water had gone. 

The dryness in his mouth battles the nausea swirling in his stomach. He’s somewhere between thirsty and nauseous. He needs to be hydrated, in case that swirling does result in vomiting. Has he done that yet? He can’t even remember. But the kitchen is so far away. He doesn’t think he could make it to the bedroom door. The kitchen may as well be on another continent. His lips start quivering, mustering up the reserves of his strength to venture into their suddenly too big dorm. How foolish he’s been to complain about the size of their dorm before. 

When he sits up, he spots a note on the side table. There’s a chart logging the medications he’s taking and when he needs his next dose. This had been Jongho’s diligent work after he accidentally over-medicated San when he was sick. Since then, the med table has been an absolute must in the ATEEZ dorm. They don’t need any more scares like that. Aside the medication chart, there’s a sticky note written in Hongjoong’s scratchy handwriting. He wipes the tears from his eyes so he can read it: 

I got you two days off. We’ll see how you’re feeling after that. Mingi is going to be at the dorm with you. Let him know if you need anything. Feel better. -Hyung. 

A wave of relief washes over Yeosang’s weakened body. He smiles for the first time since he’d woken up, thrilled to find he’s not alone in the dorm. Not only will Mingi be able to help him, but he doesn’t like to be alone when he’s feeling so poorly. Not that he’s ever told anyone. He knows sometimes it’s unavoidable. 

Relaxing back into the bed, Yeosang reaches for his phone to call Mingi. Just pulling the phone closer to him hurts his muscles. And the bright light of the screen has him seeing stars. A new headache pulses behind his eyes. But all he has to do is pull up Mingi’s contact and press the phone button. He can manage for that long. 

“The number you have dialed is not valid.” 

That’s not possible. He tries again. 

“The number you have dialed is not valid.” 

The relieved smile falls, and Yeosang’s eyes fill with tears again. Maybe one more time. 

“The number you have dialed is not valid.” 

And when he hears that dreaded message a third time, the tears spill again. Did Mingi block his number? Or did he turn off his phone? But Mingi’s supposed to be taking care of him. He hasn’t seen Mingi all night, if the fleeting flashbacks are anything to go by. Doesn’t Mingi care about him? Shouldn’t Mingi check in on him? He weeps at the cyclone of thoughts swirling through his clouded mind. 

He’s never craved attention so desperately. All he wants is touch. Nothing too extreme. Delicate fingers running through his hair. Maybe a steady palm on his shoulder or cool knuckles against his forehead. He just doesn’t want to be alone. In all of his nightmares, he ends up alone. But those are just nightmares. He never thought they would translate to his reality. Hopelessly, he clutches the phone close to his chest and weeps. Maybe Mingi will hear him? Maybe Mingi won’t care. 

Mingi has cleared through eight levels already. He’s hyperfocused on each mission, the game much more captivating than even the trailers made it seem. He’s so engrossed in the game, he’d nearly forgotten about Yeosang. That is, until his phone rings and he catches sight of Wooyoung’s silly selca on the screen. He instantly pauses the game and picks up the phone. 

“Song Mingi! Where are our updates!” Wooyoung screams. Based on the voice’s distance from the receiver, he assumes Wooyoung is not alone. The others are probably crowding the phone. 

Mingi startles at the question. How long has it been since he last checked on Yeosang? He’s been back for nearly three hours. He bites his lower lip. “There’s nothing to report, Woo.” He hesitates, “Sangie’s been asleep the whole time.” 

“Did his fever break yet?” 

“He didn’t even wake up for his medicine?” 

“You should wake him up. He needs to eat.” 

Mingi’s heart sinks. The members all trusted him to take care of Yeosang. He wants to contribute to the team. And he doesn’t even do that well. His mentality shifts to formulate an excuse. In his defense, he's used to having the place to himself these days. And Yeosang's been so quiet, he'd forgotten he was there. Mingi just hopes the quiet isn't a bad thing. 

“I’m sorry,” Mingi states ambiguously, “I’m going to check on him now. I’ll update the group chat.” He hangs up the call before anyone can voice their disappointment.

When he approaches the bedroom corridor, he hears the sobbing. The sound gets louder as he rushes to Yeosang’s room. He throws the door open and finds Yeosang curled into a fetal position. 

His eyes have dried up from dehydration, no more tears left to shed. But his voice still breaks with hiccuping whimpers and sobs. Mingi rushes to the bedside, falling to his knees to get as close to Yeosang without climbing into the bed with him. 

"Sang-ah. Hey, are you okay?" He asks stupidly, already knowing the answer is a blaring no. "Are you still feeling sick" like the bright red feverish flush doesn't give it away. 

Yeosang just curls tighter into himself, shaking his head. He convinces himself that there is no way Mingi is here with him now. Mingi doesn’t care about him. He must be having another fever dream. This Mingi will leave him eventually. And he’ll be alone again. 

Mingi brushes his fingers underneath Yeosang’s sweaty fringe. Yeosang almost leans into the touch, but succumbing to the comfort would just be an evil trick. “You’re burning up!” Mingi exclaims, “Bre-Breathe with me, hyung, we-we need you to calm d-down.” 

This nightmare Mingi even stutters like the real one. And now there’s a hand on his chest, and a face close to his telling him to breathe in. And hold. And breathe out. Because he’s so close, and so warm, Yeosang does. Until he his breaths even out and he can no longer hear the sound of his own heartbeat drumming in his ears. All he hears now are comforting nothings whispered in Mingi’s deep, soothing voice. And he starts to believe Mingi is more than an evil figment of his imagination. His touch is genuine. His presence is comforting. His concern is written on his features. 

Nightmares make him cry. The nightmares never cry themselves. 

“You scared me,” Mingi confesses. He presses his forehead against Yeosang’s burning skin. “I’m sorry I wasn’t with you. What got you so upset?”

Yeosang sorts through his mind, trying to remember why he was so worked up in the first place. But he can’t focus on anything but the spots where Mingi’s skin is on him. It’s a welcome presence, a comfortable tingling reminding him that he’s not alone. Not in his room, and not in the world. He just makes a noncommittal sound, holding his arms out to initiate more contact. 

Mingi notices Yeosang’s phone clenched tightly in his grip as he goes to hug the older. He tries to pry the phone away from Yeosang, “Silly hyung, you shouldn’t be using your phone when you’re sick.” he jokes, “You should have been resting.” 

When Mingi pulls the phone away, the memory floods him again. He had tried to call Mingi. The number you have dialed is invalid. He remembers. Mingi doesn’t care about you. He reaches for the phone again, “You didn’t answer me.” He rasps, his mouth dry and voice hoarse from disuse.

“What was that?” Mingi hadn’t heard. 

“I-I tried to call you.” Yeosang shows Mingi the phone screen, shows him the three attempted outbound calls, “I needed you.”

Mingi pulls out his own phone. He checks his call records. He has exactly zero missed calls from Yeosang. But when he looks back to Yeosang's phone, he immediately recognizes the issue. He pulls Yeosang into a tighter hug, "Oh, hyung." He sighs, "that is my old number. I had it changed while I was on leave." 

Yeosang sniffles, suddenly feeling shy. And ashamed. His fault. He should have known better. Mingi would never shut him out. He's one of Mingi's top 5 favorite hyungs. "Oh." It's a small sentiment, but it clears up everything. If it comes up again, he'll blame it on the fever. 

Mingi snatches the phone from Yeosang yet again, and this time the older relinquishes it without complaint. "Here hyung," Mingi taps at the screen, "I deleted my old number and added the new one. So it will go through the next time you call." 

Yeosang nods, a lingering pout on his lips. He's grateful for Mingi's updated number. But he doesn't really want a reason to use it. 

"Not that you'll be calling me anytime soon. Because I'm not going to leave your side until you're feeling better." The taller man climbs into the bed. Yeosang smiles, quickly wrapping himself around Mingi like he's a body pillow. "Seonghwa may try to kick me out, but he can fight me. I think I can take him." Mingi smiles, running fingers through the older's dark hair. 

Yeosang just hums in reply, quickly falling asleep to the rapper's gentle scratching. "But don't tell him I said that." Mingi's laugh is music to his ears. "Hey, are you falling asleep?" And just like that, the soothing petting stops. Much to Yeosang's dissatisfaction. "No, you can't yet. I have to give you your medicine. And food. And you still have a fever. I haven't even taken care of you yet." 

"Not hungry," Yeosang replies, muffled against Mingi's shoulder. 

"Not negotiable. The others might actually kill me if I don't pamper you like the prince you are." Now it's Yeosang's turn to laugh. But it quickly digresses into coughing. And that reminds him, he's awfully thirsty. 

"Water." The vocalist raspy once he's finished coughing, "Thirsty." 

Mingi eyes the empty water bottle on the floor. He picks the bottle up with his left hand, and scoops Yeosang up into his right side. "Don't wanna move." Yeosang whines. 

"You're not moving. I'm carrying you." Mingi rebuts. 

"Still moving." He mumbles against Mingi's neck. Despite his protest, he quickly latches on, tired arms slung around Mingi's shoulders. "Where are you taking me?" 

"The kitchen," Mingi replies like it's obvious. "You said you wanted water." 

"I want you to bring me water." 

"No. I just promised that I wouldn't leave your side. Not even for a second." Mingi's wide hand runs along his back. 

Yeosang doesn’t have the energy to argue. So he succumbs and lets Mingi carry him to the kitchen. He gulps down the water while seated on Mingi's lap. He even eats a few pieces of fruit before he all but orders Mingi to take him back to bed. Mingi takes his temperature and records it on the log. He's still teetering at the 39 mark. Yeosang takes the meds he offered then resumes cuddling with the younger rapper. Mingi makes sure he sends a photo to the group chat. 

He's nearly asleep, lulled by the rise and fall of Mingi's chest, when his eyes shoot open and he reaches for his phone. 

"Sangie, what's wrong?" Mingi asks, but Yeosang doesn't reply. He keeps tapping at the screen. The room is silent for a few seconds until Mingi's ringtone echoes through the room. Mingi picks up his phone and shows Yeosang the Hehetmon drawing on the screen. 

Yeosang ends the call, wide smile on his face as he sets the phone back and nuzzles himself into Mingi's chest again. "Just making sure." 

Mingi smirks, presses a kiss to the crown of Yeosang's head. "Sweet dreams, hyung." 

And they are.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I've had this idea in my mind for a really long time. Mingi and Yeosang are my Ateez biases. I personally found the phone number incident really charming, especially the way they handled it. Also, no disrespect toward Mingi's hiatus. I have the most respect for him prioritizing himself and his health.

I feel like my writing has gone to shit. I'll keep working on it. Send me prompts to help me?

As always, thanks for reading to the end! I really appreciate each and every one of you who make it this far! Feedback is always appreciated. And please let me know if I missed any tags or TWs. Please call me out for any errors you notice!

#ateez #ateez sickfic #ateez fever #sick!Yeosang #caretaker!Mingi #ateez canonverse #minsang #tw fever #aki sickfic #aki writes #tw nightmare

[whats-k-popping]

92) After a fever dream wakes you up, I roll over and hold you close, your head underneath my chin.

With a Sick Theo and Keeho or Intak taking care of him?

Thanks so much for the request!! I got the idea and it kinda took off on it's own! What could have easily been one scene turned into a whole drabble! I hope you enjoy this sick!Theo content! I hope this satisfies your cravings!

Pairing: Keeho X Theo - platonic intentions, but open interpretation. Briefly ft. Intak.

Words: 1429

Warnings: Fever || Sick Member || Slight Angst || Nongraphic Fever Dream

Taeyang was thrilled to finally be on the way home. What started as just some sniffles morphed into a pounding headache, which developed into whole body aches, and then the body aches became an unshakable chill, and by that point, he'd come to the conclusion he's gotten sick.

His members had also figured it out rather quickly. He had no way of hiding it. His usually balanced complexion was pale, with feverish, sweaty blotches of red. And his striking eyes were glossed over with an obvious haze. Keeho's hand on the eldest's forehead only confirmed what they'd all suspected.

"Why didn't you say you were sick?" Keeho questions as he guides Taeyang into his room. He knows that as the leader, he has to reprimand such reckless behavior. But he wants to do it away from the younger members, to spare his hyung's dignity.

"I didn't know, I thought it was just a small cold." He admitted. "I didn't feel really bad until a few hours ago."

"Then you should have told me a few hours ago." Keeho retorts without missing a beat, "I don't care if we're in the middle of something, or if we have more schedules to get through. If you feel sick, you tell me. Nothing is worth risking your health."

Taeyang nods his head as he sits down on the edge of his bed. As belittling as it is, he knows Keeho is right. And he appreciates having a leader who will always put them first, especially when they struggle to do it themselves.

"Think you can go take a shower? It'll help. I'll get you some dinner and meds for when you get out." Keeho doesn't wait for a response before he's out the door, but Taeyang nods his head anyway, gathering his pajamas and staggering to the bathroom.

Intak is sitting beside the bathroom door, playing a game on his phone. When Taeyang sends him a questioning look, the rapper is quick to reply, "Keeho-hyung told me to sit here." He says defensively, waving his hands in innocence. "He doesn't want you to pass out in the shower or anything."

Taeyang doesn't have the mental capacity to ask any more questions, so he gives Intak a quick nod before stepping into the bathroom and closing the door. He doesn't lock it.

Intak is still seated there when he comes out, dressed in his loosest pajamas and hair still dripping wet. "Hyung," the rapper pockets his phone and jumps to stand across from him. "You need to dry your hair. You're already sick, don't want to make it worse."

"Tired." Taeyang pouts. The cool water of the shower took the last remaining ounce of his energy. He just wants to crawl into bed.

Intak chuckles, resting a hand on his hyungs shoulder. "C'mon. I'll do it for you." He guides the vocalist back into the bathroom and sits him on the closed toilet seat. "I'll be gentle, okay." There's a warmth in Intak's smile that allows Taeyang to relinquish any sense of control. He just lets Intak take over. And it's so comfortable. The soft way he towel dries the dripping ends, and the way his long fingers card through as he blows each strand dry. Taeyang nearly falls asleep sitting down.

It's Keeho's voice that breaks through the soft hum of the blow dryer. "There you are," he crouches down to Taeyang's eye level. "Ready for bed?"

Taeyang nods. The blow dryer turns off, and Intak cards through his now dry hair one last time before he creeps out of the bathroom. But not without wishing his hyung good health first.

"Let's get you to your room," Keeho holds a hand out for Taeyang. The older takes it, but makes no effort to list himself up. So the leader puts his other hand behind Taeyang's back and helps him to stand. Thankfully, Taeyang has enough lingering energy to shuffle back to his room.

The bedding is already turned down. And there's a tray of food sitting beside his bed, which is a charming sentiment because Keeho never allows food in the bedrooms. Taeyang drops himself into the bed and quickly pulls the covers over himself. "Keeho, I really don't feel good."

"I know, hyung. You'll feel better after some sleep." The leader sits on the edge of the bed. "I know you're tired, but you need to eat first."

Taeyang forces himself to eat a few bites just so he can satisfy the leader. He also begrudgingly swallows the fever reducers that Keeho demands he take, along with a handful of other vitamins. Once Taeyang sticks out his tongue as proof that he swallowed them all, Keeho stands off the bed. "Okay, you've showered, eaten, and taken meds." He lets out a relieved breath, "I think you're all ready for bed then."

Keeho keeps talking while he scurries across the room, but Taeyang isn't really listening. He's been teetering the edge of sleep for far too long now. And he's ready for his exhaustion to swallow him whole. "I've told the maknaes to sleep on my room tonight, so you can have the room to yourself." Taeyang's eyes widen at that, his heart races in his chest.

He doesn't want to be alone.

As Keeho arranges the items on the bedside table, Taeyang reaches out to grab the leader's wrist. The sudden contact startles Keeho, who flinches but doesn't immediately pull away. "What's the matter? Is something wrong?" He's immediately on high alert. Taeyang's not exactly the clingy type.

The eldest's heart is pounding in his chest. His lip is quivering and his thoughts are racing. He's never felt shy around Keeho before, especially when it comes to asking for attention. But something about the situation makes him feel extra vulnerable. He looks up at the leader with big, watery, fever-ridden eyes. "Can you stay with me?" He finally asks.

Keeho doesn't tease or joke. He takes Taeyang's hand in his own and gives him a soft smile, "Of course, hyung." He replies, "Scoot over and make some room." Which Taeyang does quickly despite the aching in his body.

Once Keeho settles in, Taeyang is quick to latch himself onto the leader. For warmth of course. "I'm so tired." The elder member speaks into the fabric of Keeho's shirt.

"Then sleep," Keeho whispers, running his palm up and down Teayang's back. "I'll be right here."

It's not long until the two of them are fast asleep under the covers.

Keeho's never realized how much Taeyang moves in his sleep. One minute, all four of his limbs are in some way intertwined with his own. The next, Taeyang is pressed up against the wall. The blankets are constantly shifting between being pulled up and being kicked down to the bottom of the bed. It's an uncomfortable nights sleep, but Keeho finds a way to sleep through it all.

Around 2 AM, Taeyang's tossing and turning is accompanied by whimpers and gasps. He mutters the names of his members and flails his limbs around. One final gasp has the older shooting up in the bed, heart racing, tear tracks running down his cheeks. As he gasps for air, he looks to Keeho, who is still sleeping beside him. His back is turned facing the door, seemingly on the edge of the mattress, allowing Taeyang to take up as much space as he needs.

The sight of his sleeping leader brings him instant comfort. He takes a deep breath before he lays back down, pulling the covers back up to his neck. He's still tired but can't bring himself to sleep, afraid he might have another horribly graphic fever dream. So he stares at the back of Keeho's head, trying to convince himself that he's in a safe place.

Keeho can feel every movement that Taeyang makes. He can hear Taeyang sniffling as he tries to subdue the sadness presumably brought on by whatever nightmare startles him awake. In one swift motion, Keeho turns over and wraps an arm around the older's torso, pulling him close. Taeyang's face fits right into the crook of Keeho's neck. The feverishly warm skin presses against Keeho's chin. He can feel the cold remnants of tears on his neck.

"It was just a bad dream, hyung. Go back to sleep," Keeho slurs when he feels the tickle of Taeyang's eyelashes on his neck as he blinks.

The leader pulls Taeyang impossibly closer and waits until he feels the sick man's eyes flutter closed. There's only sweet dreams after that.

#p1harmony #piwon sickfic #p1h sickfic #p1h canonverse #sick!Theo #sick!Taeyang #caretaker!Keeho #minor Intak #tw fever #tw fever dream #Theo x Keeho #aki writes #aki sickfic #aki requests #aki drabbles #aki prompt fill

[whats-k-popping]

Summary: When he opens their bedroom door, he's hit by a pungent rotten acidic smell. It flips his own stomach and makes him put his knuckles over his lips. The smell is reminiscent of vomit, and his stomach instantly desires similar release. His disdain for his boyfriend vanishes immediately. He buries his own ill misery, replacing it with worry for his younger partner.

Pairing: Woosan (NonIdol AU) - established relationship

Words: 3511

Warnings: Emeto || Graphic Descriptions of Vom!ting || Fever || Fake Illness

Wooyoung has been planning this for weeks. A lot of time and research and actual money has gone into pulling off probably the greatest prank of their couples vlogging career. This specific prank seems to be trending right now, as he's seeing all the other couples they follow posting similar videos- "pranking my boyfriend by pretending to sick" and "will my boyfriend take care of me when I'm sick?" He binge watched all of them and found the content to be very cute. Even the gentle scoldings after the prank is revealed. 

And in typical Wooyoung fashion, he wants to show off how abundantly caring his boyfriend is to the whole world. Or to their 307k subscribers anyway. After all, it was his idea to start the channel. And he puts the most effort into making the videos, editing the footage and adding effects. So with San away on a business trip, he sets the plan into motion. 

He researches the best way to fake symptoms, leading him to the purchase of a thermometer that always reads a fever and a grotesque recipe for fake vomit. He hoards dryer lint, knowing it makes him sniffly and sings loudly in their empty apartment, intending to make his voice hoarse. 

San hasn't told him what time his flight leaves, only that he'll "be back Friday morning." Wooyoung pouted and complained at that answer, but San stood his ground. He probably wants it to be a surprise. Well, two can play at that game. He sets everything up the night before San's anticipated return. He doesn't want to risk anything spoiling his prank. Pranking is his speciality. 

He's got a box of tissues, medicine packets, bottled water, and the prank thermometer sitting on his bedside table. Hiding under the bed are a mist bottle of warm water and the jar of fake vomit. He's even set a bucket next to the bed and poured some of the fake vomit into it to really sell that he's been sick for a while. It smells terrible. It's perfect.

And of course, he camouflages the camera in the far corner of their room, angling the lense toward their shared bed to capture the exact moment San walks in and finds him ill. 

He's already filmed his whole preparation process, ensuring to keep his viewers in on the prank. He's even started editing that footage already. All that's left is to really play the part. He puts on his fluffiest pajamas (keeping his baggie of dryer lint in the chest pocket for easy access) and settles into bed, ready for his plan to unfold. 

He sleeps peacefully through the night, but startles awake at the sound of San's obnoxiously loud keychain jostling on his hip. Usually, he hates the thing. But for today's purposes, he's thankful that San chooses to sound like a human tambourine everywhere he goes. When he hears the door to their apartment unlatch, he quickly pulls the mist bottle out from under the bed. He sprays some around his sheets and some on his face before throwing it back under the bed. He starts rolling the camera, then quickly lays back down, ready for San to find him. 

San sighs heavily as he lets himself into the apartment. He rips off his coat, feeling uncomfortably warm in his only layer aside from a loose-fitting t-shirt. He kicks off his shoes and abandons his luggage by the door, not even caring to unpack. He just wants to crawl into bed, ideally snuggled up beside his boyfriend. 

He'd started feeling unwell the second day of the trip. He originally blamed it on the foreign food, but the more his symptoms progress, he thinks that maybe his seatmate on his departure flight wasn't just pale due to air sickness like he'd originally assumed. 

It was a hellish trip, but he was able to maintain productivity in order to return Friday, like he had promised. And was rewarded with a few days off. He'd originally planned to spend those days spoiling Wooyoung. Now he thinks he'll use them to recover from whatever illness his immune system failed to prevent. 

But no use dwelling on it further. He's finally home. Instead he shuffles his way to the bedroom, barely having the energy to lift his feet. He notices that the apartment is mostly unkempt. Dishes unwashed, belongings out of place, trash peeking out over the rim of the receptacle. He scoffs at the sight, mentally cursing the man he calls his boyfriend. He knows the younger isn't much for housework, but he wonders what's been keeping him so busy he couldn't load the dishwasher. Hopefully, once Wooyoung sees how sick he is, he'll clean it up. Otherwise, it will be left in disarray until he feels better.

When he opens their bedroom door, he's hit by a pungent rotten acidic smell. It flips his own stomach and makes him put his knuckles over his lips. The smell is reminiscent of vomit, and his stomach instantly desires similar release. His disdain for his boyfriend vanishes immediately. He buries his own ill misery, replacing it with worry for his younger partner. 

San swallows thickly, taking large strides to Wooyoung curled up so small under the covers. He takes in the scene of obvious illness that's settled around the room, side-eying the sick bucket on the floor as the source of the unpleasant smell. 

He gently brushes Wooyoung's bangs away to feel his forehead. He's not noticeably warm, but sweat coats his face and their bedsheets. Relief washes over him, thinking he must have already sweat the fever out. 

Despite San's touch being feather-light, Wooyoung starts to stir and open his eyes, slowly of course to remain in-character. "Baby, you're home." Wooyoung's voice is perfectly hoarse, all according to plan. Still, he tacks on a chesty cough for effect. 

"I just got back," San strokes along the younger's hairline. "Is my Wooyoungie not feeling very well?" 

Wooyoung just shakes his head with a pout, adding a few shivers. San responds by pulling the blanket up to his chin. "How was your trip?" The younger asks. 

San smiles at his sick dongsaeng, ruffling his hair. "Business as usual" is his simple reply. Leaving out all the bits of his own experiences with illness. "I'll tell you all about it when you're feeling better." 

"Kay," Wooyoung yawns, nuzzling himself closer to San. 

The smell of the bucket beside the bed demands his attention. The effect the putrid odor has on him is becoming too hard to ignore. His stomach gurgles and bubbles in anger the longer he's crouched beside it. "Baby, I'm going to wash this out okay? Do you think you'll need it anytime soon?" When Wooyoung shakes his head, San grabs the bucket holding it far away from his face and rushes to the bathroom. 

He pours the contents into the toilet bowl and flushes all in one quick motion. While he's filling the bucket with water, he uses the sound of the running tap to mask his own gagging. He spits up a mouthful of sick he easily recognizes as the in-flight meal he begrudgingly stomached a few hours ago into the toilet and grimaces. Airline food hardly looks good the first time, but the second time is menacing.

But he doesn't have time to wallow in his own disgust. Not when Wooyoung needs him. He takes a few deep breaths and shakes out the fog from his head. Taking a long look in the mirror, he tries to convince himself it's jetlag. He hopes he could convince Wooyoung, too, should the younger notice his pallor. He flushes his own sick and brings the rinsed bucket back to the bedroom. 

Meanwhile, Wooyoung is exacerbating his own symptoms with a smug smile of success. In San's absence, he not only refreshes the misting he'd applied earlier, but also takes a long whiff of the dryer lint in his pocket. The reaction was almost immediate. He's a watery-eyed, sniffling mess when San returns with the bucket. 

San sets the bucket aside and sits on the edge of the bed. He plucks a tissue from the conveniently placed box and starts dabbing the younger's waterline. "What hurts, jagiya?" 

"Everything," Wooyoung whimpers in such a pitiful way, he thinks he deserves an Oscar for his performance. 

"I'm sorry you weren't feeling well and I wasn't here," he wants to lean over and comfort Wooyoung with a soft kiss, but he doesn't want to further compromise the younger's immune system by introducing new germs. Or vice versa. He settles for scalp scratches, which Wooyoung leans into. "You just rest, hyung will take good care of you now." 

"Thank you, Sannie." Wooyoung coos as he starts to drift off. 

San eyes the thermometer on the side table and it seemingly reminds him. "Don't fall asleep just yet, let me take your temperature first." He pleads, and Wooyoung opens his mouth obediently. 

When the thermometer reads 39.2 degrees, San's eyes widen like saucers. Wooyoung hadn't felt that warm. But he resolves that maybe he's sporting a fever and it's making Wooyoung feel cooler to touch. "You’re burning. I'm going to get you a cool cloth," he rushes off with the thermometer in hand. 

In the bathroom again he rinses the thermometer and sticks it under his own tongue. When it beeps, he reads 39.0 degrees. Wooyoung still has a higher fever. So he needs more attention. He returns with a bowl of ice water and a washcloth. He takes good care to ring it out and places it carefully on Wooyoung's head. 

"Rest up, now. I'll fix you something to eat, then you can take medicine and have a shower. The bedsheets need to be changed anyway." San dictates a pretty organized plan, though he has low hopes of the success rate. 

"Choi San, my guardian angel," Wooyoung slurs with a thick sniffle. "I love you," he puckers his lips expectantly. 

"I love you too." San resists the urge again to kiss his sickly boyfriend. Instead he pats Wooyoung's thigh and exits the bedroom. Their living room futon has never looked more inviting. He throws himself onto it, completely spent. 

He wants to be the doting boyfriend Wooyoung deserves him to be. But his own illness is catching up to him disapointingly quickly. With Wooyoung napping, he's bought himself time to rest. He thinks about cooking something, but the thought of being around food enrages his stomach. And his head feels trapped in a thick fog. He can't guarantee his own safety in the kitchen.

So he opens the delivery app on his phone and orders some comfort foods to be dropped off at the door. As soon as he sees the confirmation screen, his eyes slip closed entering into a restless sleep. 

Alone in the bedroom, Wooyoung is feeling a little disappointed. San is doing a great job at taking care of him. He's unknowingly showing off his gentler, domestic side to their fans. But there's been a severe lack of cuddling. San didn't even kiss him in greeting. San always kisses him after a business trip, to make up for all the missed kisses while he was away. He even rejected Wooyoung's kiss request. Physical touch is Wooyoung's primary love language. And San's not being very physical affectionate. 

In their four years together, Wooyoung has gotten sick more times than he can count. And without fail San had always cuddled with him. San never withheld kisses out of fear for his own health. San never ever left him alone to nap. The thought flickers through his mind that San is onto his trick, but he dismisses it. Impossible, he's been in-character the whole time. He just needs to up the ante for more attention. 

He uncovers the hidden jar of fake vomit, ready to draw back San's attention. He opens the lid. And after a few wet sounding coughs, he loudly pours the contents into the empty bucket. The sound echoes, and the stench of the chunky liquid is even worse after a night of fermenting. The acid smell almost makes his eyes water. But at least the next few coughs are real, gagging on the stench. It helps make the whole presentation more believable. 

San wakes to the sound of liquid hitting plastic, and jumps up when he hears Wooyoung coughing. It doesn't take long for him to piece the two together, despite his fevered haze. And he's in the bedroom before he even realizes his legs moved. He sees Wooyoung cradling the bucket in his lap, face over the rim and spitting into it. His breathing is ragged, exhausted. 

"Hyung," Wooyoung whimpers, "I threw up again. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." 

The whole experience is too much for San's senses. The smell turns his stomach, Wooyoung's high pitched voice which he usually loves rattles a new headache. He suddenly feels too hot and too cold at the same time, feels a fat bead of sweat drip toward his brow. But Wooyoung needs him. 

He takes two clumsy steps before he bends at the waist, vomiting whatever’s left in his stomach onto the foot of their bed. 

For the first time, Wooyoung breaks character. San's never been one to get sympathy sick. So Wooyoung immediately knows it’s an expression of illness. He spares a millisecond glance to the camouflaged camera before rounding the bed, grabbing San before he collapses into his own mess. 

"Wooyoung," San sputters, a line of saliva dangling from his lips. Wooyoung's arms are wrapped around his waist, the only thing keeping him upright. He tries to pull himself away, using the edge of the bed for support. "Get back in bed. I'm okay." 

"No you're not, hyung. You just threw up." Wooyoung is not the strongest, but he has no trouble escorting San to his side of the bed. He gets San to lean against the headboard, away from the vomit stain. "Will you throw up again?" Before San has a chance to answer, the younger walks over to pick up the bucket filled with his fake vomit just in case.

San lets out a belch as the smell wafts before him, but it's dry and unproductive. He shakes his head at the question, assumingly empty, and turns his nose away from the foul smelling bucket. He's convinced he'll feel better once it's gone.

Wooyoung takes the hint and sets the bucket aside to be cleaned later. He presses the back of his hand to the older's forehead. "Sannie, you're burning up!" 

"It's jetlag," he scripts despite how ridiculous it sounds. When Wooyoung doesn’t budge, he quickly changes tactics. "You're sick too. You shouldn't be worrying about me." 

There's a lump in Wooyoung's throat and a guilty look in his eye. This wasn't how he'd envisioned the content to turn out. This wasn't how he wanted to reveal the prank. He feels real nausea from the guilt, but fights it back and confronts the truth, "I'm actually not sick, Sannie." His cheeks flood red with embarrassment, "I wanted to do a prank video. For our channel." 

"But the vomit?" 

"It's just a combination of vinegar, milk, and bread." 

"I took your temperature. You were over 39 degrees." 

"The thermometer isn't accurate. I bought it for the prank." Wooyoung scurries off to the bathroom and San notices there's not a falter to his step. He comes back with their actual thermometer. He puts the tip in his ear and waits for the beep. "See, 36.9." 

San still looks unconvinced. "The sniffling," Wooyoung exposes the lint baggie. "And the sweating," Wooyoung presents the mist bottle. 

San's eyes widen, then sharpen into a glare as he scans the room for the camera. He catches a small glimpse of a reflective surface tucked into their accent plant and points at it. "How long have you been filming?"��

Wooyoung's head hangs in shame. He fidgets with his fingers in his lap, unsure of anything else to do with them. Instinct kicks in and he wants to put his hands on San, but he’s sure the older doesn’t want that right now. "Since you got home." 

San pouts. He's exhausted as his illness settles in. He craves Wooyoung's nurturing. But he's simultaneously angry at Wooyoung for needlessly worrying him. It's a war inside his head that brings a pulsing pain with each new thought.  "I'm going to take a shower." He throws his legs over the edge of the bed, squinting his eyes as dizziness sweeps over him. 

"Do you need my help?" Wooyoung offers, also noticing that San is in no condition to escort himself. Out of habit, he wraps an arm around San's shoulders to support him. But San just shrugs him off, hoisting himself off the bed and slowly making his way to their bathroom. Wooyoung takes the hint, despite how much it hurts. He gives San space.

While San's in the shower, Wooyoung tidies the bedroom. He removes the soiled bed sheets and replaces them with a fresh pair. He discards his props, and sets up San's night stand with the necessities. Amidst the chores, Wooyoung hears their doorbell and finds the food San had ordered hanging from the handle. The blonde smiles at the two containers of samgyetang. 

San emerges from the bathroom dressed in his comfy lounge wear. He doesn't smell vomit when he enters the bedroom, which is a relief. The bedding is changed, turned down on his side, and he settles right in. Wooyoung had everything set up for him. There's medicine on the nightstand. The bucket has been cleaned again and set down for emergencies. And their real thermometer is leaning against his reading lamp. The only thing missing is Wooyoung. 

Maybe Wooyoung really left him alone to take care of himself. He knows Wooyoung would never do that, but the thought still stings. He curls up under the covers and tells himself that Wooyoung didn't do anything wrong. He tells himself that Wooyoung wouldn’t have tried to prank him if he’d known. He convinces himself not to be mad at his best friend. He even blames himself for not telling Wooyoung he’d gotten sick during the trip. Thinking about it nearly pulls him to tears. 

Wooyoung enters the room slowly, carrying a lap tray. "Do you mind if I come in?" He asks cautiously from the doorway. San, nearly on the verge of sleep, perks up at the sound of Wooyoung's voice. "If you need time, I get it. I just want to make sure you eat something. You won’t feel better on an empty stomach." The small laugh that follows is the most awkward sound San has ever heard. 

"Come here," the older encourages, scooting a bit to make room for Wooyoung. 

Wooyoung tries not to feel too excited as he carries the tray inside. He's still feeling guilty about how everything turned out. He needs to make amends. He sets the tray off to the side and sits on the bed. "I'm so sorry, Sannie-hyung. I didn't mean to overwork you. What can I do to make it up to you?" 

San shuffles under covers, a mischievous look on his face. He nudges Wooyoung with his knee until he falls off the edge landing with a thud on the ground. The older chuckles a bit at the pout on Wooyoung's face. It makes him feel just a little bit better. Reminds him of why he loves the high-maintenance blonde. "You can start by taking care of me," he shivers, "I’m too tired to stay mad at you.”

Wooyoung hops off the floor and climbs beside San is the bed, cuddling him and playing with his hair. He leaves feather light kisses against his boyfriend's warm forehead. "Of course I'll take care of you, Sannie. You're in good hands." 

San hums in content, closing his eyes and nuzzling into Wooyoung's chest. "Can I keep filming? I want all of our fans to know that I can take really good care of you, too." Wooyoung asks, eyeing the discrete camera that's already captured the whole altercation.

San smirks. Wooyoung always bounces back so quickly. It's an endearing quality. "As long as you include the earlier footage of you apologizing to me for faking." 

Wooyoung is never too proud to admit his mistakes. Another endearing quality. "Guess we'll split this episode into two parts then." He looks at the camera, then at San again. The older nuzzles close to him. Wooyoung reaches for the bowl without disturbing San’s position. When Wooyoung holds out the full spoon, San just opens his mouth expectantly. 

San eats half the bowl before he can’t stomach any more. He starts to doze off, so Wooyoung quickly gets him to take a dose of medicine. San’s compliant as ever, ready to snuggle up with Wooyoung and sleep until he feels better. Wooyoung whispers, not enough for the camera to hear, "Just rest now. I'll be right here." San believes him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: A woosan fic, as promised. Though I must admit, not the one I was working on when I first said I was writing one. I found a new guilty pleasure and had to write a fic about it. I'll be the first to admit I'm not totally satisfied with it. I've been fidgeting with this fic for weeks. I feel rusty after not writing anything for so long. But hopefully getting back into it will help me regain my confidence. So let's see how this goes.

As always, thanks for reading to the end! I really appreciate each and every one of you who make it this far! Feedback is always appreciated. And please let me know if I missed any tags or TWs. Please call me out for any errors you notice!

#ateez #ateez sickfic #ateez emeto #ateez fever #sick!San #fakesick!Wooyoung #caretaker!San #caretaker!Wooyoung #ateez nonidol au #woosan #tw emeto #tw fever #tw fake illness #aki sickfic #aki writes