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parkwonbinonce upon a time i thought i could do this for holiidaze bingo 2023 because i looked at “snowed in, sickfic, blowjob” and thought woah! and smashed out a few words on the train in my notes app. what if sungchan had a fever and no meds and they can’t get to a shop cos they’re snowed in so wonbin asks LEE SOHEE and then there’s a misunderstanding. that leads to a blowjob. naturally.
and sohee meant “suck on ice” i have no idea what distracted him enough to make such a typing error. actually i do.
See, things weren’t meant to turn out this way. Wonbin had mapped out the entire day in his head; he’d come over to his boyfriend’s place where they’d attempt to follow one of the cookie recipes he’d saved to their shared collection on instagram, they’d enjoy the cookies over a couple of films, then they’d cuddle and get a bit more intimate maybe. Okay definitely, not maybe.
Sungchan seemed to be on board too, if his horny text messages that morning were anything to go by:
park wonbin
bin
i need u so bad
ah…
i think i'm going crazy
is this what withdrawals feel like
wonbindrawal
ha… pls come quickly
hurry
wrangling with in line css for an abandoned wip? typical ao3 user protagonism move. apart from that i've literally not read this since it was birthed at the asscrack of the year.
anyway you would now assume that right after the revelation that sungchan's grandma is dead, wonbin would contact sohee and then BOOM FELLATIO
it was a failed attempt at a syongnen pwp but then god gave me clarity
[WB calls LSH but LSH rejects the call]
PWB: sohee.
LSH: sorry hyung im kinda in the middle of smth i can barely tupe
Is it urgent
PWB: Do you kno any natural remedies for fevers
LSH: u have a fever?
PWB: not me.
LSH: suck it out
and sohee meant “suck on ice” i have no idea what distracted him enough to make such a typing error. actually i do.
sometimes ideas should stay as ideas...
See, things weren’t meant to turn out this way. Wonbin had mapped out the entire day in his head; he’d come over to his boyfriend’s place where they’d attempt to follow one of the cookie recipes he’d saved to their shared collection on instagram, they’d enjoy the cookies over a couple of films, then they’d cuddle and get a bit more intimate maybe. Okay definitely, not maybe.
Sungchan seemed to be on board too, if his horny text messages that morning were anything to go by:
my loser hyung <3
park wonbin
bin
i need u so bad
ah…
i think i'm going crazy
is this what withdrawals feel like
wonbindrawal
ha… pls come quickly
hurry
okay okay don't be too patient hyung
Wonbin would never pretend to not love being wanted so badly, he wears Sungchan's open desire for him as a second skin. So he washes his hair with the shampoo Sungchan is obsessed with, and spritzes the perfume that will guarantee Sungchan being within a one metre radius of him at all times. It's the liminal space between the holiday and the resumption of uni classes, and Wonbin is more than happy to break into the new year with his man all over him.
So why the hell is Sungchan sick?
Wonbin would argue that actually, Sungchan is always sick in the head. It's partially why Wonbin's attracted to him in the first place. But when Wonbin braves the quickly piling snow and trudges the distance from the bus stop to Sungchan's place, it takes five full minutes for Sungchan to let him in.
Sungchan leans against the door post, his ridiculously tall frame crowded into a too small t-shirt with what looks like a transformer or gundam or creature from pacific rim adorning the front of the shirt in peeling print. He's also wearing mismatched fuzzy socks (one of them Wonbin recognises as his) and despite the styling abomination, Sungchan looks hot. His abs strain through the shirt, and his face is as gorgeous as ever with that messy bedhead of his, and Wonbin quite appreciates the way Sungchan leans over him to collapse onto his shoulder.
Pause.
Sungchan collapses against him, letting his forehead hit the junction between the base of Wonbin's neck.
“Ouch,” Wonbin yelps, nearly dropping his boyfriend on the floor. Sungchan is burning up. His skin scorches against Wonbin’s, a shock of heat like a sixty watt bulb. And he’s so hot Wonbin half expects him to leave a burn where he was supposed to leave a smattering of bite-sized bruises later on.
Wonbin has to kick his grocery bag across the entrance so he can sling an arm around his giant of a boyfriend and lug him down the hall to his bedroom. Sungchan’s eyes flutter lightly as his back hits the bed, and Wonbin bites his tongue to stop himself from making a comment about just how unfairly beautiful he is. He could be dying.
And the momentary thought of Sungchan dying and leaving him behind is a suddenly sobering smack to the side of Wonbin’s head. The thing is, somehow in all his twenty one years on this planet, he has no idea what to do. Sungchan’s in bed shivering while Wonbin tries to recount how the girls did it in the shoujo mangas he read during his phase.
“Freezing…” Sungchan mumbles. “Help me Wonbinnie.”
“You have a fever,” Wonbin blurts uselessly. “What do I do?”
Sungchan snickers at that. “A fever huh, I guess the wonbinitis finally got to me.”
“Are you calling me a disease?”
Sungchan’s medicine cupboard is slightly ajar, nudged open by the contents within threatening to spill out. Inside is a treasure trove of miscellaneous rubbish; one, two, three bottles of expired cough syrup, strong smelling foot spray, a pack of headache patches that look like they’ve been through the wringer, chewable multivitamins, stomach medicine and a box of instant noodles that looks to have been forced in by a battering ram. No antipyretics. Wonbin could cry.
Wonbin weighs the logistics of heading back out into the snow to grab a pack of fever relievers from the nearest drugstore, but it’s inky black outside and the cute neighbourhood looks like alaska right now. He didn’t come dressed for traversing the weather on foot, and Sungchan’s own winter boots are far too big to borrow without Wonbin tripping face first into more than ankle high snow.
He could try using Sungchan’s car, but he can’t even see its tyres through the sea of white. And that rustbucket is pissy on a good day, it definitely had no intentions to get moving in this cold even if Wonbin spent the the five hours he would need to shovel away the precipitation at the doorstep then all the way to the tyres currently taking an ice bath.
So Wonbin’s back at square one. It’s all well and good that Sungchan’s had something to eat and drink, but he hasn’t really been cured. He says this to Sungchan once he’s back at his bedside, hands wrung together in his lap.
“Surely there should be some alternative to the pills,” Wonbin complains, nudging away the blanket Sungchan has surreptitiously pulled up to his neck. “What do people do when the shops close for a day? Do they just die?”
“My grandma has loads of natural remedies,” Sungchan quips, eyes still closed tightly.
“Great!” Wonbin’s eyes sparkle. “Can we call her?”
“She’s dead.”
So why the hell is Sungchan sick?
Wonbin would argue that actually, Sungchan is always sick in the head. It's partially why Wonbin's attracted to him in the first place. But when Wonbin braves the quickly piling snow and trudges the distance from the bus stop to Sungchan's place, it takes five full minutes for Sungchan to let him in.
Sungchan leans against the door post, his ridiculously tall frame crowded into a too small t-shirt with what looks like a transformer or gundam or creature from pacific rim adorning the front of the shirt in peeling print. He's also wearing mismatched fuzzy socks (one of them Wonbin recognises as his) and despite the styling abomination, Sungchan looks hot. His abs strain through the shirt, and his face is as gorgeous as ever with that messy bedhead of his, and Wonbin quite appreciates the way Sungchan leans over him to collapse onto his shoulder.
Pause.
Sungchan collapses against him, letting his forehead hit the junction between the base of Wonbin's neck.
“Ouch,” Wonbin yelps, nearly dropping his boyfriend on the floor. Sungchan is burning up. His skin scorches against Wonbin’s, a shock of heat like a sixty watt bulb. And he’s so hot Wonbin half expects him to leave a burn where he was supposed to leave a smattering of bite-sized bruises later on.
Wonbin has to kick his grocery bag across the entrance so he can sling an arm around his giant of a boyfriend and lug him down the hall to his bedroom. Sungchan’s eyes flutter lightly as his back hits the bed, and Wonbin bites his tongue to stop himself from making a comment about just how unfairly beautiful he is. He could be dying.
And the momentary thought of Sungchan dying and leaving him behind is a suddenly sobering smack to the side of Wonbin’s head. The thing is, somehow in all his twenty one years on this planet, he has no idea what to do. Sungchan’s in bed shivering while Wonbin tries to recount how the girls did it in the shoujo mangas he read during his phase.
“Freezing…” Sungchan mumbles. “Help me Wonbinnie.”
“You have a fever,” Wonbin blurts uselessly. “What do I do?”
Sungchan snickers at that. “A fever huh, I guess the wonbinitis finally got to me.”
“Are you calling me a disease?”
Sungchan’s medicine cupboard is slightly ajar, nudged open by the contents within threatening to spill out. Inside is a treasure trove of miscellaneous rubbish; one, two, three bottles of expired cough syrup, strong smelling foot spray, a pack of headache patches that look like they’ve been through the wringer, chewable multivitamins, stomach medicine and a box of instant noodles that looks to have been forced in by a battering ram. No antipyretics. Wonbin could cry.
Wonbin weighs the logistics of heading back out into the snow to grab a pack of fever relievers from the nearest drugstore, but it’s inky black outside and the cute neighbourhood looks like alaska right now. He didn’t come dressed for traversing the weather on foot, and Sungchan’s own winter boots are far too big to borrow without Wonbin tripping face first into more than ankle high snow.
He could try using Sungchan’s car, but he can’t even see its tyres through the sea of white. And that rustbucket is pissy on a good day, it definitely had no intentions to get moving in this cold even if Wonbin spent the the five hours he would need to shovel away the precipitation at the doorstep then all the way to the tyres currently taking an ice bath.
So Wonbin’s back at square one. It’s all well and good that Sungchan’s had something to eat and drink, but he hasn’t really been cured. He says this to Sungchan once he’s back at his bedside, hands wrung together in his lap.
“Surely there should be some alternative to the pills,” Wonbin complains, nudging away the blanket Sungchan has surreptitiously pulled up to his neck. “What do people do when the shops close for a day? Do they just die?”
“My grandma has loads of natural remedies,” Sungchan quips, eyes still closed tightly.
“Great!” Wonbin’s eyes sparkle. “Can we call her?”
“She’s dead.”
wrangling with in line css for an abandoned wip? typical ao3 user protagonism move. apart from that i've literally not read this since it was birthed at the asscrack of the year.
anyway you would now assume that right after the revelation that sungchan's grandma is dead, wonbin would contact sohee and then BOOM FELLATIO
it was a failed attempt at a syongnen pwp but then god gave me clarity
