#also you’re welcome for the tutorial sorry for yelling </3

[potato-lord-but-not]

I’m reading Going Postal and I’m surprised you’re not more of a Moist enthusiast, this man is the most charismatic and the most loser of a character I’ve ever encountered, also the side profile tutorial is a godsend, it’s so helpful

don’t you dare tell me I’m not the number 1 moist poster on this god forsaken site he has lived rent free in my brain for 3 sluty sluty years and for WHAT ??? like yeah maybe my brain has been occupied with other sillies recently but that DOESNT erase the hundreds of moist doodles I’ve made and posted. I can’t believe this. no one talk to me.

[bleucheeks]

[008] rub his back;

BTS sickfic // kookie-centric // word count: 4,297

Summary: 

Jungkook gets food poisoning during the boys' vacation in Hawaii. What a time to be violently sick, under a tight schedule filming season 2 of Bon Voyage and under the watchful eye of a camera. But Jungkook has his hyungs, and to them, he comes first.

//note: i have a laptop now! <333 

anyway, it’s been a really long time, and i have lots of writing to do, but i want to offer my contribution for the small bts sickfic pool. for those of you in this community who aren’t too familiar with korean pop in general, here’s some things you might need to know. 

‘hyung’ means older brother. any guy who is older than another guy is called this if they know each other well, but it’s also a very special title, in my opinion.

‘maknae’ is what anyone is called if they’re the youngest in a group. kpop groups are known to baby their maknaes :3

‘aigoo’ is an expression in korean almost like “omg” or “oh my” but it’s more of a sound than a word. 

‘yah’ is like ‘hey’

‘*insert name*-ah’ is just an informal marking particle after a name that Koreans tend to say when saying someone’s name that they’re really close to. 

Kookie is this sweet boy right here, the youngest member in BTS. 

and also um, this, so. . . .

you’re welcome. 

___

After about the fifth time Jungkook’s stomach gives a proper churn—the kind that sends a flash of hot then cold over his body—he’s pretty positive something isn’t quite right with his stomach.

It doesn’t normally act much different from feeling full after eating a big meal. And when he is full, he’s never bothered by how stretched-out he feels, or how it might gurgle and slosh with digestion. Not like right now. Jungkook and his stomach have a good relationship with each other. It’s strong and it's. . . . trusting. 

The fact that he can’t even follow along with his bandmates' conversations as they play a simple card game is already enough evidence for himself. There’s snacks on the floor that he’d be fighting Taehyung and Jin for any time other than tonight. Tonight, any thought of consuming anything makes his throat retract, almost as if he’s about to gag.

“Uno! I think!”

Taehyung is beaming with that boxy smile of his and giggling like a child, waving his one card in the air. Jin leans toward him and Tae obligingly lets him look at the card he’s put down and the card in his hand. Yoongi sucks his teeth. “You’re not supposed to show anyone,” he mutters in his monotone voice.

Jin nods his head at Tae’s cards. “Let him live; he’s still learning,” Jin defends.

“Uno’s probably the easiest game around,” Yoongi counters.

“It’s easier if you know Spanish,” Taehyung says. Melodic giggles pour out of Jimin and he falls into Taehyung’s lap.

“Yah, the only Spanish word in Uno is “uno” silly,” he says.

“I think I’m doing pretty good for someone who’s never played before, hyung,” Tae mutters playfully, eyeing Yoongi with one of his actor’s glares. Yoongi doesn’t look up from his cards, but he smiles a little.

“Only because this is a tutorial,”

“Yeah, this game won’t count. Next game, we’re starting scores.” Hoseok says, his tone unvarnished, and everyone nods in agreement. His hand idly grazes Jungkook’s spine, brushing fingers along the back of his neck, pinching tense skin where it counts and a tired moan barely makes it past the youngest boy’s lips. It’s like he knows. Jungkook isn’t even trying to be subtle about how good it feels. Hobi’s hands are blessings. There’s a reason why the maknae stays up under him most times.

The seven members are sitting cross-legged on the floor of a beach house in Hawaii. They’ve finished filming an episode of Bon Voyage for the night—well, mostly finished. The cameras never really go off, but they probably won’t use much after coming back from the luau. At least that’s what Jungkook thinks, with his hand fixed on the tight and slightly distended bulge of his belly.

His stomach’s been making itself very known at the most inopportune breaks of silence, gurgling with low glugs and bubbling periodically like a pot at a low simmer. He doesn’t think it will be good content for filming—it can’t be. But then again, their production team were editing magicians; they’d more than likely have ways to mute the sounds. After several years of having a music career together, cameras were as normal as a lamp in the room. It was one of the reasons their fans loved them so much: they have access to so many candid moments.

Jungkook tries to pay attention, but it’s weird. He shouldn’t be feeling this full after having eaten 3 hours ago, not to the point where he feels stuffed to the brim. It’s getting harder to stay still and quiet under the mild volume of the music playing on Namjoon’s phone.

He suddenly jolts with a hiccup. A cold sweat ripples over his body. A faint, though unsettling, sensation of nausea licks at the back of his throat and he swallows nervously.

Another audible rumble and his eyes lull shut. He’s grateful no one chooses to notice the sound. Hobi continues to pet him without causing attention and Jungkook is so grateful for it. He’d hate for anyone to catch on to his distress.

The boys keep playing games of Uno for what feels like way too long, with it’s typical Bangtan raucous minus Jungkook, and Hobi jumping up for a break of animated dance over the pile of cards after every victory. Jungkook pretends to participate here and there, putting down cards just to put them down and saying he’s just too unlucky tonight.

The combined noises of his 6 hyungs makes it easy for Jungkook’s silence to go unnoticed, or so he thinks.

Jimin has already caught on that something isn’t quite right. There isn’t ever a time Jungkook isn’t competitive. But Jimin doesn’t say anything, thinking back on the times Jungkook tended to become withdrawn whenever anyone started to openly worry about him.

The maknae leaves several times. First for some water that he can’t bring himself to sip, second and third and fourth to slip away to the bathroom to try to relax. The privacy to bring up burps that are tight and wet and taste funny, to moan and press a palm into the bloat of his stomach. To aimlessly pace the hallway of the bungalow with a hand under his middle where he swears has gotten harder and stewier.

He stands in front of the mirror looking a little paler in the face and feeling a lot more helpless. He doesn’t think he can pull off hiding away to go to sleep right now without everyone wondering why, but that’s exactly what he wants to do. Any other night, Jungkook would fight bed time like a child due for a nap.

Jungkook was known to stay up with Taehyung to play Overwatch every night, the last two to go to bed most nights. At least until Jin yelled at them to go to sleep.

He bites his lip. He’s running out of ideas.

x

“I’m gonna go take a shower, alright?” Jungkook says, as nonchalant as he can make his voice. But he just looks really awkward, standing there in front of his six bandmates with his thumb pointing in the direction of the bathroom.

Everyone’s heads snap toward Jungkook. Yoongi’s resting pout face moves with one rising eyebrow, eyes narrowing.

“O-kay, I guess?” he says. It’s pretty odd for Jungkook to want a shower right this second, in the heat of the game, in the midst of their precious bonding time.

Jin’s attention briefly settles on a celery stick he pops into his mouth and Jungkook can’t possibly imagine being even marginally hungry for anything right now. The eldest’s round eyes go back to Jungkook, giving him a once over. “Yah, JK, you feeling okay?” Jin knows he has to use a light and playful tone with Jungkook so that the spotlight isn’t completely on him. He can tell there’s something wrong, but he’s choosing not to fully voice how much he notices.

It isn’t a secret like Jungkook thinks it is. He should know by now that nothing gets past his hyungs, especially Jin. But they also know how Jungkook gets when he isn’t feeling well. As tempting as it is, Jungkook doesn’t like to be coddled in any way, unless he’s really hurting. Then he himself will come to them. But they must give him that choice.

Jungkook visibly tenses. He snorts and shrugs. “I just want a shower, hyung,” His tone is defensive. “That alright? I’ll be right back to play the next round.” He glances at Namjoon before disappearing down the hall. Everyone notices how stiffly he walks away.

“I think Kookie’s got an upset stomach,” Jimin adds after leaning over to place down a card. Everyone makes a noise of agreement. He straightens up and cranes his head in the direction of the bathroom. He wants to go check on him. Yoongi places a hand on Jimin’s thigh, but his eyes are concentrated on his three cards.

“He’ll be okay. I’ll leave some antacids by him when he lays down.”

“You’d think he’d crack already; he looked about as pale as you are, Yoongi.” Hoseok pipes in, laughing a little. Jimin and Taehyung are mirroring concerned frowns.

“Kookie would tell us if he’s feeling really bad, wouldn’t he?” Taehyung asks, and Namjoon’s face melts into a warm smile, dimples sinking through.

“He always does.”

x

The shower runs long before Jungkook actually steps in. His stomach twists into a cramp that has him on his knees for a while, pressing an arm into his middle until the hot snake inside of him finally decides to relax. It doesn’t ease up until he’s curled over on the toilet with his intestines bubbling. He rests his head in his hands while he pants through the pain, praying no body hears anything but the shower running. And then someone’s pounding on the door.

“Yah, save some water for the fishes in the sea, kookie-ah—you fall asleep in there?” Hoseok’s voice. Jungkook knows that he isn’t being mean about it, but it still startles him. He swallows hard and rubs his face with shaky hands. He can feel his face burning with embarrassment even though the door is locked and Hobi obviously can’t see him.

“A-ah—sorry hyung. I’ll be out soon,” he nervously laughs, but he’s sweating. He still feels sick, but he thinks he might feel a little better once his intestines let up.

“Mmmkayyy,” Hoseok drawls, sounding a bit skeptical, but he leaves from the door. Jungkook practically melts with relief, but only for a second before his stomach locks up with another cramp. He bites his sleeve and tries to bear it.

x

Jungkook comes back like he says he will, but 45 minutes later, fresh from a shower and wearing Jin’s forest green hoodie with some loose black shorts. Namjoon knows it’s Jin’s because it’s significantly longer than Jungkook’s matching one. He hides a knowing smirk; the boy tends to “steal” Yoongi’s, Hoseok’s, Jin’s, and Namjoon’s clothes when he’s homesick or sad or sick.

It helps ground him. A habit the eldest band members promised not to call Jungkook out on. In all honesty, it’s incredibly cute. The leader watches their youngest dip his chin under the collar of the sweater, nudging it upward so it covers his nose, probably taking in all of Jin’s wonderful cologne. His round eyes lift to watch the cards grow in a pile on the floor and Namjoon wants to reach over and fluff his hair.

He looks a little better, his face clean from washing and glowy with moisturizer, dark hair now damp from being washed, but not from sweat. He pipes into the conversation, genuinely interested in catching up on what he might have missed.

“Jeon Jungkook-chingooo,” Hoseok sings, feigning a baby voice and making grabby hands toward the boy. Jungkook tightens his lips; it’s hard not to smile around someone as sunshiny as Hoseok. He saunters over with his hands shoved in the hoodie pockets and plops himself next to Hobi, where his gifted hands gravitate back along Jungkook’s spine. Namjoon silently observes that Jungkook seems more present and vocal since coming back from the shower and he’s pleased to see he looks significantly better.

They continue their night of games and music and laughter on the living room floor and all seems well.

x

Now Jungkook knows something isn’t right. He was sure he was starting to feel better after having used the bathroom, after taking that shower. But he’s bloated again, his belly hard and pushed-out under his hand. It’s back to a steady—if not increasing—roil just like earlier. Yoongi left him two bubbling tablets in a glass of water on the coffee table and Jungkook wonders how in the world Yoongi knew he might need it. Even if it might help, Jungkook can’t even bring himself to swallow past a sip of it.

He’s on the couch, flat on his back and staring up at the ceiling with his hands folded over his stomach. Jimin is shuffling around nearby, fresh from a shower and covered head to toe in black. Sweatpants, hoodie over head, snapback on; jimin’s go-to pjs any time of the year. It’s like an extra security blanket. Jungkook can barely see the elder’s face, but he’s glad for it right now. He doesn’t want anyone to know he might be feeling any sort of discomfort. It’s still nice to have him close by.

His belly burbles softly and he bites his lip. An air bubble settles in his chest and he swallows until he can feel it slowly return to his uneasy stomach. Gingerly, he moves to face the soft cushions of the couch, covering his eyes with his arm.

Bringing his knees to his chest, he really wishes he hadn’t finished that whole plate of meat and seafood by himself at the luau. The thought alone tightens his throat and tempts him to gag. All those different heavy side dishes. That last helping of shellfish brought out later that evening that he had to try. All these foreign foods he isn’t used to, and eating so much of it. He’d been so greedy today. He really didn’t need to start the morning with a whole bowl of rice with the kimchi and ramen Jin had made for breakfast. That had already been overkill.

His constricted middle turns again and it sends a physical shudder over his body. He grimaces and burrows further into the cushions, hoping Jimin doesn’t notice the whisper of a moan he presses into the upholstery. How could he be so stupid?

____

Staying out near the sea like this is a real treasure. After all the busy schedules and the back-to-back performances and music video shoots, the group needs this. It’s so peaceful here. No worries of being spotted on the streets and no trace of the hustle and bustle and congestion that comes with city life. For Jimin, vacation includes staying up late to read to his heart’s content, the only time it’s truly quiet. It’s one of Jimin’s favorite things.  

The windows are open so the cool breeze and the sound of the steady lapping of water from the beach can be heard from right outside.

Jungkook is laid out on the sectional in the living room. The youngest used to have trouble sleeping alone, back when they first debuted and he was young and shy and the pressure to make it overwhelmed him with anxiety. But not anymore, not unless something is really eating at him. There are plenty of beds to sleep in, but here Jungkook is, on the couch while Jimin wordlessly flips through page after page of his book. Jimin doesn’t say anything about it, but he knows Jungkook is laying there simply for the comfort of knowing someone is near.

And Jungkook probably hadn’t planned on falling asleep there, but Jimin saw it coming. He stopped reading a while ago to cover the boy in a blanket and get him a pillow before curling back up in the cushioned rocking chair across from him, peeking up from his book more times than he can keep up to watch the maknae squirm in his sleep. The boy’s stomach keeps gurgling under the blanket. His body moves more restlessly as the time passes. Jimin is starting to get a little concerned.

And then Jungkook wakes up, lifting himself on his elbows and staring ahead with eyelids fluttering from a drowsy haze. He notices Jimin, but he doesn’t say anything.

“You’re stomach’s really talkative right now, Kookie,” Jimin says with a hushed giggle.

Jungkook doesn’t respond. He looks confused, with strands of his soft hair raised from being rubbed against a pillow. Jimin smiles fondly as the young singer makes a groggy noise, turns over towards the cushions of the couch and presses his face into them.  

“Mm’okay,” he mumbles sleepily into the fabric.

Jimin doesn’t question it further, not thinking much of it. Maybe Jungkook’s stomach is working overtime on all the food he ate that night. It was a lot, after all. Kookie was already a big eater. He’d tried a little of everything and a lot of what he’d liked. It wouldn’t be a surprise if all the foreign indulgence from the luau wasn’t sitting well in his stomach.

But he goes back to his book when Jungkook seems to be fast asleep again. And then 10 minutes later, a sluggish burp drags up the sleeping boy’s throat. Poor thing must be dealing with some serious indigestion. Jungkook turns on his back. Jimin watches his hand move up under Jin’s baggy green hoodie.

Another 10 minutes and he’s awake again, breathing heavy, disoriented, and visibly uncomfortable.

Slowly, he rolls off the couch. Sitting on his knees, he rests his head over crossed arms on the couch. Jimin watches Jungkook’s back curl forward with a deep hiccup and a faint sound of distress follows. The book is no longer important.

“Kookie? You okay?”

“Mm?” Jungkook’s voice sounds heavy.

Jimin gets up and kneels down with him, his hand instantly going to rub along the maknae’s spine. “It’s your stomach, isn’t it?” He guesses gently. “I kind of figured this might happen.” Jungkook keeps his eyes pressed into his arm, but he’s moaning each time his stomach makes that nasty curdling noise, puffing through his nose. Jimin’s fingers pass through Jungkook’s thick hair. “That was a lot of food, kookie-ah. Too much. Now it’s made you sick.”

Jungkook jolts with a closed-mouthed belch that he smothers into his sleeve. He breathes out fetid air with his eyes clenched shut. Jimin gives the maknae a few light pats between his shoulder blades, his frown deepening by the seconds. He looks back and spots a barely touched glass of antacids nearly dissolved in water. He brings it near Jungkook’s lips.

“Here, have some of this for me. It should help,”

“I can’t,” Jungkook chokes, shaking his head.

“Please, puppy? Just a few sips?” he tries again, even softer, brushing dampening hair behind the singer’s flushed ears. He nudges Jungkook’s shoulder with his forehead. “Please kook-ah? I hate seeing you like this.”

Jungkook wraps an arm around his stomach. “I tried,” he answers through gritted teeth. He lifts his head without opening his eyes. All color has left his lips. “I can’t drin—klp,” a sharp hiccup robs him of his speech, leaving him with a sour grimace. 

Jimin works his hand under the thick layer of Jin’s oversized hoodie to rub some circles into Jungkook’s tense back and realizes how warm he is. His other hand feels his forehead and Jungkook leans right into it. Then he brings it under the hoodie again to touch his stomach and he doesn’t expect it to feel so round and tight and active under his fingers. Jungkook squeezes his hand, pressing it against the upset organ and sighing shakily.

“Oh poor thing,” Jimin whispers, resting his chin on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry you feel so bad,” They stay there for a little while, letting Jungkook use his hand to put pressure on his stomach. He tightens his lips; he really should wake one of the boys up. Maybe Jin or Namjoon. Their youngest is worse off than Jimin thinks he’ll be able to handle on his own.

Eventually, Jimin makes to stand up, hooking his hands under Jungkook’s arms to hoist him up. “Alright, up up up,” he grunts, getting him to sit upright at the edge of the couch. He isn’t sure what he should do next. Leave Jungkook to look through Yoongi’s trusty emergency medicine stash? But it’s still packed in his suitcase. He might wake up. But then again, maybe he should wake him up. Or should—

“Jimin-ah,” Jungkook presses a few trembling fingers on his lips and swallows hard to keep down a burp from rising in his chest. Then he swallows again and again, sucks in a breath and barely moves his lips when he needs to speak again. “I think I’m gon—,” he shudders and closes his eyes, squeezes his knee. Swallows again. “But I can’t move.”

Jimin is already up and running to the kitchen for a bowl, or a trash bin, or anything really, come on—he snatches a mixing bowl from a cabinet, sprinting when he hears Jungkook start to gag into his hand.

Shit shit shit shit shit

x

Jungkook tastes a blend of smoked pork and seafood resting at the back of his throat after a particularly heady belch bursts past his lips. What’s worse is Jimin is right there, with his shoulder pressed right against his and gently patting his back in the dark of the quiet living room. Jungkook wonders how long he’s been here like this; he’s a little disoriented—last thing he remembers is falling asleep on the couch and now he’s sitting up and his stomach is in his throat and Jimin’s holding a bowl under him. His cheeks are burning. He’s humiliated, but Jimin only watches him with calm concern while he keeps on rubbing and patting and coaxing. With every movement of Jimin’s hand, his spine ripples with a burp or a wet hiccup. He knows Jimin’s intentions, but he just wants him to stop.

“M’sorry,” The maknae’s voice barely breaks a shaking whisper, hiccupping with a convulsive swallow. He sways a little and grabs Jimin’s thigh. “I’m sorry I woke you up,” Another jerky swallow. “You should be sleeping,”

Jimin passes a hand through the ailing boy’s brown hair. “Aigoo, don’t worry about that, I was already awake—you don’t remember?”

“Mm—mm,”

Jimin sucks his teeth in sympathy, working light circles under Jungkook’s damp shirt and into his warm and clammy back. He’s positive Jungkook has a fever. “Mmm, our maknae’s really sick,” he coos, looking genuinely sad, his dark eyes trained on the ailing boy. Jungkook’s eyebrows pull together when his middle rumbles. He presses a hand to his stomach. He’s so bloated. So full. And it’s all his fault.

He bites his lip and whimpers. And then Jimin’s hand makes him burp again, this one more forceful, more wet, and an intense wave of nausea reintroduces itself and makes his whole body quake. It’s overwhelming. The dread of it sends panic to Jungkook’s normally fearless nature and his lip quivers. He hasn’t felt quite this bad in a really long time. And he just keeps feeling worse the night goes on. His stomach is in turmoil. He’s keeping his brothers up. They’re on vacation and he’s ruining it. It’s getting hard to breathe.

“Shhh, kookie, it’s alright. Really it is,” Jimin has the sweetest voice. He really does. It’s what Jungkook thinks. It’s what he knows. It’s what most people think. But Jungkook can’t focus on it even if he tried right now. He’s freaking out. He doesn’t want to be sick. He’s thousands of miles away from home and he wants his mom. Another distressed whimper barely makes it past Jungkook’s lips and Jimin’s lips press gently into the side of his face, a desperate act of comfort.

“It’s okay. Just keep burping. It’ll help your stomach settle.” At least that’s what his mother always tells him to do whenever he had indigestion.

But then Jungkook’s shaking his head and a sob comes out like a choked cough over the empty bowl. He’s panting, his breaths catching in shaky little gasps as he works himself up. Jimin’s face intensifies in alarm. He gets up to bend down in front of Jungkook.

Without much warning, Jungkook jerks forward with the force of a deep burp that morphs into a heave. A mouthful of chunky liquid pours out of him before either one of them have the reflexes to process what just happened. Jimin’s eyes are saucers.

“Oh crap, okay-okay-okay-alright—crap, it’s okay,” Jimin manages, pushing Jungkook forward to get him over the bowl. Jungkook—bless his heart—obediently directs his face toward the bowl, but he burps up another torrent that is so forceful it splatters all over his front. He’s not even rewarded a full inhale before his stomach has him again, clenching hard, bowling him over.

It’s like he’s on auto-pilot. He retches so hard, he feels like his throat is being grated raw. With tears streaming down his cheeks, Jungkook squeezes the bowl with white knuckles as he rides out the merciless convulsions. Jimin has a stabilizing hand on his chest, still rubbing his back with the other, whispering encouragement even though he’s pretty traumatized by the sight and there’s warm vomit on his fingers.

Jungkook’s ears are ringing over his own fit of painful heaves. The burning chunky liquid can’t come up any faster, bouts rushing past his lips like a burst fire hydrant. The bowl isn’t big enough. Another mouthful gurgles past his lips and his stomach lets up enough for him to choke in a few breaths. He knows he isn’t finished, but he swallows and swallows to see if he can fight it anyway. He’s so scared.

“Hyung. . . J-Jiminnie-hyung,”

Jimin is squeezing his arm. “Hey puppy, listen to me—should I get Jin-hyung? Do you want me to go get him?” Jungkook panicking like this is beyond him. He wants to help, but he isn’t sure how.

Jungkook coughs again, squeezing his eyes together. He bursts into tears, nodding his head vigorously, his chest hitching with choked sobs. It breaks Jimin’s heart.  

The dancer is up in a heartbeat. “I’ll be right back, okay? Hey—,” He presses a hand on the younger boy’s cheek, holds his face. “It’s okay, alright? Try to breathe. . .I-I’ll be right back.”