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kpopsickficzone · 8 days ago

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In sickness and health

Chan likes keeping things in order. He never lets things slip— until one morning, Jeongin finds him feverish, coughing, and sounding more like Felix than himself.

With Chan’s fever reaching for the stars, Jeongin steps up to the task, quietly proving that sometimes even the leader of the pack needs someone to lean on.

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Sickie: Bang Chan

Caretaker/s: I.N/Jeongin

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For someone who always had his days so meticulously planned out, Jeongin was surprisingly good at fitting in the small things.

Whether it was buying a new bouquet of flowers for the living room when it needed replacing, or knowing when to wake Chan up versus when he needed all the sleep he could get.

After years of living and working with each other, they’d all adapted to each other’s rhythms— syncing together by the midline.

Jeongin had learned that he liked being someone who noticed— someone who did the small, important things without flaunting it. Chan was the same way, and in many ways, Jeongin probably learned it from him.

It was a soft kind of awareness, the kind that didn’t announce itself.

It was that same awareness that made his footsteps quiet and slow as Jeongin padded out of his bedroom that morning, rubbing at sleepy eyes that had barely squinted open to meet the day.

The door to Chan’s room was cracked open like usual. It was a habit from the older that he still carried with him from when they all used to live together.

Always ajar, never shut (unless he had specific reasons to), a kind of subconscious openness. Just in case anyone needed him, or just in case he needed to hear someone.

But it was quiet inside his room, Jeongin noticed.

Too quiet.

No shuffling, no yawning, no tapping against a keyboard or low sounds playing through his phone.

At first, Jeongin didn’t think much of it. Maybe it was a sleep in kind of day. Chan had those on rare occasions; usually after pulling an all nighter or when his body finally crumpled to a halt after running on empty for too long.

Still, something about the silence felt a little.. off, this particular morning.

In a way Jeongin couldn’t quite explain.

Sauntering out into the living room, he was immediately met with another strike in his ‘something smells fishy’ book.

His suspicions confirmed, Chan seemed to have been working late the night before— again, nothing unusual.

What was unusual, however, was the fact that he hadn’t tidied up the way he usually did.

Chan’s little workspace by the table remained as prominent evidence of his late night endeavours. A coffee mug with a dried up espresso ring sat next to his half-closed laptop, and a crumpled, black hoodie draped off the back the chair.

Not a big mess by any normal standards, but for Chan, whose nightly routine usually included a five-minute reset of their space before bed, it was telling.

Chan had long been a leave no trace kind of guy, finding his solace in keeping the space around him tidy and neat. But now, there wasn’t just a trace, there was irrefutable evidence.

The laptop was warm against the tabletop, charger still plugged in, and the cable had slid off the desk to dangle near the floor.

Jeongin tilted his head, eyebrows furrowing.

Maybe, he thought, maybe his hyung had just been that tired…

By the time he left the dorm for an early workout with Changbin, Jeongin had mostly brushed it off.

The workout itself went long. They joked between sets, talked about ways to subtly drop spoilers for their fans, poked fun at each other’s form.

But in the back of Jeongin’s mind, Chan still lingered like a question left unanswered.

He kept circling back to all the small, strange things that hadn’t lined up that morning. The way the laptop buzzed faintly, still running. The used coffee cup on the table rather than in the dishwasher, the pens that scattered across the table, not even aligned with one another.

Subtle, yes, but definitely off.

Just enough to unsettle him.

When he eventually got back, sweaty and spent, the dorm was still quiet— still too quiet, it was almost eerie.

Jeongin kicked off his shoes and set his course straight for Chan’s bedroom. He knocked gently once, but when he heard no response, he nudged the door open with his foot.

What met him made his chest tighten.

The air inside Chan’s room was somehow more warm and stale than the hallway, the blinds still drawn, and the light filtering through grey and muted.

Chan was still under the covers by the looks of it, twisted up in the comforter like he hadn’t moved an inch all night. From the doorway, Jeongin couldn’t even see him.

“Hyung..?” Jeongin called out cautiously, taking a step inside. “You up?”

The shape on the bed didn’t move. Jeongin felt his breath catch in his throat. Holy shit— he wasn’t dead, right?

Jeongin stepped closer— and froze once he got a glimpse of his roommates face, barely peeking up from the covers.

Chan’s skin was ghostly pale, save for the angry flush that spread over his nose and cheeks, his hair matted to his forehead. He was breathing through his mouth, and his chest moved unevenly, every so often hitching like he was fighting off a sneeze or cough in his dreams.

Jeongin’s heart skipped a beat. “Channie-hyung?” He called out again.

Still, nothing.

Jeongin briskly crossed the room in two steps, dropping his protein shake on the bedside table as he knelt by the bed.

Up close, Chan looked even worse for wear. There was a sheen of sweat glistening across his skin and his cheeks were blotchy with heat, like a botched attempt at a watercolour painting.

Jeongin leaned in and pressed a hand to his forehead, and just like he feared, Chan was scorching to the touch.

Jeongin exhaled sharply, guilt coiling in his gut. He silently cursed himself for not listening in on that lingering bad feeling he’d felt that morning.

He never should have left him like this. He never would have, if only he knew he was sick…

“Bang Chan,” Jeongin said firmly this time. It came out sharper than he intended, his voice cutting through the heaviness of the muggy air.

But Chan finally stirred, slowly blinking his eyes open against the muted lights. He looked confused, like it took a moment to remember where he was, then fixed his eyes on Jeongin.

"Innie?"

Jeongin visibly cringed at the sound of his voice— raw, deep and stuffy. Honestly, it didn’t sound like Chan at all.

“Whoa, okay. That’s not your voice,” he said, eyebrows rising in surprise. “Since when are you cosplaying Felix-hyung?”

Chan blinked again, trying to breathe through his nose, but it was clear that his efforts were in vain. “Shuddup..” he rasped, then sniffled weakly, grimacing. “M’fine.”

“Fine my ass.” Jeongin retorted without skipping a beat, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. His eyes darted around the room, brain spinning on high gear to figure out his next move.

Chan just groaned pitifully in response, slinging an arm over his eyes and exhaling a breath that sounded like it rattled out from the deepest pit of his chest.

Then, despite his obvious discomfort, the older man tossed off his comforter and tried to push himself up to sit.

Jeongin’s eyes widened in alarm. “Hey, hey, no—“ he grabbed onto Chan’s shoulder, pushing him back down and keeping him from moving any further.

Luckily, he didn’t need much force, because Chan folded under even the lightest touch.

“Just stay still, okay?” Jeongin said, voice softening at the edges. “You’re burning up.”

“But I was… I was supposed to..” Chan’s words trailed off, lost in a heavy sigh as his eyes fluttered shut again. Whatever he was ‘supposed’ to do, it was clear that he was in no shape to pull through with it.

Jeongin stood up, trying not to show the panic that was starting to flow through him. He looked at his pitiful hyung on the bed, shifted his gaze to the door, then back to Chan. “Stay.” He said, half-commanding, half-pleading.

Chan didn’t respond, but he didn’t make any efforts to move again either.

Which was.. good? Maybe. Hopefully.

Taking on a light jog, Jeongin headed straight for the bathroom. He swung the medicine cabinet open, unsurprised to find every bottle and box lined up in neat rows. Chan’s handiwork, of course.

The punctilious order made it easy for Jeongin’s fingers to land on exactly what he needed in seconds. No digging, no struggle.

A thermometer. Fever reducers. Lozenges. Nasal spray. A box of tissues. One by one, Jeongin pulled them from the cabinet, dropping each item into a small bowl balanced in his hand.

From under the sink, he ripped out a couple of clean rags, also folded with the same crisp precision Chan applied to most things in their dorm. With careful consideration, he wet them under the faucet— one cold, for the fever, and one hot, for the congestion.

While passing through the kitchen, Jeongin snagged a water bottle from the fridge, tucking it under his arm to join his growing ‘emergency kit’, before slipping back into the bedroom.

Chan was right where he’d left him— sprawled on his bed, breathing heavy and congested. Conscious? Debatable.

Jeongin couldn’t be sure. As far as he was aware, Chan seemed to float somewhere in the in between.

“I’m back, hyung.” He called out to announce his return, setting everything out on the nightstand.

Chan grunted softly in response, his eyes barely opening to slits before shutting again.

Jeongin placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to offer some measure of comfort as he spoke. “Channie-hyung.. I need you to open your mouth for me, okay? I need to check your temperature.”

Chan let out a weak, unhappy noise as Jeongin pressed the steel tip of thermometer against his lips, but he opened his mouth anyway.

At least he was being cooperative. That wasn’t always a given.

Holding the device steady under Chan’s tongue, Jeongin waited, the seconds crawling by at a snails pace. He watched the way Chan shivered despite the way his skin was boiling— saw the way his hands, usually steady, trembled as they clutched at his blanket.

The last time he'd seen Chan this out of it was during comeback prep sometime last year, and even then, he'd been stubbornly upright until he'd keeled over in the studio.

The beep of the thermometer was way too loud in the otherwise quiet room.

Jeongin withdrew the device from Chan’s chapped lips, and winced at the numbers on the screen.

39.4°C (102.9°F)

“Okay,” he muttered softly, mostly to himself. “Okay, that is way too high.”

Chan shifted under the blankets, eyes barely open. "S'not that bad," he mumbled, voice thick with congestion.

Jeongin rolled his eyes with exasperation and frowned at the thermometer in his hand again. Chan hadn’t even seen the results, and yet here he was to downplay it.

“Really, hyung? Not that bad?” Jeongin sighed. “It’s 39.4 degrees…” he paused for an added dramatic effect. “That’s basically a Seungmin-level fever. Maybe even a record breaker this year.”

Code word for: it was a really bad fever.

Chan’s eyes half-opened at that, peering hazily at Jeongin through heavy lids. “…Do I win something then..?”

“Yeah.” Jeongin said dryly. “A break.”

“Oh..” Chan heaved another heavy breath, eyes rolling despite his desperate attempts to keep them open. “Can I refuse the… the—“

Jeongin, who was busy looking through the medication he’d brought with him, paused his actions to look up back as Chan trailed off.

Almost on instinct, the younger man ripped out a handful of tissues, swiftly dropping them onto Chan’s face before the inevitable explosion.

“Hah’TRRSSCK! Hh’DDSH-!”

Jeongin resisted the urge to duck for cover as Chan sneezed with enough force to make the bed shake. Instead, he grimaced in sympathy and watched as his hyung slumped back against the pillow.

“Wow..” he murmured softly as Chan fumbled to wipe his nose with the tissues provided. “That was almost worthy of the Richter scale.”

Chan huffed a small laugh, but the effort only caused even more pain to erupt throughout his sinuses, throbbing throughout his skull. He hissed quietly, shutting his eyes again as he curled in on himself.

Jeongin’s expression softened, the sight tugging at his heartstrings. “Head hurts?” He whispered, rubbing his hand over Chan’s arm. A small attempt to comfort.

Chan just nodded, a faint whimper slipping past his pasty lips despite himself.

Jeongin sighed, picking up a pack of fever reducers. “Take one of these, yeah? They will probably help the headache a little too. C’mon.”

With a little effort and Jeongin’s support, Chan propped himself up enough to swallow down the pill with a small mouthful of water.

It hurt, his throat felt like it had been scraped with sand paper, but he managed to pull through.

Once he was laid back down on the mattress, Chan felt like a deflated balloon— like the effort of lifting himself just a little bit upright had used up what little energy he had.

He exhaled a soft breath, then opened his eyes to look at the man sitting by his bedside.

“Mm.. did’ya work out..?” Chan murmured softly, raking over the gym attire Jeongin was still sporting.

Jeongin hummed in confirmation. “Uh, yeah, I did.. with Changbin-hyung.” He reached over to the bowl of supplies, fishing out the cool compress. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here, I wouldn’t have left if I knew you were sick…”

Chan scrunched his nose, shaking his head lightly. “Nah, nah… don’…apologise.. ‘was sleeping anyway..” he paused before adding, “had weeeird dreams…”

“Oh?” Jeongin intoned curiously, folding the cold compress over Chan’s overheated forehead.

Chan let out an appreciative hum at the gesture, then continued speaking, voice stuffy and words slurred. “Jisung-ah… was upset ‘bout somethin’..” the sentences came out choppy, every little break off an attempt to take a breath.

Jeongin listened patiently without interruption.

“-so ‘dunno.. he was so upset that he.. he suddenly started inflating? He turned.. into like.. a human balloon… then Lino held him by the fringe and… escorted him away. A Han balloon..”

Jeongin paused, blinking one, two— three times, as he let the words sink in. And better yet, as he tried to imagine the scene Chan had just described.

When Chan said he had weird dreams, he had expected maybe something light and nonsensical— like Changbin being an actual fairy (happened before) or JYP performing in drag.

But somehow, amongst all the weird things he could think of, it still didn’t prepare him for that.

“Yeah…” Jeongin said at last, voice tinged with disbelief and a hint of amusement. “Yeah, that’s a pretty weird dream… Bet it’s your fever messing with you.”

Chan hummed softly in response, but it came out more like a croak, the noise swallowed by the thick congestion clogging in his chest.

He didn’t even realise he lost consciousness then, but Chan suddenly stirred awake again to the sound of a distant voice calling out for him.

When he creaked his eyes open, he saw the blurry image of Jeongin murmuring something under his breath— watching over him with a furrow in his brow and a scowl weighing down the corners of his lips.

Oh.

Chan really didn’t like seeing him like that.

Gone was the wide smile, the eyes that turned to slits with mirth, the laughter that echoed against the walls. Now, concern was evident in every little detail of his maknae’s face.

And for some reason he could never quite name, Chan felt immense guilt for worrying him so.

“Aish, you’re really sick..” Jeongin whispered, glancing at his phone like he was debating whether to call someone or not.

Chan tried to speak, to say something reassuring, something to make that tiny thread of worry in the maknae’s voice go away, but his chest tightened without warning.

He coughed— a deep, wet-sounding cough that seemed to scrape its way out of his lungs. He rolled onto his side to ease the strain, each breath catching before he could drag in the next.

Jeongin winced and slid an arm behind his back, steadying him so he didn’t topple too far forward and end up on the floor. “Easy, hyung, easy. Breathe..”

Chan tried. He really did. But the cough wouldn’t let him. It built and built, until his face burned and his eyes watered. And then, too far, too deep, his stomach lurched.

Oh god.

The hacking turned jagged, rough and wet enough to delve into a gag. Before chaos could unfold, however, Jeongin was already moving.

With one swift motion, he grabbed onto the bowl of supplies, flipping it upside down to empty it before tucking it in under Chan’s chin.

Just in time.

They hardly had a second to spare before Chan lurched forward, and what came up was a miserable mix of vomit and the thick sputum he’d been drowning on, spilling heavily into the basin.

Luckily, it was over quickly, though not quickly enough for Chan’s pride. He sagged back, throat raw, nose still blocked, sweat cooling unpleasantly on the back of his neck.

“.. sorry.” He croaked, voice shredded and wet with both congestion and the sour remains of bile. His stomach roiled uneasily, and he placed a hand on his belly, trying to help it settle.

Jeongin shook his head, eyes soft with understanding. “Don’t apologise. You’re just sick.”

Chan blinked blearily at him, trying to focus his eyes to no avail. No matter how much he tried, the world remained a blur.

Jeongin put the bowl on the bedside table before turning back to Chan with a solemn expression. He laid a hand on the older man’s trembling back, rubbing slow circles across it. “I just hope that medicine didn’t go all to waste…”

A part of Chan wanted to recoil from the touch, to refuse to let himself be taken care of in this condition— not only by one of his dongsaengs, but his youngest one at that.

Yet, the other part of him craved that affection more than he could ever say out loud. And from Jeongin it somehow felt even more special— like a rare treat.

Jeongin sighed like he could practically hear every little dubious and prideful thought barrelling through Chan’s mind. “Just let me take care of you for once, okay? I want to.”

And as Jeongin pulled him a little closer, Chan didn’t refuse.

Not that he had any energy to do so anyway— the fever seemed to have stripped everything out of him. His body felt like it was weighed down, his head felt like it had been stuffed with wool, and every breath felt sticky.

“Okay..” came Chan’s response at last; a muffled, small agreement as he let the last of his walls be torn to the ground. At the end of the day, they were both grown men, and he knew he could rely on Jeongin when it truly mattered.

Even so, allowing himself the luxury of being taken care of didn’t come easy to him.

Chan had spent years building himself into someone solid, dependable, unshakable. The one who held the others when they faltered, who bit his own tongue to keep his emotions and struggles behind locks.

But right now, as his body shook and his head swam with heat, all he could do was sag into Jeongin's touch and let himself be held.

And Jeongin didn't let go. He wouldn’t let go. Not for as long as Chan needed him.

#stray kids sickfic #general illness sickfic #emeto sickfic #bang Chan sickie #in caretaker

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kpopsickficzone · 10 days ago

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Fixed it

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kpopsickficzone · 11 days ago

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Famous Last Words (Part 14)

Fandom: Seventeen

Sickie/Whumpee (in order of appearance): DK, Joshua, Jun, Hoshi, Seungkwan, Woozi, Dino, The8, S.Coups, Vernon, Mingyu, Wonwoo

Word Count: 1,983

Notes: This is it, folks, the final part!!! I cannot believe it's over. Thank you to everyone who has come along for this journey. This was the first Seventeen fic I ever started, the fic that inspired me to start this blog, and y'all gave the confidence to share it and get it done. Thank you for that, forever! Hope you enjoy!

As Jihoon rounded the steps and disappeared upstairs, the lights switched back on.

“Hey!” Mingyu and Jun cheered in happy tandem while Seokmin applauded.

Not a moment later, the front door swung open, revealing a haggard Seungcheol and Jeonghan.

“HEEEYYYYYY!!!” several people now yelled in unison, and even though both men flinched a bit at the noise, mirrored adoring smiles spread on their faces.

“That didn’t take too long,” Mingyu said, checking his watch.

Hansol scoffed. “Speak for yourself.”

“Yeah, how’s everything going here?” Jeonghan asked uneasily, eyes seeking out Soonyoung and Seungkwan, who were now sitting arm in arm on the couch next to Wonwoo. The tension he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in his shoulders melted away.

“Wonderful.” Jun threw his hands up in a wide, joyful arc.

“Are we friends again?” Seungcheol asked as he walked up behind Soonyoung and Seungkwan, leaning over the back of the couch.

Soonyoung nodded. “Yes, we were forced to the conclusion that we were both being dumb, and communication is key.” Seungcheol nodded, smiling, and ruffled both men’s hair.

“Wait, wait, wait, I need more than that.” Jeonghan stalked over, arms crossed over his chest. “What the hell caused all that bullshit?”

Seungkwan met Soonyoung’s eyes before turning to the elder vocalist. “Neither of us got the solo project, and instead of talking about it, we both assumed the other did get it, and was acting out to make us feel worse. Like, I assumed Hoshi was singling me out to make me feel inferior to him. Which was ridiculous.”

“And I assumed Seungkwan was slacked off to stick it to me,�� Soonyoung added. He shook his head with an ironic chuckle. “All we had to do was ask, and yet instead we jumped to the worst conclusions.”

“It’s seriously like we all just decided to forget our brain cells the past two days, and then grew up again in the past hour,” Mingyu spoke up, absently rubbing at the bandage on his hand.

Jeonghan’s eyes widened again. “Gyu, what happened?!”

Mingyu’s eyes matched Jeonghan’s as his attention turned to his hand. “Oh! The power went out while I was holding a knife.

“Seriously?” Seungcheol laughed. “That’s it?” Mingyu nodded. “Fair enough.”

“Wait. Hold on.” Soonyoung sat up straight and grabbed Wonwoo by the shoudlers. “I just remembered. Wonwoo-ya. I’m sorry for snapping at you yesterday. I took my frustration out on you too, and you didn’t deserve that. I apologize.”

Wonwoo smiled, hugging Soonyoung close. “I love you, Hosh.”

“Well, don’t know if we deserve it, but seems like today’s finishing on a happy ending,” Seungkwan sighed, eyes alight with a serene happiness.

“And, on that note, feels like my work here is done,” Joshua said, stretching his arms above his head. Chan sat up slowly, pouting as the older man stood up from the couch.

“Great mediating, hyung.” Seungkwan offered a thumbs up.

13/10, would hire again, Seokmin wrote in his notebook with several hearts.

“Yeah, thank you for your service,” Hansol said.

“Thank you for your guilt trip.” Joshua tapped Hansol’s shoulder with an adoringly proud smile as he passed the back of the couch on his way to the stairs.

“We have missed so much,” Seungcheol said in a dramatic whisper. Jeonghan patted his shoulder with an empathetic smile, his touch just soft enough to irritate the leader’s skin again.

“Tell me about it.” Minghao rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, what’s up with you?” Soonyoung asked, gaze narrowing at Minghao. “How are you feeling?”

Minghao shrugged. “Okay. It was just a migraine. I should’ve said something… and had more water… and asked to sit down. I’m totally cool.”

“Yeah you are.” Jun pinched Minghao’s cheek, earning him a sharp swat from the younger dancer. But Minghao immediately began to play with Jun’s hair, never mad at him for long.

“How are you, hyung?” Wonwoo asked, turning to Seungcheol.

The leader shrugged. “Also totally cool. I had an allergic reaction to the new detergent Hannie bought, which he could not have known,” he added, holding up a finger to stop Jeonghan in the middle of taking a breath for an apology. “All the stress and sweat of the last few days made it worse, but I’m medicated and will be good to go tomorrow.”

“Wow. Things really have worked out for us, huh?” Mingyu smiled.

“Oh, right. Hey Mingyu?”

“Huh?” As Mingyu tilted his head back to address his hyung, Joshua swooped forward and pressed his lips against the younger man’s. Mingyu’s body went rigid, eyes blown wide in shock as warm hands cupped his cheeks and soft lips crashed against his. Both Soonyoung and Jeonghan screeched at different decibel levels. Seungkwan screamed “HONG JISOO!” far louder than the other two screeching. Hansol spit out the sip of water he’d just taken and choked momentarily. Minghao whistled approvingly. Junhei applauded. Several jaws dropped and several more noises of hysterics rang out. The room grew deathly silent as Joshua pulled away, Mingyu blinking several times in total confusion.

“Hyung, respectfully, what the fuck?”

“You said it was a kiss or nothing.” Mingyu’s eyes widened in understanding. An ever-so-innocent smirk curled up Joshua’s lips. “You’re welcome.”

“I could kiss you again,” the younger man said in complete awe. “You’re my hero.” “Yeah, we’ll come back to that one in a few days.” Joshua affectionately hit Mingyu’s shoulder twice before pushing off from the couch towards the stairs.

“Wait, that’s not fair. I want a Shua kiss too!” Chan exclaimed, sitting up straighter on the edge of the couch cushion. Joshua stopped in his tracks as soft laughter rippled through the room.

“Um, agreed.” Soonyoung raised his hand.

Seokmin tapped his notebook furiously where he’d written “ME TOO!” in rushed letters, aghast at the prospect of being left out.

“Yeah, honestly, same. That was hot as fuck,” Minghao added with a shrug.

“Hey hey! That was a one time thing!” Jeonghan interrupted, holding up his hands to stem the tide of comments as he moved to Joshua’s side.

“Oooo, is that jealousy I detect?” Hansol teased from the floor. Jeonghan’s face turned scarlet as he crossed his arms over his chest with a huff. “No! It was a… self-preservation instinct none of you seem to have,” he proclaimed, pointing purposefully at Joshua. “He’s still contagious, people.” As if on cue, Joshua turned away and caught three particularly harsh sneezes in his sleeve, whispering a soft, “ow,” as he straightened back up.

Soonyoung rolled his eyes. “Okay, I didn’t mean IMMEDIATELY. Just in the near future.”

Seokmin scrabbled to write and then tapped his board in earnest. I’d risk it!!!!!

“No. No one else is ‘risking it,’” Seungcheol said, pointing at each of the members and making eye contact to ensure they understood.

“Agreed, this bug sucks,” Joshua said, melting ever so noticeably into Jeonghan’s touch as the other boy slung his arm around his shoulders. Despite that clear comfort, Joshua still shot a side glare in Jeonghan’s direction. “That includes you.”

Jeonghan obediently removed his arm from Joshua’s shoulders, instead wrapping it protectively around his waist. “Fine, but I’m still chaperoning you upstairs.” A chorus of suggestive “OOOOOoooooOOOOOOO!”’s rang out around the room. Jeonghan scoffed. “What’s wrong with you people?” “Why’d you use the word chaperone?” Minghao asked. “You’re the one making it sound wrong.”

“I hate you all.”

Joshua laughed quietly. “Goodnight, everyone.”

~~~

As his eyes were just about to close, Seungkwan heard a knock on his door. He called a sleepy, “come in,” and rubbed at this eyes as he sat up. He was somewhat surprised to see Soonyoung’s head peek around the door. “Hyung?”

“Hey.” Soonyoung smiled softly. “I just want to say I’m sorry again. I acted like an ass, and you don’t deserve that. You’re my best friend, my brother, and I love and admire you so much. I should have recognized that your distraction was disappointment. I should’ve…” “Hyung, no.” Seungkwan shook his head. “If you should’ve noticed, I should’ve too. Yeah, you were an ass, but so was I. We fucked up, but we figured it out.”

“Still.” Soonyoung dug his toe into the rug, eyes downcast. “I feel… icky about it all.”

“Same.” Seungkwan hugged his knees to his chest. “But we just have to apologize and move forward yeah? It’s not like this the worst fight we’ve had.”

“Well…” Soonyoung’s lips quirked to the side. “It might’ve been the worst fight the two of us have had, but definitely not the worst within the group.”

“Exactly.” Seungkwan nodded emphatically. “So, like we said before: I apologize, I forgive you. Let’s move forward, okay?”

Soonyoung grinned. “I apologize, I forgive you, let’s move on.” Seungkwan mirrored his smile. “Can we… can we cuddle? I’ve needed a Kwannie hug since we rejection email.”

Seungkwan laughed, shaking his head. “Get over here, you goof.”

~~~

Consciousness found Mingyu when the sun had just begun to shine in earnest through the curtains. He took a deep breath in before opening his eyes, blinking them a few times, and took in another deep breath as he sat up and stretched his arms over his head. He released the second breath with a soft whoosh, slumping forward a bit, relishing the feeling of waking up naturally and not to an early alarm.

But that peace was shattered quickly by a hacking cough from the bed across the room. Mingyu woke up instantly, senses on high alert. Too high of alert.

Mingyu narrowed his eyes at his roommate, who had just turned blearily in his direction. Wonwoo looked pale, his forehead wrinkled in pain. Mingyu groaned. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I wish,” Wonwoo rasped, squeezing at his temples.

“You stole my cold.”

“You know I catch literally anything you all drag into this house.”

“Not fair.”

“You can kiss me too, if you want.” At the angry look on Mingyu’s face, Wonwoo puckered his lips. Before Mingyu could reply, though, a sharp yelp from the stairs broke the tension. Both rappers shot out of bed, rushing to the source of the noise. They found Seokmin and Hansol crouched at the bottom of the staircase.

“What’s going on?” Mingyu asked as he traipsed down the steps in record time. Wonwoo followed slower, maintaining some distance from the duo. Hansol was wincing in pain, clutching at his ankle.

“Sollie tripped,” Seokmin answered, eyes wide in panic. “Fell down the last few stairs.”

“What’d he trip on?” Wonwoo asked, looking around for only a moment before he noticed the shoe on the fourth step from the bottom. “Shit.”

“Yeah. Jihoonie’s gonna get a talking to about that later,” Mingyu said with a pitying wince. He turned his attention to the youngest rapped. “Sollie, what happened to your ankle?”

“It… it really hurts,” Hansol answered, gritting his teeth. “There… may’ve been a crack.”

Seokmin’s entire body slumped. “We really celebrated the end of the curse too early, huh?” His eyes immediately snapped up to the stairs as Wonwoo bent over, coughing roughly into his elbow. “Noooo….”

“I knowwww,” Wonwoo groaned back.

“You didn’t even get a kiss to make it worth it,” Seokmin pouted. Wonwoo nodded sadly.

“Yeah, we celebrated way too early,” Mingyu sighed. He slapped a hand against Seokmin’s shoulder. “But it does seem like we got one more victory.” He nodded when Seokmin’s brow furrowed. “You’re talking again, my friend.”

Seokmin gasped, hand clasping his throat. “Yes! Right! I’m back, babeee!”

Hansol gave a small laugh despite his pain. “Guess you have to update the list again, hyung.” He winced as he tried to move his foot. “And I guess Jun’s gotta share the couch now.”

Seokmin smiled. “I feel like the list of misfortunes truly cannot end until all have been represented.”

“Hey, we’ve already been through the ringer,” Mingyu said. “Really, what else could go wrong?”

Lee Seokmin's Final Misfortunes Count, as of Three Moons Past the Incident:

S. Coups - Sick (allergic reaction to laundry) - resolved

Jeonghan - Waiting on fate to Do It's Thing™️

Joshua - Sick (actually the flu - first victim) - will be resolved with sleep and drugs

Jun - Injured (knee dislocated, and back properly located but in pain. also elbows) - will be resolved with time and drugs

Hoshi - Emotional (fighting with SK) - resolved

Wonwoo - Emotional (anxiety) and Sick (second flu victim [immune system in shambles]) - will be resolved with love, sleep, and drugs

Woozi - Sick (food poisoning) - resolved with time

The8 - Sick (migraine) - resolved with time

Mingyu - Injured (cut finger) and Sick (third flu victim [kiss of death])

DK - No voice :( -> Voice came back! :D

Seungkwan - Emotional (fighting with H) - resolved

Vernon - Emotional (Big Mad) - resolved. Injured (sprained ankle) - not yet resolved

Dino - Sick (food poisoning and then the flu, poor sweet angel)

Final Author's Note: Thank you again for coming on this journey with me. I could not be more grateful for each and every one of you who made it here for inspiring me to share my writing 🩵🩵🩵

#seventeen sickfic

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kpopsickficzone · 13 days ago

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The lack of San x Yeosang sickfics (and tbh Yeosang centric fics in general) is absolutely CRIMINAL, they’re one of my favorite ships and I feel like there is sooooo much good content to work from bc San is constantly in princess treatment mode for Yeosang

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kpopsickficzone · 18 days ago

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Famous Last Words (Part 13)

Fandom: Seventeen

Sickie/Whumpee (in order of appearance): DK, Joshua, Jun, Hoshi, Seungkwan, Woozi, Dino, The8, S.Coups, "Vernon," Mingyu, Wonwoo

Word Count: 2,319

Can I sign your bandaid??? Seokmin turned his notebook to Mingyu as soon as the rapper sat back down on the couch next to Soonyoung, who had led the younger man back into the dark living room, now glowing with light from the camp lanterns.

Mingyu laughed. “Sure, Kyeomie.” He reached over the coffee table and let the vocalist happily scribble over the bandaid covering his finger.

“What’s the damage?” Jun asked.

“Thankfully nothing more than a scratch,” Soonyoung answered, voice audibly more Soonyoung than the one they’d heard all day. “But the knife must’ve hit a vein or something cause it was bleeding a ton.”

“What happened?” Chan’s question came out as more of a croak, throat raw from the recent bout of vomiting.

“When the power went out, my hand slipped and I nicked my own finger.” Mingyu shook his head. “It hurt like hell, but I was surprised more than anything. I’m sorry for scaring everyone…”

“Don’t you apologize.” Soonyoung’s eyes were sharp. “You got hurt, even if it was just a scratch. We take any injury seriously.” Seungkwan huffed, and Soonyoung’s eyes narrowed, the fire within him igniting again. “What?”

“Nothing,” Seungkwan replied.

“Obviously it’s not ‘nothing’ if you’re being a bitch about it.”

Seungkwan threw out his hands. “Why are you coming at me for literally breathing?!”

“Hey. Hey!” All attention flipped to Jihoon as he rounded the last stair. Despite the chalkiness of his skin, the producer looked terrifyingly angry. “Chill the fuck out. We’re talking, remember?” Jihoon plopped himself down on the floor next to Junhei. “Now, let’s go back to where we left off. Seungkwan, you said something like, ‘you can’t just assume,’ but then trailed off. How did that end?”

Seungkwan’s lips pressed together tightly as his hands grasped the material of the chair beneath him. In the quiet, Hansol crept back into the room and resumed his seat on Chan’s other side. His eyes volleyed back and forth between all of the collected members.

“Seungkwan?” Joshua prompted gently.

Seungkwan took a deep breath through his nose. “I was going to say you can’t just assume everyone agrees with you. That everyone sees and experience things they way you do.”

“Well that sounds like bullshit,” Soonyoung replied, voice plain. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Get specific, Seungkwan. All this grandstanding isn’t getting us anywhere.”

“This is exactly what I’m talking about!” Seungkwan exclaimed.

“How?!”

“What are you accusing me ‘grandstanding’ for?!”

Soonyoung shrugged. “Are you trying to say this isn’t all an act? You get a lot of practice on camera. Who knows how much of this is an act?”

The words cut swift and deep. Seungkwan’s mouth gaped open, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head. “You know what?! FUCK YOU!” As Soonyoung shot back a response, Seungkwan jumped to his feet, voices raising in frequency as their blows cut closer and closer to home.

“SORE LOSER!”

“ATTENTION SEEKER!”

“EGO MANIAC!”

“FAKE ASS BITCH!”

“FUCKING TRAITOR!”

Seokmin turned to Joshua, desperate for the other man to intervene, which was why he was the only one who noticed that Joshua’s gaze was miles away, eyes nearly glazed over. He was the only one who noticed his breath catch, saw the first sneeze almost perfectly stifled into his sleeve, the only other person alerted being Chan, who could feel the movement from his position suctioned against Joshua’s stomach. The youngest member sat up in concern as his hyung leaned away from him with another sneeze, more forceful than the first, but still nearly silent. Chan’s hand found Joshua’s back like a magnet after the third, (significantly less stifled,) sneeze, and he made eye contact with Seokmin after the fourth. Which was the exact moment when…

“Shua-hyung!” Mingyu exclaimed, turning towards their appointed mediator as Soonyoung let out a wordless cry of anger and stormed off to pace behind the couch as frustrated tears began brimming in Seungkwan’s eyes. Which was why most eyes (Mingyu, Jihoon, Hansol, Junhei) were now focused on Joshua as he buckled forward, hands cupped over his face, with three of the most desperate sneezes they’d ever heard from the vocalist. Soonyoung’s tirade paused and all attention fell solely on Joshua.

“Hyung,” Chan cooed softly, still smoothing circles into the elder’s back as Seokmin snagged a few tissues from the box on the table and passed them to Joshua, who whispered a thank you before sneezing again. “Oh my god, hyung, are you okay?” Soonyoung asked. Joshua nodded despite the irritated tears swimming across his vision, but vaulted to his feet and started moving towards the hallway, tissues still pressed to his face.

“Shit, bless you. Want us to wait for you?” Hansol asked.

Joshua shook his head, and waved one hand at them as he gasped out a, “No, ke…keep go-ing,” before bending at the waist with another sneeze. He quickly ran down the hall, the bathroom door slamming behind him. After a quick look around, Seokmin followed after him.

“Do you feel bad now?” Jun asked, eyes directed towards Hansol. “Yeah, actually. Thanks for rubbing that in,” the younger man replied.

“Shit. Why the fuck did I say that?” Jun asked, head falling into his arms on the floor. “I’m sorry, Sol’.”

“You’re good. I felt the attempt at comedy.” “It’s not your fault.” Chan, ignoring Jun, slumped against the older boy’s shoulder, looking up through his eyelashes. He slammed a comforting hand on Hansol’s thigh. “You didn’t get him sick.”

“No, but I will personally see to it that whoever did will suffer,” Hansol said, sighing deeply before turning his attention back to the room. “Which is another reason we gotta get this conversation over with. Soonyoung-hyung, Kwannie… you’re both adults. Stop arguing like kids.” Neither man moved, nor spoke. Time ticked forward in uneasy silence. Hansol fought the urge to scream.

In the silence, a door creaked down the hall and soft footfalls echoed as Joshua reappeared, looking significantly worse for wear. “Welcome back, we’ve gotten nowhere,” Mingyu said with fake brightness as the older man flopped back into his seat on the couch. Chan immediately latched back onto Joshua, arms encircling the elder’s waist and cheek falling to his thigh. Joshua’s fingers automatically began to play with Chan’s hair.

“Great,” Joshua replied as Seokmin returned as well, placing a few bottles of water on the end table before sliding onto the arm of the couch next to the older vocalist. He began to play with Joshua’s hair, as simple and automatic as Joshua had started playing with Chan’s. And, just as the maknae had melted under Joshua’s touch, the elder vocalist also seemed to melt at Seokmin’s ministrations.

“Okay. I feel like a lot of hurtful things have been said,” Jihoon spoke up, voice steady, drawing attention back. “Now that we’ve aired some of the anger, let’s try to get back to actually talking, yeah?” He looked at Soonyoung until the dance leader met his eyes and nodded. He did the same with Seungkwan. “Okay. Good. Now, Seungkwan, you said something about not assuming things about others. What is Soonyoung assuming about you?”

“He’s assuming I like the attention I get from variety content,” Seungkwan answered. “And…”

Jihoon help up a hand to silence him. “Soonyoung, I want to share something Seungkwan is assuming about you.”

Soonyoung blinked, puffing out his lips in thought. “He’s assuming I singled him out during rehearsal.”

“Good. Seungkwan? Your turn.”

As Seungkwan replied, “He’s assuming I wasn’t trying during rehearsal on purpose,” Wonwoo tiptoed back into the room, sitting down on the couch next to Mingyu. His eyes moved between Seungkwan and Soonyoung as the two calmly shared assumptions back and forth. “What’s happening?” Wonwoo whispered to Mingyu, casually reaching for his left hand.

“Mediating,” Mingyu replied, a tiny smile tugging at his lips as Wonwoo’s fingers traced his bandaid. “I’m okay, Wonu.” Wonwoo squeezed his hand, and refused to let go as they turned their attention back to the room.

Jihoon was nodding. “Alright, this is really good. Now, something you both mentioned was rehearsal yesterday. Seungkwan, what was distracting you from rehearsal?”

“Well, it was the… Okay, wait, pause all …” Seungkwan gestured wildly between them, “this.” Several confused glances were exchanged as the vocalist pointed towards Mingyu. “Gyu, grab a blanket from the bin. Shua’s shivering.”

“Oh my god,” Joshua groaned as Mingyu tossed a blanket to Seungkwan. “Guys, we were making progress. I’m fine.” “No, you’re not. You’ve been running a fever all day, and, even in this light, I can see red on your cheeks, which means that that fever is spiking. We literally just watched you have a sneezing fit when I’ve personally never heard you sneeze more than once every like, four months. You’re sick and the heat’s out, so blanket,” Seungkwan refuted as he moved to set the blanket around Joshua’s shoulders despite the elder’s continued protests and slightly pouted lips. “There. Anyone else want a blanket?” Once he got confirmed ‘no’s’ from the rest of the team, Seungkwan sat back down. “Now we may proceed. Where was I?”

“Rehearsal yesterday,” Soonyoung prompted, the tiniest tinge of irritation back in his voice.

“Right.” Seungkwan sighed, eyes trained on the chair as his finger traced its pattern. “I was distracted yesterday because my solo project proposal was shot down. It’s no excuse, but I was just disappointed, and then all of the sudden I was getting yelled at, so I…”

“Wait.” Soonyoung held out a hand. Jihoon and Hansol sat up at attention, ready to jump in if necessary. “Your proposal was shot down?” Seungkwan’s eyes shot up to meet the dancer’s. He shrugged. “Obviously. You got it.”

Soonyoung started shaking his head. “No, I didn’t. You did.”

“No, I didn’t,” Seungkwan insisted. Lightbulbs were going off simultaneously in both of their eyes. “Are you serious? It’s not you?”

Soonyoung had yet to stop shaking his head. “I swear on my life, my proposal was rejected.” He gave an incredulous laugh. “Oh my god.”

“Oh my god,” Hansol echoed, dropping his head into his hands.

“Kwannie, I assumed you were acting out during dance practice to spite me, to ‘look down on me’ for not getting the project.”

Seungkwan scoffed, shaking his head. “Hyung, I would never.”

“Well yeah, I know that now that I’m not blinded by rage.” It was Soonyoung’s turn to shake his head. “I can’t believe that’s what you’re so upset about, and I didn’t realize…”

“Yes. It really bothered me when you singled me out during practice, but you also said I do too much, and I thought you were talking about my solo work.” Soonyoung sat, stung to silence by Seungkwan’s words. “I should’ve just talked to you about it.”

“You could’ve said that earlier.”

Several heads swiveled towards the floor, where Minghao had appeared next to Junhei.

“When did you get here?” Mingyu exclaimed.

Minghao consulted his phone. “Maybe fifteen minutes ago. Things were heated so I just kinda…” He imitated tip toeing with his fingers, “joined in.” Minghao shrugged, his fingers moving back to where they were gently running up and down Jun’s spine. “But it definitely sounds like someone said something hurtful in a moment of passion, and that led to a miscommunication that could’ve easily been solved with a simple conversation. But maybe that’s just me.”

“Are you feeling better? Cause that was very philosophical for someone recovering from a head injury,” Chan asked.

“He had a migraine, love, not a concussion,” Joshua corrected, tone gentle. Chan looked terribly confused. Hansol patted the youngest boy’s knee with a comforting, “You’ve missed several things.”

“He’s right though,” Soonyoung said, eyes trained on the floor. “I…” He sighed deeply before moving his eyes to meet Seungkwan’s searching gaze. “I shouldn’t have said you’re too much. I didn’t mean that at all.” He rubbed at his temples, looking frustrated and guilty. "I was tired and frustrated about not getting the project, and I took it out on you. I thought… I just assumed you were slacking off cause you were too caught up in the solo to give the group your full energy, and that’s not… that’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not fair, and it really hurt,” Seungkwan replied. Soonyoung nodded in earnest, eyes turning back to the floor. “But I was also tired and frustrated, and chose to react to you with anger rather than trying to understand that we were coming from the same place. I never, ever want you to feel that I don’t value your leadership, hyung.” He shook his head, shoulders deflating. “I should’ve just talked to you about it. Which is also not fair.” A single chuckle escaped Soonyoung’s throat as he shook his head, still avoiding Seungkwan’s eyes. “What matters is the fact that we let something so stupid distract from our friendship. How could we let this happen?”

“Yeah… We’re kinda dumb, aren’t we?” Soonyoung asked, chancing another glance up at his friend. “Why didn’t we just talk this through?”

The sound of Seokmin tapping his notebook drew there attention, where the vocalist had written, Because you’re both stubborn bastards!!!

Seungkwan scoffed with an overdramatic roll of his eyes. “Stubborn bastards, indeed.” The two shared a smile. Seungkwan extended his hand. “I’m sorry, and I forgive you.”

Soonyoung clasped Seungkwan’s hand and shook hard. “I accept your apology, offer my own apology, and forgive you too.”

“I accept your apology.” It was unclear who moved first, but the handshake became leverage to pull the duo into a tight hug.

“Finally,” Hansol sighed, sinking back into the couch. Mingyu and Minghao provided a chorus of ‘awwwww’s’ as Chan applauded.

“Well.” Jihoon clapped his hands once as he pushed himself to his feet. “That was lovely. I’m gonna go throw up again.”

“You poor man.” Mingyu shook his head in sympathy.

Part 14 (the FINAL part!)

#seventeen sickfic #general illness sickfic

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kpopsickficzone · 25 days ago

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Famous Last Words (Part 11)

Fandom: Seventeen

Sickie/Whumpee (in order of appearance): DK, Joshua, Jun, Hoshi, Seungkwan, Woozi, Dino, The8, S.Coups, "Vernon," ??

Word Count: 2,393

The silence after Hansol’s disappearance was the most suffocating of the day, which was a rather incredible feat given the number of tense silences they’d had to stomach. Both Soonyoung and Seungkwan were silently fuming, the dancer’s foot tapping angrily against the couch while the vocalist stared off into the distance with his lips pressed tightly together.

“Hey, Minnie, show them your list!” Wonwoo suggested brightly, suddenly remembering the vocalist’s project he'd been shown in the car that could maybe, just maybe light up the room. Seokmin perked up at the recommendation, quickly pulling his phone from his pocket and clicking to the desired screen. He showed the screen to Seungkwan first, who cracked a reluctant smile.

“Oh hey, Junnie-hyung, how is your back?” Seungkwan asked as Seokmin, coincidentally, also passed his phone over to Jun.

“It’s… sore,” the dancer replied, reassessing his pain level.

“Can we help that at all? Ice? Heat?” Mingyu offered. Jun’s eyes lit up at the mention of heat. Mingyu’s entire body responded, perching on the edge of the couch, ready to help. “You want the heating pad?”

“Yes please.” Mingyu was off before the please had even left Jun’s mouth. In his absence, the dancer moved his attention to the screen of Seokmin’s phone, angling it so Chan could see too. Both of them laughed before Jun carefully tossed the phone to Jihoon. The producer laughed out loud. Soonyoung did not look at the screen.

Mingyu returned with the plug-in heating pad. “No idea where the microwave one is. You okay with moving to the floor?”

Jun looked down at Chan. “My love, I have to leave you now. Floor time is calling, and I shan’t disobey.”

“Literally what the fuck is wrong with you?” Jihoon shook his head as Seokmin and Wonwoo moved to help Jun safely maneuver from the couch to the floor, his back resting perfectly on the heating pad. Despite his words, though, Jihoon tossed a throw pillow for Jun to prop up his knee.

Just as they got Junhei settled, footsteps tramped down the stairs, revealing a still disgruntled Hansol and a vaguely confused Joshua. “What are you looking at?” Hansol asked as he approached the living room.

“Seokmin’s keeping track of our misfortunes,” Jun explained. Interest piqued, Hansol simply raised his eyebrows, waiting for his turn to see the phone, which Mingyu happily turned towards him. Both Hansol and Joshua leaned forward to read:

Our Current Misfortunes:

S. Coups - Sick? (allergic reaction?? hospital???)

Joshua - Sick (bad case of the sniffles -> might be the flu??)

Jun - Injured (knee dislocated, and back properly located but in pain. also elbows)

Hoshi - Emotional (fighting with SK)

Woozi - Sick (food poisoning, definitely)

The8 - Sick (migraine)

*DK - No voice :(

Seungkwan - Emotional (fighting with H)

Dino - Sick (food poisoning, definitely)

“Add me.” Hansol pointed to the screen. “Emotional: big mad.”

Seokmin nodded enthusiastically as his phone was returned. But before typing, he pointed at Joshua, then held his hands up, a silent ‘what?’

“Yeah, I also want to know what’s going on,”

“Me also!” Jun called from his place on the floor. “And move the action to where I can participate. Please.”

“Jun-hyung, are you sure you don’t want the couch?” Mingyu asked as Hansol guided Joshua towards the middle couch, depositing him with Chan, who made room for and then collapsed into the lap of his hyung with the excitement of a puppy. (A move that, coincidentally, moved ‘the action’ within Junhei’s line of sight.)

Jun nodded. “Yeah, no. Floor’s good.” He tapped the heating pack on his spine for good measure, then flicked his wrist towards them. “Proceed with whatever… is happening over there.”

“What is happening over here?” Wonwoo asked, staring skeptically from Joshua to Hansol. Joshua shrugged, staring expectantly at Hansol.

“You’re all going to talk, and hyung and I are going to mediate,” Hansol explained, settling back into the couch with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Is this a good cop, bad cop situation?” Soonyoung asked. Despite the joke, his voice was harsher than usual. “Is that why you dragged Shua-hyung out here?”

“No, I’m just really pissed at you all and needed someone else to mediate me,” Hansol explained.

“Great honesty, we can work with that,” Joshua commented, only partially sarcastic as he patted Hansol’s shoulder.

“Wait, why are Wonwoo and I here?” Mingyu asked. “And Seokmin?” The vocalist nodded for effect. “We’re not part of this.”

“And me!” Jun added.

“Me too,” Chan called. Jihoon did not speak up.

“We need witnesses,” Hansol answered.

“Is this court?!” Mingyu exclaimed. Seokmin, wide eyes glaring towards Hansol, pointed at Mingyu to emphasize his question.

“Yes. Now.” Hansol turned to look at Joshua, who turned to look at him in return. “Hyung, start mediating.”

“Um, okay.” Joshua sat up a little straighter, moving Chan slightly so he could pull his legs criss cross underneath him on the couch. He clapped his hands together, blowing out a puff of air. “I guess we start with what we know.” Junhei raised his hand. “Yes, Jun?”

“Soonyoung-sshi and Seungkwan-sshi are fighting,” Junhei stated.

“Okay, Captain Obvious,” Hansol scoffed as the others started to speak up in response.

“Hey, hyung said let’s start with what we know,” Junhei yelled over the uproar, gesturing back towards the two members he’d named. “They are, indeed, fighting.”

“He’s also high as a kite on pain meds,” Chan whispered, grabbing Hansol’s hand. “Let him have this.”

“FINE!” Hansol yelled over everyone, which had the desired effect of shutting them all up. The boy sighed with a meaningful look at Junhei. “I retract my statement.” The boy on the floor twirled his wrist as if he were bowing, which he very clearly was not.

“Alright, good start,” Joshua encouraged. “I actually think that crowdsourcing the facts might be the best way to kick this thing off. We’ll hear from you two,” he gestured to Soonyoung and Seungkwan, “in a little bit, yeah? Everyone else, what do we know?” Mingyu raised his hand. “Gyu, go ahead.”

“The fight started at practice yesterday,” Mingyu recited like a child at school.

“Excellent!” Mingyu beamed at Joshua’s praise. “What else?”

“Their fighting has been giving everyone a headache, and has messed with our rehearsals and performance yesterday,” Hansol added with a pointed look at the two guilty parties. Joshua patted his companion’s knee twice in acknowledgement as Wonwoo slightly raised his hand. Joshua nodded him on.

“We first noticed it sometime during dance practice,” Wonwoo said. “After unit rehearsals. Not to mention…”

“Hyung!” Seungkwan’s hand shot in the air, his body straightening up, tense as lightning. All eyes turned to him. “Can I please say something?”

Joshua blinked, but nodded. “Yeah, you can talk. But can we let Wonwoo finish first?” Seungkwan collapsed back with a frustrated sigh but nodded his assent for decorum. Joshua inclined his head towards the rapper. “Continue.”

“Not to mention the fact that results on the solo proposals came out around that time yesterday,” Wonwoo concluded. He was clearly making an effort to not look at either Soonyoung or Seungkwan. Which was good considering both of them went rigid at that statement.

“Great point,” Joshua acknowledged. “Anyone else?” No one dared say anything more as the negative energy radiating from Seungkwan and Soonyoung had become stifling. Joshua, keenly aware of that as well, simply nodded, and, sniffling once, instructed, “We’ll take turns talking, yeah? Soonyoung, you’ll get a turn after Seungkwan, because he asked first, sand we’ll just go back and forth.” The other boy rolled his eyes, but nodded. Joshua cocked his head to the side. “Why the attitude, Soonyoungie?”

“Nothing, but it’s obvious you’re favoring him already,” Soonyoung replied.

“Honey, he asked to go first,” Joshua repeated calmly, much calmer than anyone expected him to be. Hansol was impressed. “I’m not playing favorites.” Soonyoung nodded again, seemingly unconvinced, but motioned for Joshua to proceed. Joshua nodded to Seungkwan.

“Wonwoo hyung is right. We started… disagreeing right before dance practice, and you could see it in practice, but it wasn’t about dance,” Seungkwan began. Soonyoung looked ready to intervene, but Mingyu gently took hold of his knee to quiet him. “It’s about this guy singling me out for no reason.”

“Are you kidding-?!” Soonyoung’s outburst was silenced by Mingyu taking hold of both of his hands to distract him.

“No, I’m not kidding. I’ve never been more serious in my life,” Seungkwan replied, eyes shooting daggers across to the other couch.

“Really? You’ve never been more serious?” Soonyoung challenged despite Mingyu’s increasingly tightening hold. He scoffed. “Grow up.”

“You wanna say that again?”

“Yeah: Grow. The. Fuck. Up.”

At that Seungkwan launched into a rant that only increased in volume as Soonyoung fired back his own thoughts. Steadily, the yelling began to overlap, voices getting louder and louder. Chan whimpered, covering his ears and burrowing his face deeper into Joshua’s abdomen. The elder vocalist, for his part, closed his eyes and forced as deep a breath as his lungs would allow, then turned to Hansol and whispered in English, “I’m only getting about half of this. My brain is…” he gestured vaguely towards his head, “foggy.” His statement was followed by another sniffle, and a pained grimace.

Hansol patted Joshua’s knee affectionately, his heart squeezing more than a bit. “I’m proud of you for even getting that much.” The younger boy inhaled deeply and whistled. All eyes turned back to him. “This is exactly what we wanted to avoid. The goal was to have a civilized conversation. And by civilized, I mean one that our sickly Shua can follow and one that won’t wake up Minghao.” The mention of the other boy sleeping upstairs in particular seemed to chastise the other members into a guilty silence of assent. In the silence, Junhei raised his hand. “Yes?”

“I’m still confused why you had to bring Shua into this at all. I mean, he’s so sick, why not just leave him upstairs?” Joshua didn’t even try to argue, further proving Junhei’s point.

“It’s a guilt trip. Plain and simple,” Hansol replied. He turned apologetic eyes towards Joshua. “Sorry, hyung.” Junhei clicked his tongue as he shook his head. “Shameless.” He then gave a thumbs up. “Nice work.”

“I like drugged Junhei. He just says whatever the fuck he wants,” Mingyu commented, shaking his head approvingly. His statement was met by an enthusiastic ‘woo-woo’ from said dancer. Mingyu pointed in emphasis.

“Gyu, normal Junhei does that too,” Wonwoo pointed out.

Mingyu shrugged. “But it’s funnier with the drugs.”

“Okay, break over. Point taken about the guilt trip. Let’s get back to the mediating,” Jihoon said, clapping his hands for emphasis. “I believe Seungkwan was talking. Soonyoung-hyung, you will get a turn soon, yeah? Kwannie, please continue.”

“Right, so dance practice starts,” Seungkwan began, looking pointedly at Soonyoung, who, despite complying with the request to let the younger man talk, was clearly pissed about it, “during the middle of an incredibly challenging day for me. I had been filming promotional material all morning and had just arrived at the studio, and then when I tried to tell you all about that experience, this guy,” he pointed at Soonyoung but moved his gaze to Joshua, “cuts me off and tries to act like it’s not big deal cause I do this stuff ‘all the time,’ and it’s ‘nothing special.’ And then…”

“You did choose this!” Soonyoung burst out. “When our managers asked ‘who wants to go to this taping?’ you volunteered!”

“Yeah, because no one else was!” Seungkwan yelled back.

“You always do this! You act like you’re making this big sacrifice for all of us when we never asked you to.”

“That’s not what I’m saying at all!”

“Sure sounds like it.”

“What, I’m not allowed to talk about, or celebrate, or complain about my life?”

“No one’s saying that, stupid.”

Seungkwan vaulted to his feet. “Don’t call me stupid!”

Soonyoung jumped up too, but both remained on their side of the coffee table. “Then don’t say stupid things!”

“UGH! You’re acting so ignorant!”

“SO I’M not allowed to call YOU stupid, but YOU get to call ME IGNORANT?”

“That’s not…”

“No, that is. You just called me ignorant.”

“Because you’re acting so…” Seungkwan stopped himself, taking a deep breath. “That’s the whole point! You can’t just…” He sat down with a frustrated huff, head hanging in his hands. His voice broke as he sighed, “What’s even the fucking point?” His question was met with silence. Thankfully, Jihoon’s phone buzzed in the midst of it, breaking the quiet. The producer got up, a strained, “Hello?” audible before he disappeared into the hallway.

“Okay, I think we should take a break,” Joshua suggested gently. “Wonu, Gyu, you guys feel like making dinner?”

They barely got two affirmative finger guns from Mingyu and a “You got it,” from Wonwoo before the two had bolted out of the room. The silence continued to hang heavily over them all, Seungkwan still breathing heavily into his hands with Seokmin rubbing his shoulders. Soonyoung got up to pace around behind the couch. Hansol and Joshua looked at each other, unsure of what to do or say next.

The silence was mercifully broken by Jihoon’s reappearance. “Bad news.” Even though his first words weren’t great, everyone’s attention snapped to him, desperate for some type of distraction. Jihoon, hardly noticing the tension, slumped on the couch where Wonwoo had been sitting. “Coups-hyung and Jeonghan-hyung are stuck at the hospital. The storm is too bad to risk driving in it.” He eyed Seungkwan curiously, giving him a soft pat on the back. The younger man didn’t respond.

“So they’re just stuck there?” Chan asked.

Jihoon shrugged, curling further into the couch, knees pulled to his chest. “Sounds like it. At least until the storm lets up.”

“They’re just like… sitting there?” Chan asked again.

Jihoon shrugged again. “I don’t know, bug, I’m not there.”

“That could take hours,” Soonyoung said in disbelief.

Jihoon shrugged yet again. “Good news is Coups is all good, though. Just a….”

The lights went out.

“Well, fuck.”

“Kinda glad you didn’t open with that so that the power went out conveniently like a sitcom,” Jun commented.

A scream from the kitchen pierced the darkness.

“Well fuck!” Jihoon exclaimed again, this time far more urgent.

Part 12

#seventeen sickfic #emotional whump sickfic

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kpopsickficzone · 25 days ago

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Famous Last Words (Part 12)

Fandom: Seventeen

Sickie/Whumpee (in order of appearance): DK, Joshua, Jun, Hoshi, Seungkwan, Woozi, Dino, The8, S.Coups, "Vernon," Mingyu, Wonwoo

Word Count: 1,901

“Not a sitcom, a horror movie,” Hansol corrected Jun’s former statement as everyone else scrambled blindly from the living room into the kitchen. Sure enough, when they each arrived in turn, Wonwoo had his phone light shining directly onto a sight straight out of a horror movie. Blood covered Mingyu’s hand, dripping onto the counter. The knife he’d been using lay haphazardly below him. But the worst part by far was the hitching sobs of barely contained panic emanating from Mingyu himself coupled with Wonwoo’s chorus of “oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!”

And the absolute cherry on top was Chan pushing past everyone to make it to the sink just in time to throw up again.

Joshua stepped forward, grabbing Hoshi and Wonwoo’s shoulders and making eye contact with each man in turn: “Soonyoung, first aid on Gyu in the bathroom. Take Wonwoo.” Hoshi nodded, snapped straight into leader mode, but Wonwoo paled visibly, a choked noise creeping from his throat before he sprinted out of the kitchen. Joshua and Soonyoung looked after him for a fraction of a second before Soonyoung grabbed Mingyu by the shoulders and steered him out of the kitchen. Joshua also shook himself back to attention, pointing to the three still hovering beyond the counter; Seungkwan and Seokmin looked shaken, but at attention, while Hansol was trying and failing not to pay attention to Chan’s vomiting. “Sollie, can you please go follow Wonu?” The younger man replied with a quick, “Of course,” before following the rapper. “Seokmin, Kwannie, go find lights. Our camping lanterns. Flashlights. Anything you can.” The two rushed off, shouting back affirmatives.

Joshua turned his attention to the youngest, whose gagging coughs had become sobbing into his hands over the sink. The elder started rubbing circles into his back with one hand, pushing his hair back with the other. “Channie, don’t cry, it’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” Chan whimpered around a sob. He gagged again, coughed up nothing but stomach acid, eliciting another broken cry. “I’m so sorry…”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Joshua’s fingers moved slowly, gently wiping the tears from the younger’s cheeks. “At least you made it to the sink.”

“Yeah, and we’ve definitely had to wash worse things out of this sink,” Junhei added, side eying said sink to assess the damage. Joshua jolted at Jun’s voice, not realizing he’d limped over to join them.

“Junnie, go sit down,” he instructed softly.

“I’d rather help here,” the younger man insisted, hobbling to the freezer and returning to the sink with an ice pack that he pressed against Chan’s neck. The youngest boy melted immediately, sighing in utter relief that was short lived as his body once again tensed up. New tears spilled down the youngest’s face as he gagged again, producing nothing but more tears running down his cheeks.

“Shh, shh, sweetheart,” Joshua cooed softly, hand rubbing soothing circles over Chan’s shoulder blades as Jun pressed and released the ice pack in different spots up and down his neck, “you’re okay, you’re ok-ay-“ The older boy’s voice caught in his throat, sending him into a cough that turned into two, then three, then a proper fit. As Joshua turned away, face thrown into his elbow, Junhei stepped forward, one hand taking Joshua’s spot on Chan’s back and the other taking up residence on Joshua’s.

“You okay?” Jun asked when Joshua straighten up with a pained moan.

“No,” the older boy replied, sniffling hard. Jun pouted sympathetically, then took the ice pack from the counter and gently pressed it to Joshua’s forehead. “What are you doing?”

“Helping?”

Joshua chuckled. “You are making me feel better emotionally.” Junhei clicked his tongue twice with a wink, then turned his attention back to the youngest.

“Are you okay, buddy?” he asked softly, returning the ice pack to Chan’s neck.

“I mean, I think it’s over.” He sniffled, rubbing a hand over his face while the other supported his entire weight against the counter. “For now, at least.” He turned a wry smile to both of his hyungs, but Chan’s lips were still trembling. Joshua moved closer again and resumed rubbing circles into his back as Junhei resumed pressing the ice to different spots around his neck.

Seokmin and Seungkwan came running back down the stairs, carrying several flashlights and a few lanterns from their camping supply.

“We bring light!” Seungkwan announced, setting one of the lanterns on the kitchen counter and flicking the switch, illuminating the room once again. Seokmin emphasized the moment with jazz hands. “Also, I don’t want to alarm anyone, but Jihoon’s throwing up again. And Hao’s passed out. Eye mask, noise cancelling headphones. He’s on another planet or something.”

“Thanks you two.” Joshua smiled. “Any chance one of you wants to finish up dinner? Channie’s not well, Junnie shouldn’t be standing this long, and I shouldn’t be handling other people’s food.”

“We’re on it,” Seungkwan said simultaneously with Seokmin giving a perfect salute.

“Thank you. Junhei, Chan, get each other back to the couch. I’ll clean out the sink,” Joshua instructed gently.

“Like hell you will,” Seungkwan scoffed as Seokmin began violently shaking his head. “You need to rest as much as they do.”

“Guys, I…” “Save it, hyung. They’re not gonna let you,” Chan interrupted, his fingers gently pulling at Joshua’s sleeve. “Come back to the couch with us.” The look on his face was so pitiful Joshua simply nodded his assent and followed after Jun and Chan back to the couch.

Meanwhile, at the hospital:

Jeonghan didn’t even realize how violently he was tapping his foot until Seungcheol’s hand closed around his knee.

“Hannie, relax,” the leader said, voice low and warm as his fought to keep his eyes open. The doctor had confirmed Jeonghan’s suspicions: Seungcheol was having an allergic reaction to the new laundry detergent. Thankfully, the reaction was purely dermatological, and would clear up quickly with a few doses of corticosteroids. The doctor guessed that the rash had been as rough as it was from the stress and sweat of idol life. As long as his skin wasn’t exposed to the detergent regularly, Seungcheol would be just fine.

At this moment, however, the leader was hopped up on industrial strength ibuprofen, and had been blinking in and out of sleep in his plastic chair in the private waiting room. His head kept falling against Jeonghan’s shoulder, his sleepy sighs tickling the vocalist’s neck. Jeonghan couldn’t deny the peace of it.

But Jeonghan also couldn’t stop the ball of anxiety growing in his stomach. They’d been told about the inclement weather, how the roads were incredibly unsafe, how they had to remain at the hospital longer. Away from the rest of their group. Unable to soothe hurt feelings, fevers, headaches, EVERYTHING that their brothers were going through.

“Hannie, please.” Seungcheol squeezed his knee harder, stopping the resumed bouncing. Jeonghan sighed. “Talk to me, love.”

“I’m worried about the kids.”

“I know.”

“Then why make me say it?”

“So that you’ll stop bouncing your leg. It’s bothering me.”

Jeonghan snorted, shaking his head. “Selfish bastard.” He felt Seungcheol shake with a small chuckle. “But really, I’m very antsy just sitting here. I need to do something.”

“You can call them. Call Shua or Wonwoo or Mingyu.” Jeonghan hummed. “You can also just keeping worrying if you want.”

“You’re so good at this comforting thing,” Jeonghan joked.

“I try my best.”

Jeonghan snorted, but dropped his head on top of Seungcheol’s. As the leader’s breath evened out, the vice leader let his own eyes slip closed.

Meanwhile, outside on the balcony:

Hansol slowly pulled the sliding door open. Wonwoo was sitting in one of the deck chairs, thankfully completely safe from the snow, knees pulled to his chest and face smashed into his knees. He was stock still except for the rapid movement of his back with his fast-paced breathing.

Hansol walked over to the chair opposite Wonwoo, pulling it a little further under the cover of the balcony He didn’t say anything at first, simply placed his hand on Wonwoo’s knee to let the other know he was there.

It didn’t take long for Wonwoo to wrap his fingers around Hansol’s.

“Will you breathe with me?” Hansol asked. Wonwoo’s fingers squeezed his. So Hansol began to count.

In one, two, three, four.

Hold one, two, three four.

Out one, two, three, four.

Hansol wasn’t sure how many countdowns it took for Wonwoo’s breathing to slow. The silence was deafening, but the warmth of their intertwined fingers, the language passing from that simple touch, said enough.

In one, two, three, four.

Hold one, two, three four.

Out one, two, three, four.

When Wonwoo’s breath was finally back under control, despite his still hidden face, Hansol whispered, ”You wanna talk?” Wonwoo shook his head. “Nah. It’s nothing serious.”

“Hyung, you’re coming down from a panic attack,” Hansol insisted, squeezing Wonwoo’s hand again. “Anything that’s bothering you is serious to me.”

The older boy sighed. He took a deep breath and picked his head up, meeting Hansol’s eyes. The younger boy wasn’t surprised to find them turning red with tears. “Too many bad things are happening at once.” Keeping one hand holding Hansol’s, Wonwoo used the other hand to drum against his knee. “The lights are out. Everyone’s getting sick or hurt. Cheol and Hannie are stuck at the hospital. Kwannie and Soonyoung are literally in the middle of world war three. Mingyu cut his hand… The power going out was kind of the tipping point. Then the yelling started and… there was blood and…” He took a deep breath. “And I just got overstimulated and anxious and…” He sighed, unable to find the words to put it all together.

“You’re reaction is completely valid, you know that, right?” Hansol asked, staring hard at Wonwoo until the older boy met his eyes. “Even if none of the ‘bad’ things are happening to you directly. There’s absolutely no shame in being anxious.” Wonwoo smiled softly. “I know there’s no shame in it. I just… feel guilty.”

“Don’t.”

“Sollie… it’s not just today…”

“Hyung, please don’t feel guilty.” Wonwoo swallowed, slowing himself down. “I know. We’re working on it.”

The silence between them was comfortable. “How long have you been feeling anxious?”

“The past few days. It’s just been building and building and just kind of spilled over today.”

“Have you been sleeping?” Hansol asked quietly.

Wonwoo shrugged. “Most of the time.”

“Are you sure there isn’t anything more you want to talk about?”

Wonwoo shook his head. “No. I genuinely have no idea what started all this. I’m just…” He clutched at his shirt, knotting it between his fingers. “I’m all wound up inside. But it feels… less now?”

Hansol looked at him, trying his best to understand. “Maybe today caused an overflow, and now you’re back at normal?” Wonwoo shrugged, the ghost of a smile haunting his face. Hansol nodded resignedly. He took a deep breath, not wanting to press that issue now. “You want me to stay?” Wonwoo shook his head. “No, I’ll just be another minute. The air is helping.”

“Good. Take your time.” He squeezed Wonwoo’s hand one more time before letting go. Vaulting to his feet, Hansol added, “But not too much, cause we don’t need anymore misfortunes.”

Wonwoo laughed, a genuine laugh that made Hansol’s heart skip. “Thank you, ‘Sol.

Part 13

#seventeen sickfic #emeto sickfic #emotional whump sickfic #whump sickfic #general illness sickfic #Mingyu sickie #Dino sickie #Joshua sickie #Wonwoo sickie #Joshua caretaker #Jun caretaker #Vernon caretaker

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kpopsickficzone · 27 days ago

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Caught in the rain

Fandom: Seventeen

Sickie: Vernon/Hansol

Caregivers: DK/Seokmin, Dino/Chan, Jun/Junhui

Prompts:

Feveruary 2025: 3 caught in the rain, 14 falling asleep in the wrong place, 15 guiding sickie back to bed, 20 lost voice/strep throat @feveruary

Fluffbingo: sleepy hug, “You’re the best.” @flufftober

No one’s POV.:

Should Vernon have known about the rain after it had already been pouring all week? Yeah, he probably should. Was the rain the last thing on his mind when he woke up late after forgetting to set an alarm? Most definitely. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to make it to practice on time, Vernon threw on some sweatpants and a t-shirt before grabbing his backpack and rushing out the door. He loved his group and how large their team was but that ultimately meant more people to let down by being late. If only he had had the same morning schedule as Jun, DK and Dino, they would’ve made sure he was up but they had wanted to grant him that extra hour of sleep that ended up being an extra two hours.

With the adrenaline soaring through his veins, Vernon didn’t feel the cold, only the rain in his eyes was a slight bother. He hadn’t wanted to wait for a cab, so now he was paying the prize for it, his clothes soon soaked through to the skin. Luckily, he was wearing black, so it wasn’t immediately apparent, just how soaked he was. Arriving to practice late was already more than embarrassing enough. To Vernon’s surprise, the scolding turned out relatively mild, though he couldn’t tell whether the members had pity on him because he looked like a drowned dog or whether they didn’t want to waste anymore valuable practice time on him.

Jumping straight into practice had some unexpected benefits. Vernon didn’t get the chance to feel cold in his wet clothes, immediately staring to run hot. At some point, he wasn’t sure if the moisture in his clothes were rain or sweat and honestly, it didn’t really matter either. Vernon wanted to make up for being late by giving it his all and going all out during practice, in hindsight probably exerting himself more than he should’ve.

“Please tell me you have some dry clothes to change into”, Seokmin frowned when practice was finally over. Vernon was far more drenched than any of them, so he knew it couldn’t all be sweat. Wiping his face on his towel, the younger groaned: “Fuck, I forgot. Only grabbed my bag and left.” – “Alright, we’ll find you something”, Seokmin sighed, digging through his bag. He only had a spare shirt but with so many members, chances were high someone else would be carrying something.

Jun had a pair of sweatpants in his locker and promised to grab them for Vernon, while Jeonghan offered his hoodie. Though he ended up looking a little funny, Vernon was glad to finally feel dry again. Being caught in the rain and exerting himself in wet clothes for four hours had taken quite a toll on his mood and to make matters worse, he felt completely off now, flashing hot and cold. “You good now?”, Seokmin asked as they prepared to head to a meeting. Not wanting to vent his sour mood at the older, Vernon nodded. It was his fault that his day had begun so shitty. If only he had set an alarm.

Seated between Wonwoo and Seokmin, Vernon easily let his thoughts drift away during the meeting. He was brought back to focus when Wonwoo nudged his arm and gently slid his water bottle closer. Getting the hint, Vernon took a few sips and shuddered. He was starting to feel a little chilled, despite having changed his clothes. The water had felt nice on his throat though, so he shot his hyung a small smile. He was so spaced out, that he didn’t even notice how they took a small break, startling when Wonwoo hummed: “Are you okay, Sollie? You’re so quiet.” – “Throat hurts”, the younger mumbled, resting his chin on his hands. Not even finding the energy to keep up appearances anymore.

Vernon closed his eyes as Wonwoo’s hand ran up and down his back. “Really not your day, huh?”, Seokmin chuckled softly but it soon turned into a frown, when Vernon cupped his sweater paws over his lips and muffled a painful sounding cough. Jeonghan looked up at the sound and shot Wonwoo a look, they both silently agreeing that their second youngest was most definitely coming down with something. Gently tugging the hood off of Vernon’s head, Wonwoo cupped the younger’s forehead and clicked his tongue: “You’re pretty warm. Think you’re running a fever?” – “I dunno, might still be from dancing”, Vernon mumbled, his voice undeniably hoarse, “Just having an off day, will probably be fine once I take a nap.” – “If you say so”, Seokmin hummed, not wanting to argue with their dongsaeng though he too had some concerns.

Before the meeting resumed, they had gotten Vernon some lozenges for his throat but he only seemed to grow sleepier and they couldn’t shake the feeling the he was starting to run a temperature. He had spent the rest of the day in a fog and looked down in confusion when he noticed that he was wearing a scarf all of a sudden. It looked a lot like Jihoon’s but why was it around his neck?

“He’s so out of it”, Jihoon commented as he returned to his seat next to Seungcheol. Following a harsh coughing fit from Vernon, he had gotten up to lend his obviously unwell dongsaeng his scarf but the younger seemed to be so far in his own world that he didn’t even blink when Jihoon wrapped the scarf around his neck. Seungcheol studied Vernon closely and sighed: “Glad he doesn’t have anymore schedule after this meeting but by the looks of it, I doubt he’ll be fit to work tomorrow. Whatever this is, he’s only just coming down with it.” – “Can you clear his schedule for tomorrow?” – “You can trust that I will try my very best”, the leader muttered, “You know it’s always a gamble.”

“Come on, Sollie. Time to go home”, Seokmin smiled as he picked up his dongsaeng’s bag. Vernon weakly pushed his chair back and got to his feet, holding onto the table for a moment. Linking their arms, Jun promised: “I’ll make you some nice soup once we’re home. You sound like you need it.” Vernon wondered how he could sound like he needed it when he hadn’t said a word in the past two hours. Doubling over with another harsh coughing fit was all the explanation he needed. Maybe he wasn’t as discrete in his suffering as he had convinced himself he was.

Gently easing the younger down on his bed, Jun instructed: “Change into something comfy and I’ll have some soup ready soon.” Vernon nodded obediently. Part of him was really craving a hot shower but the task seemed so strenuous, he wasn’t sure he’d manage. “Hey, you wanna have a movie night later? You look like you could use some maknae-time as a cheer up after such a bad day”, Chan smiled as he popped his head in. Looking up at his fellow makane-liner with glossy eyes, Vernon rasped: “My eyes and head hurt but if we watch something I already know, so I can just listen….” – “Sure, you can pick whatever you want and I’ll provide cuddles and snacks”, the younger giggled, “Come on, get ready for dinner.”

“Hyu-“, Vernon forced out, turning away coughing. When he turned back to Jun, tears dotted his lashes. He tried asking his question again but no sound would come out, so he pulled out his phone and typed: ‘Hyung, I think I need to call S.Coups-hyung. I have a fever.’ – “You only figured that out now?!”, the older gasped, “Sol, trust me, we’re all well aware and S.Coups-hyung knows too. He’s doing his best to clear your schedule.” Vernon looked so adorably confused, Jun couldn’t help but coo as he guided the younger to a chair at the dining table. “How?”, Vernon mouthed. Ruffling the younger’s hair, Jun chuckled: “You’re so out of it. You always get so spacey when you run a temperature. Today it was as if only your body was present.”

Soon Jun, Seokmin, Vernon and Chan were all gathered around the dining table, quietly eating dinner for the sake of Vernon’s headache. Seokmin had brought the younger a small writing pad for communication when he learned he had lost his voice from all the coughing. “Do you think he’ll be up for movie night, hyung?”, Chan asked softly as he helped Jun clear the table while Seokmin went to find some medicine for Vernon. Shrugging, Jun hummed: “He looks like he’s about to fall asleep with his head on the table but maybe he’ll appreciate the company?”

“Sollie, hey, wake up for me for a moment, yeah?”, Seokmin whispered, stroking the younger’s hair, “Swallow those, will you? They should help with the pain and fever.” Yawning, Vernon propped his head up and chased the pills down with a few sips of water. He almost went back to sleep, when Seokmin poked him again and smiled: “You can sleep but let’s at least get you back to bed first, hm?” Chan joined them right away, helping Seokmin manhandle him to his room. “Let me guess, you just wanna sleep?” Vernon desperately shook his head, though he could barely keep his eyes open. “Wait, I’ll get your writing pad”, the maknae promised, hurrying back to the table. When he handed it to his friend, the other clumsily scribbled ‘movie’.

‘Where he go?’, Vernon scribbled, pouting at Seokmin when Chan disappeared. He knew he wasn’t that great company right now but he figured the maknae would watch a movie with him anyway. Helping Vernon under the blanket, Seokmin shrugged. He had no idea what the younger was up to.

Not long after, Chan returned with his laptop, a steaming cup of tea and a bag of cough drops. “I promised you snacks, didn’t I? Sick-people snacks will have to do though”, Chan beamed as he placed the items on the nightstand. As soon as he took a seat on the bed, Vernon pulled him into a sleepy hug, breathing: “You’re the best.”

#seventeen sickfic #general illness sickfic #Vernon sickie #DK caretaker #Jun caretaker #Dino caretaker

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kpopsickficzone · 27 days ago

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Charcoal, cough syrup or cuddles?

First of the dorm fics, featuring the Minsung dorm with a sick LK 🥰 Enjoy! ✨

____________________________________________

Minho shows up for their usual bedtime cuddle, but Jisung quickly realises something is wrong when it feels like an oven just climbed into bed with him.

Between disorganised medicine cabinets and sleepy confessions, Jisung scrambles to take care of Minho in any way he can.

Luckily, he’s got Chan on speed dial.

____________________________________________

Sickie: Lee Know

Caretaker/s: Han

____________________________________________

Minho slipping into Jisung’s bed late at night for a cuddle wasn’t anything unusual in their dorm. In fact, it was practically routine. On the rare occasions it didn’t happen, Jisung would lie awake staring at the ceiling, listening intently for footsteps that never came.

But tonight, the pattern played out as usual.

The dorm was quiet; only the soft hum of a fan down the hall, the occasional creak of old flooring beneath socked feet.

Jisung had gotten in bed first, burrowed beneath his blanket and scrolling half-distractedly through videos on his phone.

Then, right on cue: the whispery pad of footsteps crossing the room, the familiar dip of the mattress behind him, and finally, a pair of arms curling around his middle.

Minho tucked in behind him without a word.

Sometimes he asked what Jisung was watching. Other nights, he didn’t say anything at all; he just molded into place, his breath tickling against the back of Jisung’s neck, as though this were the only place he belonged.

It was nice— quiet and familiar.

But tonight something felt off.

Jisung paused mid-scroll, brow furrowing. It wasn’t anything Minho had said, because clearly, he hadn’t said anything. It was how he felt.

He was warm. Too warm.

It wasn't the cozy kind of warmth Minho usually brought into bed, either. No, this was different. The heat he exuded was almost suffocating.

Jisung shifted slightly under the blanket, trying to glance at him over his shoulder. “What the… did you just shower?”

There was a pause, then a barely-there mutter behind him. “…No?”

Jisung’s thumb slowly stilled against the screen.

He didn’t know how, didn’t know why, but something was wrong. A quiet, creeping feeling had settled in his chest, like his instincts had picked up on something his mind hadn’t caught up to yet.

Something in that one worded answer— how soft it was, how rough it sounded— had the hair on the back of his neck standing on end, a quiet alarm humming inside his head.

“Then why…” Jisung started, but his sentence faded halfway up his throat. He let his phone drop to the mattress. He could feel his own temperature rising, Minho’s warmth bleeding into him bit by bit, and he kicked the covers off the two of them.

“You’re really warm.” Jisung said finally, a simple statement. With what little room he had, contained within Minho’s grasp, he turned over to face him.

There, a pair of glossy eyes greeted him, alongside a red nose tip and a flush that spread high on his cheekbones.

“And you’re red.” Jisung added, brow furrowing. “Did you drink alcohol or something?”

The guessing game continued, but Minho faintly shook his head no.

Jisung’s mind clicked into gear, putting pieces together like a puzzle that suddenly made too much sense: flushed face, bleary eyes, radiating heat like a space heater on blast.

Unless Minho had suddenly developed some kind of fire-based superpowers, there was only one logical reason in Jisung’s mind.

“You’re sick?” It wasn’t much of a question, more a vocalisation of the realisation finally sinking in.

Without a second to waste, Jisung pressed a hand to Minho’s forehead, immediately confirming his suspicions.

That was certainly not a normal body temperature. Jisung knew that much.

Now that he thought about it, a fever made far more sense than any other explanation Jisung had tried to conjure up. No amount of hot showers or soju could create that kind of heat.

No, only a fever would explain why Minho was blazingly hot to the touch yet simultaneously shivering like it was the middle of winter.

Jisung sighed deeply, a scowl forming on his lips. “Yaaah, you’re sick and you didn’t think to tell me?”

Minho blinked slowly, like his brain needed a few extra seconds to process the words. “Didn’t think it was relevant.”

What followed was an exasperated groan, and a tiny flick of Jisung’s finger against Minho’s shoulder. “In what world is you being sick not relevant for me to know?”

Minho already knew he had lost the argument, but stubborn as he was, he tried anyway. “In… in this one?”

“ERRH! Wrong.” Jisung snapped back, eyes narrowed.

The volume of the buzzer sound effect bore into Minho’s skull, making him wince and recoil with a small hiss.

A hint of guilt stirred in Jisung’s chest upon seeing the reaction, but he didn’t let it linger for long. Minho was in the wrong for hiding such a crucial thing from him, he deserved a little scolding.

“Seriously.. you’re too stubborn for your own good..” Jisung murmured, letting his hand slide down to rest against the side of Minho’s neck. “Well, I’ve figured you out. Now spill.”

Minho just stared at him. Jisung stared back, unwavering, but with the growing suspicion that Minho wasn’t following.

“.. spill?” The older of the two muttered hoarsely.

Jisung sighed, quieter this time, his thumb rubbing slow, calming circles into Minho’s overheated skin. “When did you start feeling sick?”

He settled on a more gentle approach, choosing patience over panic and coaxing answers rather than demanding them. That approach usually fared better with Minho— push too hard, and he only dug his heels deeper.

Minho responded with a weak sniffle, eyes fluttering shut. “Uhm, this morning, I think? ‘Got worse after practice.”

Jisung's jaw tensed, but he bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from launching into any more scolding. Despite the frustration bubbling in his chest, now wasn’t the time nor the place.

He took a steadying breath. “Okay, okay...” he murmured, fingers drifting up to brush gently along Minho's jaw. “And now? how do you feel?”

Minho’s eyes flickered away for a moment, unfocused and glazed over with a feverish sheen. “Mm… I feel… weird? I feel weird.”

“Weird how?” Jisung pressed, gently but firmly, not letting the thread slip.

Minho shifted a little, a soft sigh slipping past his lips as he tried to find the right words.

He felt cold, but he knew he wasn’t. His nose was stuffy, throat sore, and somewhere in his foggy mind, he realised that the room probably wasn’t tilting the way it felt like it was every time he moved.

It all just felt weird.

His body felt heavy– not in the way it would after a workout or a hearty meal, but in the way that made him want to sink through the mattress and into the floor.

His limbs weren’t cooperating with him even in the smallest of tasks, and every breath dragged itself in like it had to fight for space in his chest.

“Tired.” Minho finally conceded, voice small. “Tired and achy… feels like my body is filled with wet sand.”

Jisung’s eyes softened as they drifted over Minho’s face, taking in the subtle tremor in his lips and the sweat prickling across his brow. “That’s…” he started, hesitant. “That’s not very comforting.”

“‘Didn’t say it was..” Minho mumbled, barely coherent as he pressed in closer, burrowing his nose into Jisung’s shoulder like a sleepy, stubborn cat.

Jisung let his fingers run through the damp strands of Minho’s hair, tucking a few behind his ear. The older man looked, for the lack of better word, pitiful.

“Okay, nah, that’s it..” he said, rolling over and slipping out from under Minho’s arm despite the groggy protests. “You’re officially being taken care of.”

Minho just groaned, turning to bury his face into the pillow. “I was being taken care of… we were cuddling.”

Jisung shook his head. “Cuddle therapy doesn’t count when you’re on the verge of melting, hyung.” He frowned. “You need medicine.”

Minho looked like he wanted to protest, but he had no more fight left in him. Curling around a pillow in Jisung’s absence, he just muttered sourly, “Don’t poison me, Han Jisung..”

Jisung smiled. “I would never.”

As Minho remained slumped on the bed like a used, shabby towel, Jisung scrambled off to the bathroom, rifling through drawers and muttering to himself like a mad man.

“Where’s the stupid thermometer—oh my god, do we even have one? We bought a new one after it broke, didn’t we? Jesus Christ, we’re adults, how do we not have—“

Jisung opened the bathroom cabinet, rooting through a chaotic array of half-used medicines, eye drops, and suspicious ointments no one remembered buying.

His eyes scanned through a small, just as disorganised box of random first aid things, then landed on a blister pack of what appeared to be cold medicine. Instructions in tiny print, way too many letters in such a confined space.

Jisung squinted at the pills. They looked familiar, at least. “Wait, is this one good for fevers? Or is this the one that knocks you out?”

He stared at the pack, then picked up another one that was just off to the side. They looked almost identical, one just a little more vibrant in its colour scheme.

Minho’s voice echoed in the back of his mind: “Don’t poison me, Han Jisung”.

Jisung sighed, eyes flickering between the different, yet annoyingly similar, packs of medication before him. “Hmm…”

He hesitated for a moment, then pulled out his phone, opening up his messages. There was no time to dilly-dally, he needed adult supervision.

[12:35AM] Jisung: Hyung are you awake [12:35AM] Jisung: Lino is sick and I promised not to poison him [12:35AM] Jisung: he’s very hot [12:36AM] Jisung: temperature wise!!! [12:37AM] Jisung: idk whether I should toss him into cold water or give him one of these pills or what

Jisung had never been so relieved to see three dots appear in the corner of his screen.

[12:38AM] Chan: wait what [12:38AM] Chan: how hot? Did you take his temperature? [12:39AM] Chan: don’t give him anything yet I’ll call you

True to his word, Jisung’s phone started ringing almost immediately, and Chan’s face appeared on the screen a second later.

“Alright, what’s going on?” Chan said, eyebrows drawn in concern.

Jisung started rambling, the words tumbling over each other like he was on the verge of bursting. “I’m pretty sure Minho’s got a fever, but I don’t have a thermometer. He’s really hot, but not in the usual ‘Lee Know is devastatingly handsome’ kind of way. I don’t know what medicine to give him and I can’t read any of the instructions ‘cause I think I’ve lost the original packaging, and now everything just looks suspicious-"

Chan blinked at him slowly through the screen, carefully processing the rush of words. “Alright.. show me what you’ve got.” He said through the speaker, voice calm but alert.

Jisung flipped the camera, pointing it at the mess of supplies. "We have... these blister packs.. this box. Aaand this... bottle with no label..?” He paused, biting his tongue. “That seems bad, right?"

“Very bad.” Chan confirmed, voice tight.

Jisung could practically hear the internal screaming on the other end— the urge in Chan’s very bones to break into their dorm and reorganise every cabinet himself.

Who knows? Maybe he should let him once.

Jisung focused the camera on the two annoyingly similar looking blister packs. “This one says cold, but is this one the drowsy kind? Because the other one also says cold, but in bold and all caps- like it’s screaming it at me.”

Chan leaned closer to his phone. “Go slower” he instructed. “Show me the first one again.”

Jisung did as he was told, moving back to the first medication and zooming in. “This?”

After a moment of silence, Chan seemed to have it all figured out. “That one is fine, it’s just a basic fever reducer. The one in bold is the drowsy kind.” He explained.

“Oh, okay, good.. wait—“ Jisung panned the camera over to another box, just to make sure he didn’t miss anything. “What about this one?”

There was a beat of silence before Chan responded. "Han-ah, that's charcoal."

Jisung blinked, brows furrowed. "…Okaay?"

“It’s for your stomach.” Chan clarified.

Still nothing from Jisung, just a slow nod that made it obvious he was not comprehending whatever his hyung was hinting at.

Chan sighed. “Well, is Lino shitting his brains out?”

Jisung spluttered, nearly dropping his phone into the sink. “No-no— he’s not. As far as I’m aware… or— wait I didn’t ask him, I should ask him.”

“Wait, don’t—“ Chan began, but it was already too late. He’d been abandoned on the sink in his phone-prison, and Jisung was a man on a mission.

Before Chan could even attempt to stop him, Jisung popped his head out of the bathroom, voice perfectly casual. “Irino, are you shitting your brains out?”

Minho stirred from his half-conscious sprawl, slowly turning to meet Jisung’s imploring gaze. He lifted his head just slightly, hair sticking out in every direction, and spoke in a hoarse, baffled voice. “What…? No…?”

“Okay!” Jisung called back, ducking into the bathroom again like that had been a perfectly normal exchange. “He says no.”

There was a long pause on the line. Chan stared at him through the screen like he was contemplating just hanging up, then clasped his hands together. “Okay. Cool. Then leave the charcoal.”

“Gotcha.” Jisung nodded, grabbing the approved blister pack of non-drowsy cold medicine. He waved it at the camera. “How many do I give him?”

Chan sighed like someone preparing to file for early retirement. “Start with one, and make sure he drinks enough water with it. If there’s no change in an hour or two, he can take another. But that’s it.”

Jisung saluted him on the phone. “Aye, aye, captain.”

“Good luck.” Chan muttered, before finally hanging up.

Back in the bedroom, Jisung returned triumphantly, a pill in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. “Alright, sicko. It’s medicine time. And no, I’m not gonna poison you, this has been approved by a professional.”

That the professional in question was Chan, he chose not to disclose, at least not for the time being.

Minho let his head roll to the side, following Jisung’s movements with the kind of sluggish attention reserved for nature documentaries or rainy window views. He really felt weird.

Everything sounded like it was coming through a fish tank, even Jisung’s voice, though that had always cut through noise easier than most things.

“Hm..?” Minho hummed quietly, vaguely aware of the water bottle being pressed against his open palm. It felt cool, which was nice, but he just wanted to sleep.

“Medicine.” Jisung repeated gently. He hovered over him again, his mouth tugged into a line, like he was trying not to look worried but horribly failing at it.

Minho knew that look. It was the same one Jisung had when he couldn't get a recording right, or when the members got too quiet in the group chat and he started overthinking.

Somehow, it made Minho feel heavier than the fever already did.

“Mm.. do I get a prize?” He muttered, half joking, but mostly just buying himself time to summon the strength to move.

Jisung rolled his eyes. “The prize is.. oh, I don’t know, not dying?”

“Lame.”

Minho smiled weakly as he popped the pill into his mouth and sipped at the water, swallowing it with far more effort than he’d expected. He leaned back with a sigh, holding the bottle loosely against his chest like a makeshift cooling pack.

Then, Jisung leaned down and pressed his forehead against Minho’s, checking his temperature again in the most roundabout way possible.

“You’re still boiling.” he stated, pulling back with a disappointed look. “Like a.. like a sexy egg.”

Minho let out a breath that could’ve passed for a laugh if he’d had more energy. A sexy egg? He didn’t even know what that meant. But somewhere between his fever-addled mind and the fact that Jisung was the one saying it, it made perfect sense.

His eyes fluttered shut for a moment before cracking back open, fixing on the blur of Jisung’s face just above him. The younger man was wrangling with a cool cloth, trying to fold it correctly for its intended use.

Minho had to admit; It was kind of.. adorable.

It wasn’t often Minho let himself be sick. Not out loud, anyway. Not in front of people. He preferred to power through, bluff his way past it until he physically broke down. But something about Jisung made it harder to lie.

Not because Minho wasn't a good liar, he was, but because Jisung didn’t need to be told. He just knew.

He saw it. Felt it, even. Like now.

Minho could’ve easily insisted he was fine, but he’d learned the hard way that there was no use in lying to a bloodhound who’d already caught a scent. Jisung always saw right through him.

“You’re actually pretty good at this, y’know..” Minho mumbled softly, letting out a soft, rattling breath. “Taking care of me...”

Jisung paused, staring down at him like his brain had short circuited and needed a quick reboot. His mouth opened, but closed again when nothing came out.

Instead, he finally placed the folded rag across Minho’s forehead.

Minho hummed. Even if his mind was frazzled with fever, he meant what he said.

Jisung always acted like he didn’t know what he was doing, like he was just stumbling through, but he always showed up when he needed to. Always did the right thing, even if it was messy or clumsy or if he needed some help doing it.

And maybe it was the fever talking, or maybe the fact that his body felt so heavy it had officially become unusable, but Minho wasn’t afraid to admit that it felt nice. That it felt safe.

That Jisung’s hand on his forehead, or his shoulder, or curled around his wrist, made the world seem a little less blurry.

“Shut up and get better already..” Jisung said softly, but his hand lingered near Minho’s face, fingers brushing his cheek like an afterthought.

Minho sighed and let his eyes close again, tired of forcing them to stay open. Maybe when he woke up, he would feel like himself again.

Maybe not.

But if he had to feel like death, at least he had his Jisung.

Jisung who would check his temperature in the most unconventional ways, run around like the house was on fire just to find the right medicine, and clung to his side like a very concerned, very persistent leech.

Jisung, who somehow— without even trying to— always managed to make the worst things feel just a little more bearable.

#stray kids sickfic #general illness sickfic #Lee know sickie #Han caretaker

59 notes · View notes

kpopsickficzone · 30 days ago

Text

1+1

Sickies Jun and Vernon

Caretakers: primarily The8 and Hoshi

Caution: Emeto

“I think I need to go to the bathroom.” Jun said, causing The8 to immediately glance over at him.

The older had an arm guarding his gut as he bent over slightly. Even under his makeup he looked pale, although his ears were pink from embarrassment.

“Go ahead,” S.Coups responded, giving a warning glance to the choreographer.

Normally they’d all make fun of whoever needed to go at inopportune times, but they all stayed quiet or told him it’ll be fine. Jun ran from the room, and they collectively watched the door as it closed behind him.

“Poor Hyung. He didn’t look too good.” Seungkwan commented after a minute.

“I tried to talk to him earlier after he left the room in a hurry during our break earlier, but he did a Jun job of evading my questions.” Jeonghan sighed.

“He has been a bit sluggish today.” Dino added.

“I’ll try to talk to him when he gets back.” The8 spoke up.

“That might work.” Jeonghan agreed.

“Let’s get back to work. I’ll give you a break a few minutes after Jun gets back, depending on his condition.” The Choreographer suggested.

“OkAY” Hoshi exclaimed, getting an eye roll and a sigh from the youngest.

It was a little over ten minutes before Jun opened the door again, his eyes downcast. He quickly rejoined the formation, plastering on a neutral expression.

As promised they were given a break a few runs later. Jun paced around where he was as everyone else scattered.

“Gege? what’s going on?” The8 tried, holding his wrist.

“It’s nothing.” Jun started

“Hey, if it’s bothering you it isn’t nothing. Come here.” Minghao said gently pulling him so they were face to face, Jun didn’t resist.

Jun laid his forehead on Minghao’s shoulder, it was kind of awkward as they were on opposite sides of the height scale, with Jun being one of the tallest and Minghao being on the smaller side. Minghao automatically went to massage his neck, feeling abnormal warmth radiating from his skin.

“Ge. You’re pretty warm. You really don’t feel well do you?”

“No. My stomach’s throwing a fit, and it’s getting worse. I don’t know how much longer I can push through. Thought I was gonna get sick but didn’t.” Jun mumbled, with a small sniffle.

“Let me see what I can do.” Minghao responded, softly.

“I don’t want to make a big deal out of an upset stomach.”

“Gege. You’re worth it. No one will complain, we’re all tired, plus I think something’s off with Vernon.”

“I’m sorry.” Jun whispered.

“It’s okay. You’re okay.” Minghao whispered back, pulling him into a tight hug. He looked over and saw S.Coups watching, and motioned for him to come closer. The leader nodded and went over to them.

“He’s really warm, and he’s not sure if he can pull through, can you go do your magic?” The8 asked in Korean.

“Yeah, poor Junnie. Hyung will take care of it.” S.Coups pouted, patting Jun’s sweaty back, before running off again.

“Don’t cry Gege. It’ll be okay.” Minghao said softly, maybe not softly enough as Joshua immediately looked at them wide eyed anyway.

Over the years the others have managed to understand a few Chinese phrases, and that seemed to be one of them.

“Let’s sit down.” The8 said, tilting his head at Joshua to get him to move off the couch.

Joshua nodded and moved, going over to talk to the managers, who were huddled at the other end of the room, talking amongst each other. Jun curled up with his head on The8’s lap.

“Practice is done for today! We’ve made a lot of practice and you all look like you need a break.” The Choreographer said, clapping their hands to get their attention.

S.Coups made his way over to the duo, Joshua right behind him.

“You’ve got tomorrow off. We’ll see what we can do after, but Hao has to go back to China, so we’d have to figure something out.

“I’ll get your stuff together. Woozi has decided he wants a vocal practice, but Hannie and I can leave if you need us. Vernon’s going home with y’all, and the rest are hitting the gym.” Joshua summarized.

“Okay.” The8 nodded, looking over to his pile of stuff.

“I’ll get your stuff together.” Seungkwan offered, wanting nothing more than to pull Jun into a hug.

“Don’t get too comfortable, I’m about to take y’all home.” one of the managers says with a slight smile.

Jun hummed in reply, wrapping an arm around The8’s torso. Minghao giggled and showed Seungkwan where their stuff was to get together.

“Can you drink some water for me?” Minghao asked, opening a bottle Hoshi handed him.

“Can it wait until we get home? My stomach feels queasy.” Jun mumbled into his lap.

“Can you repeat that? I’m sorry, Love.” Hoshi asked streaking his hair and unearthing his face.

“Tummy’s upset. Don’t wanna throw up in the car.” Jun repeated before laying back down.

“We can wait.” Hoshi said, looking at Minghao’s widened eyes, and slightly pale expression.

“I’ll come with you, is that okay, Junnie?” Hoshi said, patting The8’s thigh, getting a nod in reply.

Minghao was relieved. He wasn’t great with vomit and he had hoped he’d have more time before actually dealing with vomit, but Jun seemed to declining quicker than he’d expected.

“Let’s get going, okay?” The8 said, as the manger sent them a message telling them he’d moved the car up.

Got everything? Hoshi asked.

“I think so.” Vernon said from underneath the three members stuff.

“You know you can wear the backpack, you don’t have to hold it.” Jun mumbled, looking at Vernon.

“Yeah but I’d have to put everything down first.” Vernon responded with a shrug.

Jun sighed, and looked expectantly at Hoshi who laughed and helped Vernon get situated better.

Almost immediately after getting into the car, Jun fell asleep on The8’s shoulder. There was surprisingly little traffic, so it wasn’t long before they had to wake him up.

Jun quietly woke up and got out of the car, The8 leading him up to the elevators. He really didn’t seem like he felt good.

Jun shuddered as they got into the elevator, he kept one arm wrapped around his stomach as he laid his head on Minghao’s shoulder. He could hear all the repressed and muffled burps as they waited for their floor.

“You really don’t feel good, huh.” The8 said softly.

Jun shook his head and curled himself closer to the younger, who gently wrapped his arms around him. Jun only really liked physical comfort when he was tired or not feeling well and the fact that he hadn’t said a word since they got in the car meant even more. When the elevator doors were opened, Jun was the first one out, impatiently waiting for one of the others to unlock the door.

“Go ahead and get some Rest, Vernon. Let us know if you need anything. You’re not looking too great either.” Hoshi said as The8 opened the door.

Jun didn’t even try to take off his shoes before he bolted to the bathroom, one hand over his mouth. Minghao couldn’t help but feel a bit uncomfortable, he was never good with vomit.

“Go make him some tea or something. I’ll let you know if he needs anything!” Hoshi said loudly as he chased the dancer into the bathroom.

Hoshi ran into the bathroom and found Jun already bent over the bowl, he hadn’t heard the other throw up, but he found traced of vomit on his chin and more in the bowl.

He gently guided the older onto the ground as his whole body was shaking before leaving his side momentarily to dampen a cloth to dab across his face. He was wringing it out when he heard a deep belch that had more liquid pouring into the toilet.

It was almost like a fountain. Once he started, he couldn’t stop. Wave after wave came up, leaving Jun no room to breathe. The sound and smell was grotesque but Hoshi wasn’t going to leave.

It took a while for Jun to catch his breath, Hoshi murmuring little encouragements as he waited with the cloth. He’d wait as long as Jun needed, the poor dancer looked exhausted.

“Oh Junnie, you’ve really been holding it in, huh?” Hoshi cooed, gently wiping any stray spots from his chin and lips as Jun leaned against him.

“I feel so gross. But I’m so tired.” Jun rasped, getting his forehead and cheeks wiped off too.

“Once you feel ready we can get you cleaned up and in bed. How does that sound?” Hoshi asked before pressing a kiss to his freshly wiped off forehead.

Jun was one of the members who refused to get his bed dirty, it didn’t matter how tired he was. He’d been found asleep on the floor of the shower multiple times, as he was so exhausted.

Will you shower with me?” Jun asked quietly.

“Of course, love. Did you want to wait a few more minutes? Or do you want me to start the water and tell Hao to get some clean clothes together?

“Now, please.” Jun replied, moving himself off of Hoshi so he could move.

“Okay, rest for a minute while I get everything together, okay?” Hoshi said, patting his leg as he stood up.

Hey, Eissa! Can you get us some pajamas? I’m going to help him shower.” Hoshi called out in the hallway.

“Ok! I’ll bring some over. Can you get him cleaned up first? I’ll dry him off and everything while you finish.” The8 responded from the kitchen.

“Good idea.” Soonyoung replied.

Soonyoung went back into the bathroom and turned on the shower. He let Jun rest as they waited for it to get warm, eventually having to waken the now sleeping boy.

“Hey, Junnie. The shower’s ready.” Hoshi said softly.

“I’m tired.” Jun said sleepily.

“I know, love.” But once you’re done, Hao will dry you off so it’s faster.” Hoshi said, pulling off Jun’s shirt.

Jun nodded and finished undressing himself, Hoshi did the same before they both climbed into the shower. Hoshi immediately started washing his hair while Jun tackled the rest of his body. He waved to Minghao who was waiting on his phone nearby, two stacks of folded clothes on the counter.

Hoshi helped Jun rinse out his hair, before adding some conditioner, using the detachable shower head to wash off any remaining soap from his body. It probably hadn’t sat long enough but Hoshi Rinsed out anyway, Jun was tired, and standing was taking a toll on him.

“Hao, he’s all yours.” Hoshi said opening the shower door, letting Jun stumble into the waiting towel.

“Take as much time as you need. I got him from here.” The8 said, sitting Jun on the closed and freshly cleaned toilet lid.

“Hao?” Jun asked hesitantly, as Minghao finished dressing him.

“Yes, love?”

“I’m really tired.” Jun admitted.

“I know, love. Do you want to move to your room once I dry your hair?”

“Wait until Hoshi’s done so you can wrap him in a towel too. Jun said quietly, a glimmer of mischief in his tired eyes.

Just them the shower stopped, and The8 moved to playfully wrap Hoshi in a towel. Jun smiled as he watched him pull the performance leader into a hug.

“What was that for?” Hoshi mumbled around the oversized towel that somehow ended up covering hid mouth.

“I just felt like it.” Minghao smiled.

“Now all I need is to find a hairdryer and put you to bed.” Minghao said, turning to face Jun now.

“Here, use this.” Hoshi said, pulling out his Dyson hair dryer from a drawer.

“You actually use it?” Jun asked.

“Well yeah. Why get it as a prize and leave it in the box?” Hoshi responded, finding some leave in conditioner for Jun’s dyed hair.

“Fair.” Jun replied, letting Hoshi put the stuff in his hair.

Hoshi went out into the hallway to change while The8 started on Jun’s damp hair. It went pretty fast as it was already towel dried and the hairdryer was good at its job.

“Let’s get you to bed, okay?” Minghao said, eliciting a nod from the sleepy Jun.

Hoshi helped tuck the duo into bed, making sure he had water and a bucket incase he needed it, before turning the light off.

“I’m going to go check on Vernon. Let me know if you need anything.”

Hoshi glanced into Vernon’s room, the rappers eyes were visible in the dim light. It looked like he was struggling to fall asleep.

“Vernonie? Do you need anything?” Hoshi asked, getting closer to him.

“Can you get me something for my headache?” Vernon asked quietly.

“Of course, Love. Are you feeling alright?” Hoshi asked, putting his hand on his forehead, he was warm but not quite burning.

“Your hair’s still wet! Why didn’t you dry it?” Hoshi exclaimed.

“It’ll dry eventually. I’m too tired to mess with it.” Vernon mumbled.

“I think you may be getting Junnie’s bug.” Hoshi said, “Hang on. I’ll go get your medicine. And a hair dryer.”

“I think so too.” Vernon responded quietly a few seconds later.

Hoshi retuned a few minutes later with the requested items, plus a double lined trash can and a cup of tea The8 had previously prepared for him too. Vernon scowled at the trashcan, glaring at it as he put it near the bed.

“Really?” Vernon sighed.

“I don’t think you’ll need it, but just in case. Junnie’s pretty sick.” Hoshi explained, finding an available outfit to plug his hairdryer in.

“I’m sorry we ignored you for a while. I know you said you came home because you wanted a nap, but Hao noticed you seemed off a while ago.

“I’m okay. Jun’s more important.”

“Vernonie, you’re both important, don’t say that.”

“I meant that he was more time sensitive. I would’ve been okay for a little longer.” Vernon responded, sitting up with a wince.

“Take these, it should help a bit. You do feel a bit warm.” Hoshi said gently as Vernon sipped at the tea.

“Is it too cold? I can warm it back up a bit.” Hoshi fret as Vernon winced.

“No it’s fine, the meds are bitter.” Vernon responded.

“No-no-no. You don’t deserve lukewarm tea, I’ll go heat it back up.”

“But Hyung, it’s actually fine. Please.” Vernon pleaded.

“Okay, but if it gets cold, I’ll heat it up for you.” Hoshi responded dejectedly.

Vernon shivered as he moved, the wet hair doing little to help him feel warm. He sat at the edge of the bed, staring at the floor.

“Let me dry your hair.” Hoshi said as Vernon shook a damp strand off of his face before shivering.

Vernon nodded, glancing up at him with tired eyes, Hoshi cooed before turning the hair dryer on.

Although it went by quickly, Hoshi could tell Vernon’s energy was fading. He put the dryer down and helped Vernon back into bed before wrapping the cord up to leave his room. He’d gotten to the doorway when he heard a small voice call out to him.

“Hyungie?”

“Yes, love?”

“I don’t want to be alone.”

“I’ll go out this up, okay. I’ll be back in a second. Hoshi asked gently.

“That’s okay, but hurry back.” Vernon mumbled, moving over to the side of the bed to make space.

He hurriedly put the dryer up and grabbed his phone from where he left it on the bathroom counter, and quickly sent an update to the hyungs before going back into Vernon’s room.

Vernon was laying down with his eyes closed, but the furrow between his brows told him that he hadn’t fallen asleep yet. Hoshi gently poked his nose to get his attention as he approached him.

“Is it Vernonie cuddle time?” Hoshi asked,

“Just be gentle, my stomach feels weird.” Vernon shrugged, the corners of his mouth turning up at the offer.

Hoshi moved over to crawl into the far side of the bed, giving Vernon easy access to his bathroom and the bucket if needed. He settled with just laying next to the younger, he was always sensitive to touch anyway, and stomachaches always made it worse.

He hadn’t been asleep that long when he was shaken awake. He glanced over to see Vernon sitting up with his head resting on his knees.

“Vernonie, what’s wrong, love.”

“I feel really weird.” Vernon admitted with a shudder.

“Do you want me to get Shua?” Hoshi asked.

Vernon paused before nodding.

“Let me send him a message to come home, it’s alright, Vernon.”

“I heard his voice down the hallway. I think he’s with Jun hyung.”

“I can go get him.” Hoshi offered, climbing out of bed.

“No. Please, don’t leave me.” Vernon begged, grasping Hoshi’s wrist.

“It’s okay, I won’t go far.”

“Please.” Vernon whispered again.

Hoshi’s heart ached, hearing Vernon’s pleas. He needed to know what he meant by feeling ‘weird’ but it was probably better if Shua was in the room too. He assumed it was nausea that made him feel weird, but that was more time sensitive than finding his American counterpart.

“Alright I’ll stay for now. I’ll call him. Can you describe how you feel.”

“my throat feels weird, my stomach’s off, and I keep shivering. Every time I move my throat tightens a bit.” Vernon said swallowing thickly.

“I hear you. Do you feel like you’re gonna be sick?” Hoshi asked, wanting so badly to wrap him in his arms, but knowing that Vernon wants space, and it would likely end up with him getting puked on.

Vernon’s eyes widened when he realized what the feeling was and immediately nodded his head. Hoshi sat next to him and handed him the small trashcan. Vernon gripped his arm tightly as he leaned over the bin.

“Hey it’s okay. I’ll call Shua, alright. Just breathe, love.” Hoshi responded, patting his thigh.

Hoshi scrambled to grab his phone and call Vernon’s American counterpart, giving a sigh of relief when he picked up immediately.

“Hey Shua, can you come to Vernon’s room?”

“Can it wait? I’m trying to help clean up.” Joshua replied, Hoshi could hear The8 urging him to go check on Vernon in the background.

“Not really.” Hoshi responded, glancing at the Rapper.

“I’m coming.” Joshua responded from Jun’s room, quickly appearing into the hallway, Hoshi beckoning him in while Vernon tried to get his nausea under control.

“Oh Vernon, you’ve been sick?” Joshua asked in Korean.

“Not yet. He’s hanging on though, but barely.” Hoshi responded.

They both watched as Vernon placed the trashcan to the side and held his face in his hands, sniffling softly. Hoshi gingerly placed a hand on a shoulder blade and gave it a squeeze before giving Joshua his spot.

Hoshi left the room momentarily, while Joshua continued to quietly console the younger.

“It’s so bad, Shua. I feel so bad but I can’t puke. I’m scared.” Vernon whispered in English.

“Would moving to the bathroom help?” Joshua asked.

“No. I mean probably, but I don’t want to move.” Vernon responded, his voice small.

“It’s okay, I know you’re scared. I’m not leaving you.” Joshua replied, running a hand through Vernon’s hair.

It was agonizing. Every breathe caused his stomach to contract, enough to cause pain, but not enough to make him get sick. Thick Saliva coated his mouth, making it that much harder to breathe. A couple of sickly burps left his stomach feeling a bit more settled, but left a horrible taste in his mouth.

It’s not that it settled his stomach, but it felt a little less like a squished balloon about to pop. He knew he needed to wait it out, but he was just miserable. Everything from the top of his head to his bottom of his feet hurt, and he was feverishly cold and shivering. How Jun managed to do anything productive while feeling sick genuinely confused him.

He heard a deep gurgle from his stomach and ducked his head back into the bin. Once it started, it wouldn’t stop. Mouthful after mouthful of thick vomit, poured from his lips. It was horrible mixture of everything he’d eaten and partially digested. It tasted horrible, smelled putrid, and even the sounds of his own sickness somehow managed to make him feel even more nauseated. He wiped his runny nose with the back of his hand, his wrist grabbed by one of the others and wiped off with a damp cloth.

He kept his eyes screwed shut, knowing that it would be even worse to see the puddle of sick and it was the only sense that he could control.

“That’s better. You’ll feel better now that you’ve got that stuff out of you.”

Vernon shook his head, before ducking back in. “It’s so gross.”

“It’s natural.” Joshua shrugged.

Vernon would have retorted something, but another round was already making its way up his throat. His throat gurgled as everything inside of him fought to escape.

He hated using a bucket, or a bag. If only he could have made it to the toilet in time. It made him feel gross and dirty. The idea of microscopic splatters of vomit on his sheets, sent his body back into a gag.

“You’re empty now, just take a deep breath.” Joshua said softly, keeping his hair out of the way.

Vernon shook his head and waited a little longer, he could feel that there was more to come up, plus his stomach was still gurgling menacingly.

“Not done yet.” Vernon breathed out, right before a rush of vomit came out of him, his stomach calming down almost instantly.

Vernon sneezed as the acidity burned his nose. He let out another sneeze before Joshua put a tissue below his nose and told him to blow.

“I’m sorry for being so gross.”

“You’re fine.” Joshua responded.

“Have you eaten anything today?” Hoshi asked, taking the trashcan from him.

“Had a slice of bread for Breakfast, and Jun’s left over ramen broth. Been trying to have fluids though.

“No wonder you got sick!” Hoshi sighed.

“Uhh Soonyoung, it takes longer than 8 hours for him to get symptoms. It was probably something yesterday or the day before. Probably didn’t help though.” Joshua sighed.

“How’s Jun Hyung?”

“Well he’s in Jeonghan’s room now. Poor thing got sick in his sleep and his bedding is in the wash.” Joshua said, handing Vernon water, presumably to rinse his mouth out.

Hoshi wiped off Vernon’s face with the cloth, folding it over a few times before placing it on the back of his neck. Joshua had taken the bin from him, and seemed to be texting one of the others.

Hoshi left again with the trashcan, leaving Joshua and Vernon. Vernon didn’t have the energy to move and lay back down, so he tried to fall asleep sitting up where he was.

“Vernon, come on. Let’s get you back in bed.” Joshua smiled as he almost lost his balance.

Vernon reluctantly let himself be tucked back into bed, exhaustion clinging to every movement. The cloth was placed on his forehead. Joshua sat on the edge of the bed, seemingly waiting for something.

“How’s your head?” Joshua asked him.

Vernon groaned, he’d forgotten about his headache, but it returned with a vengeance as he was reminded.

“I had forgotten about it but you reminded me. Still hurts.” Vernon sighed.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay, will you…”

“Cuddle with you?” Joshua asked, getting a sheepish nod in reply.

“I would, but I think Hoshi would get mad. He seemed pretty set on cuddles.” Joshua smiled.

The door opened again and Hoshi came in with the now clean bin, with Jeonghan following close behind.

“Vernon was worried if you’d come back. I think he misses your cuddles.” Joshua said.

“Cuddles!” Hoshi’s eyes lit up.

“Did he actually ask about that?” Jeonghan asked, taking his temperature.

“Kinda.” Vernon admitted around the thermometer,

Jeonghan hushed him as he waited for the thermometer to finish. Hoshi clambered over Vernon, setting in beside him.

“Fever isn’t too high. You’ve earned yourself a good nap.” Jeonghan smiled at him, as he already started to cling onto the dancer.

“I’ll check on you in about an hour and a half. And I’ll make sure the others don’t get too loud.”

“Can I nap now?” Vernon asked, trying to get the two to leave.

“I think that’s our cue.” Joshua said, turning the light off and tugging on Jeonghan’s sleeve as he followed.

#seventeen sickfic #emeto sickfic #Jun sickie #Vernon sickie #the8 caretaker #Hoshi caretaker #Joshua caretaker #all time fave sickfics

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kpopsickficzone · 30 days ago

Text

Feveruary Day 14: Falling asleep in the wrong place

Fandom: Seventeen

Sickie: Jun (exhaustion, fever)

Caregiver(s): Wonwoo

Word Count: 1,263

Notes: Y'all ready for a two parter?!

Wonwoo was the first member to return to the dance studio after their lunch break. He’d chosen to spend the hour on his own, grabbing a quick lunch and taking a walk, needing to recharge his introvert batteries a bit, and he was genuinely surprised to find that he was the first one back, especially considering how many members hadn’t even left the building, (Jihoon in his studio, Soonyoung and Hansol with him; Seungcheol meeting with management; Minghao and Chan working on some ‘top secret’ choreography everyone in the group already knew about, etc.) Shrugging it off, Wonwoo moved to set his stuff down at the side of the room when something caught his attention.

Towards the front of the room, near the stereo, someone was lying prone on the floor. Wonwoo’s brow furrowed curiously as he squinted, trying to discern who it was. He crept closer. The person had an arm thrown across their eyes, but even with their face obscured, Wonwoo could tell from the posture and the clothes that it was Junhei.

And while it wasn’t entirely out of the ordinary to find Junhei fast asleep on the floor, Wonwoo had a bad feeling about this instance of his hyung’s odd habits.

Wonwoo approached slowly, kneeling down next to the sleeping man. He tapped him on the shoulder. “Junnie?” The dancer groaned, but didn’t move. Wonwoo smirked. “Jun-hyung, what are you doing on the floor?”

Jun took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling smoothly before he pulled his arm away. Heavy lidded eyes stared up at Wonwoo. “Oh, hi Woo. How’s it hangin’?” A lazy smile spread up his lips.

Wonwoo smiled back. “I’m kinda confused about what you’re doing sleeping on the studio floor when there’s a very nice couch right over there.” He pointed behind them to the waiting area. Jun followed his finger, then dragged his eyes back to Wonwoo.

“Sometimes, floor is better.”

“Is it?” Jun nodded slightly. Wonwoo narrowed his eyes. “Hyung, are you good?”

“Yeah.” Jun blinked up at him, suddenly more alert than before. “I just needed a little power nap.”

Wonwoo pursed his lips, unsure how to proceed. A little voice in his head was still sounding the alarm that something wasn’t right. “Well, if anything’s not right, you’ll tell someone, yeah?”

“Of course, love.” Jun’s voice was soft, melodic, bordering on a reassuring laugh. Wonwoo, for one, was not fully convinced.

It wasn’t surprising to Wonwoo to see Junhei fast asleep again in the car on the way home. It happened at least once a week. Jun was either full of energy on the way home, or conked out against the nearest window or member. But something about today, about the heaviness of his cheek against Mingyu’s shoulder, the way that his sleeping face was creased with discomfort… it left a pit in Wonwoo’s stomach. Something was up. And he seemed to be the only one aware of it.

Throughout their afternoon and evening of practice, Jun had been… off. But not completely off. Not off enough to throw the practice into chaos. He still hit all of his marks, still nailed the choreography in effortless ways some of them could only achieve with hours of work. But his moves were missing their usual vivacious energy. His eyes were a little lifeless, but his smile was genuine. Junhei had always been good at smiling even when something wasn’t right with him, it was just second nature to him. And that smile seemed to fool everyone else who didn’t have the chance to see him passed out on the studio floor.

Wonwoo kept his eyes on Junhei from the second they got home. He watched how the dancer was quieter than normal; even on the days when Jun was sleepy after practice, he wasn’t this quiet, still throwing in jokes and quips when applicable. Tonight, however, he was daed silent, going through the motions of dinner, nodding when appropriate, smiling instead of laughing. It was wrong. Yet again, no one else seemed to take note of it, at least from Wonwoo’s perspective. Maybe the other members weren’t drawing attention to Jun’s weirdness on purpose. Maybe they didn’t want to single him out, since he could be very shy and closed off if something was wrong and he wasn’t ready to share.

But when the time came and everyone strayed off to go to bed, no one seemed to follow Jun. He’d escaped notice. So Wonwoo too let it go, promising to speak up tomorrow in the event that Junhei’s sleepiness proved to be a sign of something more nefarious going on.

Despite his resolve, Wonwoo found it difficult to fall asleep. His thoughts were tossing and turning, not entirely about Junhei either. It wasn’t unusual for his brain to refuse to shut down at night, but that didn’t make it easier.

With a sigh, Wonwoo pushed himself out of bed and moved to the kitchen, hoping a cup of tea would calm his body enough to lull him to sleep.

He was, once again, surprised by Junhei sleeping where he should not have been, this time passed out on the kitchen table. The kitchen light was on, but nothing else looked out of place.

Frowning, Wonwoo moved to the table, placing a very gentle hand against Jun’s shoulder and shaking carefully. “Hyung? Hyung, you can’t sleep here.”

“Huh?” Jun’s head shot up, his eyes barely opening. He swallowed, sucked at his lips as he looked around disoriented. “‘m not sleepin’.”

Wonwoo chuckled. His hand moved to massage the back of the dancer’s neck. “Junnie, what’s going on? First the studio, then the car, and now this? It’s midnight, hyung. Why are you sleeping at the kitchen table?”

Jun propped his arm up on the table, resting his cheek in his hand. His eyes were dangerously close to slipping closed again. “I’m not feeling too well, Wonu.” He took a deep breath through his nose, steadying himself. It didn’t seem to help. “I’m dizzy. And I’m so, so tired.” Wonwoo pressed a hand to his forehead, but Jun simply shook his head. “No fever. I already checked.”

“Huh.” Wonwoo pulled out the chair next to Jun and sat down across from him. “That’s so odd. No other symptoms?”

Jun shook his head. “Nothing. Just extremely tired.” He rubbed at his eyes. “I thought I may’ve just slept poorly last night, and the nap earlier would fix me, but… but it didn’t, and now I feel so exhausted, but I just couldn’t fall asleep in my bed.”

“So you thought the table was a better option?” A joking smirk quirked up Wonwoo’s lips.

Jun mirrored his smile. “Yeah, and clearly it was.” He shook his head. “No. I thought maybe some of Minghao’s special sleepy time tea would knock me out. I fell asleep here before I even made it into the kitchen, though.”

Wonwoo nodded. “Why don’t I make you a cup, and then we can cuddle a bit on the couch? I’m having a hard time sleeping too.”

“That would be lovely.”

Wonwoo smiled, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to Jun’s forehead before moving to the kitchen to prepare their tea. It took half a cup for Jun to pass out against Wonwoo’s chest, and a full cup plus Jun’s gentle breathing to lull Wonwoo to sleep.

Jihoon found them the next morning on the couch on his way to the gym. Wonwoo looked more rested than he had in days. Junhei, unfortunately, had spiked a fever.

#seventeen sickfic #general illness sickfic #Jun sickie #Wonwoo caretaker

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kpopsickficzone · 30 days ago

Text

Challenge Accepted

[First fic, let's go, I'm not panicking, you are]

Fandom: Seventeen

Sickie: Jun

Caregiver(s): Seungkwan, Mingyu

Summary: Seungkwan is confused to find a bronchitis-ridden Junhui curled up on the floor of the bathroom, unaware that he isn't, in fact, alone.

Word Count: 766

As he made his way towards the living room to watch a movie with Jeonghan and Seokmin, Seungkwan was caught off guard by the terrible sound coming from the bathroom. Taking two steps back to get a closer listen, he could identify the noise as that of a deep, mucusy coughing, the kind that almost sounded like choking. But what really set off the alarm bells in Seungkwan’s brain was the additional sound of the shower running, because anyone coughing like that had absolutely no business being unattended in the slippery deathtrap of the second floor bathroom.

Without knocking, Seungkwan threw the door open. He was simultaneously caught off guard and genuinely relieved to find that the source of the coughing was Junhui sitting on the floor outside of the shower rather than inside of it. Despite sitting, the dancer was nearly bent double, a wad of tissues pressed over his mouth. Seungkwan rushed to his side just as the fit subsided, placing a comforting hand on Jun’s back as the dancer wiped at his mouth.

“Hey.” Jun’s greeting was surprisingly bright given that his voice sounded like he’d been swallowing sandpaper. He sniffled harshly, balling up the tissues in his hands and throwing them into the trash can right across from him.

“Are you okay? What are you doing on the floor?” Seungkwan asked, thumb rubbing at Jun’s shoulder as he slumped back against the wall. The dancer simply nodded, the tiniest smile pulling at his lips as he took deep, controlled breaths. Or at least as deep of breaths as the bronchitis allowed him.

“Who’s there?” Mingyu’s voice called from behind the curtain.

“Seungkwan,” the vocalist announced himself, looking up at said curtain. “What’s…” he paused a moment, letting the oddity of the situation sink in a bit more before asking, “What’s going on in here?”

Rather than answer him, Mingyu asked, “Is the door closed?”

“No?”

“Can you close it please? You’ll ruin the experiment.”

“What experiment?” Seungkwan asked, slightly more exasperated, even as he complied and moved back to close the door.

“Hao was researching ways for me to ‘get better faster,’ and we came across using the steam from a shower. So Mingyu offered to let me sit here to clear things out a bit,” Jun explained, head lolling back against the wall. He looked exhausted: hair unruly, eye lids weighing heavy, skin dully pale except for the dark circles looming under said heavy eyes and the faint flush of fever on his cheeks. And of course the wheezy sound of each inhale and exhale that physically rocked his body up and down with the strain of it.

“‘Get better faster?’” Seungkwan smirked, copying Jun’s air quotes.

Jun rolled his eyes as Mingyu answered, “Minghao heard ‘at least two weeks recovery period,’ and said ‘nah, we can do that in one.’ And then he got me involved, and it seemed like a worthy challenge.”

Seungkwan snorted, shaking his head. He refocused his attention on Junhui. “And you just let them drag you in here?”

Jun shrugged. “I walked here myself.” Seungkwan lightly socked his shoulder for being cheeky. “Gotta earn favorite hyung points somehow.”

“You’re ridiculous. Is this at least helping you?”

Jun gave him a thumbs up with a tired smile. “I’d say so.” He coughed again, leaning into his elbow away from Seungkwan. The younger man was grateful that he didn’t sound like he was choking this time.

“Yeah, it sounds like he’s been hacking up some awful shit, which I guess is what’s supposed to happen,” Mingyu added. “Doesn’t make it less gross, though.” Seungkwan resisted rolling his eyes, smiling when Jun laughed softly. “And I’m gonna help hyung shower after this so we get a little more steam time, and a squeaky clean Junnie-hyung.”

“Fun.” Seungkwan frowned as Jun began coughing again. “You want to extend that steam time a little more?”

Pressing a tissue to his streaming eyes and nose, Jun arched one eyebrow at him with a muddled, stuffy, “Hmm?”

Seungkwan shrugged. “I can go grab a change of clothes and hop in too. Give you a bit more time to breathe.”

The dancer’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Of course! If this is actually helping, count me in.” The genuine joy on Jun’s face, the first look of happiness anyone had seen from the dancer in half a week, was enough to solidify Seungkwan’s decision. He squeezed Jun’s shoulder one last time as he got to his feet. “Not sure you’ll be 100% in a week, but stranger things have happened in this dorm.”

#seventeen sickfic #general illness sickfic #Jun sickie #Mingyu caretaker #Seungkwan caretaker

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kpopsickficzone · 1 month ago

Note

Hi, I your fics and your blog so much! I got into SKZ a few months ago and have since binge read everything you've written and can't wait to read more (especially the finale of Breaking Point, omg the ANGST)

If you're currently open to requests, l'd love to see an emeto fic with Felix as the sickie based on that one live where he chokes on the noodles- I feel like being around the table with all the members is a perfect set up for commotion & chaos & lots of concern & caretaking (wow, alliteration)

Would love HAN and/or Seungmin to be the main caretakers since they're the ones helping in the video, but maybe with a little bit of love from everyone since they're all there. Otherwise feel free to do your thing, interpretation / inspo from the video can be very loose, I just wanna see my boy Felix miserable & getting loved on :))

First of all, thank you so much❤️ I really hope you enjoyed the finale of Breaking Point😎

I haven't had a lot of motivation, time or energy to write lately, but wanted to write a shorter and maybe a little more lighthearted story, so here I am!🤩

Enjoy a little fic based on the video where he choked back in 2021, with Seungmo and Hannie as main caretakers✨

PS: Y'know what the funny thing is? Another person in my inbox have actually requested something based on Felix choking as well 😂 (this man is a danger to himself lmao help him😔)

“WRONG LEVER!”

Sickie: Felix

Caretaker/s: Stray Kids ( main Han and Seungmin)

____________________________________________

It started as a typical live, really.

The table was loud, and the eight young men surrounding it were even louder.

Cooking lives had long been a fan favourite, and it was a format that the members genuinely enjoyed as well. The hours passed in a blissful whirl of laughter, teamwork, and taste tests.

And the end result was always a treat to enjoy in each other’s company.

Bowls of steaming food were filled and passed around, chopsticks and spoons clanking eagerly against the ceramic as everyone dove into their meals. The atmosphere was light and teasing, buzzing with laughter and overlapping chatter.

Felix was quiet for a while, hunched over his own dinner bowl with starry eyes and eager slurps. He wasn’t trying to be quiet, he was just so focused on the food— and hungry… really hungry. In fact, maybe he was a little too hungry.

Because in the blink of an eye, something went wrong.

Felix coughed.

Not just your average ‘noodle gone down the wrong pipe’ kind of cough either. This was sharp and sudden, his body jerking forward and a hand clapping over his mouth as it quickly unraveled into a harsh fit muffled into his palm.

For a moment, a slightly uncertain laughter broke out around the table, but the giddiness quickly dwindled when Felix continued to struggle.

Seungmin reacted first, his eyes snapping wide with concern. “Woah— woah, hang on.”

The second attention was brought to it, he was up and about, grabbing a roll of tissues off the countertop.

Behind him, Jisung was just as brisk, rushing to grab a glass of water before returning it to Felix with a concerned look.

Felix continued to cough. Hard. His eyes stung with tears as his stomach lurched from the strain, tossing his meal around like it was flipping a coin— ready to land one way or the other.

“Try to breathe. Small sips.” Jisung coaxed, holding the water out in front of him. Felix made no move to grab the glass, still far too busy getting something out. “You okay?”

Felix opened his mouth to answer, but all that came out was a gaspy hiccup and a cough so wet-sounding it made Jisung visibly flinch.

“Oh—oh-Okay, camera off— NOW!“ Jisung snapped, his voice cutting through the commotion with a rare seriousness that sent a chill down everyone’s spine.

Jeongin practically launched himself back from the table, nearly knocking his own bowl over in his scramble to block the camera with his body.

Luckily, the staff member understood the assignment and quickly shut the video off.

Jisung gripped his shoulder firmly, his thumb tracing slow, grounding circles while Felix fought against the growing panic and nausea in his chest.

If there was a lever system in his body to control which pipe food went down, Felix had no doubt in his mind— Kronk pulled the wrong lever.

A sheen of sweat had already beaded across his nape, his eyes wide as his vision flickered.

Was this how he was going to die? Choking on a damned noodle?

Jisung pounded a firm hand flat against Felix’s back, hoping to help dislodge whatever piece of food had strayed into his airways.

Felix‘s coughing changed again, this time ending in a deep gulp and a gagging noise that made the whole room freeze.

“O-oh g—“ Felix whimpered. “I-I thi-“

And then it happened.

With a sudden belch and a wrench of his whole body, Felix’s dinner made a swift, ungraceful exit.

Jisung barely had time to jump his feet apart before Felix was vomiting onto the floor between them, splashing his socks in the process.

The retching was loud and wet, echoing embarrassingly off the walls and making Felix’s face turn red from both the strain and sheer humiliation.

“Oh my god, Lixie.” Jisung whispered shakily, rubbing his back in gentle circles. “You’re okay, you’re okay—uh.. Just get it out, don’t fight it.”

Felix hiccupped, lips trembling, before another wave forced its way up— quick, violent, and entirely out of his control. His hands gripped the edge of the table for balance, trembling and whiteknuckled.

Seungmin hovered behind them now, one hand steadying Felix’s shoulder while the other held his hair back from the line of fire.

“Easy, Felix… You’re not choking anymore. You’re okay.” Seungmin murmured, voice low and calm like he was speaking to a skittish animal. “Breathe.”

The rest of the members had gone silent, some a little paler than others, as they watched the scene unfolding before them.

Felix whimpered, trying to push away the hands and the attention, but his strength had left him somewhere between the third gag and the nausea now curling in his gut.

By the time the heaving subsided, he was slumped on Jisung’s arm, trembling, face pale and damp with both sweat and tears. He tried to speak but all that came out was a tiny, hoarse, “M’sorry…”

A collective scoff echoed around the table—not condescending, but slightly exasperated in a way that was threaded with nothing but care and affection.

“You do not apologise for that, you weirdo.” Jisung muttered affectionately, carefully pulling Felix closer and cradling his head against his shoulder. “Y-you literally just choked, dude. You’re lucky it came back up.”

No one saw the tears pricking Jisung’s eyes. But they were there.

“Exactly.” Seungmin agreed, grabbing some tissues and wiping Felix’s mouth with a gentleness no one ever expected before it was suddenly there. “You’re not supposed to inhale noodles, by the way..”

A soft chorus of chuckles rumbled around the table, snickers bubbling up in shared relief.

Felix let out a breathy huff of his own, partially amused, partially embarrassed.

“Must’ve been lost in translation, huh?” Changbin added to the quip, standing quietly at the opposite side of the table with his eyebrows pulled to a frown.

Felix gave a weak laugh that dissolved into another cough. His nose burned from the lingering bile, and he gratefully blew into the tissue Seungmin handed him.

“Yeah…” he croaked back. “Must’ve..”

Chan nudged Jisung to the side, tossing a wad of paper towels onto the mess on the floor before turning to Felix with a gentle look. “You alright now, mate?”

“Yeah, yeah..” Felix nodded, but he winced slightly as he rubbed a hand over his sternum. “My chest just hurts a little.”

Chan opened his mouth to answer, but didn’t get any further before..

“Well yeah, I bet it does.” Hyunjin blurted out, looking mildly horrified in his seat. “You just fought a noodle and almost lost, Felix.”

A short burst of laughter erupted around the table, and Felix ducked his head with an exasperated sigh. Even so, he couldn’t ignore the small smile that tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Next time, maybe I don’t know… chew?” Minho added flatly.

Felix flashed them a thumbs up, a shaky grin forming as he finally caught his breath. Now that his life wasn’t flashing before his eyes, he could appreciate the humour in it, truly.

“Yeah… thanks… I think I’ll—ugh..consider that.”

“It’s either that or we’re gonna have to feed you mama bird style.” Minho continued, giving room for a vivid imagery all of them would rather have been without.

Hyunjin gagged on instinct and shuddered, turning away like the words themselves had personally offended him. He slapped Minho’s arm.“EW.”

Felix visibly cringed as well, another groan tearing from his already burning throat. “Too soon, hyung, too soon..” He whined, but the others just laughed in return.

Minho smirked, already on his knees beside Chan helping mop up the mess. “I told you not to eat that fast though.” he muttered, his voice noticeably softer now. “You kids never listen, huh?”

Felix looked down at him, but the sudden visual reminder of having tossed his cookies across the kitchen floor made his insides twist all over again.

He shut his eyes tightly, inhaling slowly through his mouth and wrinkling his nose as the nausea crept back up.

“Hey.” Jisung snapped his fingers in front of him, training his gaze onto himself. “Eyes on me, okay?“

Whether he was afraid of Felix passing out or vomiting again, he wasn’t sure, but Jisung wasn’t about to let either of them happen. He wasn’t taking any chances.

“How about we move to the couch?” Seungmin suggested, nodding toward the doorway. He glanced at Chan and Minho, who worked in quiet, efficient tandem, then met Jisung's eyes. “Let’s go sit down for a bit.”

Felix, for one, couldn’t find a single good reason to argue.

Getting out of the kitchen, away from all the sounds, smells and sensory input, sounded like the best idea anyone had ever had.

—

A little while later, Felix lay curled up on the couch, tucked into a cocoon of blankets. A damp cloth rested on his forehead, and although his stomach was still sore and churning, the worst seemed to have passed.

“You’re lucky you’re cute when you’re pathetic.” Minho mumbled as he tucked the edge of the blanket under Felix’s chin.

Felix only groaned in response, a small pout forming on his lips. “Heeey..”

He was laid on his side, head nestled in Minho’s lap and legs slung over Jisung’s. On the floor beside him sat Seungmin, observant and gentle as ever before.

Changbin had given him a foot massage, Chan kept checking in on him every five minutes, and Jeongin had filled up a tall glass of water for whenever he could stomach it.

They all took care of him in their own subtle ways and Felix appreciated them all more than words could even begin to express.

Felix let out a tired sigh, head tipped back against Minho’s thighs and his whole body sagging with newfound weariness. He rubbed a hand over his stomach, feeling the remaining gurgles beneath his fingers.

All this commotion because of one stupid noodle…

“I’m never eating ramen again.”

“No one believes that.” Seungmin deadpanned, switching on the TV like he’d already put an end to the conversation.

Jisung adjusted Felix’s legs across his own lap, smiling at him from his side of the couch. “You couldn’t quit ramen even if you tried.”

Felix stilled, staring up at the ceiling for a few fleeting seconds. Then, with a resigned sigh, he shut his eyes in quiet surrender.

“… yeah.. that’s true…”

#stray kids sickfic #Felix sickie #Seungmin caretaker #Han caretaker #whole group caretaker #fave sickfics

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kpopsickficzone · 1 month ago

Note

could you do a sunwoo (the boyz) drunk emeto with jacob caretaker? based on their 4th anniversary video at 6:18 and 9:29?

Sickie: Sunwoo

Caretaker: Jacob

I apologize I'm not super familiar with The Boyz

Fair warning the fic is fairly short

Jacob p.o.v

I looked with concern at Sunwoo who was drinking down another bottle of soju. Knowing how bad his alcohol tolerance is. Juyeon nuded me and pointed at Sunwoo, "He's going to be so sick"

"I know. That's what I was just thinking about" And as if on cue Sunwoo staggered over to me, "Hyung. I don't feel good" He gagged slightly. Juyeon flinched back. "Yeah, I thought you would be. Let's get you home"

Once we got back to the dorm I led him out of the car. He stopped in the middle of the parking lot, he grabbed onto my arm. "Hyung!"

"what?" I was worried he was about to throw up, and honestly I really did not want him to throw up all over me. "You okay?" I asked tentatively, ready to move out of the way if I needed, he drunkenly giggled, "Jacob hyung is a mom" He giggled again, "Taking the baby home" he stumbled over his feet, then suddenly gagged, and threw up over the concrete of the parking lot. I flinched backwards, which brought a whine out of Sunwoo. I moved out of the way but still close enough to rub his back gently. He finished and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. I stopped him by gently grabbing his wrist. "Let's get you cleaned up." I said, continuing to lead him inside. I helped him take the soiled tshirt off. I started to put it in the wash "Hyung?" I turned around as he gagged again. I quickly moved to get him over the trash can. He gagged harshly and I felt the gag wreck through his body. I cringed at the sound of the vomit hitting the plastic. "hyung I threw up" he mumbled drunkenly, before he gagged and thankfully had enough sense to turn back to the trash can, he threw up again. This time I heard him whimper slightly. "Hurts my head"

"That's because you're drunk."

"I am?"

"very"

"can I get undrunk? I don't want to throw up any more."

“ow about you go to sleep”

“good ideas”. he mumbled, he slowly moved to his room, where he collapsed onto the bed. I rolled my eyes slightly. “Lightweight”

#the Boyz sickfic #sunwoo sickie #Jacob caretaker #fave sickfics

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kpopsickficzone · 1 month ago

Text

THE BOYZ MASTERLIST

Eric

TITLE: Breathe 🫢😵‍💫📖⭐️⭐️

AUTHOR: orphan_account

DESCRIPTION: waking up nauseous and with a headache, sitting in the bathroom but not getting sick, hiding illness, member noticing them seem off and keeping an eye on them, struggling through dance practice, rushing to the bathroom to get sick after forcing themselves to each lunch during a break, found sick in the bathroom, soft caretaking, unexpectedly fainting into caretaker’s arms, worried caretaker running to get help, brought home and rest of group returning home early, fluffy ending

CARETAKER: Sunwoo

TITLE: Untitled 😰🫢🤕🏥📖

AUTHOR: iTookJiminsJams

DESCRIPTION: left out of group dynamic, insecure and lonely sickie, sick on themselves in bed while home alone, fainting in the shower, found unconscious and bleeding in the shower by member, taken to the hospital, member sick from anxiety and guilt [Sunwoo], calling leader to tell them what happened, all members extremely guilty and apologetic once sickie wakes up

CARETAKERS: Sunwoo & Sangyeon

Jacob

TITLE: I Hate Vacation 🫢❤️📖⭐️⭐️

AUTHOR: honeyhaechann

DESCRIPTION: romantic pairing, not feeling well on group vacation, falling asleep on the couch after telling partner they’re not feeling well, going to bed early while the rest of the group has a movie night, waking up in the middle of the night and running to the bathroom to be sick, continuously sick throughout the night, impossibly soft and fluffy caretaking, found sleeping on the bathroom floor and brought to couch to rest, sick on themselves and caretaker after trying to eat, embarrassed sickie, gentle and reassuring caretaker, helpful members, showering together and then falling asleep together, other members fawning over their cuteness

CARETAKERS: Kevin (+ some from rest of group)

TITLE: To Be Cared For 🤒❤️

AUTHOR: luvsbae

DESCRIPTION: romantic pairing, waking up with the start of migraine but pushing through for filming, concerned partner constantly checking on them, starting to feel worse during filming, taken inside to rest, dizzy from low blood sugar after being woken up, worried caretaker, reassuring them they’re okay and rejoining rest of group to eat, noticing partner is feeling sick, laying down to rest together after eating, taking care of partner when they get sick

CARETAKER: Kevin

TITLE: Untitled 🤧❤️

AUTHOR: kpopsickiess

DESCRIPTION: romantic pairing, allergies on a date, soft & fluffy

SICKIE: Jacob

CARETAKER: Kevin

Kevin

TITLE: To Be Cared For 🫢❤️📖

AUTHOR: luvsbae

DESCRIPTION: romantic pairing, worried about and constantly checking on partner who has the start of a migraine on their filming day, not feeling very well themselves after bus ride but hiding it so they can look after their partner, partner noticing they’re not feeling well as they’re eating but sickie brushing it off, laying down to rest together after eating, waking up and running to the bathroom to be sick, embarrassed and emotional sickie, gentle and reassuring caretaker

CARETAKER: Jacob

Q [Changmin]

TITLE: Fever 🤒🫢📖

AUTHOR: orphan_account

DESCRIPTION: starting to feel sick during a performance and immediately rushing to sit down after it’s over, worried members, feverish and out of it, sent home early by themselves while the rest of the group is forced to go close out the show, members rushing home after the show, sleeping until late the next day, members gathering in sickie’s room to eat, starting to feel worse but refusing them let themselves get sick, finally speaking up and allowing themself to be taken to bathroom, caretakers gently encouraging them as they’re sick, brought back to bed, fever spiking in the night, worried and scared members, given a cold bath to bring their fever down

CARETAKERS: whole group

Sunwoo

TITLE: Untitled 🫢🍺⭐️

AUTHOR: kpopsickies

DESCRIPTION: taken home after drinking too much, continuously sick, ficlet

CARETAKER: Jacob

#the Boyz sickfic

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kpopsickficzone · 1 month ago

Text

Famous Last Words (Part 10)

Fandom: Seventeen

Sickie/Whumpee (in order of appearance): DK, Joshua, Jun, Hoshi, Seungkwan, Woozi, Dino, The8, S.Coups

Word Count: 2,306

“Okay, I need to know what’s happening in this show,” Jihoon asked, gesturing vaguely at whatever was happening on the TV. He’d been trying to get some lyrics written on his tablet, but the proximity of the screen was making his stomach flip, so he’d given up and turned his attention to the television the rest of the room was watching. And even after ten minutes, he was still lost. All he knew was that all of the characters were puppets, but it didn’t give off children’s show energy.

“I honestly have not comprehended a single thing,” Jun replied despite his eyes still hazily glued to the screen. “Pretty sure it’s in German, anyway.”

Jihoon considered the television for a moment. “That’s… that’s not German. I can’t tell what it is right now, but… Has the medication inhibited your language receptors?”

A few blinks from Jun. “What?”

“Okay, that’s on me. Those were unusual words. Case in point though: multi-lingual problems?”

“Yup.” Jun nodded. “Me and Shua.” He tapped a socked foot against the vocalist’s thigh, gentle enough not to wake him up. Shortly after Jihoon returned from puking his guts up, he offered to grab everyone’s medicine from around the dorm. He’d ensured everyone got the right dose, purposefully giving Joshua the nighttime cold medicine to force him to sleep, (Jihoon had overheard Seungkwan tell Jeonghan earlier that Joshua had barely slept, and took matters into his own hands). So, due to Jihoon’s meddling, Joshua had passed out with Chan curled around his waist. None of them had noticed him drift off, until Jihoon had asked him a question and the only answer was the congested rasp of Joshua’s breathing. He’d been asleep for nearly an hour with no sign of waking anytime soon. Chan had recently scrambled off the couch and down the hall, looking absolutely green in the face, but even that desperate movement hadn’t woken Joshua.

“Man, today sucks,” Jihoon commented plainly, slumping back against the couch.

“Yeah, it does,” Jun sighed in response, mimicking Jihoon’s slump. “I just want to dance.” He immediately launched into a butchered version of ‘Dancing Queen’ that made Jihoon laugh.

“Did they say how long you’re out for?”

Jun shrugged. “A week was the optimistic estimate, and that’s the one I’m clinging to. And even then, I’ll still probably have to take it easy. Dancing isn’t fun when it’s easy.”

Jihoon smirked affectionately. “Music in general isn’t fun when it’s easy. It can still be pretty, still have some enjoyable qualities about it. But it isn’t fun.” Jun nodded, smiling with his entire soul at the adoration in his friend’s voice.

Their moment was broken by the sound of a phone vibrating. Then another. And another. Jun and Jihoon both found their own phones, and saw the message in the group chat detailing what was happening: S.Coups and Jeonghan were headed to the hospital, and the rest of the group was coming home.

“Hospital?!” Jihoon exclaimed, sitting up ramrod straight. He began to type ‘What the fuck?’ when Jeonghan clarified that it was likely just an allergic reaction, and only on the skin rather than closing his throat up, and S.Coups was perfectly fine otherwise. That calmed both of them down significantly. “Okay, that’s fine. But sounds like everyone else is headed for us. Should we wake Sleeping Beauty, or let them do that?”

Jun snorted, shaking his head as he reached forward to tap Joshua’s leg. “Hey Shua?” he prompted gently as the other boy began to stir. Jun smiled as his eyes cracked open. “Hey bud, the others are on their way home. If you wanna keep sleeping, you should move upstairs, yeah?” Joshua nodded in response, eyes fighting to close again. “You wanna go upstairs, or stay here?”

“Upstairs.”

“You want help getting up there?”

“No, I’ll be fine,” Joshua slurred, scrubbing at his eyes. Jun’s hand moved from massaging Joshua’s shoulder to rubbing circles in his back as the older boy folded forward coughing. Jihoon winced sympathetically, pushing himself up from the couch to grab water.

“You sure you don’t want help upstairs?” Jun asked softly when the coughing had subsided into shaky breaths. Joshua nodded slightly, despite leaning heavily against Jun’s shoulder.

“This sucks,” the older boy rasped. Jun pouted as Jihoon appeared over the back of the couch, forcing an open water bottle into Joshua’s hand. “Thank you.” Joshua’s hands were shaking enough as he took a sip that Jun’s hand hovered close to the bottle, Jihoon’s mirroring him from behind the couch.

“Take that with you upstairs and drink all of it,” Jihoon instructed as Joshua slowly stood up from the couch; Jun’s hands followed his movements again, in case it was more than the water bottle that fell. Joshua simply nodded in response before shuffling away to the stairs, disappearing to his room. “I hate when you guys get sick. I feel useless.”

Jun’s hand found Jihoon’s arm, holding on with a tightness the producer wasn’t used to from the dancer. “You’re not useless. You have food poisoning.”

“Well yeah, right now I do.” Jihoon rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “But I still hate seeing any of you in pain because I’m bad at comforting people. My brain just stops. It doesn’t come easy to me. And even then, I can’t automatically make the pain disappear.” He looked down at Jun’s knee. “I felt the same yesterday after your accident. I didn’t know how to help you so I just started working with management to figure out how to adjust the performance details.”

“And I’m happy you did that. Someone’s gotta stay focused in the chaos.” Jun’s hand released Jihoon’s arm, threading their fingers together instead. “We know that’s how you show your affection. You don’t need to be all touchy-feely or pillowy soft; that’s not you. You take care of the details we miss, like handling schedules or grabbing water or noticing that we’re watching a Japanese TV show. That’s Jihoonie-love style.”

Jihoon chuckled, carding his free hand through Jun’s hair. “You’re so philosophical today, Junnie-hyung. I like this side of you.”

“It’s the drugs.”

Jihoon laughed again. Before he could say anything else, Chan shuffled back into the room, looking worse for wear. He looked up at his two hyungs, his brow furrowing.

“Shua?” Chan asked helplessly.

“We sent him upstairs to sleep cause the loudmouths are coming home,” Jihoon answered. Chan pouted, and it was unclear if he was being dramatic or actually about to cry. “You can cuddle me or Jun-hyung,” he added, voice softer. He held out a hand. Chan simply looked at it.

“But Shua…” Chan whined, pouting harder.

“I know. You pick a hyung and cling,” Jun sighed. “But I’m a good cuddler too.” Jihoon pouted in sympathy, a face mimicked by Junhei at the sorry state of their youngest as he begrudgingly trudged to the couch and melted onto Jun, (chosen solely because he was sitting closer to where Joshua had been), fitting smoothly into the shoulder the elder dancer proffered. “You wanna join the cuddle puddle, Jihoonie?”

“No, I’m okay,” the younger man replied, pulling his hand back from Jun so he could fully attend to cuddling Chan. “I’m feeling a burst of energy and might go try to be productive for a few minutes.”

“Don’t work too hard, hyung, or you’ll throw up again,” Chan grumbled, partly muffled into Jun’s chest.

“Yes, I know, Channie-bug.”

~~~

Meanwhile, at the hospital:

(SEUNGCHEOL is sitting on the examination table, shirt off. The nurse has been in, has taken his blood pressure and temperature, and drawn his blood. She hadn’t made any comments about his skin besides the obligatory, ‘what brings you in?’ and ‘when did you first notice this?’ and ‘on a scale of one to ten, how would you describe your pain level?’ She also made no comments about them being idols. JEONGHAN sits in a chair in the corner, offering words of help or humor when necessary.) JEONGHAN: How you doing up there? SEUNGHCEOL: Stressed. JEONGHAN: Did you really not know about… (He gestures vaguely to SEUNGCHEOL’S body) this? SEUNGCHEOL: (shrugs) I just assumed I was uncomfortable cause I was stressed about everything. That my skin was prickling cause my brain was overloading. Not cause I was… I don’t know… doing whatever I’m doing right now. (His fingers move close to his skin, as if to scratch at it, but he restrains the movement.) JEONGHAN: It wasn’t like that last night? (SEUNGCHEOL shrugs). Wouldn’t you have seen it in the shower? SEUNGCHEOL: I may have… not fully showered last night. JEONGHAN: (deadpan expression) Did you at least switch clothes? SEUNGCHEOL: (scoffs) I’m not that disgusting. Besides, I put on a totally fresh shirt this morning anyway. (JEONGHAN gasps violently) WHAT?! JEONGHAN: (slaps a hand against his head) Cheol, I used a different detergent the past three nights. That’s probably what’s making your skin freak out. (He laughs, incredulous) What’re the odds?! SEUNGCHEOL: (shaking his head) Honestly? Feels par for the course with how today’s been going.

~~~

The car ride home was deathly quiet. It didn’t help that the sky had filled with clouds so dark, they were nearly black. Seokmin had pulled up his weather app: a snowstorm was imminent. Their driver raced through the streets as quickly as he could while obeying traffic laws. Mingyu held Minghao close against his chest, trying to limit movement for the pained dancer. He was only mildly successful, and Minghao’s involuntary whimpers of pain were the only sound for most the ride.

When they arrived home, the members quickly scattered into the house, many of them ignoring the three invalids sprawled on the couches.

“Hey, why the long faces?” Jun asked, lips pulling into a frown as he watched the anxiety-ridden movements of his brothers. His eyes specifically tracked Mingyu leading Minghao upstairs.

“We’ve had a day.” Hansol sighed as he crashed onto the couch by Chan’s feet.

“Yeah, how the hell did Coups-ya have an allergic reaction?” Jihoon asked, pulling himself into a sitting position as Wonwoo joined him on his couch. Seokmin fell into the armchair, looking rather deflated.

“No idea.” Hansol shook his head. “But Hao passed out from a migraine and when Coups tried to get us focused on helping him we noticed something was off about his skin.”

“It’s really just been a hell of a day,” Wonwoo said quietly. Seokmin nodded from his chair. “How’re you all doing?” “Fine.” Jihoon shrugged. “Still nauseous as fuck. So’s Channie.” The maknae offered a simple thumbs up, face still smushed against Junhei’s abdomen. “Junnie’s nice and medicated.” It was Jun’s turn to off a thumbs up, much more enthusiastic than Chan’s was.

Seokmin tapped his notebook. Shua?

“Asleep, finally,” Jihoon replied. “I drugged him a little while ago, and we sent him upstairs when you all texted.” Seokmin nodded, lips puffed out in thought as he scribbled a reply: Devious but effective. Jihoon nodded. “That’s what I’m good for.”

“How’re things with Hoshi and Kwannie?” Chan piped up. Wonwoo, Seokmin, and Hansol exchanged glances. “That bad, huh?”

We could hardly practice, Seokmin wrote.

Jihoon turned curious eyes on the vocalist. “Minnie, has this ever happened before? During BSS promotions?” Seokmin shook his head vigorously, miming an X with his arms. “Hmmm.”

“Seungkwan’s really upset,” Wonwoo offered, eyes unfocused as he stared at the floor. “He was venting to Shua and I last night, and found me again today.”

“Well Soonyoung’s really upset too.” All eyes moved to Mingyu as he rounded the last step and moved to join the group in the den. Hands on his hips, he let his eyes rove over all gathered there. “I’ve never seen him so on edge. Not to mention the way he yelled at you yesterday.” He nudged Wonwoo’s shoulder.

“He did what?” Jun asked as all attention in the room zeroed in on Wonwoo.

The rapper seemed to shrink in on himself a bit as he glanced up at Mingyu. “How did you…?”

“I heard it,” Mingyu replied plainly. “And I know you’re gonna try to brush it off, but I also know it hurt you, and it’s very unlike Soonyoung-hyung, and both of those facts make me want to cry or scream or something.”

Hansol groaned, flopping back against the couch, palms dug into his eyes. “This is all such a fucking mess. Are we cursed or something?”

“We must be,” Jun replied.

An uneasy silence fell upon the members, one that only heightened when Soonyoung and Seungkwan entered the room at the exact same time, Seungkwan from the steps and Soonyoung from the back hallway. Both men went rigid, eyes alighting with anger, fear, hurt, a ton of emotions without names.

But before they could even utter a word, Hansol shot to his feet. “ALRIGHT!” All eyes snapped to the youngest rapper as he stalked away from the couch. No one moved as the younger boy stormed over to the duo. “Hyung, sit there,” he pointed at Soonyoung, “sit there,” he pointed at the left couch, with Jihoon and Wonwoo. “You, there,” this one to Seungkwan, on the chair next to Seokmin’s. “And you,” he pointed to Mingyu, “go sit somewhere.” Still in shock, all three moved to where they had been directed. “Now sit here and don’t say anything until I get back.”

“Where are you going?” Mingyu yelled after him as Hansol turned to walk away.

Hansol turned his head back over his shoulder. “I’m bringing out the big guns.”

As Hansol disappeared upstairs, Junhei looked around helplessly. “What are Chan and Jihoon and Wonwoo and Seokmin and I supposed to do?”

“Just stay here, hyung.” Chan patted Jun’s good knee comfortingly. “Just… stay… here.”

Part 11

#seventeen sickfic #general illness sickfic #Joshua sickie #Woozi sickie #Dino sickie

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