Actions

Work Header

Rating:
Archive Warning:
Categories:
Fandom:
Relationships:
Characters:
Additional Tags:
Language:
English
Stats:
Published:
2025-09-30
Updated:
2025-10-05
Words:
4,209
Chapters:
4/?
Comments:
44
Kudos:
56
Bookmarks:
4
Hits:
615

Forsaken Sickfics / Whump Oneshots

Summary:

Exactly what the title says ^^
Feel free to request things too! No guarantees I'll get around to it but hey.

OR

Author makes your fav characters suffer

Notes:

Hihi!! First work in this fandom ^^
I apologize if this is ooc, I really dunno how these guys work; Hope you enjoy anyway :’D

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: Requests and Chapter summaries

Chapter Text

Hello hi!


If you'd like to request something, you can do that here but I would like to clarify a few things first;

1. This book won't be request-centred, if I see an idea I like I'll write it but if I'm not interested it'll probably go to the bottom of my priority list, sorry :'D

2. If you do request please keep in mind it's not first come first serve! It probably will be for a while but that'll change most likely

3. I'm a big Chance, Elliot, Guest1337, 007n7 and Two Time enjoyer if that helps

4. I doubt this will happen but no smut requests please; I'm not good at it nor do I read it

5. There is an oc here, yes. She won't get in the way of anything but she'll pop up sometimes. Her name is Boots and she's an archer everybody say hi

That's it really, enjoy!


Chapter 2 (Let us Care): Sick Two Time, platonic Elliot + Two Time

Chapter 3 (Unlikely): Hurt 007n7, romantic Shedletsky/Builderman/007n7


Hopefully I have enough motivation to make this list longer! Good luck everybody

;;if you came to this chaper thinking it was an update my bad

Chapter 2: Let me care (Sick Two Time)

Summary:

"Sniffing, Two Time settled themselves against the cushions, resting their burning forehead on the chilled fabric; that alone made them feel at least a little better, and soon exhaustion pulled them back into slumber."

Two Time gets sick and doesn't tell anyone, You'll never guess what happens. Also platonic Two Time & Elliot but it can be seen as romantic? I think?

------------

TW for vomiting/descriptions of nausea

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

“Time? Oh dear… you’re not looking great, love…”

 

I miss you, Azure.

 

They hadn’t really felt alright for a while; they’d brushed it off, and prayed to the Spawn for a quick recovery. Today, Two Time groggily opened their eyes, feeling  a headache pulsing against their skull- maybe it was more then a lack of sleep. The sky outside is dark- darker than usual- so they assume it’s some ungodly hour of the night. They shouldn’t be up yet, and yet sleep had abandoned them. Instead, an uncomfortable warmth under their skin makes itself known and the cultist can’t help but whine at the sensation as they notice how cold sweat sticks the shirt to their back.

 

They try to ignore it and mumble a prayer, desperate for more rest; it doesn’t work. They remain painfully awake, so they decide the next best thing was to go downstairs.

 

Against their body screaming in protest, Two Time sluggishly curls up before swinging their legs over the side of the bed, and suddenly they were aware of how badly  they were shaking and how nausea swirling in their guts. A chill runs down their spine as they force themselves upright and they make their way into the hallway, when had it gotten so cold?

 

They bonelessly collapse onto the worn couch, the dust making them choke and cough. Sniffling, Two Time settled themselves against the cushions, resting their burning forehead on the chilled fabric; that alone made them feel at least a little better, and soon exhaustion pulled them back into slumber.

 

Their sickness was absolutely just a fluke, they were going to be okay. Today would be okay.

 

For the love of spawn, today was not okay. At all. Two Time felt terrible. When the day finally really began and the rest of the survivors began gathering at the main cabin, when they were rudely woken up by Chance nudging them awake.

 

“Pal, you alright? Why are you down here?”

 

The rush of voices- and freshly turned on blinding artificial light only made them want to crawl away in disappear back into their room even more; Chance doesn’t get an opportunity to speak before the cultist is dragging themselves across the living space to retreat to a more reserved, quieter spot. Thankfully Chance doesn’t question anything. They skip breakfast- there was a big chance they would be seeing last night’s dinner again if they even got a whiff of the food being prepared; everything felt like too much. Even the voices, the chatter that would usually distract them from their thoughts, pierced through their pounding head like a blade. Sitting down helped a little, though. May the spawn have mercy on me.

 

It wasn’t long before the private conversations between the others merged into one. Calculating. Worried. Minutely hopeful and confident. This wasn’t new.

 

But that meant the rounds would start soon. They hauled themselves to their feet before joining the loosely-knit group- it went quiet as they counted the seconds. They all knew the feeling, the dread in their hearts before another round began.


As most of the crew sits around the table, nobody notices the trembling frame of Two Time, nor how they fought to keep their panting breath quiet. Finally, they feel the familiar pull that signalled the beginning of the rounds.

 

It took Two Time an embarrassingly long time to come to. Everything felt hazy. Not real. Vaguely they can hear sounds of shoes against grass, and the running water tells them they’re in Pirate Bay, but their fever-addled mind can’t process much more, until they see a shadow flick behind them. Everything reminds them of him.

 

”Do you need anything, dear?”

 

“Azure...” They murmur. Trying to take steps felt impossible. But they needed to get to them, feel safe again-

 

“Two Time! Can ya help us out here a little?” Ah. They were in a round. Of course. They could feel nausea beginning to bubble up again as they moved, shakily joining Shedletsky at a generator.

 

They didn’t know why they felt so sick, nor when the last time was they felt like this. They’d always had a weak stomach but it never got this bad. Even if it did, they’d have Azure there to ground them. Was it something they ate? No, they didn’t eat anything aside from the typical pizza last night. Maybe it really was just a lack of sleep? Yes, that must be it. The Spawn wouldn’t let one of his most devoted followers suffer like this, surely. Even so, Two Time can’t help but shiver, then be sweating the next moment because every step only made their stomach churn more and more. They just have to get through this round. Then they can retreat to their room and get much needed rest.

 

At first no one seemed to notice, but after a stumble here, and tripping over air there, they were beginning to get looks from everybody. Elliot asked if they felt alright, or if they were injured. Guest, after covering them after they missed a stab, gave them a look of worry. Even Boots, known for being indifferent, checked on them with her voice raised in concern. Twice. Out of worry, of course, but Two Time never liked being the centre of attention, especially in a state like this. They feel like death warmed over.

 

———————————-

 

The rest of the round goes past in a blur. Run, hide, stab. Run, hide, miss a stab, get hit. Run, and then feel even more ill.

 

Two Time could have sworn it went longer than the previous ones, but it was done. The round was over; as the last scrap of energy is sapped from their body, Two Time feels achey and just, gross all over. Sweat begins to bead on their forehead as they start to feel the overwhelming presence of the rest of the crew. Maybe, if they weren’t being noticed, they could have escaped upstairs, outside, anywhere but here. But they feel arms around them, the jarring laughs of relief, it’s all too much.

 

All of a sudden, their stomach drops. The nausea that had been plaguing them all day twists into a knot inside them as they feel freezing and burning hot all at once; they need to sit down. They can’t stand- they can’t hold themselves up for much longer- they’re going to be sick. Subconsciously their hands begin to wrap around their stomach.

 

They didn’t know if they could make it upstairs. Saliva begins to fill their mouth and they swallow thickly, all while everyone else pushed, and spoke and shifted around them and their legs felt weak and-

 

“Two Time-” When did Elliot get here? “you okay?”

 

“I-I’m…” Don’t throw up, don’t throw updon'throwup- breathe. Breathe. “I’m alright, dear Elliot I just- hrgk-”

 

The nausea hits full force. They clap a hand over their mouth, scrambling toward the kitchen before they fell to their knees and retched into the bin. Whatever little they’d eaten makes a reappearance as they gag into the bin with so much force tears begin to prick at their eyes. Vaguely they could sense someone holding their hair away from their face along gentle hand rubbing up and down their back, and a whisper of give them some space, from the other before the room emptied, and they felt like they could breathe.

 

It didn’t last long as the sick feeling began to swell again, and before long they were heaving again; mostly just bile this time.

 

Collapsing on the body behind them, they feel a gentle hand on their forehead, and Two Time can’t help but lean into the touch a little. It feels as if their limbs are made from paper, treambling ready to wither away at a breeze. And yet, they can’t bring themselves to move. Just as they try to close their eyes, a cool glass is pressed to their lips and they can faintly make out a mumbled “drink” from above them.

 

Tentatively, they take a few sips, afraid of upsetting their stomach again; they want to sleep. Please, they’re so tired. As they drift in and out of consciousness, they can feel themselves being gently lifted, and hear whispers of them “burning up,” followed by a damp cold cloth being placed on their face. They take in one more ragged breath, and everything goes dark. 

 

Two Time wakes once more in their sweat-damp bed, in a dimly lit room. Except this time, a friendly silhouette accompanies their bedside. They try to muster a greeting, but the words catch on their throat and they begin to cough harshly; it hurt. However made a little bareable, Elliot sat beside them and whispering nothings for the sole purpose of comfort. He opens his mouth first, worried gaze burning into their sickly face.

 

“Are… are you feeling any better?” He asks, gently.

 

At this, Two Time finally gives a tired, yet genuine smile. “I do; you have been blessed with a very kind soul,” they add, “Truly, I appreciate your help. Thank you, Elliot.”

 

Elliot couldn’t help but pity the cultist. Logically, he knew they would be alright; but the way they’d carried themselves looked so frail- it spooked him. Seeing them already beginning to nod off, he was considering leaving his question for another time. Although, he’d always been a curious person, for better or for worse.

 

“Hey, just.. before you rest, can I ask?”

 

Two Time props themselves up to look at the other before tiredly nodding. It would only be polite, after everything he’d done for them.

 

“Who’s… Azure?”

 

Their head snaps up, drowsiness long forgotten. They weren’t prepared for this at all.

Notes:

Thanks for reading! Have a great day/night ^^

Chapter 3: Unlikely (Hurt 007n7)

Summary:

"He shouldn’t be this out of breath and fuck, why was his heart beating so hard? He shakily grips his arm in panic. His hand comes back wet. That’s not good. That’s really not good."

007n7 gets hurt and is too hesitant to ask for help, so Shed and Builderman take things into their own hands (to an extent.) They also kiss kinda if you squint

------------

TW for minor descriptions of injury, not graphic

Notes:

Request: “I think it would be really fun if 7n7 got like.. a wound that ended up getting infected or some sickness he ignored... And he ends up getting stuck being taken care of by Builderman & Shedletsky after he collapses on one of them. Would adore it being romantic between those three but if not it's okay! I just kinda want him to suffer and be pathetic then get coddled a lil yaknow? He deserves it <3”

I tried to make it romantic per the request but idk if i pulled it off, akdbandnsbsbs
hope you enjoy either way ^^

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

007n7 had always been afraid of pain.

 

Not in the natural way a human would shy away from harm, but in the way he would flinch away from every noise, every touch too close would have him frightened out of his skin. So he did what anyone would do in his situation, he hid. Tucked behind closed doors and a straight face, was a scarred man. He skipped mealtimes. He tried not to talk to the rest of the crew. What if they hurt him? Or worse, what if he hurt them?

 

The round had begun only a while ago, it had barely passed the halfway mark as far as he knew. As soon as it begun, he watched everyone quickly shift into action. Two time finishing their ritual, Taph beginning to set up their traps around the maps, and he hears the admins- mostly Shedletsky routinely come up with some batshit plan that somehow ended up working. As per usual he was alone- which was fine, he didn’t mind. If he met himself he wouldn’t want to be caught dead near him either.

 

Everything was going smoothly, it wasn’t unusual. He’d done this far too many times to mess up, and was pretty good at hiding himself through his gimmicks he learnt to master in his time spent alone during the rounds. At least, that’s what he thought, until he heard the warble of 1x1x1x1’s mass entanglement shoot off behind him.

 

“Shit-!”

 

He leaped away from the machine. Fast. But the damage came quicker.

 

Mere inches away from his face, he feels the wind from the attack sweep past him with terrifying force. Catching himself against a tree he manages to tap into his c00lgui and send a clone sprinting in the opposite direction. The glowing green form of the killer followed shortly after, not bothering to check for the trembling figure tucked behind the undergrowth. Thats okay. I’m okay. She’s gone. Even then, 007n7 can’t seem to calm his racing heart. With a groan, he pushed himself off the floor, only to be hit by intense wave of vertigo that made him keel over panting. He didn’t know what was wrong. He shouldn’t be this out of breath and fuck, why was his heart beating so hard? He shakily grips his arm in panic.

 

His hand comes back wet. That’s not good. That’s really not good.

 

The blood staining his hand mocks him. You are weak, his mind chants.

 

He hadn’t even really felt himself getting hit. But now, with the adrenaline that fuelled him moments ago ebbing away he has to grit his teeth as to not cry out in agony. His arm burns, and the pain flooding his veins made him double over. The blood runs down his arm freely now, dying his sleeve and painting the grass below him the unsettling crimson he hated. Fear of the hurt, the horrifying thought of being in this much pain forever, poisons every fibre of his being. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

 

God, he’s useless. Nobody else reacted as pathetically as he did.

 

He bit back a whine as he hauled himself on shaky legs, closing his eyes as stars spark across his vision for a moment- it took much more effort than it should have to even stand. When he finally begins to move, he hisses and writhes in stinging pain every time taller plants brush against his arm- if he ever happened to graze himself against a wall, the fire that engulfed his entire left side of the body almost makes him black out. He stumbles around now, barely upright. Choking back tears, he forces his fuzzy brain to think. There had to be something that he could help himself with… who had that medkit earlier?

 

He’d seen the kit sprawled on the floor near the base of the fortress; no, no he was there right now, and it wasn’t here. Dammit, he saw someone pick it up. Guest1337? No, no- he usually left them for Elliot. Dusekkar…? Cmon, idiot. Think.

 

And then it hits him. Builderman.

 

Oh.

 

Builderman. Who was with Shedletsky; yet even more people he needed to bother.

 

Of course, he could ask the admins for the medkit; he was sure the former admin would give it to him, right? Maybe just this once, he could ask for help-

 

No. He kills that thought as soon as it surfaces; he refuses to burden them again.

 

Nobody deserved to suffer through his torturous presence. No human should have to deal with his blood on their clothes. He’s preparing himself to trek through the uneven undergrowth again, when-

 

“Seven?” Shedletsky.

 

He could have sworn the man was standing on top of the ramp, but in the blink of an eye it seemed he materialised in front of the wounded man. He looks stunning up close in the moonlight. Another blink, and suddenly he can’t hear him through the static in his ears. Barely, he can make out panic mixed in with the noise as a fresh wave of burning pain courses through his arm, and he has to force his jaw shut as to not alarm the other. He can’t feel his legs anymore, and there’s not enough air in his lungs. He just wants to fade away and escape the worried stares and the pity radiating from his gaze.

 

“You’re Bleeding-!” Suddenly, his knees buckle as he stands and he cannot be more grateful for Shedletsky’s stable grip on his torso. “Shit- Builder! Grab the medkit and come down here, would ya?”  He can barely hear the yelling before he pitches forward, collapsing bonelessly into the grass.

 

———————————-

 

“You’ve changed enough, 007n7,” they said. “We forgive you.” So why couldn’t he find it in himself to believe them? Because he’s scum, that’s why.

 

As much as he tried to push them aside the thoughts kept coming back. Louder and louder, clouding through the rational part of his mind; what if he wasn’t healed from this, it had happened before; even so, the fatigue and pain never really left. A million scenarios flit through his mind- would he die? Can you even die outside of rounds? If he did, would he respawn?

 

No, probably not. His mind supplies; maybe it would be better that way. If he died, there would be less to care about and less work for the rest of the crew; he begins to let the thoughts consume him, when he’s interrupted by something suddenly adding to the throbbing on his arm. Eyes flying open, he pushes against whatever is holding him.

 

“Easy, easy.” That voice. “There you are.”

 

007n7 doesn’t even realise he’d passed out right there. Immediately, a string of hushed apologies begin tumbling out of his mouth. An uncomfortable warmth spreads across his face as he tries to force himself up again when he’s pushed down again by caring arms. As he becomes more aware, he notices his arm was wrapped nicely with clean gauze; the ache was still there, but it would do until the end of the round. Through his panicked ramblings and rushed ‘I’m sorry’s, 007n7 can’t bare to look up. He needs to leave, but when he tries to stand again his world tilts to the side and before he knows it, he’s leaning back on Builderman again as Shedletsky brushes his sweat-soaked bangs out of his face.

 

Both of them look good, he decides. Maybe, maybe he could bother someone. Just this once…

 

“Rest, Seven.” As if his words wore magic, 007n7 couldn’t help but melt into his arms.

 

“We’ve got you,” Shedletsky adds.

 

He was out before he felt the soft kiss, pressed against his forehead.

Notes:

I am. so tried

Chapter 4: Hold on (Chance centric)

Summary:

“Everything around them begins to feel too hot, suffocating Chance with the mere presence of the terrain and when he can finally suck in a breath, sudden dizziness hits him so strongly the world begins to tilt.”

Chance has horrible luck during a round, and the weakness hits a little harder than it should.

Notes:

Request: “Also if I can req could I pls have like chance getting sick and their weakness from the coin flip making them worse mid-round but guest comes in like an amazing saviour and makes sure they’re ok for the rest of the round? If so then thx ♥️”

Saw this and JUMPED at the opportunity to write chance aluafouafsnsn. I like to think this takes place when none of the survivors were that close w/ each other yet, maybe thats why Guest1337 wouldn’t know how Chance’s whole gambling thing works lol
Couldn’t tell if you wanted platonic or romantic so I wrote platonic, I see them having a like, senior/junior dynamic aha

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Beneath the uneasy silence of the beginning of the games, a familiar sound of a flipping coin fills the air around Chance.

 

Heads!

 

Heads!

 

Tails.

 

They don’t have that much time to process the result before wincing at the sharp pang of pain in their head, joining the pounding that was there before. More in annoyance than pain he finds himself raising his voice.

 

“Really? One charge away, man!”

 

He flips the coin again, and wince as another jolt of pain stabs their skull. And again, and again, and again. Six tails in a row, and they had to close their eyes to stop their vision from blurring. Lady Luck’s real mad at me today, huh.

 

Everything around them begins to feel too hot, suffocating Chance with the mere presence of the terrain and when he can finally suck in a breath, sudden dizziness hits him so strongly the world begins to tilt. Legs beginning to give out, they stumble to the nearest wall before their stomach lurches violently and they gag onto the grass- nothing comes out, but they have to force back the nausea that threatens to spill over, blinking back tears.

 

By the time he could stand sagged against the wall, his body didn’t feel like it belonged to him.

 

Yet, they pushed through, wading through waves of static in their brain and the black that kept painting their vision until the blocky silhouette reveals itself to Chance; finally, something they can do without feeling like they’d keel over- as best as they could, they collapse against the relieving coolness of the machine. Relieving? Did they have a fever?

 

Even that small relief is cut short when he hears the thud of footsteps stalking behind him.

 

Heavy. Dangerous. Fast.

 

Instantly fear floods their veins. Pumping his exhausted body and breaking his mind, the instinct to run. To hide.

 

They felt the dread pooling in their guts. Forcing himself faster and faster until his fingers find their way to the coin.

 

By some miracle, it lands a head.

 

Everything slows. His adrenaline-filled mind gradually cuts through the haze if sickness.

 

Chance stares out of the corner of his eyes. They’d done this before.

 

One step.Put the finger on the trigger.

 

Two steps. Turn fast. Don’t let him know you’re aiming.

 

Three- Shoot.

 

A piercing sound echos off the walls, but Slasher remains untouched.

 

Instead, Chance feels the burning light swallow his face whole. Everything blurs out, and all they can register is a blade cutting into their ribs.

 

Before he knew it his knees connected with the ground. That’s it, this was how he died. They brace for the slash, arms automatically shielding themselves-

 

A thud of weaponary hitting strong arms and leather gloves. A shout, and a punch.

 

“MOVE!”

 

Without a second thought he hauls across the field. Chance catches the faint reflection from Builderman’s sentry atop the fortress. Perfect.

 

Hurried footsteps became accompanied by the clicking of gunshots as Slasher turned, attention now on the sentry.

 

They were safe for the time being.

 

The ringing in their ears begin to fade away, but so does everything else, swallowing them in the comforting veil of unconsciousness.

 

———————————-

 

He was so dizzy. Breathing was getting hard and their lungs felt like they were collapsing into themselves. His heart wasn’t beating right and with legs too weak to hold them up, they stumble right into the soldier. He says something- they can just make out the tone of surprise, but he sounds underwater, only doubling the throbbing in their head. They feel so terribly ill.

 

“Lean back against the wall. Breathe, Chance.”

 

He can feel tension slowly ebbing away as their body starts to feel real again and he registers a hand against their too-warm face. Maybe it was the weakness talking, but they nearly sobbed at the overwhelming amount of pure gentle care from the other as he worriedly pressed a hand to their skin.

 

“You’ve got a fever.”

 

“That’s part of it, yeah.” They mumble.

 

The solid ground anchors them, and something fans their sweat-coated face, a moment of relief among whatever torture Chance was going through. They vaguely hear Guest ask if they were sick, and they shake their head in response; sure, they were tired, but then again when weren’t they? Everyone was tired. He didn’t really have an excuse. He has no excuse, so he reaches into his pocket again for the coin, hoping to shake off the weakness and for once, help the team, but his wrist is grasped and guided back down.

 

“If you flip that thing again I won’t be able to help you.” His voice is stern, but there was something else there. Worry.

 

Why? It really didn’t matter. They’d respawn anyway; they couldn’t help the rest of the group anyway and was clearly just taking up Guest’s time, so why was there so much care for them?

 

“I can’t be useful if I don’t!” He nearly yells; of course, they didn’t blame him, but they just felt so… pointless. “I’ve, I’ve gotta take that risk, ya know?”

 

The words came out spilling with guilt, raw, crushing emotion falling from his eyes and down his cheeks. Why couldn’t they be better? Strong like Guest. Kind like Elliot. Hell it felt like even Noob and 007n7 were doing more for the team while he panted out of breath in a corner. Embarrassingly another sob tears out of them but they can’t swallow it back this time- they’d felt this way for too long. The Soldier freezes, his gaze softening as he locked eyes with Chance. And Guest saw it. Saw the guy under the confident laughter and the shades he always wore.

 

He looked like he really needed a hug.

 

Moving slowly and giving the other time to pull away, he wraps his arms around them as they continued to sob into his embrace, their hands tightening around him as he felt his shirt dampen with tears that weren’t his own. It hurt, to see them so vulnerable.

 

“You’re so much more than you think you are.”

 

“I-” He’s cut off by Guest placing a hand on his shoulder, a reminder.

Comforting silence blankets the duo and slowly but surely, the throbbing waves of weakness begin to subside, if only a little. The fever that burned through them becomes a mere haze, still there but bearable.

 

“Feeling a bit better?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Grimacing a little, Chance stands again. They felt better after being a sobbing mess, and they feel like he could never pay him back for dealing with them.

 

“One more thing, rest when the round ends,” he adds, “Please.”

Notes:

Tbh I dont think I cooked with this but hope you enjoyed!! :’D
Writing this made me lowkey realise im not good at pacing lmaoo thats why it took so long

Notes:

There is a severe lack of sickfics in this fandom smh my head

Comments and Kudos are very much appriciated :D