To try and get back into writing, I made a little sickfic prompt wheel! Some of these are inspired/pulled from other prompt lists and some are just from my head. Send me what you landed on and who you want as sickie/caretaker and I'll write a little drabble for it! Refer to my pinned post to see which groups I'll write for. Also, other writers please feel free to use my wheel or even add to it or make your own!
Picker Wheel is a wheel spinner for a random picker. Various functions & customization. Enter choices or names, spin the wheel to decide a r
Fan art I was inspired to draw of @sicktannies wonderful little feveruary fic Delirious (which I’ll link below!) It was so sweet and silly and full of confused delirious Hobi and worried caretaker Jungkookie. I highly recommend checking it out along with all of her other works!
Tumblr is a place to express yourself, discover yourself, and bond over the stuff you love. It's where your interests connect you with your
CW: I will be talking about some heavy topics in this brief update including death, grief, and mental illness, so please stay safe and only read if you want to.
So, I think I owe everyone a huge apology for not writing at all in months, especially those who have requested fics and have been waiting so long for them. I've only written a few fics total and don't have a huge following, but the people who do follow me and support me have been so kind and patient and wonderful that I can't help but feel guilty for not delivering on the writing I've promised. I wanted to give a brief explanation, bare some of my feelings, and hopefully help bring myself some relief so I can create again soon.
Two major life changes happened to me in March: A huge move to a new apartment, and the death of my dad 6 days later. My wife and I took the 14 hour drive in a cramped car to our new apartment, and then a few days later I took another 9 hour drive to my parents' and brother's house to be there with them. My dad passed the next morning after a 3 month battle with stage 4 pancreatic/liver cancer. I stayed for a few weeks with my family, before making the long drive back (and caught a cold on top of everything, if you can believe it).
Ever since then, I've been struggling pretty badly. My mental health has never been stellar in general, but being unemployed, in a new place, and experiencing heavy grief with too much time to myself... it's taken it's toll on me. When I started this blog, I ground 3 short fics out so quickly, which doesn't seem like a lot, but it was for me. I haven't written in years, so I was proud of myself. Now, I struggle to even get myself out of bed and showered, so needless to say I haven't had the energy to write either. Oh and I want to write, so badly, but everything feels so astronomically difficult right now. It's brought on a lot of feelings of self-loathing that I haven't been working through well.
Today, I finally scheduled myself a counseling appointment so I can begin taking to the steps to heal. Hopefully, with some help and the support of my loved ones, I'll be able to move forward and gain some of my creativity and motivation back.
I really want to create stories for this blog. It took me so long to gain the courage to reach out to others in the community and write, and I don't want that to go to waste. It might just be a bit slow-going, so I ask for everyone's continued patience during this time. Thank you to those that support me on here for being so kind and understanding. It really means the world to me.
I just wanted to update the people that follow me and anyone that have sent me requests. I plan to fill the requests I have been sent, but I'm currently in the process of moving, so I won't be able to write for at least a few weeks. Aside from the big move, there are some other major stressors in my life right now that have put a damper on my motivation, so please be patient with me. I will absolutely fill requests and start writing more when I can.
On a lighter note, I'm so grateful to everyone who has welcomed me to this community. The fact that people are even reading my writing, liking, reblogging, and commenting on my fics mean the world to me. It's really a light in the dark that I've been experiencing in my life lately, so thank you all so SO much for all the kindness. I hope to repay that in new writing as soon as I'm able to.
HEYYYYY!! Omg, I just wanted to pop in here to say that I LOVED your Feveruary Wooyoung fic!!! I've been craving something just like it for a few days now so thank youuuuu so much for writing!! It's always lovely to see new writers on here and I can't wait for all the amazing stuff you're gonna do!! Good luck!!! 🫶🏻💕
Oh this is such a lovely message, thank you so much!!! The Wooyoung fic was the first one I wrote, and it was so fun to write. I'm currently in the process of moving, so I won't have time to write much for a bit, but I'm so excited for the works I have planned for the future!
hi, i just discovered you on my recommendation, and I LOVE YOUR WRITING. i love your feveruarys !! i immediately pressed follow when i read the seungkwan one!
also if i may ask, do you have a list for your feveruary or youre open for ideas?
because.. sick!dokyeom is not really popular on sickfic x kpop community..
okay, thats all thankyou and have a good day/night!
Oh my goodness, thank you so much! This just my whole night, seriously. What an incredibly sweet comment. I'm sorry I'm answering so late- life has been rough lately and there's a lot going on, so I didn't have time to write more Feveruary before the month ended. But if you send me in an idea for DK I'd be super interested in writing it!!! He's my ult bias and I love him, so I'm excited to hear what you have in mind!
A/N: This was actually the first story I wrote, and it was originally meant to be for the Sicktember prompt "Train Ride," So I guess you can consider this a double prompt but from two different events 😅. Biggest shout out to @darl-ingfics for reading part of this and encouraging me to keep writing. She's a huge reason I even had the courage to make this account at all. Please go check out her stuff, it's so good.
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Seonghwa gazes out the fogged train window, idly watching damp blurs of grey zip past his vision. Heavy rain patters against the glass in a steady rhythm, and it doesn’t seem to be letting up any time soon. It’s early– too early to be awake. Apparently nobody else got the memo, as the train is at full capacity, filled to the brim with damp, downcast civilians on their way to their early morning shifts. Seonghwa is lucky he was able to find them a seat before the city crowd filed in. What a miserable day for a train ride. And speaking of miserable…
Wooyoung, who’s been sulking against his shoulder for the last ten minutes, coughs wetly into his hoodie sleeve before swiping it once under his nose. He whines, a tiny, nasally, pitiful little sound that makes Seonghwa’s heart clench. He peels his eyes away from the rain-washed landscape to focus on him, giving his shoulder a light squeeze in a show of sympathy.
“We’ll be there soon, Young-ah. Hang in there.”
Wooyoung snuffles into Seonghwa’s shoulder and groans. “Didn’ wanna go in the first place,” he grumbles before burying his face into the fabric of Seonghwa’s sweater to muffle another wet cough there. His breath hitches, and he stifles a congested sounding sneeze into the same spot.
Seonghwa grimaces and resists the urge to squirm away from Wooyoung’s shameless spreading of germs. He would probably scold him if he didn’t currently look and sound so pathetic. Above all, he just feels sorry for him.
Seonghwa sighs and pulls Wooyoung a bit closer, running a hand up and down his arm when he shivers.
“I know, Jagiya, but you’ve had a fever for two days, and your cough isn’t getting any better.”
Wooyoung huffs and sticks his lip out in a pout. “Such a mean hyung, makin’ me go to the doctor. Meanest hyung.”
Seonghwa chuckles, amused. At least Wooyoung feels up to being a brat. “I thought you said Hongjoong was the meanest hyung yesterday when he made you take that cough syrup,” he says, brushing his long fingers through Wooyoung’s hair.
Wooyoung somehow finds a way to pout harder. “You’re both conspiring against me. Only Sannie cares about me.”
Seonghwa snorts, both incredulous and fond. “Why, because he snuck you the ice cream that I bought you, with my money?”
Apparently Wooyoung doesn’t feel like coming up with a comeback to that, so he just reburies his too-warm face in Seonghwa’s shoulder, sniffling wetly. Seonghwa scrunches his nose up at the sound.
“We really should have put a mask on you,” he says, listening to Wooyoung’s congested breathing right in his ear. He has no doubt he’ll be down with the same cold himself within the next few days. San too, probably.
Wooyoung is clingy on a good day, and it’s only amplified when he’s not feeling well. Seonghwa had tried to avoid it as much as he could, but he’s always been weak to Wooyoung’s puppy eyes. Throw some feeble shivers and a sniffle in, and Seonghwa had quickly lost the battle.
Still, he’s been careful the last few days while taking care of Wooyoung- remembering to wash his hands after every interaction, taking extra vitamins, drinking extra water. He has some sense of self preservation, unlike San, who’d been attached to Wooyoung’s side since the first sign of illness. It’s sweet, but will definitely cause more trouble later when San inevitably goes down too. Seonghwa can only pray his own immune system will hold out long enough to deal with them both when it happens. Wooyoung always needs extra attention when he’s sick, and San has trouble acknowledging when he needs to just stay still and let his body rest. They’re a handful when they’re both unwell at the same time.
He pities Hongjoong, who will have to deal with all three of them if his immune system decides to betray him.
“Hyung?” A soft voice pulls him from his musings.
“Hm?” He peers down to see Wooyoung looking up at him, eyes red-rimmed and heavy with exhaustion.
“Thank you, for taking me. You’re not actually the worst hyung. I know I’ve been a bit much.” He turns his eyes to his feet and coughs into his elbow, looking sheepish and so, so tired. Seonghwa’s heart aches for him.
Wooyoung always gets a bit emotional when he’s sick.
“Baby, you’re never too much.” He pulls him closer, wrapping both arms around him. “You’re not feeling good. You’ve been sick for days. You’re allowed to complain,” he guides Wooyoung’s head back to the crook of his neck and rests his cheek on his hair, “and you’re allowed to hate the taste of cough syrup. I would call Joongie mean too if he made me take it.” He pauses to bring a hand up to Wooyoung’s neck and give it a brief squeeze. Still so warm. “Actually, I’d probably call him something way worse.”
Wooyoung laughs, but it’s watery, the sound choked and trembling as it tumbles from his lips. Seonghwa immediately pulls back to cup Wooyoung’s cheeks in both hands, gasping softly at the hot tears welling up in his eyes and trickling onto his fingers.
“Oh Wooyoungie.” He pulls him right back in against his chest, rocking gently side to side as the frustration and exhaustion and persistent fever of the last few days finally catch up to him.
“I-I’m sorry.” He coughs, hard. Seonghwa pats his back in a weak attempt to loosen up some of the congestion. “I don’t know why- why I’m crying,” he gets out between ragged, gasping breaths. The sobbing definitely isn’t doing his cold any favors.
“It’s okay,” Seonghwa whispers into his hair. “You’re sick and tired. You can cry. I’m right here.”
Seonghwa’s soothing only makes Wooyoung cry harder. A few other train-goers glance up at the commotion, and Seonghwa can’t be bothered to acknowledge them while he continues cradling Wooyoung’s head to his chest.
Seonghwa hates this. He hates that Wooyoung has been feeling awful for days, and he hates that he had to drag him onto a cold, dirty train in the middle of a downpour to go to urgent care. He would much rather have him home, in his own bed, medicated and bundled in blankets with Yunho’s humidifier running. But his congestion had moved from his head into his chest, and there’s a horrible rattling sound that comes with every cough, and his fever has been up and down for two days, falling just to rise higher when the medicine wears off. Seonghwa is convinced this isn’t just a cold anymore. He knows the doctor’s visit is necessary.
That doesn’t mean he has to like it.
Seonghwa is startled when he feels a featherlight tap on his wrist. He peers up to see a sympathetic looking older woman sitting in the seat across from them, holding out a travel pack of tissues. She doesn’t say anything, but her eyes are soft– knowing, almost. Seonghwa wonders if she has kids. He mouths a very sincere thank you, bobbing his head in a grateful bow. She smiles at him before turning back to her phone.
Meanwhile, Wooyoung’s tears have slowed, but have left him a sniffling mess. He pulls the collar of his coat over his nose and sneezes four times, far too tired to stifle them like he usually does. They're still quiet though, muted by heavy congestion.
Seonghwa rips open the pack and plucks a few tissues out before pressing them into Wooyoung’s hand. While Wooyoung attempts to clean himself up, he pulls out a few more and tenderly dabs the tears from Wooyoung’s cheeks.
“Ugh, gross,” Wooyoung rasps, words catching on the phlegm in his throat and throwing him into a brief coughing jag. Seonghwa hands him another tissue so he can hack out the obstruction in his lungs.
“Do you feel a bit better after crying?” Seonghwa asks, reluctantly taking the soiled tissues from Wooyoung’s hands and shoving them into his coat pocket to be thrown out later.
Wooyoung shrugs and plops his head back onto Seonghwa’s shoulder. “I don’t know. Yes and no, I guess.” He sniffles. “I’ll feel better when we’re home.”
Seonghwa sighs and presses a delicate kiss to Wooyoung’s forehead. “Me too, Young-ah. Me too.”
——
The trek from the train station to the urgent care building feels much longer than it should, Seonghwa’s umbrella rendered virtually useless by the onslaught of wind throwing the rain sideways against their faces. Seonghwa does his best to block Wooyoung from the worst of it, but both of them are thoroughly waterlogged by the time they finally trudge through the doors and check in.
Wooyoung goes through the whole visit in a haze, Seonghwa doing most of the talking in his stead. After he’s given an unsurprising flu diagnosis, they’re sent on their way with a prescription script and well wishes.
The ride home is much more uneventful than the ride to the urgent care. Wooyoung has long since knocked out against Seonghwa’s shoulder, completely spent from the whole ordeal. He still shivers in his sleep, and Seonghwa’s lips pull down in a frown at every little quake.
He knows Wooyoung needs the rest, but a selfish part of him wishes Wooyoung was awake, just so he could distract him from his own anxious thoughts.
It feels like either minutes or years later when they finally stumble through their apartment door. Seonghwa gets a very winded Wooyoung sitting down on the shoe bench so he can remove his wet shoes and socks.
Seonghwa holds back a groan when he hears footsteps rushing towards them from the hall. He’s really passed his limit with talking to people today.
He looks up and sees Yeosang running up to him with an urgency that immediately has him tamping down his frustration.
“Hyung, finally you’re home. There’s-” Yeosang pauses, looking them up and down. “You’re both soaked.”
Seonghwa pinches the bridge of his nose. “What is it, Yeosang?”
“Oh, sorry. Um, there’s a bit of a problem. Sannie-“ a high pitched sneeze rings out from the living room like a dark omen. “He’s running a fever.”
Feveruary Day 2: "Burning up then Freezing Cold," Day 6: "Spoon-Feeding," Day 11: "You're Burning Up!" (altered the line a little)
Sickie: Seungkwan
Caretakers: Joshua, Hansol
Word Count: 1166
“How’s he doing?” It’s the first thing Joshua asks upon entering the room, hip propping the door open and a steaming bowl of soup balanced precariously in his hands.
Hansol looks up at him, eyes brimming with worry and lips pressed in a thin line. “Not great. He keeps saying he’s cold, but he feels too warm to me. That means he’s probably feverish, right?.”
Joshua grimaces and peers down at the "he" in question. Seungkwan is curled up into a tiny, shivering ball on his mattress, blanket pulled up to just beneath his nose. He's shaking like he’s caught in the middle of a blizzard, not bundled up under a thick comforter in what Joshua considers to be a perfectly well-heated room. He places the soup on the nightstand and kneels next to the bed before pressing his palm against Seungkwan’s cheek, then his forehead. He sighs at the offending heat he finds there.
“Yeah, that’s a fever.” It’s concerning, to say the least- especially considering Seungkwan hadn’t been running a fever earlier that morning. “Looks like this might be more than just a cold like we were hoping.”
Seungkwan groans, nasally and drawn-out, and rolls onto his back. “Nooo,” he croaks, throwing an arm over his eyes.
Joshua smiles softly and cards a hand through Seungkwan’s bangs. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I know this sucks. But on the upside, hyung brought you some soup to make you feel better.”
Seungkwan levels Joshua with one of his infamous deadpan stares, but it’s heavily dampened by his disheveled, fluffy hair, pink nose, and stuffy little sniffles.
“He’s been grumpy ever since waking up,” Hansol chimes in, poking Seungkwan’s arm through the blanket.
Seungkwan redirects his glare at Hansol with an indignant sniff. At least Joshua thinks that’s what it is. It might just be from his clogged sinuses. Maybe both.
“That’s even more reason to eat a warm meal. It’s good for colds and for bad moods.”
Seungkwan huffs- the action immediately betraying him as it only makes him cough- and lolls his head so it’s turned away from them. “I’m not hungry,” he mumbles, raspy voice laced with irritation.
“Are you sure? This is a Kim Mingyu signature dish,” Joshua tries, inching the bowl a little closer to Seungkwan who is still steadfastly avoiding him. “He said he made it very extra super special for you.”
“Well,” Seungkwan starts, sniffling and shrinking in on himself, “then I doubt he’d appreciate me losing this ‘very extra super special’ dish all over the sheets.”
Hansol steps out from the bathroom– Joshua hadn’t even noticed that he’d left– fiddling with a thermometer. He stops to focus on Seungkwan. “Mingyu hyung will get over it. I think he’ll take any excuse to cook more food.”
Seungkwan just coughs harshly in lieu of a proper response, doubling over with the force of it. Joshua reaches out and rubs Seungkwan’s back with one hand, gesturing for the thermometer from Hansol with the other.
“Hey Solie, will you get his meds and some water?” Joshua whispers to Hansol, hand never leaving Seungkwan’s back. Hansol nods, shooting one last worried glance Seungkwan’s way before hurrying out of the room.
“Here, baby.” Joshua climbs into the bed and eases Seungkwan over until he’s tucked up against his side. For all Seungkwan’s earlier grumpiness, he doesn’t pull away now, instead nuzzling his warm face against Joshua’s neck with a shaky sigh. Joshua taps the thermometer against Seungkwan’s bottom lip to get his attention. “Under the tongue, blossom,” He instructs softly.
Seungkwan parts his lips just enough for Joshua to slip the thermometer in his mouth. Before it has time to get a proper reading, Seungkwan is suddenly kicking out his legs, brows furrowed and sweat beading at his forehead. He only stops when the blanket has been kicked to the edge of the bed. He’s heaving through his nose like he just ran a marathon, struggling to suck in enough air through the stuffiness. Joshua frowns and uses his hoodie sleeve to dab the sweat from Seungkwan's hairline. The thermometer takes that moment to beep. Once Joshua pulls it from his lips, Seungkwan immediately takes a deep breath through his mouth, but it catches on something wet and nasty halfway through and leaves him hacking.
Once he’s caught his breath again, he eyes Joshua wearily. “So? What’s the prognosis, Dr. Jisoo?”
“Well, Mr. Boo,” Joshua tilts the thermometer so Seungkwan can see. 38.6. “you’re officially burning up.”
Seungkwan stares down the thermometer like it personally insulted him. “I’m surprised it’s not higher,” he mutters, yanking at the collar of his T-shirt. “It’s so hot, hyung.”
Hansol steps back in and blinks when he sees the comforter and sheet haphazardly bunched up at the end of the bed. “I thought you were cold?” He hands Joshua the glass of water and blister pack of pills before sitting on Seungkwan’s other side, sandwiching the small singer between them.
“It’s too hot and too cold.” Seungkwan drops his head onto Hansol’s shoulder, sniffling miserably. “My body can’t get its shit together.”
“Fevers are the worst,” Hansol laments, taking Seungkwan’s hand and massaging small circles into his palm. “But some meds and food should help.”
Seungkwan peers up at Hansol, but instead of looking annoyed at the prospect of food like before, he just looks apprehensive and exhausted. “Solie, I don’t think I can…”
“You don’t need to eat a lot,” Joshua reassures him. “Just enough to take your medicine. And then Solie and I will leave you alone.”
A quiet sniff. “I don’t want you to leave me alone.”
Joshua doesn’t think he imagines the soft coo he hears coming from Seungkwan’s other side. He smiles and cradles the back of Seungwan’s neck, placing a tender kiss on his cheek. “Then we won’t. We’ll be right here.” He carefully grabs the bowl of soup from the bedside table and holds the spoon up to Seungkwan’s lips.
“Hyung.” There’s Seungkwan’s infamous side-eye. Joshua is relieved to see that snarky personality shining through. “I’m fully capable of feeding myself.”
“Sure you are, but where’s the fun in that?”
“Just let him baby you, Kwannie hyung,” Hansol says, rubbing Seungkwan’s shoulder with his thumb. “You know there’s no avoiding it.”
Seungkwan sighs heavily, but obediently opens his mouth.
Once Seungkwan has managed to stomach half the soup and down his pills, it doesn’t take long for him to slip into unconsciousness, breaths congested but steady.
Joshua smiles down at him, warmth blooming in his chest when he snuffles in his sleep and loosely curls his fingers into the front of Joshua’s sweater.
“I’m glad he’s finally getting the rest he needs,” Hansol whispers, adjusting Seungkwan’s bangs out of his eyes with a delicate touch.
“Me too.” Joshua rests his lips on Seungkwan’s soft hair in a slow, gentle kiss. He turns to Hansol and does the same on his cheek. “ We’ll make sure we’re here for him when he wakes up.”
A/N: This is dedicated to the wonderful @bultaoreunheyyy who has been so kind and supportive of my writing. Thank you (and others) for inspiring me to make this blog! I won't be doing every day of Feveruary, but I will do a few prompts, some of which are combined. I want to focus on having fun and writing when I feel the urge without feeling obligated to write everyday.
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It’s a clattering in the kitchen that has Seokjin snapping up in bed at 2:30 in the morning, and a wet cough that has him throwing off his blanket and rushing down the hall like he’d never been asleep to begin with. He skids to a halt outside the kitchen entryway, heart pounding, just to be met with a very ill looking Jungkook who’s kneeling over a mess of ice scattered across the floor.
“Kook-ah?” He hurries to his side, and the closer he gets, the worse Jungkook looks. He’s trembling, violent shivers making his shoulders quake and his teeth chatter. There’s a congested wheeze following his every exhale, and his cheeks and nose are tinged a blotchy pink.
Jungkook flinches at his name, not having noticed Seokjin come in. “Hyung,” he breathes, but his words catch on the gunk in his throat and he coughs, the sound wet and painful.
“Oh baby.” Seokjin crouches down and rubs his back through the fit. He can feel how febrile Jungkook is, even through the thick material of his sweater. “How’d you end up like this, huh?”
“Was… it was hot and I- I just wanted ice. The tray- but the tray… dropped it.” He trails off, gesturing tiredly to the plastic ice tray turned over on the floor and the quickly melting ice that’s seeping into his pajama pants. He sniffles thickly and scrubs a knuckle under his nose. “Sorry. Made a mess.”
“Hm, that’s okay. Let hyung worry about that.” Despite Seokjin’s steadily increasing concern, he keeps his voice light. It's hard to keep his smile, though, when he presses the backs of his fingers to Jungkook’s neck and feels a burning heat there. “Let's get you settled first, alright?”
Jungkook blinks. Sniffles. “But… the ice.”
Seokjin sucks in a breath. Jungkook’s condition had declined so quickly, it’s making him nervous. He’d seemed a little fatigued earlier that evening– a bit quieter than normal– but overall in high spirits. Now he can barely hold his head up. Seokjin schools his expression and slings Jungkook’s arm over his shoulders, wrapping his own arm around his waist.
“I’ll make Joonie clean it up.”
Jungkook groans. “Noooo he’ll just make it worse. Slip n’ it and… smack his head on the sink. Or fall in the oven.”
Seokjin snorts. At least Jungkook is coherent enough to clown on Namjoon’s clumsiness.
“He’s survived worse. He can probably handle a mop on his own.”
He gets Jungkook settled on his bed, feeling his forehead with the back of his hand and clicking his tongue in displeasure.
“Tell me what hurts, Kookie.”
Jungkook shudders. “Everything. It’s all sore.”
Seokjin hums. “It’s no wonder.” He runs his fingers through Jungkook’s damp hair, unsticking it from his forehead and scratching gently at his scalp. “You’re burning up, love.”
“I know. S’ hot.” Jungkook whimpers and fumbles with the hem of his sweater, struggling to peel it away from his soaked skin.
Seokjin stands up to help him, gently guiding his arms out of his sleeves and carefully pulling the sweater up and over his head, tossing it into a heap on the floor. He does the same with his soaked pajama bottoms. Hoseok would pick it up later. He helps him shimmy into some sweatpants, shushing him softly when he whines about being too hot. Jungkook always fluctuates between too hot and too cold when he’s sick. Seokjin knows he’ll be thanking him for the sweatpants later.
“Let me get you some ice and medicine,” Seokjin whispers, smoothing back Jungkook’s bangs and planting a light kiss on his forehead.
“Careful. Don’ drop it,” he murmurs, eyes already drifting closed.
Seokjin smiles and boops the tip of Jungkook’s nose, chuckling when he scrunches it up with a sniffle.
Feveruary Day 16: "Is it me, or is it really warm in here?"
Fandom: Seventeen
Sickie: Woozi, Vernon (cold)
Caregiver(s): S.Coups
Word Count: 1,048
“Shit!” Jihoon jumped when something hit his elbow. Before he could investigate further, he bent forward, coughing roughly into his sleeve. Pushing his glasses back up his nose after they’d fallen, Jihoon acknowledged that he’d been hit by a box of tissues, courtesy of a very rumpled, disgruntled, ill looking Hansol. “You too, huh?”
“I’m not thrilled with you right now.” The rapper’s voice was raspy, deepened by the same stuffy nose that had been plaguing Jihoon for the better part of the week.
“Join the club.”Jihoon rubbed at his eyes underneath his glasses, sniffling miserably. “Although, if you really want to point fingers, I’m pretty sure Wonwoo had it first.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Hansol roughly pulled out the chair next to Jihoon’s and slumped into it, leaning heavily against the recording table. “Let’s just get these demos done.”
Jihoon nodded as Hansol moved to set up his laptop, hardly even pausing when a cough worked its way up his throat. The producer snagged a tissue from the proffered box, pressing it against his suddenly streaming nose. Of course they’d get hit with the cold from hell two days before the next album’s demo was due for approval.
Hansol had been so excited to work with Jihoon on this album, and Jihoon had likewise been so happy to teach him. Sure, Hansol had helped with parts of the the process before, but this was the most involved he’d been thus far. And the teaching element had brought Jihoon a level of joy he hadn’t been expecting. Seeing the process anew through Hansol’s eyes had helped him understand producing in a new way, reigniting a magic he hoped he’d never truly lose.
And Jihoon sure as hell wasn’t about to let a case of the sniffles ruin their beautiful process. He was internally very proud that Hansol wasn’t either. They worked their way through both the demo album and their box of tissues together, pausing only to grab another box and a handful of water bottles. And to raise the thermostat because, honestly, how could anyone be expected to work in such a cold room? Sure, this cold was slowing their progress somewhat, but it had yet to stop them in their tracks. It was a Herculean task, but they were up for it.
“Thought I’d find you two in here.” Hansol turned to address Seungcheol with a blank stare. The leader would later comment that Hansol’s face resembled that of a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. For his part, Jihoon didn’t acknowledge the leader at all, eyes trained on the screen in front of him.
“Hi hyung.” Hansol waved robotically. “We’re working.” He had attempted to sound no-nonesense, to convince the leader that they were busy and not to be bothered. He had failed spectacularly. His glassy eyed stare was enough to convince Seungcheol that it was time to wrap up for the day.
Jihoon, sensing this, placed a hand on top of Hansol’s. “Ignore him, or he will make us stop.” Hansol considered Jihoon’s hand, seemingly confused how it got there. s
“Ignore me all you want, but I am here to take you home.” Seungcheol leaned against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest. “And I can’t imagine you’re getting much work done anyway.”
“What makes you say that?” Jihoon asked, laying on the sarcasm before coughing roughly into his fist.
Seungcheol rolled his eyes. “Alright, come on. Pack it up, guys.”
“No.”
“How much more do you have to do?”
“That’s classified.” Seungcheol huffed, pulling a mask out of his pocket and slapping it on before joining them in front of the monitors. Jihoon snorted. “Did management put you up to that?”
“Nope. Seungkwan. And he wanted me to wear gloves too.” Seungcheol’s eyes roved over the screens as he spoke. “How much more do you have to finish?”
“The music is all done, except for a few places that need better mixing,” Hansol answered. “And we have a handful of lyrics that need rewriting.”
Seungcheol nodded. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. You’re gonna save all of this three times. Next, we’re sending this to the approval committee with some notes on the parts you want to re-mix, and I’ll add in placeholder lyrics where you aren’t 100% satisfied. And then, I take you both home.”
“No.”
“This isn’t a suggestion, it’s an order.” Seungcheol paused, pulling at the neck of his sweater. “Is it me or is it really warm in here?”
“It’s you,” Jihoon stated, still tapping away on his computer.
Seungcheol rolled his eyes again and moved towards the studio’s thermostat, unsurprised to see that they had raised the temperature quite a bit higher than normal. He pointed at the device. “So that’s probably a fever, which means you have to go home regardless. No activities with a temperature over…”
“38.5,” Jihoon intoned at the same time, taking a turn at rolling his eyes. The producer fell back against his chair. “It’s just a fucking cold, hyung.”
“And we don’t want it to become fucking pneumonia, now, do we?” Seungcheol cocked his head to the side, playing up the innocence, which really burned Jihoon up on the inside. The producer groaned, hitting the save button with more force than was necessary once, twice, and then a third time before angrily powering off all the devices around them. He sat back with his arms petulantly crossed over his chest.
“I hate you.”
Seungcheol smirked. “I can handle it.” He nodded his head towards the door. “Let’s go. Can you both walk by yourselves?”
“Yes, I’m not fucking dying,” Jihoon mumbled peevishly as he stormed about collecting his belongings and wrapping himself up in his winter wear. Hansol watched him hazily. He gave a start when a hand fell on his shoulder.
“Come on, love. Let’s go home.” Seungcheol offered a hand, and Hansol accepted it gratefully, standing perfectly still while his hyung bundled him up in coat, hat, scarf, and slipped his belongings back into his bag. Once said bag was secured around his left shoulder, Seungcheol slipped his right arm through Hansol’s left. The younger rapper could see from the wrinkling of Seungcheol’s eyes that he was smiling. “Ready?”
Feveruary Day 14: "Falling Asleep in the Wrong Place"
A/N: Another repurposed draft. I realize I have so many random WIPs sitting here, and I was perhaps too scared to continue these. So of course, I procrastinated. But now I have no choice but to post! This one is for @bultaoreunheyyy, I believe you requested this before and I hope it lives up to your vision of the prompt.
Sleep. Yoongi almost wanted to call it his talent for being one of the fastest to fall asleep among the boys. In transit? Check. Backstage while waiting for a show to start? Check. Sometimes even while they were out for dinner or an event. He was a sleepy boy. All he had to do was close his eyes and he was off to dreamland. It was so easy for him, he took it for granted.
Tonight, sleep doesn’t come so easily.
Yoongi groans, a sound so soft that it almost sounds like a hideous whimper. He kicks his legs under his blanket and turns to the opposite side. He had been too cold around five minutes ago, but now he’s too warm.
“Stupid thermostat,” he grumbles. He fluffs his pillow again and tries to rest his head on the cooler side.
It doesn’t stay cool for long.
His limbs ache being stuck in the same position for…God knows how long he’s been on his right side. He tosses and turns again until he can lie down without his muscles screaming at him.
This is crazy. Why can’t he sleep?
***
Later that morning, he isn’t sure how much time he had actually spent in restful slumber. All he knows is that one moment it was dark, and the next thing, he was seated at the breakfast table, pushing cereals around the small puddle of milk that sat in his bowl.
“Ya! Are you finished with breakfast, Yoongi?” Seokjin calls from outside the kitchen. “The van is downstairs.”
Yoongi stares down at the bowl and the milk that has turned a colorful rainbow shade. It looks disgusting. He wants to throw up.
“Almost,” Yoongi calls back weakly. “I’ll be down in five minutes.”
It takes him ten minutes, actually. By the time he hops in the van, all his members are already waiting. He scrambles into the seat next to Namjoon. He loves all the members equally, but he’s known Namjoon the longest, and feels comfortable in silence next to him. The ride is luckily uneventful, and the rest of the boys don’t question Yoongi’s toned down energy today.
The day wears on, and Yoongi feels his resolve weakening. Lack of sleep is making him utterly disoriented. He stumbles through one meeting to the next, manages to scarf down some food over lunch, then drags his feet to the studio with Hoseok and Namjoon for a rap line production. At some point, he thinks he’s floating. Or something like that. He just knows the couch in Namjoon’s studio is soft. And his pillows smell good. And his blankets are warm and he’s finally…finally able to fall asleep.
***
“Should we wake him?” Namjoon asks. He and Hoseok glance at their fellow rapper, who had managed to fall asleep on Namjoon’s couch.
“He’s been so out of it,” Hoseok mutters. “The whole day, he was just so spacey.”
Namjoon feels Yoongi’s forehead and frowns. “He’s so warm. He was probably sick the whole day.”
“Aish,” Hoseok mutters, crossing his arms. “And he probably wasn’t able to sleep well the night before. He gets like that when he’s sick. Sleep is all messed up.”
Namjoon nods. It’s weird how they know each other’s habits so well, but then again, they have been working together for so long. “Let’s just let him sleep for a while here. Maybe we can wake him up before we all go home.”
Hoseok fixes the blanket on Yoongi. “Sleep well, Yoongi-ah Get all the rest you need.”
It only took five days for everyone except Hoseok to get taken down by the flu. What had started as a simple cold for Jungkook turned out to be a highly contagious virus, infecting the other five members in less than a week. And as a result, Hoseok's running himself ragged trying to take care of all of them at once.
He's carrying a tray of medicine for Jungkook down the hallway when Yoongi's bedroom door opens and the rapper steps out, swaddled in a thick blanket, cooling patch sitting lopsided on his forehead.
“Hyung?” Hoseok pauses to ask. “Do you need anything?”
“No.” Yoongi replies shortly, voice congested. “The babies are asleep in my bed and it's - too much. I don't - I can't -”
“I understand.” Hoseok says gently. He knows how overstimulated Yoongi can get when he's sick. “You can use my room, hyung.”
“Thanks.” Yoongi shuffles to his room without a second word. Even the quiet slam of his door makes Hoseok wince as the sound grates in his ears.
Hoseok pushes open the door to Yoongi's recently-vacated room to reveal three lumps on his bed, snoring in various degrees of loudness.
“Kook,” he says softly, setting the tray of medicine down on the bedside table. “Your next dose is due.”
One of the lumps moves and Jimin pokes his head out sluggishly. “What, hyung?” His voice is slurred, and just as congested as Yoongi's was.
“Not you.” Hoseok laughs. “I'm talking to Kook.” Then a thought occurs to him, and he leans forward to feel Jimin's forehead. “Oh… you're feeling pretty warm, baby. Maybe I should get you another dose too.”
Another lump shifts to reveal Taehyung, hair mussed and eyes sleepy. “Can I have some tea, hyung?” Taehyung croaks. Hoseok winces. His dongsaeng's voice sounded terrible. “Of course, baby. I'll go get it for you now. And medicine for Jiminie. Try to wake Kookie up for me before I get back, okay?”
For a second, when he turns to leave the room, dark spots dot his vision before he shakes his head to clear them away.
~~~~~~
In the kitchen, Hoseok places the kettle on boil for the tea before he slumps at the kitchen table, pressing a hand to his forehead. There's an incessant headache building, and a chill suddenly sweeps through his body, making him shiver.
That's when Namjoon pads into the kitchen, sniffling pathetically into a tissue. “Um, Hobi?” The rapper says awkwardly. Hoseok looks up, automatically straightening from his slumped position. “Jin hyung's throwing up again.”
Hoseok immediately stands to rush over - then slams a hand against the tabletop when a wave of dizziness rushes over him, causing him to stumble. A rush of static fills his ears.
“Hobi?” Namjoon's voice sounds like it's coming from far away. “Are you alright?”
Thankfully, the ringing in his ears dies down quickly and he straightens, flashing a reassuring smile at Namjoon. “I'm fine, Joonie. I'll be right over once I'm done with this tea - can you do me a favour and stay with Jin hyung until I arrive? But don't push yourself, okay?”
Namjoon stares at him for a beat before he nods. “You should take care not to push yourself, Hoba.” The leader calls back over his shoulder as he makes his way back down the hallway. Hoseok blinks at Namjoon's retreating back - that statement was just ridiculous, because Hoseok feels perfectly fine. Is perfectly fine.
Hoseok grabs the kettle off the stove once the water boils, making two cups of tea - one for Taehyung, and another for Seokjin, since his throat was likely to feel raw after throwing up. His hands shake slightly as he pours the water into the cups, and a little of the hot water splashes out, scalding him. “Aish! Dammit,” Hoseok hisses, sticking his hand quickly under the sink's tap to cool the area. It was already turning an angry pink colour, but he's certain there wouldn't be any permanent damage.
He takes off to Seokjin's room immediately after, grabbing a thermometer in a rush while he leaves the mugs on the table to cool.
He finds Seokjin hunched over the toilet, Namjoon squatting beside him and rubbing his back. “Hobi, call the undertaker. I think I might be dying,” Seokjin moans when he looks up and spots Hoseok in the doorway.
“I won't let that happen, hyung.” Hoseok promises, lips twitching as he squats down beside Seokjin as well, Namjoon moving away so he has the space to take the other's temperature.
His temperature isn't too high, Hoseok is relieved to note. But it wasn't time yet for Seokjin's next dose of medicine, so the only thing Hoseok can do now is to bring him back to bed.
“Do you think you're done, hyung? Or do you still need to throw up?” He asks softly.
Seokjin looks like he's contemplating it, face still slightly green as he swallows several times, but eventually he shakes his head, exhaling harshly. “I… I think I'm done.” He weakly holds his arm out to Hoseok to take.
“I can help, hyung-” Namjoon starts, but Hoseok shushes him with a stern look.
“No you won't, Joonie. You almost passed out yesterday, so you're still stuck on bed rest. Hyung’s orders.”
“But-”
“No buts. Now get out of here. Shoo.” Hoseok wags a finger in his face. Namjoon reluctantly stands and leaves the bathroom, but he hovers awkwardly at the door as if he's afraid Hoseok's going to trip and fall on his face while he's helping Seokjin out of the toilet.
Which was absolutely ridiculous. He's the only healthy one out of all of them; he's got this.
Hoseok places Seokjin's arm around his shoulders and stands - his knees nearly buckle from Seokjin's weight, but he locks them in place and barely manages to work them both into a standing position. “I'm sorry, Hoseok-ah.” Seokjin says. Hoseok looks back at him in surprise.
“Why?”
“My broad shoulders must be a pretty heavy burden to carry, aren't they?”
Hoseok almost drops him from how violently he snorts. “If you're well enough to joke, you're well enough to walk, hyung.”
But despite what he said, he still has to half-drag, half-carry a stumbling Seokjin back to his bed, where the member immediately flops down and rolls himself tightly into the blanket. The smell of sweat and sickness linger in the air, and Hoseok's nose wrinkles. Seokjin had a pretty high fever the last few days, and most definitely sweated it out before it broke this morning. It couldn't be healthy to let him sleep in those sheets, could it?
“Hyung, let me change your bedsheets.” He gently rolls the Seokjin-burrito out of the way, and efficiently strips the sheets, replacing them quickly with fresh ones. By this point, the older member was already mostly asleep, mumbling a sleepy thanks in response.
He's leaving the room with an armful of sweaty bedding when he's stopped by a light tug on his wrist. Namjoon is looking at him with concerned eyes.
“You should rest, Hoba. You don't look great yourself.”
Hoseok laughs, gently shrugging his hand off. “Me? I'm perfectly healthy, Joon-ah.” When Namjoon continues to look at him, brows furrowed, Hoseok smiles, warm at the concern. “I just have to get these sheets washed, then I'll rest for a bit, alright?”
Namjoon still looks reluctant, but he nods. “Call me if you need help. I'll stay with Jin hyung in case he throws up again.”
Hoseok ruffles his hair in thanks, and heads out with his armful of laundry.
He's passing by Yoongi's room when the door opens and Taehyung peeks out blearily. “Hey, hyung,” the singer greets, sounding tired. “...Can I please have that tea? My throat is killing me.”
“Oh! Oh, baby, I'm so sorry I forgot. I'll bring it to you now.” Hoseok dashes off to the kitchen, leaving the load of laundry on the floor outside Yoongi's room temporarily.
He belatedly remembers to grab the medicine for Jimin too when he's in the kitchen, taking it and the two mugs to Yoongi's bedroom. “Here,” he says, handing the mug to Taehyung. “And here, Minnie, you need to take this.” He hands the pack of medicine to Jimin.
“Jungkook woke up earlier, but he went back to sleep.” Jimin mumbles, letting out a huge sneeze immediately after.
Aish. And now comes the hardest part. “Kook.” Hoseok pokes at the third snoring lump in the bed. “Kook, you need to wake up and take your medicine.”
The Jungkook-shaped lump moves. “Noooooo.” Jungkook whines, from under the blanket. The maknae notoriously hated taking medicine when he was sick, disliking the way they made him confused and sleepy before they knocked him out. Usually, that was Seokjin's problem to solve - but with the eldest currently incapacitated, it was now Hoseok who had to wrangle the baby into taking his medicine.
“Kookieee,” Hoseok sings, running his fingers along Jungkook's side. Jungkook jerks upright with a loud squeal - Hoseok winces, the sound sharp and piercing straight into his brain. He swiftly grabs the cough syrup and measures one dose out into the cup, waving it in front of Jungkook's face. The maknae glares at the cup like it's personally offended him, and presses his lips shut.
Hoseok sighs. “Kookie,” he tries placatingly, “it's just one dose. If you get better, you won't have to take it anymore.” It's an empty promise and they both know it. Jungkook stubbornly shakes his head. Hoseok feels the sudden inexplicable need to cry; and takes a few calming breaths, feeling his throat constrict.
Another voice suddenly cuts in. “Kook,” Jimin says, his sweet voice made slightly nasally by his cold. “The longer Hobi hyung stays here with us, the more likely he'll catch our flu. Or do you want him to get Jin hyung instead?”
Jungkook visibly hesitates, gaze flickering guiltily towards Jimin, then to Hoseok. Finally, he grabs the little cup Hoseok is holding and downs it in a single go, along with the bottle of water Hoseok offers to him. “Ugh. I hate you both.” He mutters poisonously, swiping his hand across his mouth before he blanches. “Wait, no, I didn't mean - I'm sorry, hyung-”
That hurt, Hoseok admits, but he also knows that Jungkook's not to blame for feeling poorly while sick. “It's alright, aghi.” He briefly ruffles Jungkook's hair, then urges the three maknaes to lie down before pulling the blanket over them. “I'll leave you three to sleep.”
“You should sleep too, hyung.” Taehyung suddenly pipes up, deep voice even more gravelly than usual because of his sore throat. “You look… kind of pale?”
What's with the members today? He's fine. If anything, they should be the ones resting. “I'm fine, baby.” He reassures, moving quickly towards the door. He just wants to get that load of laundry done, and hopefully sit down for a while, because he feels like he's been on his feet for days.
By the time Hoseok finally makes it to the laundry room, he's frazzled and exhausted - how had it taken so long just to get one pile of laundry from Seokjin's room to here? He coughs harshly into the crook of his elbow, nearly dropping Seokjin's sweaty bedding in the process.
The laundry room was cool and quiet, and it's not a bad place to rest for a while. He takes a seat at the little table in the laundry room after dumping the bedsheets in the washer, slumping forwards and resting his head on his arm. He'll just rest for a little while, until the laundry is done. Five minutes couldn't hurt - nothing will catch fire in the next five minutes if he isn't there, right?
~~~~~
He wakes slowly when he feels hands on his face. There are people talking around him; the words barely reach him through the muddled fog in his head.
“-told you he was getting worse.” A cool hand comes to rest on his forehead. Hoseok groans and tries to shift away, wanting to stay asleep for a while longer.
The same hand smooths his hair back from his forehead. “Hobi, sweetheart, wake up for a bit?”
No, no he will not. Hoseok huffs his displeasure and turns his head away. He would like to continue sleeping, actually, thank you very much. His five minutes weren't up yet, and he's not moving until then.
“Hobi, Yoongi's bed is on fire.”
“What?” Hoseok bolts upright instantly, almost headbutting Seokjin in his panic. When he comes face to face with Seokjin's smirk, he scowls. “Not funny, hyung. What are you doing here, anyway? You should be resting!” The nap hadn't done anything for his headache; in fact, he felt even dizzier after waking. He presses a hand to his face, groaning softly.
“It got quiet, so we came looking for you.” Namjoon says, from behind Seokjin. The leader steps forward, rubbing circles into Hoseok's back, voice gentle when he speaks. “You've been asleep here for like, three hours, Hoba.”
Three-?! That can't be right. Hoseok stares at Namjoon in disbelief, hoping that he'd misheard. He'd only intended to take a short nap, because there were still so many things he had to take care of - “Crap, I shouldn’t have - I've got to check on the babies, and make dinner, and, and the laundry-”
“Laundry’s done, hyung.” Taehyung calls from the other side of the room; Hoseok whips his head towards the sound, not having noticed that his dongsaeng was there the entire time. Taehyung and Jimin are both there, holding a pile of clean, dry laundry, clearly fresh out of the dryer - Hoseok can't wrap his head around what was happening. Why are they all here? The last time he saw them, they were all sick in bed. Where they should still be.
“You two should still be resting.” Hoseok scolds, frowning as he clambers to his feet. “There's really no need for you guys to- oh, fuck-” His knees wobble and buckle under him the second he manages to stand, vertigo making the entire room spin like a rollercoaster around him.
“Seok!”
“Hobi!”
“Hyung!”
Several pairs of hands grab him as he staggers and falls, lowering him quickly to the ground. His head is supported on someone's lap, and Hoseok blinks against the harsh ceiling light, bringing a hand sluggishly to his face. “Ugh... What…?”
“I'm pretty sure the one who should be in bed right now is you, hyung.” Jimin says gently, to the vehement agreement of the other three in the room. Hoseok is genuinely too tired to argue, at this point.
His knees nearly buckle again when they pull him upright, but he's easily supported on all sides by his members as they slowly walk him to his bedroom.
Yoongi is still sleeping on Hoseok's bed when they get there, but wakes quickly when they open the door. “Hey,” the rapper greets as he sits up, looking somewhat confused when he sees them there - then he catches sight of Hoseok, and his eyes widen in understanding. He slides off the bed in one smooth motion, making his way quickly towards them.
“You look like shit.” Yoongi acknowledges, patting Hoseok on the shoulder - a good sign that he was starting to feel better, given how avoidant of touch he'd been earlier that morning. Hoseok gives him a weak grin.
“Thanks, hyung.”
The second Hoseok lies down on his bed, he knows for certain that he's not going to be leaving it anytime soon. The mattress feels so comfortable under his aching, feverish body, and his eyes close almost of their own accord. He barely registers Yoongi pulling the blanket up over him, or Namjoon taking his temperature with an ear thermometer and a softly-whispered “shit, that's pretty high”, or Seokjin gently placing his RJ plushie beside his pillow. Taehyung and Jimin both kiss him once, one on each eyelid, giggling quietly when Hoseok only exhales softly in response, and hugs the RJ plushie tighter.
It's only right before he falls asleep that he feels the blankets being pulled back and a warm body climbing into bed with him, strong arms hugging tight around his middle. “Rest well, hyung.” Jungkook whispers. “Thank you for taking care of us. Let us take care of you, now.”
I've been lurking in the community for awhile now, and I was inspired by some incredibly sweet and talented authors to finally make an account. I'm excited to share my writing and finally support all the creators I love!
💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜
Requests: CLOSED for now due to life circumstances, but this will eventually change! Feel free to send ideas, though!
Groups I'll write for:
Ateez: My alt group! San biased. Seonghwa is a close second. I'm comfortable writing for all of them though.
Seventeen: Seokmin biased. Secondary biases include Mingyu, Soonyoung, and Seungkwan. I will write for everyone.
BTS: The first group I fell in love with. Hoseok biased. I'll write for them all.
Groups I like that I'm not comfortable writing for yet:
Stray Kids: I want to write for them so bad 😭. Han and Changbin biased (seriously, I can't pick between the two of them). I love all of them, but I'm not well-versed in their personalities enough to write for them right now.
TXT: Hueningkai biased. Opening Sequence is ethereal.
Xdinary Heroes: Gaon biased. I adore their music. Rock is right up my alley.
What I will write:
Fevers/Colds
General Illness
Snz
Light Emeto
Platonic/Romantic Ships
General Hurt/Comfort
Light Angst
What I will NOT write:
Allergy Snz (This may change. Just not comfortable with it yet)
Character d/eath
Terminal Illness
Hospital Scenes (for personal reasons. This may change)
Age Regression
Heavy Emeto
Scat
NSFW (sex/kink)
Reader Insert
Masterlist coming soon when I actually have some stuff posted!
