Because I’m weak for carsick jiminnie and got a bonus of hobi in the mix as well. Perfect combo, wonderfully written, and hidden on tumblr just well enough for me to find it like a treasure. Follow this writer! 💖🙌🏾 loved it so much.
Sympathy Sickness At Its Worst
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Sickie: Hoseok (and Jimin?)
Caretaker: Yoongi (ofc)
Plot: When Jimin gets an especially bad bout of carsickness, right next to poor Hoseok, Hoseok thinks he can ride it out okay.
...Until he can’t.
Tw: Emeto
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It was fine.
He thought it was fine.
It had been fine, that is, until the third time the van lurched, and poor Jimin’s stomach lurched right along with it, causing him to heave loudly into the flimsy plastic bag he held.
The group was headed to an interview for some magazine, and in Hoseok’s opinion, it was RIDICULOUSLY far, considering the circumstances.
An hour?
Just to have his face caked in makeup, have his pictures done, and then talk to someone about things that were just barely pushing too personal?
Nah.
And considering the situation now, definitely Nah.
Jimin heaved, pitching forward and burrowing his head into the -unfortunately clear- plastic bag.
A little saliva left his parted, pouted lips, but nothing more.
Hoseok thought it was safe as Jimin’s shoulders seemed to relax a little.
But then...Jimin heaved a third time, and all his breakfast was immediately lost to the bag.
There were sympathetic tuts and coos from the others around the poor suffering boy as Taehyung, sitting on his right side, gently held his bangs back and worked small circles into his middle back, letting him know he was okay and it would be over soon.
Everyone felt sympathy for the poor baby mochi.
But nobody felt it more than Jung Hoseok.
Of course.
He just had to give in to his beloved dongsaeng when he begged for Hoseok’s company in the van beside him.
They’d been getting in earlier, and saying that Jimin was nervous about the drive ahead was an understatement.
For some reason, the only one who could comfort him was his precious roomie, his Hoseok-hyungie.
So he beckoned.
“Hyungie, sit here, with me! Please?”
Hoseok knew the particular situation was less than favorable for him.
Jimin was sitting at the very back of the van, the spot he saved for Hoseok was smooshed in the corner, as Jimin couldn’t stand sitting by the window.
Hoseok knew the younger was prone to carsickness on long drives, and tried to decline.
“Jimin-ah, I—“ He began.
But, oh.
The Younger’s eyes.
The way his face drooped.
The pout.
And the small whine of “But Hyunggg...”
It melted Hoseok.
So he sighed and climbed into the smooshed corner next to his distressed roommate, the younger immediately on him like white on rice.
The drive was only an hour...he’d be fine.
Right?
He was wrong.
Hoseok was so very wrong.
He’d never been wronger in his life.
Was ‘wronger’ even a word?
Hoseok had no time to think about it, because Jimin was moving quite a bit in his arms.
“J-Jimin-ah?” Hoseok felt himself get nervous.
Jimin sat up suddenly.
“Hyung....Hyung my stomach.” He whined, looking up at Hoseok and clinging to his arm as if the older was his lifeline.
“What’s wrong, Jimin-Ah?” That was a dumb question.
Hoseok knew.
They all knew, as four other pairs of eyes (Seokjin was driving) trained themselves on the mochi from hearing his whining.
“I...I’m gonna...” he couldn’t even get it out.
He was working himself up, tears filling his wide eyes.
He hated being carsick.
By now Taehyung had ripped out his earbuds completely and was gently petting his best friend’s hair.
“Bag please?” He requested of the others.
Of course Yoongi, with his Mary-Poppins sort of duffel bag, produced a clear plastic bag immediately and handed it to Jimin wordlessly.
The poor thing took it with shaking hands.
This wasn’t good.
Jimin was swallowing excessively.
He was scared.
“Hyungie...” he whined at Hoseok.
Hoseok himself had gone pale.
What was he supposed to do?
“Th-there there, Chim.”
Yoongi took notice of Hoseok’s fragile state.
“Hobi-yah, you’re looking pale. Wanna switch?”
Yeah, the car was moving, but Hoseok looked so, so bad.
Hoseok almost took up the offer, starting to rise off the seat, but Jimin clung to him more with one hand.
“Hyung, please. Don’t go.”
Hoseok’s heart sank for the ill boy, and he slowly lowered himself back down.
Then there was a lurch as Seokjin tried to maneuver through traffic.
Jimin heaved, immediately retracting his hand and holding the bag firmly.
So firmly, his knuckles were white.
Hoseok gulped, feeling his own breakfast in his throat.
The van wasn’t moving as steadily as Seokjin tried to get to the destination faster to try to avoid the inevitable.
The van lurched a second time as someone cut Seokjin off.
“Yah!” He yelled.
“Seokjinnie-Hyung, please.” Jimin pleaded in clear distress before another retch sent him flying towards the bag again, the plastic tickling against his slightly sweaty forehead.
“Sorry, Jiminie..” Seokjin glanced back, frowning at Jimin’s poor, shaking state.
Hoseok met his eyes in the mirror.
The ‘94 liner was white as a sheet but by now, glued to his spot.
And said nothing.
Things were ok for a little.
A third jump of the van sent another heave through Jimin, and when nothing happened he relaxed a little, but it was the next of the jostling, the slightest jostle of all, that did it.
Jimin heaved loudly, chewed up bits of...of...whatever he’d eaten for breakfast poured into the bag, along with what seemed to be...orange juice..?
One bout after another.
“Oh, my poor ChimChim.” Taehyung crooned sympathetically, gently beginning to rub Jimin’s consistently arching back.
Hoseok had gone stiff.
His breakfast crawled up his throat dangerously fast.
He swallowed again and again.
He wanted to comfort Jimin, his arm hovering over the boy’s back but never touching.
He couldn’t.
The heaves and retches as they ripped themselves from the pit of Jimin’s stomach up his throat, the splashing of the puke, not to mention the smell, the shaky sobs from Jimin...it was all too much.
“H-Hyung...” Hoseok called in almost a warning way, his voice thick.
He wasn’t calling to any specific Hyung, just any of the two.
And for some reason, Namjoon (who technically wasn’t his hyung) was the first to look from the passenger’s seat.
But Hoseok couldn’t care less.
“Oh, no, Hobi. Not you too.
We can’t have you losing it too. We’re five minutes away. Hold on.” He tried.
Hobi moaned.
“J-Joon-ah..” he was in clear distress.
He wouldn’t make it much longer.
Namjoon took in Hobi’s greenish tint and pale, blotchy skin before turning to look at Yoongi.
“Anything in that magical bag of yours to stop sympathy sickness?” He asked hopefully.
“To stop sympathy sickness we’d need to dispose of the entire sickie.” Yoongi nodded slightly towards Jimin nonchalantly.
Then he rummaged in his bag and pulled out a mint, giving it to Hoseok.
“Suck on it. Don’t chew.”
He was always so calm in situations like these.
Because he’d had his fair share of them.
Hoseok obeyed, taking the mint and removing it from the plastic.
He sucked it for a little but soon the sweet became too much and he gagged on the taste, spitting it out.
The gag triggered another series of small gags, which caused Jimin to gag again.
The two were feeding off each other.
Hoseok felt the acidic reincarnation of his breakfast make its way up his throat.
This was it.
He was going to puke.
He was going to mess up the van, and his pants, and—
He felt the van stop and looked up.
They were in the parking lot of their destination, and Yoongi and a very worried Jungkook were already out of the way.
Hoseok was gonna wait for Jimin and Taehyung to remove themselves from his path but he just couldn’t.
He just jumped the seat in front of him, jostling his poor stomach even more, and leapt quickly out of the van, running as if his life depended on it.
The boys of Bangtan had seen Hoseok run before.
He was scared of a lot of things, and when fight or flight kicked in, flight usually won.
But in all their years, they’d never seen Hoseok run so fast.
He could probably win a gold medal in olympics for his current speed.
Yoongi of course knew what would play out next.
“I’ll go after him.” He quipped simply before speeding away to catch the younger.
Yoongi found Hoseok in a bathroom the poor sympathy sick boy had managed to locate just in the nick of time.
Literally the nick of time, Yoongi observed, as the stall door was wide open and Hoseok was crouched uncomfortably in front of the porcelain bowl.
Hoseok was trying to avoid the unavoidable, swallowing hard and gripping the bowl with white knuckles.
He was already sobbing.
He was terrified of being sick.
Yoongi gently came in behind him.
“Hobi-yah..”
The tone of Yoongi’s deep, velvety voice was soft but startled Hobi anyway, which made him jump.
His stomach lurched and he heaved, hard.
It was immediately productive, and his breakfast poured from his lips into the toilet bowl in a thick, brightly colored stream.
“Oh, Hope-ah..” Yoongi gently rubbed his back in a calming way.
Hoseok whimpered.
In his mind, it was very pathetic.
He tried to keep from puking again, swallowing back the next, toe-curling retch that brought chunky remnants of breakfast with it and sent prickly goosebumps down his arms.
He let out a quiet, pained sob.
It hurt.
His throat hurt, his stomach hurt...and his heart hurt. For Jimin.
“Shh. You’re ok. Just let it happen.” Yoongi coaxed, trying to get him to let it out so he could just feel better.
Hoseok pitched towards the toilet again, spewing with such force that he nearly knocked his head on the toilet lid.
“Oh, G-God, Hyung it h-hurts...” he choked out in sobs, which only caused him to hurl again.
Yoongi’s heart went out to him.
He hated seeing Hobi like this.
“You’ll feel better soon.”
Soon Hoseok was reduced to painful, breathy dry heaves, but it was an indication that he was done.
He sighed in relief and shakily tried to flush the toilet, but Yoongi ended up having to do it for him.
Hoseok tried to stay put together after that, but one look at Yoongi’s concerned features took him, and he was crying all over again.
Yoongi let Hoseok hug him.
“Hope-ah..”
“I-I’m sorry, H-Hyung...”
“For what?”
“I caused an I-inconvenience...Ji-Jiminie must f-feel sooo bad...” Hoseok continued to fret.
Yoongi let him cry.
“Shush, you.” He said finally, his tone holding no anger, but kindness and concern instead.
“You know Jiminie gets carsick. But you stayed with him anyway to console him. This was bound to happen.”
“B-but—“
Yoongi shushed his quivering dongsaeng, his brows scrunching slightly like they usually did when he was trying to be sincere.
“It’s over now. Relax.” He cooed.
Eventually Hoseok did, and Yoongi helped him up when he was ready, leading him away to the sink to rinse his mouth, and once that was done they went to find the others, Hoseok’s pale, ghostly form leaning almost fully on Yoongi.
He still felt a little queasy, but only gave hallow hiccups now.
A little later, during a break between shoots, Jimin cautiously approached Hoseok, who was still with Yoongi.
Just to be safe.
“Hoseok-Hyungie...?”
Hoseok, feeling much better now, looked at his younger.
“What’s the matter, Mochi?”
He was a little worried Jimin had come to complain about him getting sympathy sick or worse...he was gonna get sick again.
“I’m sorry I made you sick, Hyungie. I really am. I...I couldn’t help it.”
Jimin muttered, walking over fully and burying his face into his Hyung’s chest.
“Ah, my Jiminie. Don’t apologize.” Hoseok crooned with a small smile, petting the younger’s hair and enveloping him into a warm hug before peppering the top of his head with kisses.
“It’s over now.
But I don’t think I can sit by you on the way back...”
“It’s okay, hyung.” Jimin muttered.
“I won’t make you.”
“Hugs? I want in!” A particular voice whined.
‘Taehyungie.’ Hoseok decided.
Taehyung dived into Jimin and Hoseok’s hug, pulling Jungkook and Jin with him.
Namjoon smiled at the cute scene, letting his members pull him in.
Of course they really had to tug on Yoongi, who gave his famous look, but hugged anyway.
This was warm.
And cozy.
This was love.
Hoseok smiled, letting himself melt into their touches.
Knowing his members, his family, knowing his fellow Bangtan Boys cared for him as much as he cared for them?
It was all he could ever want and more.
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;going around (1/?)
word count: 1,156
Taehyung thinks he’s just having a bad day of morning nausea when really he’s coming down with a stomach flu that will eventually run through the whole bangtan household.
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Taehyung’s stomach is never his friend in the morning. Everyone knows this. It’s a normal phenomenon for him, to wake up a little sick to his tummy; happens at the beginning of almost every day. Maybe it just means he’s not a morning person. He’d skip breakfast for that matter, but it’s basically impossible around the six members who love him. He has to eat something in order to have the energy to practice or work out. The others won’t let him leave the house until he’s consumed something, knowing he’ll feel better once his body has something to work with, so it’s always each of them trying to feed him some of their own breakfast. Jimin poking his lips with a grape until Taehyung bites it out of his fingers or Hobi dancing in his face with a slice of toast in his hand or Jin with a spoonful of rice porridge or Yoongi with a cup of tea.
“Taehyung-ah,” Jimin’s soft groggy voice is the first to reach Taehyung’s bedroom early that morning. Jimin’s eyes are barely open themselves, but he’s obedient to his alarm clock and always rises on its first ring. Leaning through the crack of Tae’s door, his puffy lips poke through. “Tae tae,”
Taehyung’s sheets rustle suddenly at the disturbance of silence. “Mmmm,” Taehyung’s morning voice reaches depths no one else can. It sounds like a growl. Jimin drowsily chuckles, his socked feet shuffling across the heated floors. Taehyung moans in complaint; Jimin’s here to wake him up. The nice thing though is that Jimin is the first wake up call, his first snooze button. Jimin always came into Taehyung’s room earlier than he needed to, climbing into Taehyung’s bed to snuggle him until someone else came to pull Jimin out of the bed and order Taehyung to wake up a second time.
But God, was it morning already? He’d been tossing and turning for most of the night, feeling off and not sure what for. He feels like he’d only reached a deep sleep a few minutes ago, before Jimin came to wake him.
Jimin’s light body falls onto Taehyung, gets under the covers and presses himself into the sleeping member’s warm chest. Arms squeeze each other closer and Jimin hums with delight. Playfully, he tugs Taehyung’s earlobe with his teeth. “Taehyung-ahh,” Jimin tries again, but Taehyung just squeezes him closer, wraps a leg around his waist. Jimin relaxes; Tae’s bed is so comfortable. He’s already an ounce away from sleep. Jimin isn’t going to put up a fight; it isn’t even light out yet. Ten more minutes.
x
There wasn’t an inkling in Taehyung’s mind that he might be coming down with something. And you had to cut him some slack for missing the obvious; he rarely caught anything. He picked up a cold each year, at best, but nothing much more. Taehyung’s immune system was pretty darn impenetrable. The last time he remembers being seriously ill was when he’d caught a bad flu between traveling across countries for a concert. He remembers Jungkook appearing so much bigger as he’d used his body to shield him from the crowds at the airport, how much more protective he’d been—as if a single nudge from a fan could shatter Taehyung to pieces. That had to have scared the maknae, to see Taehyung so weak. That had been years ago, and that had been the worst.
But just because he has an immune system made of steel doesn’t mean his body doesn’t cause him other means of distress. He has one of the touchiest stomachs in the house.
If a member finds Taehyung still in his bed or curled up on the couch after everyone else is up and getting dressed, it isn’t because he’s coming down with something. It’s because Taehyung takes the longest to wake up. It’s because Taehyung doesn’t feel his greatest when the sun rises. And for that reason, his hyungs usually cut him some slack. Today’s a little different. They have a busy schedule today, and Jin seems a little more tense than usual, a little cranky. It’s a high chance it has to do with the new high-energy choreo they’ll be learning today at practice.
Jin manages to get Taehyung out of his bed after two attempts, but only for Taehyung to drag himself and his comforter into the living room to go curl up on the couch instead. Everyone is up by now, as sleepy and as pouty as he is, but on the move to get ready for the schedule ahead. Taehyung would be up too if his stomach wasn’t squirming so much.
Yoongi appears suddenly, shuffling over to the couch to stand over Taehyung with a hand resting in his pajama pocket.
“Tae-yah, come on, time to get up,” Yoongi’s voice is gentle, but it’s a warning. It hits Taehyung’s ears like a pleasant hum. “We’ve got a packed day today—don’t let Jin-hyung catch you out here. He won’t be so nice next time.” Taehyung moans and it sounds genuinely pained. Yoongi frowns. The dongsaeng turns to lay on his back and Yoongi takes in the arm holding a pillow against his middle. The elder makes a noise and crouches down, moving bangs away from Taehyung’s forehead. Taehyung has that queasy grimace on his lips; he’s pretty green in the face.
“You look nauseous,” Yoongi observes. Taehyung wonders if Yoongi can hear all the curdling his stomach is doing right now, which isn’t the usual accompaniment to his nausea. It’s usually a heavy feeling that swells in the back of his throat, an occasional twinge in his stomach whenever he thinks about eating breakfast. This is different. This is a constant bubbling churn. Taehyung whimpers and curls into himself a little more.
“I am nauseous.” He confirms with his eyes closed, his voice sounding too weak and wobbly for his liking.
“Hmm,” Yoongi pets Taehyung’s head with inspecting eyes. “Poor guy,” Today is obviously one of those rough mornings for Taehyung. He hates that his dongsaeng has to wake up feeling so crappy. He doesn’t ask for this, but he’s forced to just deal with it. Unfortunately, it isn’t enough to stay home over. They have to get moving. “Did you drink your water yet?” he suggests.
Taehyungs eyebrows quirk up then scrunch together. He hasn’t had his glass of water yet. Maybe that would help. It usually helps. Icy cold, with a bunch of ice to crunch on.
“Must be a no. I’ll go get you some water then—be right back.” Yoongi grunts when he hoists himself back up. Taehyung knows Yoongi has to physically leave for the water but it doesn’t stop him from reaching to tug his pant leg.
“Hyung, can you put a lot of ice in it?”
“Yeah yeah yeah,” Yoongi mutters, like an old man, his slippers flopping on his way to the kitchen.
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