ATEEZ × Reader When You're Sick
Pt. 2 Maknae Line
Genre: Fluff, Comfort, Established Relationship, slightly suggestive...
Word count: 6k
Pt 1
San 1.6k words
San always felt conflicted whenever he got sick. On one hand, he became needier, clingier, and wanted nothing more than to curl up in your arms. On the other hand, the thought of getting you sick too made him want to lock himself away until he was completely better.
It had been three days since he got sick.
The first day wasn’t too bad. Just a low-grade fever and a little cough—or at least that’s what he told you. Of course, you wanted to take care of him.
“No! I don’t want you catching anything,” he told you firmly.
“I’ll be fine!” you argued back. God, San could be so frustrating.
Instead, he banished himself to the guest room in an attempt to keep his distance. He only came out when absolutely necessary and even wore a mask.
“San! You are being too much! Really? A mask?!” you asked the first time he stepped out of the room.
“I’m not taking any chances,” he replied before retreating right back inside.
Ugh. This man. When lunchtime came around, you made soup and rice, gathered some medicine and water onto a tray, and carried everything into the guest room.
San was sleeping softly. His face was slightly flushed, his hair messy, and his lips parted just enough to reveal the soft snores escaping through what was clearly a stuffy nose.
Setting the tray on the nightstand, you sat carefully beside him. You brushed the hair from his face and gently scratched his scalp.
“Sannie, baby, I made lunch. Do you want to wake up and eat?”
Still half asleep, he leaned into your touch. “Hmm… feels good.” His words slurred together sleepily.
You continued rubbing his head while he let out tiny content groans. “San, I have medicine for your headache. Can you sit up for me?”
As his eyes slowly opened, he became more aware of his surroundings. And immediately pulled away.
Putting distance between the two of you, he scooted toward the opposite side of the bed. “I can take it myself. Thank you for the food and medicine.”
“You are so stubborn,” you huffed. “Okay, okay. I’ll leave. And don’t even think about putting that mask on right now.”
His eyes kept making quick glances to it. Walking toward the door, you sighed. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?”
“I will.” He lied.
You shut the door behind you and went to eat your own lunch. The entire time, you debated hiding every mask in the house.
Later, San emerged only long enough to bring his dishes to the kitchen.
…Wearing that damn mask.
“San, baby, if you don’t put those dishes down and go back to bed, I swear I’ll rip that mask off and kiss you until I know I’m sick.” You crossed your arms and glared at him.
At that point, you honestly didn’t care if you got sick. At least then you could be miserable together instead of him locking himself away.
And if you were struggling with the separation, you knew he had to be feeling it too.
San stared at you. He was clearly debating whether you were bluffing.
You weren’t.
God, he wanted to kiss you. Wanted to hold you. Wanted to touch you.
Then he felt another wave of fever hit him.
Nope. Definitely not. Without another word, he abandoned the dishes and practically fled back to the guest room.
You groaned.
Dinner went much the same. You brought him food, water, medicine, and this time a small chocolate pudding topped with strawberries.
“Thank you!”
He looked genuinely excited about the dessert. You simply hummed and walked away. After dinner, you cleaned up and found yourself staring at the couch.
Normally, this was when the two of you would be curled up together. Guess not tonight.
You briefly considered watching a movie without him and turning the volume up so he’d hear it from the guest room.
But you decided against it. Yes, he was being stubborn. Yes, he was being annoying. But it was coming from a place of love. Even if you hated being separated.
“San, you took your medicine, right? Can I do anything for you?” you called through the door later that night.
“Yep. Took my medicine. I’m fine. Thank you, baby.” His voice sounded strained.
You frowned. “Okay… goodnight.” You hadn’t meant to sound so sad.
Without waiting for a response, you walked back to your room. “Goodnight, asshole. Love you, stupidhead,” you muttered to yourself.
Day two was worse. San looked noticeably weaker.
You got up early and made breakfast before gathering his medicine. When you entered the guest room, he was still asleep.
His chest was bare, a sheet draped loosely over his hips, and a dried-out washcloth rested across his forehead.
His fever must have spiked overnight. You set the tray down before carefully removing the cloth, rewetting it with cool water, and placing it back against his skin.
He flinched in his sleep.
You were careful not to wake him. Then quietly left the room.
Lunch was the same. Dinner too.
You’d spent the entire day frustrated and worried. You wanted to help him. Hold him. Comfort him. Tell him everything would be okay. It had only been two days, but you missed him so much it physically hurt.
Later that evening, unable to help yourself, you made him another dessert. When you entered the room, he was curled tightly around a pillow.
You knew he wished it was you.
Your chest hurt. San loved physical affection. Honestly, it wasn’t just something he liked. It was something he needed.
He drifted somewhere between sleep and wakefulness while you sat carefully behind him on the bed.
Your cool hands gently rubbed his arms and back.
The effect was immediate. Even asleep, his body relaxed beneath your touch.
You stayed longer than intended. Watching him breathe. Watching his face scrunch whenever he shifted. Watching the tension leave his muscles beneath your hands.
Eventually, you decided to leave before he woke up and had a dramatic breakdown over being this close to you without a mask.
You rolled your eyes. Dramatic.
You carefully started getting off the bed.
“Don’t leave.” The words were barely more than a whisper.
Soft. Broken.
Your heart shattered.
“Oh, baby.”
Immediately, you sat back down. You leaned against the headboard and gently guided him toward you.
His head settled against your stomach while your legs surrounded him.
His arms wrapped around your waist immediately.
His grip felt weak, but he still held onto you like you were his anchor.
Then he rubbed his face against you.
Like a cat. Desperate for affection.
Your fingers slid through his hair. Across his face. Down his neck. His shoulders. Then back up again.
“I missed you,” he mumbled.
“I know.”
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“I know.”
“Wanted to hold you.”
“I know.”
“Wanted to kiss you.”
You smiled sadly.
“Me too, baby.”
As your hands moved back to cup his face, you felt tears.
Warm tears. Flowing freely.
“San? Baby, why are you crying?”
You tried lifting his head. Instead, he buried himself deeper against you.
“I don’t know…”
Your heart broke all over again. You wrapped your arms tighter around him.
“It’s okay, Sannie. Just let it out. I’ve got you.”
His hands wandered everywhere. Your waist. Your hips. Your thighs. Your arms. Like he was trying to make up for every touch he’d missed. You held him close and whispered everything you’d been holding back.
How much you loved him. How much you missed him. How much you wanted to take care of him. How empty your bed felt without him. And eventually, he fell asleep in your arms.
On day three, he finally gave in completely.
When you woke up the next morning, you’d somehow shifted positions. Now San was cocooned against your chest. Your arms wrapped around him while his legs tangled with yours.
You pressed a kiss against his forehead. Still warm. But much better. His fever was definitely coming down. This time, you did everything you’d wanted to do from the beginning.
Everything you promised him the night before.
And this time? He let you.
Unfortunately, on day four, your throat started feeling sore.
Immediately, you panicked. Absolutely not. After all that, there was no way you were getting sick. You took every supplement, vitamin, and medicine you could find. By the end of the day, San noticed.
Of course he did. Your symptoms were starting to look suspiciously familiar.
He asked. You denied it. Repeatedly.
Day five. You woke up with a fever. San knew. You knew.
“Drink.”
“I’m not thirsty.”
“Interesting. I don’t remember that being one of the options.”
“San.”
“Baby.”
“You’re annoying.”
“That’s funny. I seem to remember you saying something similar three days ago.” he said smugly.
“YN,” he said slowly. “Do you want to do this the easy way or the hard way?” You immediately crossed your arms.
“I’m not sick.”
San stared. You stared back. One eyebrow slowly lifted.
“Baby.”
“I’m not.”
San let out a long sigh. This was karma. For both of you.
He gently cupped your face in his hands. “Let me recommend the easy way. It’s a lot nicer.”
You could tell he was trying not to smile. God, he wasn’t happy you were sick. But now it was his turn. His turn to take care of you. His thumb brushed your cheek.
“Now it’s my turn to take care of you,” he said softly. “And trust me, baby…” His smile finally appeared. “I plan on doing it properly.”
You wanted to argue. You really did. But the way he was holding your face and looking at you made your entire body flush for a completely different reason.
“…Okay, Sannie.” You leaned into his touch. “Let’s see how good you take care of me.”
Mingi 1.4k words
You didn’t even have time to process what was happening before you woke up with bile rushing up your throat. You barely made it to the bathroom before getting sick. Unfortunately, you didn’t quite make it to the toilet.
The sound of vomit hitting the bathroom floor was unmistakable.
Your throat burned as you gagged on what little remained in your stomach. The sudden sickness left you shaky, weak, and absolutely disgusted. Taking a few deep breaths, you tried to calm yourself down.
Obviously, you hadn’t made it in time to reach the toilet, which also meant you hadn’t had time to shut the bathroom door behind you. So when Mingi appeared, still half asleep, drawn by the very unmistakable sound of someone getting sick, you immediately scrambled to slam the door shut.
“Babe, you okay—”
The door shut right in his face.
“I’m fine. Go back to bed.”
Ugh.
The bathroom was disgusting. You wanted to bleach every surface, scrub the floor raw, and somehow erase the smell from existence. You also desperately needed a shower. You were about ninety-nine percent sure there was vomit in your hair. The thought nearly made you gag again.
A second later, the bathroom door opened. Mingi looked much more awake now.
“Why did you slam the door on me?”
The confusion written all over his face would’ve been funny under different circumstances.
“Mingi, get out!”
You immediately regretted not locking the door.
“I need to clean up and take a shower. It’s gross in here. Get out.”
Instead of listening, he casually stepped over the mess and walked toward the shower.
“MINGI! What are you doing?!”
He ignored you completely.
After adjusting the water temperature, he turned around.
“You said you needed a shower. I’m helping.”
Then he walked over. His fingers hooked beneath the hem of your shirt.
“Arms up.”
Slowly, he pulled it over your head before tossing it into the corner.
Honestly… You were a little grateful. There was definitely vomit on it. His hands moved to your hips next, tugging at your shorts and underwear.
“Wait, wait! Stop!”
His hands immediately stilled. Resting against your thighs, he looked up at you. Confused.
“I still need to clean first. I know you’d rather not see it, but I also know you’re not going to magically forget about the puddle of vomit on the floor.”
“Obviously not. It’s kind of hard to miss.”
You groaned.
“I was going to clean it while you were showering.”
Then he resumed removing your remaining clothes. Once again, you were horrified.
“Mingi, you are not cleaning up my throw up!”
You tried stepping away. He simply caught your wrist and gently pulled you back.
“Do you really think a little vomit is going to scare me?”
The amusement in his voice only made your embarrassment worse. Without waiting for an answer, he guided you into the shower and shut the door behind you.
The water temperature was perfect, by the way.
“Take your time. Let me know if you need any help.”
Ugh.
If there had been anything left in your stomach, your embarrassment would’ve brought it back up.
Though honestly… Mingi wasn’t exactly squeamish when it came to bodily fluids.
Still.
You took his advice and stood beneath the warm water for several minutes. The heat soaked into your aching muscles.
You felt exhausted. Weak. Heavy. Eventually, you started washing your hair. You quickly realized just how drained you were. Your arms felt like they weighed a hundred pounds as you tried to work shampoo through your scalp.
Your legs weren’t much better. You honestly felt like you might collapse. The shower door suddenly opened. You jumped. Mingi’s eyes immediately swept over you.
“I told you to let me know if you needed help.”
He reached inside and shut off the water.
“Mingi, I still have shampoo—”
He ignored your protest completely. Taking your hand, he carefully guided you out. You felt like some slimy fish he’d just caught.
“MINGI!”
Without a word, he carried you across the bathroom. The large soaking tub was already filled. Conveniently. He lowered you into the water like you weighed nothing.
“Sit.”
You sank into the warm water. It reached nearly to your neck. The custom tub Mingi had insisted on getting was large enough for both of you, but right now it felt like heaven.
“I was fine,” you muttered.
He simply knelt behind the tub. Sure. You were fine. Then he started massaging shampoo into your scalp.
The fight instantly left your body.
“Thank you, Min.”
He smiled. His fingers worked carefully through your hair, scratching and massaging your scalp. You couldn’t help the soft groans that escaped you.
Every ache in your head seemed to melt beneath his touch. After rinsing out the shampoo, he worked conditioner through your hair and clipped it up.
Then he drained some of the water until it sat around your waist. Immediately, you shivered.
“Min, it’s cold.”
“I know. I’ll be done soon.”
He grabbed your body wash and washcloth. Starting at your neck, he carefully washed your skin.
Your shoulders. Your arms. Your back. Your chest.
That part required significantly more self-control than he’d like to admit.
In Mingi’s head, the same thought repeated over and over:
She’s sick.Now is not the time.
She’s sick. Now is not the time.
Mingi had excellent self-control when he wanted to.
Once your upper body was finished, he helped you stand for a few moments while he washed the rest of you.
He was gentle. Thorough. Attentive.
When he finally finished, he rinsed away the soap and conditioner before draining the tub completely. Then he wrapped you in a fluffy towel and lifted you right back into his arms.
The bathroom was spotless. He really had cleaned everything while you’d been standing in the shower.
You felt another wave of embarrassment. And affection.
Back in the bedroom, Mingi helped dry you off and found a fresh pair of pajamas. Then he carefully blow-dried your hair until it was no longer dripping wet.
By the time he finished, you felt warm. Comfortable. Sleepy. His hands had been gentle and warm showering you with love through every touch.
You leaned back against his chest.
“Thank you.”
His arms wrapped around you immediately.
“Of course.”
His chin rested on your shoulder. Then his lips brushed the skin beneath your ear.
“Feeling any better?”
His deep voice sent shivers through your body.
“A little.”
You sighed.
“My body hurts. I feel really weak.”
He nodded. Then immediately got to work. Mingi tucked you into bed before returning with medicine and water. Once you’d taken everything, he guided you onto your stomach.
“What are you doing?”
“Helping.”
You laughed softly.
Then his hands settled against your feet.
For the next hour, Mingi gave you a full-body massage.
He started at your feet and slowly worked upward. Ankles. Calves. Thighs. Hips. Lower back. Shoulders. Neck. Arms.
He paid special attention to every sore muscle he found. Whenever you whimpered or flinched, he’d linger there until the tension eased.
The entire time, he kept talking to you.
Checking in. Making sure he wasn’t hurting you. Asking if it felt good or if he should ease up. By the time he finished, your body felt completely relaxed. His touch lingered long after his hands left your skin. You fell asleep almost immediately.
The next morning, you woke feeling significantly better. Honestly, part of you wondered if the entire night had been some strange fever dream. But no. Mingi was already awake. Carefully making breakfast. A little while later, he appeared carrying a tray. A bowl of porridge. Medicine. Water. Everything you’d need.
“It’s bland,” he admitted, setting the tray down. “But I thought it’d be easier on your stomach.”
You smiled.
“Thank you.”
He sat beside you and immediately picked up the spoon.
You blinked.
“Mingi…”
“What?”
“I can feed myself.”
His eyebrow lifted.
“Last night you couldn’t even wash your own hair because your arms were too tired.”
You opened your mouth. Then closed it. Fair.
“Let me take care of you.”
Honestly, you didn’t have the energy to argue. So you let him.
Mingi looked entirely too pleased with himself. Every thank you and every bit of praise made his chest puff up with pride.
You made sure to tell him often how much you appreciated him. How much better he made you feel. How loved he made you feel.
“I’ll always take good care of you, Princess,” he said confidently.
You leaned fully against him.
“I know you will, Min.”
A soft smile crossed your face.
“I love you, baby.”
His arms tightened around you immediately.
“ me too “
Wooyoung 1.8k words
Recently, your cousin went back to work after her maternity leave and asked if you and Wooyoung could babysit her kids on Fridays. Since the two of you absolutely adored your little cousins, you agreed immediately.
It had been about a month since you started watching them every Friday. You always knew Wooyoung loved kids, but something about having them in your home every week seemed to short-circuit his brain.
The very first Friday they came over, he emptied the spare bedroom.
“What are you doing?” you asked, watching him carry out boxes.
“Making the kids a room.”
You blinked.
Wooyoung paused before giving you an innocent smile.
“ for the little ones, I was thinking maybe they can come over more often or you know it’s just good to have.. “
That should have been your first warning sign.
The next week he came home with a crib. Then a stroller. Then baby clothes. Then bottles. Then diapers. Then more baby clothes. When you questioned him, he always had an excuse.
“It was on sale. It’s good to have around. You never know when you’ll need it.”
Apparently, according to Wooyoung, you never knew when you might suddenly need enough baby supplies to stock a small daycare.
Every Friday became his favorite day of the week.
Your cousin would drop the kids off early in the morning and pick them up late that night. From the moment they arrived, Wooyoung had an entire schedule planned.
He made breakfast. Changed diapers. Read books. Sang nursery songs. Took them on walks. Played bubbles and sidewalk chalk. Made sure they had snacks every few hours.
Not once had you changed a diaper yourself. Wooyoung practically sprinted to every diaper emergency before you could even stand up.
Watching him with them was honestly adorable.
The kids adored him. You adored him. And unfortunately, all of this seemed to trigger an extreme case of baby fever.
Nap time quickly became your most dangerous time of day. Once both kids were asleep and tucked into bed for their afternoon naps, Wooyoung immediately turned his attention to you.
It was like a switch flipped.
The second he had free time, he was attached to your side. Kissing you. Holding you. Touching you. And talking. Constantly talking.
“Baby, you’d be such a good mom.”
“You know that, right?”
“You look really good holding babies.”
“Wooyoung.”
“I’m serious.”
“You say that every day.”
“Because it’s true.”
It only got worse as the weeks passed. Every weekend seemed to consist of Wooyoung wrapped around you, cuddling you, kissing you, and occasionally begging you to let him put a baby in you.
You loved him. You really did. But you were starting to suspect he had forgotten one very important detail.
You were still on birth control. The two of you had already agreed on a timeline. Eventually. Not now.
Unfortunately, baby-fever Wooyoung seemed convinced his determination and magic sperm alone could override modern medicine.
You couldn’t help but indulge him a little during his more sub space deep moments. Mostly because watching him get so excited was cute. Ridiculous. But cute.
After about a month of this, however, the constant affection, lack of personal space, and Wooyoung’s seemingly endless energy had started taking a toll on you.
Which was why Monday morning hit you like a truck.
You woke up to soft kisses being pressed against your forehead and cheeks. Wooyoung’s hands gently traced over your arms and waist.
“Morning, baby.”
You smiled sleepily. Then suddenly froze. A wave of nausea slammed into you.
“Oh no.”
You practically launched yourself out of bed and sprinted for the bathroom.
Thankfully, you made it in time. Barely.
By the time Wooyoung caught up, you were kneeling in front of the toilet, miserably throwing up. Immediately, he gathered your hair back and rubbed soothing circles over your back.
“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay.” You felt awful. Your throat burned. Your stomach hurt. Your entire body ached.
Afterward, he helped you wash up and tucked you back into bed before calling out of work for both of you.
The next two days weren’t much better. You were nauseous. Exhausted. Moody. Everything hurt. Certain smells made you sick.
The first time Wooyoung tried cooking, you ended up running to the bathroom halfway through. After that, he became much more careful. Seaweed soup seemed to settle your stomach the best. He also made soft porridge, warm broth, fruit, crackers, and anything else you thought you could keep down.
Whenever your back hurt, he rubbed it. Whenever your legs ached, he massaged them. Whenever you wanted ice cream, somehow there was already ice cream waiting for you. Through all of it, he never once complained. He simply took care of you.
By the third day, you were finally starting to feel better. Your nausea had mostly settled, and while you were still tired, you no longer felt like death every time you sat up. Which was why you were very confused when Wooyoung walked into the bedroom that morning and announced:
“Get dressed.”
You looked up from your phone.
“What?”
“Get dressed.”
“Why?”
He looked at you like the answer was obvious.
“We have a doctor’s appointment.”
You immediately groaned.
“Woo, I’m fine. I feel so much better.”
He crossed his arms.
“You’ve been throwing up for two days.”
“I had the flu.”
“You’ve been nauseous.”
“I was sick.”
“You’ve been moody.”
“I always get moody when I’m sick.”
“You’ve had cravings.”
“I wanted seaweed soup!”
Wooyoung simply stared at you. You stared back. Neither of you moved. Eventually, he pointed toward the closet.
“Get dressed.”
You sighed dramatically. Unfortunately, he refused to back down. So an hour later, you found yourself sitting in the passenger seat of his car. You didn’t think much of it until he pulled into the parking lot.
Then your eyes widened. No. Absolutely not. There was no way.
“Wooyoung.”
He smiled.
“Yes, baby?”
“What are we doing at an OBGYN?”
His smile somehow grew even brighter. You were horrified.
“It’s important to start checkups early.”
You just stared at him. Completely speechless. He genuinely thought you were pregnant.
The man had lost his mind.
Still in shock, you allowed him to lead you inside. The receptionist checked you in without issue, and before you knew it, you were sitting in an exam room waiting for the doctor. When she finally entered, she greeted both of you warmly.
“So, what brings you in today?”
Before you could answer, Wooyoung sat up straighter.
“We’re here for her first checkup.”
You closed your eyes. The doctor smiled.
“Oh, congratulations! How far along do you think you are?”
You opened your eyes.
Wooyoung looked at you expectantly. You looked at Wooyoung. Then back at the doctor.
“I’m so sorry,” you said immediately. “I’m not pregnant.”
The doctor blinked. Wooyoung blinked.
“I’m on birth control,” you continued. “I’ve never taken a pregnancy test. I didn’t even know we were coming here today.”
The room fell silent.
“What are you talking about?” Wooyoung asked.
You turned toward him.
“What am I talking about?”
“Baby, you’ve had morning sickness.”
“I’ve been sick.”
“You’ve been nauseous.”
“I had the flu.”
“You’ve had cravings.”
“I wanted soup!”
The doctor looked between the two of you before quickly stepping in.
“Okay,” she said carefully. “How about we cover all our bases?” You immediately nodded. She continued.
“We’ll run a flu test, a pregnancy test, and do a general wellness check. That way we’ll know exactly what’s going on.”
“Perfect,” you said.
“Perfect,” Wooyoung agreed.
The doctor handed you a sample cup.
“We’ll start with this.”
You stood up and headed toward the bathroom. Unfortunately, footsteps followed behind you. You turned. Wooyoung was right there.
“What are you doing?”
“I can help.”
“Help with what?”
“I can hold the cup.”
You stared at him. He stared back. Completely serious.
“Hold the cup?”
“Yeah.”
“Wooyoung.”
“Baby?”
“If you don’t walk away right now, I’m going to bite you.”
He finally seemed to realize this was not the correct answer. Slowly, he backed away. You shut the bathroom door before he could say anything else. When you returned, the doctor collected the sample and began the rest of the examination.
Then came the waiting.
Thirty long minutes. Thirty minutes of Wooyoung holding your hand. Thirty minutes of him rubbing your thigh. Thirty minutes of him talking excitedly about baby names. Thirty minutes of him showing you strollers. Thirty minutes of him adding maternity clothes, baby furniture, and enough newborn supplies to fill an entire nursery into online shopping carts. You had managed to stop him from actually purchasing anything. Barely.
The entire time, your heart ached a little. You knew how badly he wanted this someday. You knew how amazing he would be as a father. But someday wasn’t today. Eventually, the doctor returned.
You squeezed Wooyoung’s hand tightly.
“The pregnancy test came back negative.”
You felt his shoulders drop immediately. For a moment, neither of you said anything. Then the doctor continued.
“However, your flu test came back positive.” You slowly turned your head toward Wooyoung.
Told you. The doctor went over treatment recommendations, encouraged rest, fluids, and vitamins, and reassured you that Wooyoung had been doing an excellent job taking care of you.
After wishing you a speedy recovery, she left. The drive home was quiet. The moment the car doors shut, Wooyoung cracked. Tears filled his eyes as he wrapped his arms around you.
“I’m sorry, baby.”
You immediately hugged him back.
“I know.”
“I can’t believe I did that.”
You laughed.
“I can.”
He groaned.
“I was so sure.”
“You took me to an OBGYN.”
“I know.”
“You tried to hold the cup.” His face immediately disappeared into your shoulder.
“Oh my God.” You laughed harder.
By the time you got home, he had you tucked into bed, wrapped in blankets, and pulled securely against his chest. The conversation about future babies could wait. Tonight, you just wanted cuddles. A little while later, you called your cousin to let her know the kids probably shouldn’t come over Friday since you had the flu.
“Oh no,” she said immediately. “I forgot to tell you! We took them to the doctor Monday. Both of them tested positive for the flu.”
You froze. Slowly, you turned your head. Wooyoung looked back at you. His face turned bright red. Silence. More silence.
Finally, he buried his face into a pillow. “Oh my God.”
You couldn’t help it. You laughed until your stomach hurt. The kids had the flu. You had the flu.
And Wooyoung had somehow managed to convince himself he’d beaten birth control.Honestly?You were never letting him live this down.
Jongho 1.2k words
“Y’know, you’ve been extra annoying lately.”
Jongho looked at you with a bewildered expression.
“Don’t look at me like that. You know exactly what I’m talking about. You’ve been nagging me nonstop lately.” You told him.
“I have not been nagging you,” he said immediately.
“Yes, you have.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Yes, you have.” You argued.
Jongho stared at you for a moment before letting out a sigh.
“Why are you starting a fight? First of all, I haven’t been nagging you. Second, I asked if you were feeling okay because you’ve been coughing a lot, and you argued that you weren’t. Then later I asked if you’d taken any medicine for your cough, and you said no because you don’t have a cough. Even though I literally heard you coughing. Explain that to me.”
You couldn’t help smiling. You loved when he got worked up.
Not that you were trying to do it intentionally this time. You genuinely didn’t know what he was talking about. You felt fine.
“I’m not starting a fight because there’s nothing to fight about,” you argued.
“You’re unbelievable.”
You grinned.
“Thank you.”
The look he gave you made it seem like he wanted to strangle you a little. And unfortunately, not in the way you liked :(
“Seriously though,” you continued, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I feel fine. I haven’t even noticed myself coughing. You’d think I’d know if I was coughing.”
“You would think,” he muttered.
You huffed and crossed your arms.
“You know what? Fine. If you say you’re fine, then you’re fine.”
The tone of his voice told you he absolutely did not believe that. As the day went on, you continued coughing and clearing your throat without even realizing it. Every single time. And every single time, Jongho noticed. You somehow didn’t.
That night was even worse.
Jongho understood not noticing during the day, but once you started coughing in your sleep, it became impossible to ignore. The sound kept waking him up throughout the night.
By three in the morning, he was already predicting exactly how the next day would go. Sore throat. Runny nose. Complaining. And, most importantly, refusing to admit he had been right.
Sure enough, the next morning your throat felt awful. Your nose was somehow stuffy and runny at the same time, and your entire body felt sluggish.
What the hell? How had he known?
Unfortunately, there was absolutely no way you were admitting that after making such a big deal yesterday. Maybe you could sneak some medicine before he noticed. Because if he caught you, you’d never hear the end of it. You felt him move beside you.
“Good morning. Sleep well?”
His voice was still rough with sleep, but there was a very noticeable hint of smugness underneath it.
Dammit. You cleared your throat quickly.
“Uh… yeah. I slept fine. How about you?”
“Hm.”
The sound alone was suspicious. You studied him more carefully.
“You look tired.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“Do I? Hm. I wonder why.”
You groaned. Immediately regretting it as the vibration made your throat hurt even more. Obnoxiously enough, he had been right. Again.
“How are your plans looking today?” he asked.
You had errands to run. At least, you had planned to. Now? You didn’t really want to leave the bed.
“Maybe…” You turned toward him and wrapped your arms around his waist. “Maybe we could just stay in bed today?”
His fingers slipped into your hair.
“Is that what you think will make you feel better?”
Ugh. He was never letting this go.
“I always feel better when I’m with you,” you answered sweetly, avoiding the question entirely. His hand moved slowly down your back.
“Is that right?”
“Mmhm.”
“I have an idea that might make you feel even better.”
His hand drifted lower. You stiffened. Your eyes lifted to meet his. He was watching you carefully. Like he could see straight through you.
“What’s that?” you asked quietly.
Your fingers tightened around his shirt. Jongho leaned down, his lips brushing the top of your head before moving closer to your ear.
“Medicine.”
You immediately buried your face in his chest. He sat back up looking entirely too pleased with himself. He knew he’d won.
“So annoying,” you mumbled.
His laugh rumbled through his chest.
A few minutes later, he returned with medicine and a glass of water. After making sure you took it, he asked what you wanted for breakfast. You weren’t very hungry, but you figured something light would probably help. You offered to help cook.
Jongho reached out, brushing his thumb over your temple before tracing the dry drool running from the corner of your mouth down your cheek.
“I don’t mind cooking,” he said. “But maybe you should take care of this first.”
Your face immediately burned. He laughed. Actually laughed at you.
Then walked into the kitchen while you hurried off to the bathroom.
By the time you came out, breakfast was ready. Tofu soup and rolled eggs. Simple. Comforting. Exactly what you needed.
After eating, the two of you ended up back in bed. Jongho tried very hard not to look smug. He mostly failed.
Still, he spent the day doing whatever you wanted. Watching movies. Cuddling. Letting you steal all the blankets.
At some point during the movie, he fell asleep. The quiet eventually pulled you under too.
You woke up hours later. Medicine. Lunch. More water. More medicine. Then the couch.
You curled up in his lap while he scrolled through his phone, his fingers absentmindedly running through your hair. Apparently that was enough to put you to sleep again.
When you woke up this time, it was dark. And you were back in bed. Confused, you sat up. You didn’t remember walking here. Which probably meant Jongho had carried you. You shuffled out to the living room and found him sitting at his computer.
“You have a nice nap, sleepyhead?”
“Did I seriously sleep that long?”
“You seriously did.”
You groaned and stretched. Every muscle in your body felt stiff.
You immediately walked over and dropped onto the couch beside him, resting your head against his shoulder. A small wave of guilt hit you. You’d spent most of the weekend sleeping. And the rest of it complaining.
Not exactly fun for him. As if sensing what you were thinking, Jongho reached over and squeezed your hand.
“I’m glad you’re sleeping.”
You looked up at him.
“You need the rest,” he said. “If it was up to your brain, you’d probably be dead by now.”
You gasped. “Wow. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Very funny.”
“I thought so.” he bickered with you.
You narrowed your eyes. He smiled. That same smug smile. The one he’d been wearing since yesterday.
“God, you’re annoying.”
His grin widened.
“That’s funny.”
“What is?”
“I seem to remember you saying ‘thank you’ when I called you unbelievable yesterday.”
You groaned and buried your face in his shoulder. Jongho’s laughter filled the room as he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer. Unfortunately, he was still right. And somehow that made him even more annoying.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction created for entertainment purposes only. The portrayals of the members are fictionalized and do not reflect the real personalities, actions, beliefs, or relationships of the members of ATEEZ. This story is not intended to represent reality in any way.
