#tw fever

[sara-the-wizard]

Misunderstood Love Part 14

three months past in that montage btw... and I never added that calender, oops!

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Separate frames bellow the cut!

[aealzx]

Here's the last doodles I did when I was being feral insane over the subject of Happ's Another Tuesday in Robotropolis fic. This strip was done when she was still writing chapter 1, so there are some details that don't line up to the story (like Manic not having a voice), but Happ SPOILED ME again and incorporated the comic idea into the fic so I waited until the scene was posted before I put this public X'DD

As usual, mind the tags

[serickswrites]

Hello hello! I was wondering if you'd be willing to write about a Hero that gets so sick that they pass out in the middle of their fight with Villain? What Villain does after that is entirely up to you! I'm just... having a lot of health issues all of a sudden and reading about characters with the same problems makes me feel better😅

Love your work as always and please only write this if you want to!

Hello, friend! I can absolutely write this for you. I am so sorry you are going through it health wise. I hope you feel better soon and hopefully this gives you some entertainment!

Warnings: physical violence, fever, fainting, unconsciousness, reluctant caretaker

Villain dodged Hero's punch easily. Hero had been slower than usual and each of their attacks were also weaker than Villain was used to. Hero usually used every ounce of their physical strength to try and beat the ever loving shit out of Villain.

Today something was different.

Hero's face was pale, their eyes fever bright. They stumbled a few times when Villain dodged their attack. Villain had also successfully landed several painful blows to Hero's ribs. Hero had gone to one knee with one, but stood back up on shaking legs.

Villain raised their fist again. One more good punch and this fight was done. But as Villain went to strike, Hero knees buckled and they fell, their head smacking on the concrete loudly.

"What the fuck?" Villain said, their fist still raised.

Hero didn't stir and remained on the ground. Surely this had to be a trick. But the longer Hero remained down, Villain realized something was wrong.

"Did I do this?" Villain asked as they toed Hero. They rolled Hero onto their back. They didn't think they landed a hit good enough to knock Hero out. But there was a first for everything.

Hero's sweaty, pale face was slack. Villain could feel the heat radiating off Hero. "You're fucking sick. You chose to fight me even though you are fucking sick? How dumb are you?"

Villain pressed the back of their hand to Hero's forehead. Hero was burning up. They only had one choice if they wanted to keep fighting with Hero. With a sigh, Villain threw Hero over their shoulder. "I can't very well fight you if you're sick. And you're not going to take care of yourself. So I'm going to have to do it."

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

@pepeniascat @sowhumpful

[evil-by-noon]

Don't Tell Anyone - Illness Whump Prompt #4

Stoic Whumpee / Fever

Whumpee wipes the sweat off her upper lip and continues jogging. She's barely warmed up, but everything feels sore as if she's ran a marathon.

Her head is swimming and she feels cold even with the sun beating down on her. Finally she can't take it and turns off the track where the water bottles are. She takes a sip but it's lukewarm and she grimaces, still panting and leaning with her hands on her knees.

"C'mon, girl, we can do this..." She mumbles to herself. She sounds nasally even to her.

The vice-captain falls out of line and jogs over, keeping her knees up and moving so as not to lose her momentum.

"Hey- are you- ok?" She asks between breaths.

"Fuck- yeah, I'm fine, sorry." Whumpee waves her off, "Just uh, keep going, I'll be right there."

"Alright," She hesitates for a moment then jogs back to the track- Whumpee almost whines when she leaves, even though she told her to go.

Damn, pathetic. What did she want? To lie about being fine and get coddled anyways? For everyone to gasp, 'Oh, Captain, you were sick this whole time and still worked so hard?'

You can't have your cake and eat it too, Whumpee.

Her head throbs. She felt cold before, but now her lip is quivering and she curses this fucking cold for making her so sensitive. Her sinuses hurt from the pressure and her eyes burn like she's gonna cry.

She tries to take another swig from her water bottle but there were only two drops left- she's sweating, her skin is burning in the sun but it's so cold. The bottle falls out of her hands-

"Oh- Ffuck-" Her vision blurs and goes white and the last thing she feels before blacking out is her knees hitting the concrete.

[truths33k3r4]

The Mutation Situation - THE FULL MOVIE

I don’t think I ever actually posted this here- XD Uhhhh oops?

Well, here it is! This is the full movie, (or a compilation of every episode into one video), of my comic dub of @indieyuugure’s story, “The Mutation Situation”!

This was my first ever completed series on my Youtube channel, and man alive did I learn a LOT about video editing, pacing, music, sound design, and recording dialogue. :) You can probably even tell the difference in the middle of the video when I switch from using my iphone to record to using my current Yeti mic. XD The comparison is staggering HAHA!

I’ve come a long way since making this series’ comic dubs. I’ve met so many kind creators, (some of which I even got to meet in real life which was SO COOL!), and God has used videos like this to encourage and inspire others, just as much as He uses others’ art and stories to inspire me! I’m so grateful that my team, (my followers), have been so kind and considerate. There were times where I was late to a premier accidentally, or I didn’t have the energy needed to make a dub when I planned to- and the whole time my viewers were so kind and patiently waited for me.

Ever since this series, I’ve reached to different creative outlets and even partnered up on a story with the very creator of this series, Indie! It’s been one heck of a ride, and I’m so grateful for all the friends and peers I’ve been able to make here. You’re all one shell of a community, and I’m so grateful to be a part of your creative, inspiring, encouraging family. ;)

To God be the glory!

~ Melissa

[itsleelove]

CW: Fever, possessive/intimate whumper

"Whumpee... are you... ill?" Whumper barely concealed a small smirk as they looked at Whumpee, sitting in their usual spot in the corner of the room Whumper had given them. They were wrapped in a blanket. A blanket that Whumper had provided and Whumpee had refused to use up until this point. Wrapped in a blanket and shivering. And a little pale.

"Am not!" Whumpee struggled for a moment to untangle themself from the blanket and cast it aside, but their shivering only got worse when they did.

"Would you like some tea, Darling? It may help warm you up. Perhaps some soup?" If Whumpee asked for it, Whumper would provide it.

"Fuck off. I'm f‐fine."

Whumper raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? I don't want you to be too miserable, my Darling."

Whumpee grimaced. "Go away. Leave me alone. I don't want anything if it's from you."

So Whumper did leave them alone. But only for an hour or two. They did want to make sure Whumpee was alright, after all. If anyone was going to hurt Whumpee, it would be them. Otherwise, aside from intentional periods of harm by Whumper, Whumpee would be kept safe.

When Whumper returned, Whumpee was asleep, on the floor— still refusing the bed Whumper had provided— but under the blanket again. Whumper let out a sigh, scooping the unconscious Whumpee into their arms.

"Oh, Darling... you're burning up. Well... come along and I'll take care of you now..."

[caspersickfanfics]

Sharing a Receptacle

For @monthofsick day 1

Prompt List | AO3 | Ask | Rules

Warnings: Vomiting (graphic), fever

Anon asked:

I see you've got a lot of Cyno and Tighnari lined up already, so I sincerely apologise for adding to that, haha! If this is something you'd like to write, I'd love to see the prompt "sharing a receptacle" for Cyno and Tighnari! Maybe it starts off with one of them being sick and the other coming to care for them, only soon enough they also catch whatever has been making the other sick. (I love fics with multiple sick characters at once!)

Tighnari wakes to his stomach cramping for what feels like the hundredth time in a handful of days. He’s coughing before his eyes are even open but fortunately, he’s taken to sleeping with his arms latched onto a trashcan. He curls around it, hacking. He needs to sit. With the storm that has taken residence in his abdomen refusing to ease, it’s impossible to tell when his stomach contents will make a reappearance. Tighnari feels hands on his back guiding him upright and his body relaxes minutely. He knows who that is.

“Nari,” Cyno says simply, unnecessarily but sweetly confirming his identity. If Tighnari were any bit more aware of his surroundings, he might notice a weight to his partner’s voice that isn’t normally there, pulling it into a slow drawl. But he doesn’t, because his coughs have turned into retches. His stomach clenches and his back arches, entirely out of his control. 

He mentally chastises himself for trying to fight what’s about to happen. Tighnari has seen this process enough times to know that it’s easier to simply accept it - he’s lived through it countless times within the past week. And yet, when bile inevitably rises in his throat, his breath still stutters with a series of shallow, panicked gasps. One last instinctive act of resistance before sick spills over his lips, splattering to the bottom of the trashcan.

It used to be lined with a plastic bag, and Tighnari realizes with dismay that this is no longer true. Cyno must have forgotten to put a new one in after the previous bout of puking. Now, Tighnari stares vacantly downwards, trying not to think about how much scrubbing it will take to clean this. He feels more ill all the same, and the sight of vomit congealing against the plastic… He pitches forward again and blearily watches as the contained mess rapidly grows.

“Guh,” Tighnari shudders, his head hanging low in the trashcan. His body is wracked with queasy shivers and chills. Tears of exertion drip from his lashes. He realizes that Cyno, who is normally quiet, has gone completely silent, and wonders if he’s walked away. Tighnari is hit with a pang of hurt, and then confusion, because that doesn’t seem likely, but his foggy mind can’t seem to come up with a different explanation.

For better or worse, he can’t ponder it further. His stomach spasms and Tighnari finds himself spewing another stream of vomit into the trashcan.

Finally, the nausea alleviates moderately. Though the thought of food still makes him woozy, he believes he can move without hurling. Tighnari’s head feels heavy, but he lifts it anyway. His whole body relaxes upon finding that Cyno is still sitting on the bed beside him. Relief, for a moment, and then he freezes.

Cyno looks almost worse than Tighnari feels. He’s wearing a miserable expression, and his hands repeatedly grip his thighs - squeeze and release, squeeze and release - needing something solid to cling to. There’s no point in asking if he’s alright. 

“Oh, Cyno,” Tighnari murmurs. He’s exhausted, but attentive ears still catch a hitching breath. Several gurgling burps follow, rolling steadily out of the other man, and white hair drapes forward to curtain his face as Cyno curls in on himself. Tighnari’s hand finds the matra’s shoulder, drawing him close with a sigh. “Come here.”

Cyno settles against Tighnari’s side heavily, as if unable to hold himself up.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, voice slurring under the weight of nausea. His back ripples with consecutive aborted heaves and Tighnari winces and shakes his head.

“None of that. Just let it happen.”

Cyno is panting now, mouth gasping for air beneath a shaking hand. Tighnari gently pushes it out of the way. Cyno’s eyes flicker to him briefly and then squeeze shut. A pained moan escapes him. A shudder runs through the matra and it sparks something tender and protective under Tighnari's skin. He runs fingers through sweaty hair.

“Relax,” Tighnari instructs, voice firm despite his own growing queasiness. Cyno’s body immediately softens, easing towards the offered and already used trash bin. The next time his back arches, a stream of pale yellow puke spills over his lips. Tighnari catches just a glimpse, but it’s enough to bring his own nausea back in full force. He tries to ignore it. Cyno is still being ill and Tighnari wants to be there for him. While Cyno chokes on a waterfall of thick, chunky vomit, Tighnari ignores the way his skin sparks with hot and cold flashes. Shaky hands rub circles into Cyno’s heaving back and, not for the first time, Tighnari curses his sensitive ears.

They have been helpful to him in many ways throughout the years; lifesaving, even. He wouldn’t trade them, but there are moments when Tighnari wishes he could put his heightened sense of hearing on pause. He doesn’t need to hear with crystal clarity the muffled splatter of liquid against plastic. And then, louder, a wet belch and splashing noises. He tries to take a calming breath, but it only fills his nostrils with a sour, rotting scent of sickness.

“Cyno - urp - are you almost done?” Tighnari’s strength has all but left him. The only response he receives is a whimper. Then Cyno is heaving again, soupy orange stomach contents spraying from his lips.

Tighnari is not normally squeamish. Still, even he has a breaking point on a sick day.

A gut-wrenching belch rumbles through him. Tighnari tries not to jostle the man next to him, but he has little control over his body as he lurches forward to once again be violently sick. Thanks to careful positioning, most of it makes it into the bin. Having to share such a small space has taken its toll, though, because some of the sticky substance splatters onto Cyno’s hands around the trash bin. Tighnari can't even manage an apology. His head pounds and he is wracked with dry heaves, unable to contain his nausea even now that he’s empty while Cyno continues to cough up streams of bile. When at last Cyno is able to get his stomach under control, Tighnari finally pulls back, bringing his arm up to his face to cover his nose from the vile scent filling the room.

“Are you okay?” He asks, voice all but torn to shreds. Cyno looks like a wet dog, hair drenched in sweat, eyes round and watery. He nods, but speaks waveringly.

“I– I think I should move to the bathroom.” His arms are trembling around the now nearly-full and quite heavy trash bin. Tighnari eyes it with distaste and resolves to worry about it later with a firm nod. 

He is painfully aware that he’s been sick for three days now with no real sign of improvement. If, as the case seems to be, Cyno has caught his illness, they should indeed go ahead and make themselves as comfortable as possible on the cold stone floors of the cramped hotel bathroom (regardless of how absolutely repulsive the thought of moving is at the moment).

–––

Send asks here!

[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