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kanene-yaaay · 2 months

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The Benefits of a Restful Sleep (and other things that a friend can help you with)

Kanene's notes: In my defense, Dogday is way too cute and kind. That was his mistake. Now I just HAD to make an entire story where he is alive and the Player is both the most stubborn bean ever and the biggest softie to set a foot in the factory. That is it. That is the entire story. Warnings: Mentioned death as a form of reset, angst and mention of injury and blood. It's discussed but not too deeply and isn't the main plot of the story. Raspberries, nibbles, lots of teasing, hurt/comfort and roothing fluff. Reader is adressed with they/them. Around 9.500 words. Heavily inspired by @fluffymary 's wonderful, incredible stories. Take a look at them too :D

[~*~]

You were exhausted.

That was a problem.

Sure, tiredness wasn’t really a new feeling in your life when you looked at the big scheme of things. Even before you went back to your old workplace, it used to cling on your bones, to fill your mind with memories and to pull your spirits down at any time of the day when a kid’s laughter or flowers would remind you of everything you tried so hard to leave behind.

(And look where you are now.)

The constant ‘fighting for your life’ thing also hasn't been helping a lot lately. Adrenaline and the will to keep on living were perfect for the battles but could only get you so far when the feeling of danger and fear scrutinized all of your steps, stalking in any and every corner, waiting for the right moment to strike. Days and hours became a total mess and the longer you spent on exploring and surviving, the more and more things that were once important started to fade to a background thought in your head.

Food was one of them. Water. Sleep. The debris and destruction brought a lot of memories and enemies but hardly a safezone where you could actually sit down, breathe and rest for a bit. It was fine, though. The solution was simple and quick.

Dying.

Sounded harsh when you thought about it in that way, to be honest.

Resetting.

Or something like that.

Not during a fight, of course. After the first couple of times, it quickly became annoying and no fun at all to have to experience all the chase and… other things more than once. However, on other occasions, missteps into an abyss happen and sometimes a bad calculation using the grabpack could be fatal (and more frequent than you should admit.)

You couldn’t deny its convenience. In a blink you would wake up, not hungry, thirsty or exhausted, a few meters behind your previous location and then you would be ready to go until the pain of hunger or the feeling of being in a brick of passing out appeared once again.

It was not the best, you knew, but it was a good enough solution.

It was fine.

(It was fine.)

Especially now, when you have someone else depending on you to survive. Saving Dogday had been tricky and much, much harder than the alternative. Keeping him alive after that, during the smiling critters chase and the aftermath, even more so. None of this didn’t really matter, though. It was worth it.

The beginning had been tougher. With all the emotions, the changes, pain (and how to keep going after all of that), going back to Home Sweet Home and getting into more trouble trying to turn on all the generators. The fact that, not very longer after getting into the Daycare, you found a new, clean fabric and a set of tools to take care of Dogday’s injuries was the perfect help, even if the coincidence of that encounter had bordered on a miracle that made your skin prickle in discomfort as you had stared at the sewing kit localized (placed) just a few meters away from you two. There was no way that this could have been accidental.

(Ever since you set a foot in this factory not a single encounter, voice, tape or battle seemed a coincidence and the fear of the image that this puzzle was creating haunted your every choice.)

Nevertheless, beggars couldn’t be choosers. Even though Dogday stayed unusually quiet for a really long time after his injuries were taken care of, he still insisted on using it despite both of your strong suspicions, not wanting to be a ‘burden’, anymore.

You disagreed strongly with that word, of course. Not only because his knowledge of the place and the little shortcuts or hidden spaces had been essential both to escape from the hungry toys and to make your path confusing enough to mislead any pursuers you had was essential to your survival, but also because…

Damn.

You just really missed this.

Chatting. Having someone truly by your side. No second intentions or guesses or working around to earn a couple of moments of dialogue. Just a companionship and a fighter if needed, someone bright who could, just with their presence and company, help to keep your focus and your objectives in mind.

Dogday’s voice was raspy and rough but his words were light and kind. He would insist on calling you ‘angel’ and gesture excitedly around when he was talking, pulling your attention back when you began losing yourself in your thoughts. He would help solving the complicated puzzles spread through the factory and hold your hand tight to hide the tremble of his own paws when you both went through somewhere too dark. He would joke and hold and help and you wished you could put in words how no trouble in the world could make his presence here not worth it.

That is why you couldn’t afford passing out right now. That is why you kept pulling one foot after the other and continued your path to the end of this hell.

Unfortunately, the very reason that kept you moving forward was the same one blocking you from actually managing to reset your body and get over that tiredness.

The fact that Dogday cared.

He was smart and quite smooth too. That was clear after all the times he would ‘accidentally’ get in front of you when you managed to step a bit too close from a deepless hole or how he would suddenly remember a shortcut that would have you to deviate from the giant abyss you had been eyeing for a few moments ago or when he distracted you as he followed another direction, a light pull on your wrist and a inviting conversation on the tip of his tongue, the pit getting farther and farther away.

It was a bit endearing, you couldn’t lie.

However, when a badly placed hand of your grabpack successfully made you slip from a fatal high and you only had time to listen to a surprised yelp (or more like a ‘yap’?) before a giant orange arm held you close to a fluffy chest you were actually torn between hitting something in frustration and melting in the warmth.

Dogday smiled, looking down.

“Ops, you almost fell in there, angel.” His eyebrow was crooked and his expression filled with tension and confusion. Yep. He definitely realized what was going on. That kind of sucks.

He started heading the other direction, taking a different path to where you were going. “You‘re really tired, aren’t you? Saving everyone must cost a lot of energy.” His eyes softened. You struggled to keep yours open, body inevitably relaxing with his voice and kind touch. “And, well, I don’t think you had a lot of opportunities to rest since you got here too, right? Ehehe. That is… a bit worrisome. Humans need plenty of sleep and we have been walking for a long time already!”

You have survived longer without it. It was fine. There were more generators that had to be turned on before anything else. Those were your priorities.

Dogday acknowledged the end of your sentence before shaking his head vehemently, his ears flopping around in an endearing way.

“The generators have been turned off for a long time now, a few more hours won’t hurt. You are our priority, angel.” Dogday tried to not let his tail wag in adorableness when he pulled you closer to his chest and you let your head and eyelids fall with a really tiny, quiet sound for a moment too long before opening them and watching him in a stubborn manner. “And I think I know somewhere where we can hide for long enough before continuing.”

He watched as you deviated your gaze, thoughtful. Almost there.

“Besides, my kind angel” he let his posture go, just a little. The exhaustion from… everything showing from the light of his eyes to the darkness of his mouth. Trusting had been what got him stuck but also what freed him. He could offer this human a bit more of it. “I-I really think I need time to recover. Sometimes it just… hurts.”

He looked down and you didn’t need to follow his gaze to get what he was saying.

Oh.

That was what settled it. You nodded. But he had to put you on the ground.

You kept your expression firm and ignored his playful chuckle and the way he only pulled you closer with your words, because if he kept holding you, there was no way you would not fall asleep instantly and you both couldn’t afford that until he got to that safe place.

With a huff and a beginning of a pout he acquiesced and put you on the cracked floor, getting your point. He had to hide his snickers with his paw when you wobbled on the same spot for a second before eventually gathering your strength back, feeling a million times more tired.

Urg. Relaxing was a mistake.

“Don’t worry, it’s not too far from here. We will get there in no time!”

(...)

Took longer than he expected for you to finally lay down, but it was worth it. The place was one of the old dorms so there were a lot of pillows and mattresses thrown around, a few somewhat still holding a good condition for use. With the help of some furniture and moving around, you managed to barricade the door and build a sort of nest hidden in a farther corner so that it would be really difficult to notice through any window.

The human seemed ready to pass out at any moment, yawning and giving the door a last look, watching every creek and tear on the walls for anything that could be dangerous, even after all their previous care to make this place as safe as possible. Silly dear.

Dogday has always prided himself in being perceptive. Both because of the kids he once needed to watch and take care of and also because it’s important to notice and understand the details around your teammates so he would know when to help them.

(Old habits die hard, as it seems.)

And, yeah, maybe it had something to do with how long he spent without seeing a human or how he missed having someone (anyone-) who cared so much around. But he couldn’t really help to watch, prod and pick every little detail and gesture of yours around as if he was collecting flowers in a garden. Humans were so… expressive, and this one wasn’t different at all.

Angel was fierce and determined, going silently and non stop through the facility and all their objectives with a focused mind and precise movements. Their senses and general environmental awareness were good, too, catching hints and dangers just a second or two after Dogday himself caught them, which, considering their small ears and eyes, was an incredible feat.

Still, like a true angel, strength and kindness walked side by side with them. Dogday didn’t say that only because that person was the literal reason he was alive today, but simply because it was clear as water how much of a true softie you were inside. It was in the way they fired only around the small smile critters, avoiding to actually burn and kill them (even though he didn’t really know how he should feel about it), on how they carried and treated his wounds and how all their features - tensed, anxious and angry - softened everytime they looked at him.

It was on the way that they walked slower to accompany him, amusing his rambles with pokes of fun and interesting additions and in how each touch or word was filled with tenderness and respect. He didn’t feel like a toy with them like some old employers had made him feel before or a failure as… others made him believe.

So, his companionship was extremely captivating and maybe that was why it hadn’t been really hard to notice how the little tiny hints and actions came together to form a quite worrisome image of how disregarding about their own safety they were. Jumping into fights, crawling into dangerous, small spaces without thinking twice (he couldn’t get them there, if he needed he couldn’t get them there-), following strangers’ orders and running over cliffs as if their life wasn’t the thing that mattered the most and Dogday would always be there to catch them when they fell.

(What did they use to do when he wasn’t?)

Even now, he huffed as the human slowly took off the grabpack while still not even lowering themselves on the mattress or trying to get comfortable even though they seemed ready to slip into unconsciousness at any time now. Alert to the very last second.

It felt a bit nostalgic, if he was being honest. At least helping someone to go to sleep was a kind of problem that he knew how to solve.

With no further ado, he let himself fall on the soft pile with a ‘oof’, slowly rolling around the cleanest pillows they found and hugging the mattress as a loud, relaxed sighing fled from his mouth. His entire body seemed to untense with the unexpected comfortable feeling. How long had it been since he could just enjoy being surrounded by softness and safety like this?

His tail began contently thumping on the pile, another sigh leaving his mouth and making him forget for a moment his objective as he rolled more and more on the spot, the pure feeling of bliss taking over his senses until the sound of amused chuckles brought him back to reality.

He opened his eyes only to find an incredibly fond gaze looking right back at him. The absurd weight that haunted his friend’s shoulders seemed to have disappeared for a moment and, if he really concentrated enough on those kind eyes, it was like the rest of the world became unfocused. That is right! Dogday shook his head, as if cleaning it from his distracting thoughts. He had a mission to accomplish! Get the human to rest! No more fooling around!

“Hmmmm, It’s so, so, sooo comfy here!” Dogday controlled his voice so his playful tune wouldn’t show too much and give away his plan. He got a pillow and shoved his face on it just to highlight his words. “Like a kingdom made of clouds, where all the citizens get to lay down and rest all day, everyday and their favorite hobby is to cuddle and snuggle. Sounds like a nice place, don’t you think?”

You agreed, snorting when two expectanting lights turned around and Dogday patted the spot right beside him, only smiling bigger when you pretended to roll your eyes and finally, finally, laid down, barely touching the pile before your body crumbled the rest of the way.

It was… really soft. Even more than you expected from such old furniture but that could be the exhaustion talking. A relieved groan filled the place and before you could process that it came from your lips two arms came and carefully pulled you to a bunch of even softer fluff, which automatically made you snuggle closer, hugging the pillow (friend?) and relaxing, body aching with how much tension flew away from it so quickly.

A sweet voice said something in the background, but all of your senses melted together with your muscles when a hand began rubbing your back, drawing light circles on your spine and following it to your neck, briefly massaging it before going back to the back rubs.

That nice voice kept talking and you could briefly distinguish the words ‘deserve’, ‘rest’ and ‘good’ before the hand got a bit too close to your side and you giggled. The hand stilled but it was okay, it just tickled, that is all. No need to stop.

This was really nice, you kind of missed it.

You snuggled more.

All of it. It’s been a while.

As the darkness of the unconsciousness started taking you away, an amused, fond ‘aww’ was the last thing you heard.

(...)

You woke up with a scare.

Nothing necessarily happened, but your body immediately tensed, in alert. Blurry eyes traveled with speed around the room in search for any kind of movement, the silence helping to amplify the sound of any enemy that could be closer.

One second, two seconds…all you could pick up was the paused, calm snoring of Dogday still being deeply asleep.

Right. Safe. You were both safe.

You let go of a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding, blinking rapidly to scare the sleep out of your sight as you looked up, mind finally getting time to grasp the memories from last… (night? hours? day? irrelevant). The quick beating of your heart started to slow down to a normal pace and you laid down again on the mattress, now wide awake.

Dogday was still sleeping. That was good. He deserved all the peaceful rest he could get after everything that happened.

And, to be honest, it was quite amusing to watch him sleep. Each time he snored his big ears flopped just the slightest bit around and from time to time those little muffled barks would appear on the back of his throat and his tail would wag a bit, not so different from a real dog.

(He truly was a marvel of science.)

At one time you could almost swear he said a name, but it was so low that you couldn’t quite catch it.

Beyond all of that, you couldn’t deny how right Dogday had been, resting really did wonders to your body and mood. You could feel your mind clearer and your muscles less stiff, even if still quite sore. Also, it was made in a rush, that is true, but the soft pillow pile really was comforting enough that it didn’t make it any easier to get up and go on about your day.

Still, as always, there was work to do. It really wouldn’t hurt to get up in the vents and walk around a bit to see if there was any murder toy wandering close so you could attract them away before they could interrupt Dog’s sleep.

It wasn’t anything really that urgent, however,… It felt weird not doing anything in this place, to deliberately choose to stay instead of to move. Letting your guard down last night had been literally the only thing you could do with how exhausted you were and having a trustful friend close by your side, but now? When you were more rested and nowhere close to the exit? The jittery feeling was already catching up to you.

You tried to get up, only to be stopped by an arm closing on your midriff, a nose being pressed on the top of of head and nuzzling it with care before a raspy voice - you really needed to find some kind of oil or toolbox to help with his voicebox, sometimes it felt like he was always with a sore throat - glitched for a half second before coming to life in a quiet, slurred “Angel?”

Good morning, sleepy beauty.

Dogday huffed in amusement. Silence washed over you both once again.

A while passed and no more words were exchanged. Uh, probably went back to sleep already. You tried to carefully extract yourself from his hold.

“Mm? What happened?” Dogday yawned, sounding a bit more awake this time. “Do we have to go?” He propped himself in one elbow, using his enormous height to peak over the hiding place and watch the door and windows, ears perking up in a search of any strange sound. “I’m not listening to any danger. This is a good spot.”

You agreed, feeling a tad bad that you woke up your companionship unnecessarily with your unrelenting thoughts. Nothing really happened, you assured, he could go back to sleep if he wanted. You could stay with the guarding shift.

Rubbing his eyes and yawning more, the sentient toy then changed his focus to you, noticing the slight drop in your tune, mind becoming clearer as he added to that detail the stiffness that went back in your shoulders. His brain tried to connect the dots.

“Did you have a nightmare, sunshine?”

No, not really.

“What happened?”

It’s all just… too much thoughts. You wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep like this, not without a distraction. It would be the best if you got something to do, so he could go back to his nap. It was fine, you would stay awake in guard.

“I see.”

He laid back down, however, instead of letting you go and immediately go back to sleep, as you expected, he began massaging your shoulders, mouth turning into a pout when that didn’t make you melt completely in blissful slumber like last night, but at least got some of the tension out.

Even if it felt like the human continued to hold onto every last drop of stress for some reason, refusing to close their eyes or fully relax. Knowing their current situation, Dogday could understand. But still, his friend should be able to enjoy this little chance of a rest that they’ve got. They were both so tired and finally had a good place to spend some good old lazy time without being worried about running for their lives or seeing nightmares at each blink of eyelids. It was not the best spot that the factory could once offer, of course, yet nowadays it was like a piece of heaven.

He wished he could help his angel to enjoy it. Yesterday they seemed so happy. But unless he could think in a good distraction…

A sudden thought then popped in his head, a memory from what happened the previous night. An idea.

Hm.

“Sunshine, do you like games?”

Games? Like… hide and seek or catch?

Dogday nodded, looking eager.

Yeah, you did. Even so, you don’t think that making up some ruckus will be good to keep up their hidden spot, well, hidden.

“No, no! This one doesn’t involve running or anything that could give up our location. Actually, you won’t even need to move from where you are to play it.”

Really? Well, it was worth a shot, then.

“Alright. Do you remember what happened when we found those old rags in one of the corridors a few days ago?”

Yes, you did.

You watched as Dogday chuckled, like he knew something you didn’t and, with a crooked eyebrow, you stared at him, trying to remember the mentioned moment better.

Nowadays his fur was no longer the bright orange that it once was like the old cardboards and tv episodes showed, but at least it got a resemblance of a cleaned state after using some good-enough rags you found on the way to one of the generators. You both did the best to take out the debris, dust and blood from him. It took longer than it should because the taller toy kept squirming and wiggling around in an adorable inescapable fit of giggles, not really being a big help as, in between his laughter, he kept claiming that it really, really tickled.

As a good friend, of course, you just grabbed the rag he let fall after a bit of lil cleaning on his poor ticklish tummy and racked both hands up and down his sides, scribbling away while he hid his smile behind hands, muffling his loud crackles. The cleaning didn’t stop there and hunted each tiny spot and slight hint of dust off him with plenty of scratches, prodding and drumming everywhere your hands could reach, catching all the titters, snickers and snorts that danced in the rhythm of your fingers. Your own giggles did not take much longer to follow them.

Dogday’s paw continued to run in a light touch on your back and suddenly a bolt of electricity jolted you up when your mind connected the memory of his playful demisse to what he just said.

Your eyes widened and his expression opened into a smirk, sensing the very same moment you got to the conclusion that you were about to get absolutely and utterly destroyed with tickles.

You tried pushing him away, one hand twisting behind to catch his wrist as the other hand fought to snatch his free one, which kept flying away from yours in a game of mouse and cat.

“Wait, angel!” He couldn’t help but laugh, especially as your movements got more and more uncoordinated the longer they kept this little game, even before he truly attempted to do anything. A wobbly smile was already taking over your face, only growing bigger when every swipe he did in your direction - only to be deflected by your hands - made your entire skin tingle and prickle in anticipation. Each adorable reaction only assisting in making Dogday more determined that he choose the right distraction. “Don’t you want to know about the game? I bet that you will love it! I used to play and win all the time so I can teach you every special trick of mine.”

No, no, no, no! You knew exactly what he was doing! There was no such thing as a game!

“Gasp!” You were sure that Dogday would be dramatically putting a hand on his chest if it wasn’t for the rough housing, but sudden noise was successful to break your concentration. He used his trapped hand to sneak a quick jab on your side, ripping out a delightful screech before you slammed your back again on the mattress, both hands now in front of you, no longer moving, yet still ready to defend and attack. “I would never lie to you, my beautiful, beautiful beacon of light, the only and one sunshine, my angel.”

He was not going to succeed in distracting you again with those sugary sweet nicknames! You knew exactly what he was doing and you wouldn’t let him get you.

“No, no, you got me wrong, angel.” Dogday booped your nose, seeming like he couldn’t control himself with excitement and a smug kind of joy that only grew the longer you both stared at each other, waiting for the moment to strike. His tail wagged and he pretended to lounge at your stomach, stopping inches before touching it and drinking the way that a squeal escaped from your mouth, body stuck into a position between laying down and curling on itself, giggles quickly filling the room. Actually, you could feel yourself getting giddier at each second, completely aware that there was no way for you to get out of this and no other option besides wait for the next attack.

The way that this thought only made butterflies go crazy on your belly should be illegal.

Dogday continued as if nothing happened. “This isn’t the game. The game only starts when I start to tickle you, silly! And it is called ‘Try To Not Laugh’.” He managed to waltz through your defenses, his index finger and thumb catching your side in a grip way too light to even be considered a pinch. It made you try to squirm with a snort to the other direction, as if he just had unleashed a ruthless attack of squeezes on the spot.

His grin glimmered and he let you go, chuckling. You could feel the phantom touch still.

(Why did his paws have to be so fuzzy!?)

“It means that you can’t giggle, squeal, snicker, chuckle, snort, chortle, shriek or laugh! No matter how much it tickles, itches or ‘feels funny’.” Dogday counted each reaction pulling up a finger and you tried to not let your face melt as he just kept talking, looking more and more delighted with how each word seemed to make you twitch on the spot, his paws clawing in your direction when he was done.

Before you could think, he went for your neck, fingertips barely, just the slightest bit, grazing the skin before you catched his wrists and pushed them away, scrunching your neck as tiny tickly sparks spread like fire across your nerves. A sound akin to a keysmash left your lips and Dogday looked like you had just given him the best news of his entire existence.

He tilted his head and watched his own captured paws for a piece of moment before shrugging. He continued on with his explanation.

“In turn I will try my true best to make you laugh. And that can mean anything! I can fill your entire cute neck with aaaaall the raspberries that it could ever want, wiggle my claws on your ticklish armpits, play your ribs like a very lovely piano, squeeze your sides non stop until you’re dancing around like a wiggly worm, maybe even give your tummy a few scratches and scribbles, or, or even better! I can play ‘This little piggy’ with your toes over and over again until your sweet laughter fills this entire room like the sweetest melody. And then we can do it all over but with you giggling and snickering ringing free the entire time! Doesn’t it sound like a fun idea, my angel?”

Oh, you were going to die. Whether he decided to tickle you right away or keep the teases for who knows how long, you don’t think that your face would survive being under so much heat for so long.

Besides, this is not fair at all! He will win it anyway, you couldn’t hold on your laughter forever while he t-, while he attacks you.

“Aww, but, sunshine, tickling is hardly an attack!” His face got closer and suddenly you realized that he did not need any free hand to accomplish his first promise of tickles.

With wide eyes you tried to roll away, but to do so, you would have to let his paws go, and you knew very well that the moment this happened, it would be a game over for you. For the way that Dogday grinned in your direction, he reached the same conclusion as well. “Also, I can’t even touch you, right now! I think you can win this.” Dogday wiggled his paws in your hold, as if proving his point.

With (an eager) trepidation, you watched as his face continued to get closer, prying a couple of titters when his floppy, fuzzy ears brushed your own ears. He chuckled at your reaction, a mix of fondness and playful, fake frustration painting his words. “Sunshine, you’re already giggling? I will have to take my last words back, then, I don’t think this game will last too long, anymore.”

Oh ho ho, he should just wait, because when you get him back you then he was going to see who was-

Dogday shoved his face on the crook of your neck and immediately began nuzzling the spot without a worry in the world, successfully cutting your threat short.

Wait! Wait!

“Don’t mind me, angel, please continue.” He huffed and puffed on the spot, shivers running in a hilarious cacophony across your every sense, almost ripping a squeal from your lips. Actually, just like his words hitting the skin, you could feel the way that snickers began pooling in your throat, waiting for any tiny chance to escape. You clamped your mouth shut, a muffled snort taking over. You were going to at least try to hold them in and try your chances at winning this childish game, for your own pride, if nothing else.

He didn’t have his paws to tickle, right? I mean, how bad could it really be?

Dogday hummed, each word vibrating on the skin in an almost unbearable manner, making you want to jump away and at the same time let yourself get lost in the sensations. “What were you saying, angel? Please, don’t stop because of me! You know I always love to hear what you have to say.”

You shook your head, partially in an attempt to somehow escape from the tickling and partially to dissipate the energy that was building up on your system. Anything to not focus on the snickers bouncing freely in your chest.

“No? Not a word? Aw.” You could feel the fake pout the sentient toy did right before letting his features go back to that dangerous, mischievous grin. “I have a question for you, then! Do you know what is the tickle puppy favorite’s fruit?”

You knew a trap when you saw one, so you kicked your legs, trying and failing to let out any protest because you were sure that if you stopped pressing your lips in a tight line for even half of a second, there would be no stopping from the waterfall of laughter.

“Raspberries!”

A shriek almost made you lose when he unleashed the first raspberry, more and more of them being quick to follow right after. On the base of your neck, your collarbone, under your chin and in every inch on the unprotected spot. There was nowhere safe from the awfully buzzing that made every other feeling disappear, seeing to tickle every nerve and making tingles to run crazy in absolutely everywhere. He even grazed the back of your ears with a couple of raspberries, cooing when you tried to shrink and hide the spot by pressing them on your shoulder, only succeeding to leave the other side of your neck completely free for more nuzzles and tickles, an opportunity that Dogday was fast to take, taking turns in bashing every side of your neck in a tickly attention.

Another quiet, muffled squeak painted the air.

Dogday lifted his head again, entire demeanor completely melting for a piece of time when he saw you (oh my stars, look at this amazing smile!) before that joyful light was back in his eyes. Once more, he tried wiggling his paws out of your hold, but your grip continued to be as firm as ever, your wobbly smile shining in a challenge.

Oh, you’re just so fun!

“Gasp! It seems like I am stuck! Oh no, angel, what will I do now?” His gaze then traveled to your stomach, and all the hints that softness had ever been present in his features instantly evaporated as his face became something more playful, even a tad devilish, with a hint of hunger.

“My, my,” you didn’t exactly know why, but his voicebox glitched, jumping between a light taunting tune and his usual lower one. “Is that a delicious tummy that I see? Poor thing, it must be so cold to be shaking like this. Well, and what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t offer any help, huh?”

Your friend was quite tall and kind of clumsy when he walked around, too. Now, how that clumsy toy was able to, in a span of less than a blink, take a gigantic breath and immediately attack your stomach with it was a true mystery that you didn’t had a lot of time to think about when your entire body took a screenshot for a long, long second, ticklish sensations exploding in a frenzy, before your entire torso instinctively beginning to trash, loud peals of laughter jumping freely on the tip of your tongue, begging to be free. They cheered in excitement and only grew stronger when other smaller raspberries took their turn to explore every spot, every sensitive creek or place of your stomach, breaking more and more of your barriers, little by little. It took every single ounce of strength to not lose the game right here and there.

Dogday didn’t even pretend to be holding back, anymore. Right as you survived another tiny raspberry that got way too close to your side to be an accident, a nibble appeared, catching you so out of guard that it made your arch your back, legs kicking with adrenaline. But the tickly, light nibbles weren’t diverted, intertwining with tiny raspberries in a mischievous dance that increased your internal laughing into a tenfold.

That was when one of them hit the spot closer to your bellybutton and you couldn’t take it anymore. Your hands let go of his wrists to push his stupid smiling - so proud and so bright - face away, body squirming and eyes crinkling on the corners with mirth.

“I am free!” He laughed, pretending to not hear the tiny low titters flying from your mouth as you regained your strength, taking the breather as what it was. His ears twitched with every cute little giggle and he kind of wanted to immediately go back to bash every sweet, soft spot in tickles you until that beautiful laughter was ringing loud and free across the entire room and that soft, relaxed state you were in became so much common that he wouldn’t see you stressed ever again.

But he was going to wait for you to rest a tadbit first, that was the main objective of their game, afterall.

Feeling calmer, you looked at your friend, who jolted in the same place, seeing to get out of a trance. He recovered quickly and lifted his paws, easily slipping into the tickle monster persona as he slowly clawed in your direction.

“Now that my hands are free, I wonder where I should attack next…” He looked thoughtful, slowly bringing his paws closer and closer to your torso, wiggly fingers softly scrapping the ticklish skin, but not really drumming on it, not yet. “Maybe I should try your armpits first? Aw, but you were so jumpy when I squeezed your side that one time! And you seemed really excited when I mentioned tickling your ribs… Ah! So many options, so many options… We will have to try every single one of them, of course. What do you think, my giggly angel? Which one do I tickle first?”

None! Absolutely none of them!

“None?” He tilted his head, knowing very well how cute he looked like when he did that. “But then … Oh! I see!” Dogday snapped his fingers and you were pretty sure that if this was a cartoon a lamp would appear shining right above that absolute, silly, mean, goofball. “You want me to tickle your legs!”

What!

At your wide stare and sputtering pretenses of protests his smirk turned sharp, which didn’t quite help the anticipatory bolts of electricity that suddenly left you feeling even more ticklish than usual, trying to curl and hide your legs but feeling him dig more on your torso every time you did so. He continued. “That is why you didn’t stop kicking and squirming the entire time I was tickling your neck and tummy, right? Aww, sunshine, if you wanted my attention so much, you could’ve just asked!”

That was literally not the reason at all! Dogday!!

He hummed in an answer, turning around and easily pinning your legs by holding your ankles down, his touch so gentle that you were pretty sure that if you really wanted and struggled you could escape from it.

(And if that didn’t make everything even more endearing, you honestly didn’t know what would.)

Without wasting any more time, Dogday started squeezing the sensitive spot right above your kneecap, skillfully jumping from one leg to another unexpectedly, digging on the skin and following your leg around with no problem as a new round of kicks started once again, keeping up with the tickling. The ticklish sensations made your head spin, tingles spreading across your muscles and teasing all the nearest tickle spots, leaving them prickling in anticipation and a funny kind of energy that made every nerve of your knees crazy as more and more squeezes and pinches continued unmercifully assaulting the spot non stop.

A sudden move and you yelped when your legs were lifted, his curious hand worming its way under your knee to lightly scratch the sensitive skin there. The touch was so incredibly fuzzy, so adoringly soft that the sudden change from the rough to light technique almost ripped a series of snickers from your throat without permission, the hilarity and urge to laugh taking over your every thought.

Dogday continued scribbling and drawing shapes, leaving a couple of pokes here and there just so he could listen to those delightful muffled snorts.

(He would really love to listen to them more clearly, though.)

“You really love this, don’t you, angel?”

You barely sputtered out an answer before being obligated to clamp your mouth shut, uncontrollable laughter making your shoulders bounce as he took the chance to crawl his fingers upwards to your thigh, skittering them there for a couple of seconds before spidering them right back to under your knees, repeating the cycle for a couple of times before mirroring them on the other leg.

“When I tickle you.” He scratched under your knee.

“When I tease you.” He squeezed your calf.

“When I fluster you.” He swiped at the space right under your toes.

“It’s really adorable!” His paw stopped right on your sole and he pressed it, firmly enough that it didn’t tickle, still, for some reason you couldn’t stop your smile from becoming even more wobblier, the giddiness growing stronger and spreading in your every cell just like the heat that seemed to take over your face.

“Especially because I can’t wait to hear aaaaall those cute giggles and beautiful laughter that you have trapped right there.” Suddenly, he raked his fingers up, from your heel to under the toes. A squeal filled the air. Dogday’s eyes shone, like an arrow findings the target. His fingertips curled, kneading on the skin. “That is why I have to apologize, angel, because I lied to you. That is a game that I just have to win.”

He then attacked.

It was less than a half of a piece of time, but suddenly your soles were being overcomed with scribbles, scratches and wiggling everywhere they could reach. There were digging fingers under your toes and a spidering that followed them to the pads, tweaking and scritching them all while curious pokes payed attention to the entire path of your arches, even if shouldn’t be possible for him to be tickling both places at the same time. Nevertheless, Dogday’s paw was so big that he was able to torment both of your feet at once while still holding them through all the resulting kicks those created.

And the teasing… Of course there was also the teasing.

“There we go! Oh my, oh my, look at you! You just can’t help being so adorable, now, can you? Awww, angel, you always get this… sweet expression when you are happy, so I like to call it your happy face! It’s delightful. The corner of your eyes gets all crinkly and your face gets all soft and your smile… your smile is the best part, it’s so bright! No matter the size or the time, it really feels like we have our own special rays of sun down here.”

He found a rather sensitive spot right above your heel and immediately concentrated on it with all his might, drumming and prodding there as if the salvation of this entire factory depended on making you laugh.

“That is why it was so easy to see how much you love tickles, sunshine. First when you were tickling me a few days ago and now. Since we started that game… you didn’t even ask me to stop and all while you simply never ceased looking so adorably full of joy like this! I could really spend the entire day just here, you know? Tickling you silly over and over again.”

That did it. The barrier broke. Loud peals of laughter were fished from your lips. Every sound and reaction filled the air in a frantic, unrestrained melody of mirth.

Now, with them flying freely in the room, there were uncontrollable, hysterical giggles when Dogday decided to knead your calves up and down, those only being taken down by an unstoppable crackling, painted with one or two snorts, as his paws wiggled away to squeeze right above your kneecaps, taking his sweet, sweet time to give the ticklish skin under it a few swipes before moving away.

Finally, he let your ankles go, both paws resting on your sides, unbothered by all the squirming and protests that this simple act created, drinking in every reaction with a so fond, so tender gaze that it bordered on dotingly as you got another break.

You tried to take big gulps of air, but everytime your gazes found each other, titters grew anew, distracting you and leaving you in a constant state of a silly, giggly kind of joy.

M-Maybe he should reconsider! You laughed already, he won the game! That should be the end of this, right!

Dogday chuckled, fingers tuttering in their spot, curling and uncurling slowly, content to feel the trembling on the skin under them.

“The end? But we just started! And you still got so much beautiful laughter trapped right here to show.” With his index finger, he highlighted his word by tapping on your belly, right in your bellybutton, ears perking at the screech this brought. “So many cute snorts and melodious shrieks that I would love to meet. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t help to let them out, huh?”

A flow of words, more unintelligible than anything, fell off your lips. A mix of pleas, threats, high pitched giggles and some indistinguishable sounds that could only be considered a true keysmash rather than a sentence. Dogday hummed in agreement and nodded his head as if it was all a well constructed and understandable sentence.

“I knew you would eventually see my point, angel. You’re such a delight, you know, that?”

He smiled, so kindly and caring, and then he digged.

His paws, big enough to cover your entire midriff drummed non stop, squeezing the lower part of your stomach while scratching everywhere they could reach. He stayed there for a while before his wiggling fingers crawled up, scribbling and pinching your sides unmercifully. They looked for any weak spot, any lovely place that would make you snort and squirm away and latched there with pinches and kneading until your back arched, only then moving back to tickle your stomach until you went back to try to curl yourself in a ball, starting the cycle over and over again.

You felt almost high with laughter, the thought that it tickled, it tickled so so much and more than anything ever taking over your brain in sync with the loud, high pitched squeals and belly laughter (ha- Dogday would love that pun if you could say it to him) that chased after each other. After so much teasing, every tickle seemed to be accompanied by the brush of thousand of tiny phantom feathers that still tormented your stomach even when he moved away to your ribs, carefully pressing down on the bones and quickly scribbling with so much skill that it should be illegal the actual, loud crackle such a simple action created.

Your hands flied to hold his wrists, caught between pushing them away and pulling them close and, at seeing that, the sentient toy couldn’t help but feel himself melt and snicker fondly, barely controlling the urge to shove his face back on your neck and nuzzle and nibble the daylights out of it in a pure attack of cuteness. His tail was wagging so much that it dislodged a few pillows from where they were.

“Such a good friend. Such a cute, nice friend for me. For us.” The praises fell from his mouth naturally, your companionship too focused on keeping those happy reactions to really think too much about them. “You do so much to all of us, to me, and keep going above and beyond just to accomplish what you set your mind in. You’re brave and one of the strongest humans I’ve ever known. And there is so much kindness in you that I could talk the entire day about it! You saved me, you cared and tried and sometimes down here it feels like a nightmare but you… you make everything so much better, like a true angel. That is why I love this nickname so much. It really fits you.”

You tried to answer, to say how much especial, strong and essential Dogday was for you as well, but every time a single coherent word slipped from your lips he immediately reinforced his attack, fully aware that if you said anything sweet he would inevitably let his guard down and you would be able to turn the tables, and he really needed to say all of that to you before that.

His tickles were now focusing on keeping up the flow of starry laughter, watching them grow up to chortles and tune down into snickers as he scribbled in between each bone, keeping track of every special spot that pried a shriek from your lungs only to randomly attack it with prodding and poking, slowly fishing all kinds of joyful sounds that you could make.

He then buried his paws in your armpits, swirling the fingertips there for a few moments before digging energetically, fingers dancing and prodding every inch they could reach, which immediately made your arms come down with a loud chortle, head shaking and legs kicking at the sensation.

How was he so good at this?

Dogday gasped dramatically (not again-) and lightly pulled his paws in faux alarm, not really stopping his attack. “Oh no! Once more, you have trapped me!” Such a goofball. Such a silly, mean goofball and you could not wait to put your wiggly hands on and see how flustered you could make him be. “Dang, I really didn’t want to resort to this but I guess that I have no other option but to keep tickling and tickling and tickling on your poor ticklish pits forever and ever until the end of our days.” He then winked when he found your shining eyes. “But you would actually love that, wouldn’t you, my giggly sunshine?”

That was it. You were going to die. Right here and there. The playful tickles, the unrelenting teasing, the fond stares and gentle words… you could actually feel your entire body about to melt.

With a strength you didn’t even realize you had, you pulled your arms up to hide your flaming face, a pitched ‘eee’ sound mixing with the hysterical, absolutely uncontrollable laughter, your body rolling to the side and curling, shoulders bouncing with the force of each of your giggles.

Dogday let go of you, giggling together with your reactions, resting his hands on the ground and just observing, amusement and care clear as water in every trace of his features.

After a while, you felt a paw lay on your back, retracting for a bit when just that made you wiggle away, a new round of chuckles spilling, before it came back to rub your shoulders, touch kind and too firm to tickle. “Okay, okay, sunshine. I’m done. You can calm down for now.”

Laying down on the floor giggling yourself silly didn’t feel so embarrassing when Dogday’s own quiet snorts and snickers were quick to accompany you, especially since the rubbing really felt relaxing, making you melt on the touch bit by bit.

After a few minutes, when a comfortable silence had fallen on you both, you rolled on your back, finally being able to stare at your companionship without feeling like you would explode. Dogday smiled bigger at your direction. He lifted a paw to gently wipe a tear from your cheek, not thinking too much about it.

“That was so fun! I didn’t know you were so ticklish, angel. You are almost as bad as m-” He stopped right in his tracks when a gasp and a new string of titters fell like a waterfall from your mouth and you pushed his paw away, fastly rubbing your cheek so the feeling of fuzzy tickles would go away. It was like the softest makeup brush had just touched your skin, and you had no idea that just this could tickle so much.

Dohohogday! You sahaid you werehe done!

But your companionship didn’t answer. Astonished, he stared at his paw before looking at you again, gaze jumping from one to the other like he was watching a tennis match.

Suddenly his entire face brightened like the sun and he looked at you as if you had just said the funniest, most brilliant pun he had ever heard in his entire life.

“Aaaangel!” Every letter was bathed in pure, disbelieved delight.

No! You knew very well what that tune meant! No way! Nononono! Don’t you dare!

“Are your cheeks…”

Dohohogday! Don’t you come closer!

“Ticklish?”

Before you could push yourself from the mattress and jump away, there were two thumbs softly scratching on your cheeks, scribbling so lightly that it immediately made a giant smile take over your expression. Titters started to fill the air once more.

“Oh my… angel! This is adorable!” Dogday looked like he was about to bounce around the room with how much excited he was, his voice getting higher and glitching in excitement. “I can’t believe how fun and cute… You just… Ah, sunshine, I can’t help but!”

And before you could even blink, he shoved his smiley, stupidly fuzzy face right on your neck again, nuzzling there without a single worry in the world. His fingers kept tickling your cheeks, sometimes even slipping to tease the back of your ears with a few scratches as he giggled in joy since he could literally feel the rumbling of your snickers. They twirled and spun in the air for much minutes more until his tickly attack from cuteness overload was finally finished and you both just kept layed down on the comfy pile, cuddling in between content sighs.

Dogday listened to your calm breath, saw how relaxed your entire body was and, according to the few sneaky peaks he had, saw that happy, full of mirth, smile was still in your face, leaving him melting in contentment, entire body relaxing as well.

Perfect. His plan had worked.

Not that it was that big of a deal, but it had been such a long time since he had the opportunity to…

He was just glad that it worked. That he still got it in him.

(Being playful. Happy. Helping the others. Being there when they needed him. Matter when it was necessary. Being silly and fun)

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t sense the hand coming until it laid on his head, playing with the fur there and scratching on that place right behind his left ear that never failed to make him embarrassingly become a mush of pleased hums and wagging tail. A low, sleepy voice crossed the air.

You said you would take him out of here. It’s a promise, Dogday.

How his angel knew exactly what to say was a mystery to him. And, it didn’t quite hurt, but his entire being ached at those words. His smile was sad and he was glad that the human couldn’t see as he blinked quickly, eyes suddenly moisty. “Alright.”

There would still be some revenge when you woke up, though. Be ready.

And that reminded him so much of others playful, sleepy conversations he had before everything happened that it ripped a surprised laugh from him. He tried to look up to see the very much likely mischievous glint in his friend’s eyes, but a few more purposeful scratches turned him right back to a content puddle. He nuzzled the human a bit more. “Sleep well, angel.”

You too, Dogday.

(And sleep well they did. Lost in a peaceful rest as the entire world outside left them be.)

[~*~]

Random fun facts!

-There is a parallel I made by mistake between CatNap and DogDay and the whole 'trusting and following the being that saved your life'. It's not too deep and Dogday isn't as bad as Catnap but that was an interesting thing I noticed :D

-Different from the reader, Dogday is more used to the time down there so he has a good grasp when day and nights happens in general.

-I am actively ignoring the plotholes here about food and water here. Ya know when you have to poke holes in a lid so the bugs in the container can breathe that is what I doing kjhgfdfghyhgfd

-Nothing to do with the fanfic but I kept listening to this song when I was writing it and I think it's cute.

#Had so much writing this! It's been a good year and something since I wrote some good ol reader insert #xreader #Ticklish!Reader #Lee!Player #Lee!Reader #Ler!Dogday #Mentioned Lee!Dogday and Ler!Reader #poppy playtime tickles #poppy playtime tickling #wanted to say more on the tags but woke up sick so brain is fuzzy #Kanene's fic #Kanene's fanfic

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aealzx · 11 months

Text

Raph’s consciousness was pulled from sleep mostly by the stressed fidgeting from the one cradled in his lap. He was used to his brothers and sister moving around on him in their sleep, but this movement didn’t seem to be for just getting comfortable again. And the fragile whimper that barely touched his ears solidified that uneasy feeling, causing Raph’s eye to snap open and look down. Donnie seemed to be waking up, practically writhing yet also trying to remain still to not disturb the others. At first Raph thought he was just having fitful sleep, but the little sliver of beige yellow squinting up told him otherwise.

“Oh- Heyyyyy buddy. Heeeyyyy,” Raph instantly cooed, lifting Donnie easily with one arm to hold him closer while his other hand reached up to cup against his cheek. His skin felt way too hot, but Raph didn’t pull away. Just rubbed his thumb carefully under Donnie’s eye as tears leaked from them while he reached shaking hands up to grip Raph’s arm. “You’ll be okay. Raph’s got you,” Raph hushed, lifting Donnie further away from resting on his leg so he could bounce it against Leo to wake him up.

Leo’s return from deep sleep was accompanied by a graceless snort as he lurched up, shoving a hand underneath himself and kicking his legs a few times in a startled flail. “Whu? Wuzeh- hu…,” Leo shoved half formed words into the air before fully comprehending where he was, and why. The flailing had caused the others to start to stir as well, but Leo ignored them as his brain caught up with his eyes. “Woh- Hi. Oh- Okay. Hey Dee. Hey, there you are,” Leo greeted, shoulders sagging in relief to see his brother awake now. It seemed he was correct in assuming he’d be disoriented, but the confused look towards the rest of the room broke off with a hissed groan as Donnie squirmed and gripped Raph’s arm closer, squeezing his eyes shut again. “Ah- Does it hurt? Scale of one to ten. Don’t talk, your throat got pretty wrecked I bet,” Leo rushed, already getting his bearings quickly, and opening a portal in front of a cabinet so he could reach into it for a vial of medicine. He had to grimace when Donnie signed the number 8 with one hand, adjusting the dosage accordingly in the syringe he was already drawing. “Okay, just hang on for a bit, I’m giving you some anti-inflammatory painkillers right now.”

Leo’s voice was soft, giving Donnie something to focus on as best he could as he injected the medicine into the IV line he’d already set up before. As Raph tried to take the usual route of comfort by squishing Donnie in a hug, he had to stop quickly as the motion caused Donnie to give a small cry of pain instead of content. “Hang on, be careful. The pressure probably feels good everywhere else, but the injection sites have bruised pretty good,” Leo cautioned, tugging at Raph’s arm to coax him to loosen his grip again.

“Sorry! I’m sorry,” Raph was quick to apologize, relaxing his grip significantly now. It looked like Donnie wasn’t upset about it though, for he kept a hold of his arm, and nudged his cheek against Raph’s palm. The painkillers seemed to be working fast as well, for he was able to give Leo a confused look around the pained squint.

“Ah, don’t worry, we’ll explain later when you’re feeling a little better,” Leo detoured, holding his hand up to quiet Mikey, who was slightly sleep hazed ready to blurt out everything. “You got pretty sick though, so we had to give you some injections. Just take it easy, okay? You really need to rest. Are you cold?”

Leo was lying. Or at least avoiding something. That much Donnie knew, but his brain was in too much of a fog to pursue it. So he gave in for now, and nodded to both the questions. He could wait, and now that the painkillers were gradually numbing the overall angry ache all over his body he just shivered from the chill. Raph’s hand felt cold against his face, but he partially knew it was just because of fever.

“Where’s that heated blanket?” Leo asked, looking around at the items they had stock piled on the bed.

“Here,” Splinter answered, having already grabbed the blanket he’d brought with the other, and started to shake out the folds. With Leo’s further direction, Splinter helped Raph wrap Donnie up in the soft fabric while the temperature was clicked onto the lowest setting. And when Donnie stuck his tongue out slightly and pulled away from the sticky, gooey cooling patches April could only chuckle and exchange them for the damp rags from the bowl Casey refilled.

“Is that better?” April asked, draping the cloth down to cover his forehead and the top of his flushed nose and cheeks. A content hum broke off as soon as the vibration irritated his throat, and instead was just a soft sigh. He didn’t feel great, but it was at least better than before. And Raph’s hand always made a lovely pillow to snuggle into.

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Part 1 Comic Next

_____________________________ So the Better Genes comic I did kinda left off in a bit of an open end, but I don't have it in me to do more comic, but I still had some thoughts and so went back to my usual deal of illustrated writing |D

#my art #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #better genes continued #Raph #Donnie #sick fic #mention of iv #mention of medicine #TV medicine #long post

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soft-for-yoongi · 5 months

Text

5 times BTS thought Jungkook was throwing up + the one time he actually is

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Sick: Jungkook

Caretaker: ot7, each have their individual sections

Tw: gagging, mentions of nausea, vom**, puking, dizziness

Word count: 1,469

Okay... here me out it's a little different from what I usually do, but please let me know what you think!! 🙏 oh and which member was your favourite?? 🤩

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Namjoon

Jungkook looks adorable, Namjoon thinks as he snaps a photo of the youngest— asleep on the couch in his studio. It wasn't uncommon for the members to relax there, but Jungkook definitely does it the most. Just as Namjoon sends the photo to their group chat, Jungkook wakes with a groan. He stretches before a hand covers his mouth.

Namjoon looks at him, Jungkook's eyes are half lidded and hazy, hand on his month. Wait. Namjoon grabs the trash can under his desk, quickly holding it in front of Jungkook. The youngest takes the bin with a furrowed brow, then erupts with a sneeze, "HIHSH'Ew, ugh. Sorry." Jungkook mumbles, still sleepy. "What's this for?" He adds, lifting the bin slightly.

Namjoon looks at him blankly, "Oh, thank goodness, you're okay. I thought you were about to vomit," Namjoon laughs, half-heartedly because it has happened before, and you can never be too prepared. "Jeeze, hyung, you worry too much." Jungkook giggles.

Seokjin

Jin was peacefully cooking in the kitchen, making one of their go-to's, but still a favourite. The occasional member swings by sometimes to check in and help for a bit, which is why he wasn't surprised when the youngest walked into the kitchen. He opens the fridge and takes a water, taking a few swigs. A drop accidentally goes down the wrong hole, making Jungkook splutter and cough. He throws himself over the sink, coughing and spitting water into the drain.

Seokjin abandons the veggies he was cutting and starts rubbing Jungkook's back, "you okay, Jungkook-ah?" Seokjin said, concerned for the younger. Jungkook nodded and swallowed, recovering from his clumsy drinking. He exhaled, "I'm okay. I swallowed funny and it went down the wrong way." Jungkook wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, Jin still rubbing his spine.

"Christ, you scared me half to death! I thought you were being sick or something." Seokjin admits, dramatically holding his heart. Jungkook chuckled, realising the misunderstanding, "sorry, hyung. I'm fine, I promise." Jungkook replies, earning a sigh and fluffing of his hair from Seokjin.

Hoseok

Put Jungkook with his Hoseokie-hyung and there's bound to be chaos. They were originally practising together, but somehow, it turned into a pirouette competition? Hoseok went first, and he'd say he was pretty graceful, remembering to point his toes as he spun around. Jungkook's high-pitched laugh rang in the air as he held his phone up, recording Hoseok. "Aish!" He exclaimed, "wow, that was hard." Hoseok stopped spinning, after doing approximately 4 turns, again, pretty impressive if you ask him.

"Jungkookie, your turn!" Hoseok beams, quickly flipping out his phone and recording as Jungkook takes the spotlight. He spins in quick succession, one, two, three, four, five?? Jungkook laughs at the very Hoseok-like noises as he films. Jungkook slows down and ends up victorious with 7 turns. Woah, he's kinda dizzy though. Jungkook pants, hand on his knee and arm to his middle.

"Wahhh, Jungkookie!... Hey, you feeling okay?" Hoseok ends the video, jogging to the youngest. He places a hand on his back, heart dropping. "Yeah- just dizzy." Jungkook laughs, straightening up to look at his hyung. "Are you about to puke?" Hoseok blurts, eyes starting to scan for a rubbish bin. "What? No, gosh. I'm fine Hobi-hyung," Jungkook breaks into high-pitched laughter, soon joined by the elder.

Taehyung

Taehyung has an arm wrapped around Jungkook's shoulder, both sharing a blanket as they stare intently at the tv, playing an action movie. Taehyung knew the youngest loved them, but couldn't get as immersed as he could. Thus why when Jungkook made sniffly noises and put a hand over his mouth to stop from sobbing, Taehyung was very confused. And very worried. He had been paying attention and nothing too dramatically sad was happening (he thinks), so what's wrong with Jungkook???

"Jungkookie?" Taehyung holds Jungkook's cheek, body turned to face him. Jungkook looks towards his lap, a little embarrassed, his hand the only thing keeping him from audibly sobbing. "Are you getting sick or something? Your cheeks are pink." Taehyung worries, using his phone light to illuminate Jungkook's face. He sees the shaky fingers cupped over his mouth and assumes the worst. "Do you feel nauseous?" The singer questions.

Jungkook bubbles with a laugh, tears still coming out of his eyes. "I-I'm okay, Taehyungie-hyung." Jungkook uses his sleeve to wipe his eyes, blinking back a couple more and taking some deep breaths. "How are you not sad? Iron man died." Jungkook pouts, maybe Taehyung wasn't paying as much attention as he thought. "I was more worried about you. It looked like you were gonna be sick!" Taehyung frets, pulling the youngest into a hug to calm both himself and Jungkook.

Yoongi

Jungkook sqints at the toilet. It's shiny and looking better already! He'd noticed some dust and decided he'd do a good deed and clean the toilet. Pretty normal thing to do, if you ask Jungkook. Though, Yoongi didn't see it that way when he first walked into the bathroom. The bathroom was half lit and he'd taken his contacts out already. He scans the youngest, who's squated in front of the toilet.

"Kook?" Yoongi says, suddenly next to him and rubbing his back. He's on his toes, ready to grab some pepto or another member. The youngest turns around to look at the older, a confused look on his face. "Do you want some water?" Yoongi offers, wiping his eyes tiredly. Jungkook is still confused as to what his hyung is doing.

"I'm okay, hyung," Jungkook replies. He is enjoying having his back rubbed though, he will admit. "Have you been sick?" Yoongi asks, although the toilet does look oddly clean. "What? Hyung, I'm cleaning the toilet, not throwing up," Jungkook breaks into laughter, clapping his hands. "Oh my bad, good work Kook-ah." Yoongi smiles, "you had me worried."

Jimin

Jimin looks over at the youngest from his position on the couch. Jungkook's face is puffy and he's got two pieces of toast in front of him. Plain toast. No butter, no jam, nothing. They've only got a recording session later this evening, so usually Jungkook works himself quite an impressive appetite even though it's only breakfast. He watches the youngest cringe with each bite, looking like he's zoning out.

He turns off his phone to pay more attention to Jungkook. He sees the younger's face twinge in discomfort or pain—he can't quite tell—and then move a hand under the table to place on his belly. Gotcha. Jimin's mood drops and he walks over to Jungkook, placing a hand on his back. Jungkook doesn't even resist the touch, not bothering to put up a facade as he pushes his plate away, resting his forehead on the table.

"Not feeling the best?" Jimin asks, "I feel sick." Jungkook replies and the dancer hums sympathetically. Jimin slides in the seat next to him, concern apparent on his face. "Kook, do you know what's upsetting you?" Jimin frowns worriedly. "I don't know, hyung... my stomach hurts." Jungkook says and then registers that these are all his tell-tale signs he's about to throw up. He moans at the realisation.

"Jungkook do you need me to bring the bin over?" Jimin stills his hand on Jungkook's back, able to hear the younger's stomach throwing a fit from where he's sitting. Jungkook lifts his head enough to give Jimin a nod. With haste, Jimin grabs the trash can from in the kitchen and brings it back. Jungkook takes the bin and lets it rest in his lap, staring at the meager contents and feeling his stomach churn unhappily.

Jimin can see goosebumps on Jungkook's arms and wishes relief for him so badly. Seeing the youngest pale and quiet, makes Jimin want to switch places with him. The weight of anticipation is soon ended when Jungkook coughs lightly and then breaks out into gags, bringing the bin right up to his face. "Deep breaths, Kook." Jimin says, worry etched onto his face.

Jungkook can only hiccup and release strained breaths, not quite what Jimin wants right now. "Hyung— I'm g-gonna throw up—" Jungkook whimpers, back arching into a 'c' as he retches productively. Jimin pats his back nervously, eyeing the bathroom door, considering relocating the sick maknae.

Gags fill Jungkook's ears and the smell of his previous toast is enough to make him go green in the face. Jungkook tries to focus on the hand on his back and the massaging of his neck but his stomach clearly has other plans. The organ squeezes harshly at every move Jungkook makes, forcing bill up his throat. "I hate this, hyung..." Jungkook mumbles, hugging the bin close.

"Yeah, being sick is no fun, it's a good thing you're healthy." Jimin kisses the singer's hair, "most of the time."

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frownyalfred · 1 month

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god damn it these a/b/o bunnies will not leave me alone this morning

#am I dating myself by saying that? oh well #just thinking about alfred #having to pull over on the way to get Bruce That Night #and puking in the gutter because of his two broken pack bonds #and trying to pretend he isn’t bond sick #so he can get custody of Bruce #AGHHHHHH #myfic #theresurrectionist #fic ideas #a room full of coral #a/b/o mention #a/b/o tw

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extravagav · 1 day

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Yk I never did truly recover from the sick fic chapter

#one day im gonna make a post overanalyzing every single frame from this chapter bc its just so good #everything from how confused sakura looks at the idea of them coming to visit him when hes sick #to suo suggesting they leave bc he knows them staying here the now will only make him worse/uncomfortable which is the last thing he needs #bc yeah although he shouldn't and doesnt have to hes used to dealing w/ things like this alone #hes convinced he needs to and thats not smth you can just expect to change from one visit #still i need my hurt/comfort sick fic sequel please and thank you #so we can get a full circle of sakuras character development where he actually lets them help/asks for it #and NO im NOT projecting 🙅‍♀️#i DONT just wanna see my son getting comforted through his sickness when hes at his most vulnerable nuh uh 🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️#wind breaker #wind breaker spoilers #sakura haruka #ALSO ALL THIS ^^ WITHOUT EVEN MENTIONING THE REASON HES SICK IN THE FIRST PLACE LIKE????#MY SON WAS SO EMOTIONALY CONFLICTED AND CONFUSED THAT HE GAVE HIMSELF A FEVER 😭😭😭😭#ALSO also i seriously cannot get iver how scared he looks in the last panel like ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️#ok im going off in these tags rn i need to stop fr

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doggolol · 11 days

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HE ALMOST SURRENDERS TO THE KISS

HE WAS SUPPOSED TO SURRENDER TO THE KISS

IM SOBBING

#did I post abt this yet #I've had this in my mind for over a year now but ig I forgot to mention it here lol #no but I'm actually sobbing the way he did want to give in and kiss alice but decided against it to save her ☹️☹️#its not that obvious in the vid bc it all happens so quickly but u could see him soften up a bit after alice's line like :(#also semi side note I read a fic once years ago where alfred wasnt able to stop alice from kissing him in time and so they just wait the #sickness out together and it absolutely BROKE ME #give them their happy ending PLEASE #also for some reason a bunch of my abh libretto posts are getting traction again after almost a year #and out of all of em the stoned post is the most popular lmao #I love that there's still active members in this fandom #hi guys this is for yall <3 #I should post abt abh more #alice spencer #alfred hallam #abh #alice by heart #doggo rambles

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kudossi · 1 year

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you will blaze like fire (and lack the oxygen to keep yourself burning)

Dandelionkit blinks. “I want Lionblaze to mentor me,” she says, her voice barely above a mouse’s breath.

Squirrelflight crouches over her, tail draped around Dandelionkit’s thin shoulders. “I’m sure he’d love to,” she says quietly. “I’ll ask Bramblestar if he can, okay? But only if you eat your herbs.”

Dandelionkit looks down at the chewed-up bundle at her paws, eyes impossibly tired. “Do you think he’ll name me Dandelionblaze?”

Despite herself, Squirrelflight purrs. She runs her tail along Dandelionkit’s white-splotched back, hoping to encourage her to eat. “If that’s what you want,” she says. “I once knew a cat who picked his own name, too. I’m sure you can have a say.”

The pale ginger she-cat nods, beginning to lap up the pulp. “I’d like to be like him, momma. Lion,” she clarifies, as if Squirrelflight wouldn’t know. “He’s so strong.”

“You’ll be strong, too,” Squirrelflight says, willing herself to believe it. “Stronger, if you eat your honey. Lionblaze never took his herbs.”

The small kit manages around half the pile before she gasps, little sides heaving. The herbs come up with bitter, awful-smelling bile, and then Dandelionkit coughs and coughs and coughs, frame shaking and rattling and spasming—

(Squirrelflight has never felt so helpless.)

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irondad-defensesquad · 8 months

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“Mr. Stark?”

Tony feels like he has just returned to reality. Was he sleeping? Was he awake? Was he not even here?

Either way, Peter is shyly appearing in his room.

“Oh, hey kiddo,” Tony sniffs, unable to move without everything aching and burning. He checks his phone on the bedside table. “Shoot, sorry I’m late. I’ll get ready and we’ll fix your suit.”

“Actually… I brought you hot chocolate.”

Tony freezes, right when he’s about to remove his blanket. Peter is gently holding a customized Spider-Man cup that the kid made for him. Hopefully, he won’t know that it’s Tony’s most favorite cup.

“I noticed you weren’t feeling well yesterday,” Peter explains. “So… I thought you might start the day well.”

The man feels like he could cry. Peter is so shy. So adorable. It doesn’t help that he’s wearing Tony’s old MIT hoodie.

“Gee, thanks, bud,” Tony smiles, taking the hot chocolate like it’s a precious invention. Anything Peter Parker creates is indeed revolutionary.

#a piece of smth i'm trying to write #irondad #drabble #fanfiction #food mention #basically this is a sick tony fic #fics #my fics

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teal-fiend · 26 days

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pred eating something nasty. something that they usually wouldn't fw. but they're too hungry to bother finding another prey to eat.

after they've eaten and the squirming in their stomach settles down, their belly starts to get suspiciously loud. it's making noises it doesn't usually make. squelching and weird bubbling sounds

glorp

blrrb

glglo-oaarrn

the pred is mildly concerned about this development. they feel fine at the moment, but they hope what they ate doesn't make them sick

#soft vore #tw vore #fatal vore #vore fic #v/ore #digestion #implied digestion #vore digestion #v.ore #vore writing #sick mention

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salembutnotthecat · 2 months

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Novemetober (Rescheduled) | Day Sixteen

prompt: waking up puking

hi yes sorry i died for a week. things were rough.

i swear i have other ocs. but something about making novak puke his pretty little guts out makes me happy inside. and i felt like that was a better thing to come back and write.

@monthofsick

if you have any questions, comments, or requests, feel free to send them.

tw emeto, fever, exhaustion, seizure mention (but no actual seizures this time)

Novak stood on the sidelines of the football field, observing the players as they ran through defensive drills. As the defensive coach for the Mavericks, he felt a sense of responsibility to ensure the team was performing at their best. Whether it was the defensive line, the offensive line, or even himself. Novak wanted everyone to perform at their best, even in practice.

For himself, he was desperate to perform at the top of his game, even though he was sidelined. He had to do well. He needed to prove that it wasn't a waste to move him to the coaching position that was open when he couldn't play anymore, not safely anyway. And usually, Novak was good at what he did. He was tough, but not relentless. He was determined for his team to do the best they could do, even in practice, and would hardly accept anything else.

But today, he felt like he was failing them. Novak couldn't shake off the feeling of exhaustion that seemed to weigh him down with each passing minute.

The sun beat down relentlessly on the field, intensifying the heat and adding to Novak's discomfort. Despite the temperature, he felt a chill run through his body, accompanied by a persistent ache in his muscles. Novak rubbed his temples, trying to alleviate the throbbing headache that had been plaguing him all morning.

As the practice continued, Novak found it increasingly difficult to focus on the drills. His movements felt sluggish, and he struggled to keep up with the fast pace of the players. Every step seemed to take more effort than usual, and he couldn't shake off the feeling of fatigue that weighed heavily on him.

Still, Novak pushed through, determined not to let his team down. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to keep moving, ignoring the protests of his tired body. He couldn't afford to show any weakness, especially not in front of his players. He didn't even know why he felt so... bad. Yuliya had been sick, he took care of her. But surely, Novak told himself, that wasn't what caused that. It couldn't be. Not right now.

He checked his watch briefly. His heart rate looked fine. He didn't feel like he was really at risk for a seizure, so at least that was good. He sighed to himself, before going back to his clipboard and resuming his duties, taking off his sweatshirt in hopes to make himself feel at least a little better.

As practice dragged on, Novak's condition only seemed to worsen. The pounding in his head grew more intense, and a wave of nausea swept over him. He staggered slightly, feeling lightheaded and dizzy.

Despite his best efforts to hide his discomfort, one of his assistant coaches noticed Novak's struggle.

"Hey, Novak, you alright?" Kyle asked, concern evident in his voice.

Novak forced a tight-lipped smile. "Yeah, just a little tired. My girlfriend, she was sick over the weekend. SO I'm just a little worn out. Nothing to worry about."

But Kyle wasn't convinced. "You don't look so good. Maybe you should take a break, get some water or something."

Novak shook his head. "I'm fine, really. I'll tough it out."

With a shrug, Kyle reluctantly backed off, but Novak could tell that his condition hadn't gone unnoticed. He cursed himself for not being able to hide it better. The last thing he wanted, especially after the incident in July, was for anyone to be paying extra close attention to him. Even for a short time.

As practice continued, Novak struggled to keep his focus, his vision blurring at the edges. Each passing minute felt like an eternity, and he counted down the clock until he could go home and crash. Maybe that was all he needed, an early night and he would be fine in the morning.

Novak had hardly stepped in the door when his mom came out. She immediately noticed the fatigue etched on his face and the weariness in his eyes, he could see her worry on her face. The thought made him feel guilty.

"Novak, you don't look well," Marina said, her voice filled with worry.

Novak forced a smile. "I'm just tired, Mom. Yuliya was sick over the weekend, you know... I took care of her. And took care of Elya. I'll probably just go to bed early tonight."

Marina studied him for a moment, unconvinced by his explanation. She knew her son well enough to sense when something was off, and today, Novak seemed more than just tired.

"Are you sure that's all it is?" Marina pressed, placing her hand on his shoulder, "Do I need to call Willow?"

"I'm not going to have..." Novak couldn't make himself finish the sentence, "I'm fine. I'm just tired."

"Alright, słoneczko," Marina said, trying to hide her concern. "Why don't you sit down and rest? I'll make us some tea."

Novak nodded gratefully, sinking onto the couch with a heavy sigh. Marina disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Novak alone with his thoughts, trying to piece together why exactly he felt so fucking exhausted. He was tired, but it was more than that. Something told him it was much more than that.

Before he knew it, Novak's eyelids grew heavy, and he succumbed to the irresistible pull of sleep. Unaware of his own actions, he drifted off into a restless slumber, his body craving the rest it so desperately needed.

Yuliya's hands running through his hair are somehow incredibly comforting and makes his skin crawl at the same time.

He opened his eyes, staring at the living room ceiling. His head was pounding, the living room lights made him cringe and close his eyes again.

"You're sweating..." Yulia said, he heard the sound her her rubbing her hands on her leggings, "Do you feel okay?"

Novak mustered a weak nod in response to Yuliya's question, though he knew it was far from the truth. His body felt like it was on fire, and each movement sent waves of nausea rippling through him. Novak struggled to form a coherent response, his mind fogged by fatigue and the relentless throbbing in his head. He managed a weak nod, though he knew it wasn't entirely truthful.

"Just tired," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Just need some rest."

Yuliya's brows furrowed with concern as she observed Novak's pale complexion and the sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead. She reached out to touch his cheek, her hand coming away warm and clammy.

"You're burning up," she said softly, her worry palpable in her voice. "I think you might have a fever."

Novak's stomach churned uneasily at her words, a wave of nausea washing over him. He swallowed hard, trying to push back the rising tide of sickness threatening to overwhelm him.

"I'll be fine," he insisted, though the tremor in his voice betrayed his uncertainty.

Yuliya's expression softened with understanding as she gazed at Novak with unwavering concern.

"Let's get you to bed," she said gently, offering him a reassuring smile. "You need to rest."

"I have to get Elya from-"

"Your mom took care of it," Yuliya said, "She's worried. Come on, lets get you in bed..."

Yuliya helped Novak to his feet, supporting him as they made their way to the bedroom. Novak's legs felt like lead, each step a struggle against the mounting exhaustion and dizziness.

Once they reached the bed, Novak sank down onto the mattress with a weary sigh, his body feeling heavier than usual. Novak laid on top of his sheets. He felt entiely uncomfortable, and though he felt slightly cold, he was sure the added feeling of sheets on his skin would send him into an overstimulated spiral.

Yuliya sat beside him, gently brushing her fingers through his hair, carefully detangling the ash blond locks that grew tangled from how wet they were from sweat.

"Do you want to change?" Yuliya asked.

Novak thought about it. And he thought about not changing. Just dealing with it. But, he figured he would probably be more comfortable. So, he nodded, forcing himself to his feet and grabbing a change of clothes. Yuliya looked away, occupying herself by picking things up off the floor. Her clothes, his clothes, she tossed them in the bin.

"I'll probably wash these when you fall asleep, okay?" Yuliya said.

Standing made Novak dizzy, he grabbed his dresser as he pulled on some comfortable clothes. He almost didn't answer, his brain not cooperating.

"You don't have to," Novak said, laying back down.

Yuliya sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing Novak's shoulder. Yuliya was the only exception in terms of his touch aversion. At least, to a degree.

"Try to get some sleep," she said softly, brushing a strand of hair away from Novak's clammy forehead. "I'll be right here if you need anything."

Novak nodded weakly, his eyelids already drooping with fatigue. He closed his eyes, hoping that sleep would offer some relief from the relentless ache in his head and the queasiness in his stomach.

Despite the exhaustion, Novak drifted in and out of consciousness. Each time he surfaced from the depths of sleep, Novak found himself enveloped in a fog of disorientation and confusion. His head throbbed with an intensity that seemed to reverberate through every fiber of his being, pulsing with each beat of his feverish heart.

His room is dark when he finally managed to pry his heavy eyelids open, the world swam in a dizzying haze before him. The room spun around him, tilting and swaying with each movement, leaving him feeling nauseous and unsteady, even as he laid down. He felt the weight of Yuliya behind him, her hand resting on the side of his head, as if she dozed off while lightly scratching the side and back of his head with her nails, as she always did. It was comforting, it made him feel better. Usually.

Now her hand just rested there, a surprinsingly comfortable pressure he could focus on that wasn't the nausea, wasn't the headache.

His stomach churned with a queasy unease, threatening to rebel against him at any moment. Novak clenched his jaw tightly, willing himself to hold back the waves of nausea that threatened to overwhelm him. Despite his best efforts, he could feel the telltale signs of impending sickness clawing at the back of his throat, a bitter taste flooding his mouth with each ragged breath he took.

Novak's limbs felt heavy and leaden, as if weighed down by an invisible force that sapped him of his strength and vitality. He longed to rise from the suffocating confines of his bed, to escape the oppressive grasp of illness that held him captive.

But try as he might, he found himself trapped in a state of being unable to muster the energy to move. He tasted saliva in his mouth, swallowing hard and shuddering against it.

The slight shudder must have woke Yuliya. He heard her behind him, heard her hum softly and sit up, reaching over him to turn on his lamp on his nightstand, Yuliya's concern deepened as she watched Novak struggle, his pale complexion contrasting starkly against the rumpled sheets of the bed. She could see the distress etched into the lines of his furrowed brow, the faint sheen of sweat glistening on his clammy skin.

"Novak, are you alright?" Yuliya's voice was laced with worry, her hand brushing over the side of his face, pushing back sweaty hair. He glanced at his watch, his phone was sitting on the nightstand. At least it wasn't that... she figured.

Novak couldn't even bring himself to shake his head at first. His throat constricted with the effort of holding back the rising tide of nausea that threatened to overwhelm him. Every slight movement sent a fresh wave of dizziness crashing over him, leaving him feeling light-headed and disoriented.

He tried to will himself to move, to push past the suffocating weight that pressed down on him from all sides. He needed to get up, to run to the bathroom, or to his desk, where his trash can was. Something, anything. But his limbs felt leaden and unresponsive, as if anchored to the mattress by invisible chains that refused to loosen their grip.

As the minutes ticked by, Novak's resolve began to waver, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps as the relentless onslaught of sickness tightened its grip around him.

"Novak.. Novak hey," Yuliya said, "What's wrong?"

Desperation clawed at his chest as he struggled to keep the roiling contents of his stomach at bay, his muscles tensed with the effort of holding back what he tried not to imagine was the remains of lunch and breakfast, and maybe dinner from the day before. He could finally move, briefly, only enough to cover his mouth with his hand.

"Shit," Yuliya said, starting to go to get up and grab something.

Novak shook his head. He needed to move, he tried to move. But he couldn't. That was when the panic started to set in.

Maybe he could just... breathe. Maybe he could settle his own stomach. Maybe, maybe.

But despite his best efforts, Novak could feel the telltale churn of his stomach intensifying with each passing second, a grim reminder of his body's relentless betrayal in the face of illness.

As soon as Yuliya set down the trash can, then he could move. He moved just enough to grab the bin. It was milliseconds vefore he started heaving, his body trying to purge whatever dared make him feel so disgusting.

Yuliya watched with a mixture of concern and helplessness as Novak's body convulsed with each violent heave, his features contorted in agony as he struggled to expel the contents of his roiling stomach.

She moved closer, her hand hovering uncertainly over his trembling form, wanting desperately to offer comfort but unsure of how to help.

"Easy, Novak," she murmured, her voice soft and soothing. "Just let it out. You'll feel better once it's all out of your system."

Novak could only nod weakly in response, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he rode out the storm of nausea that threatened to overwhelm him. He clung to the trash can with a white-knuckled grip, his knuckles turning pale with the effort of holding on.

With each retch and gag, Novak felt a small measure of relief wash over him. Each wave of sick made his stomach feel less tense and full.

At one point, Novak stopped briefly to take a breath. His body giving him a split second relief. But when the nausea kicked back up again, this time Novak knew he coulf make it to the bathroom. And make it to the bathroom he did.

He bolted, abandoning the trash bin, knowing there was more in his system. Sure enough, as soon as he was on his knees if front of the toilet he was vomiting again.

Yulia sat it the doorway. Wincing as Novak retched up more and more waves of sludge from his stomach. Waves of gods knew what. Yuliya moved a little closer.

Yuliya reached out a gentle hand to brush the sweat-dampened hair from Novak's forehead, her touch comforting.

Novak continued to heave for what felt like an eternity. But finally, finally he was left gasping, trying to catch his breath.

He looked at Yuliya, who offered a small smile.

“It’s gonna be a long night, my love…” Yuliya said softly. “But, I’ll be right here.”

#emeto #sickfic #emeto fic #emeto cw #emeto tw #fever cw #fever tw #emetophilia #novemetober 2023 #sick novak daskalov #seizure mention tw #novemetober rescheduled

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factorialsotherfandoms · 2 months

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TW: homeless children, sick children.

Pac is thirteen, and Mike is finally asleep. His best friend got sick a few days ago, the pair having been caught out in the rain. Pac had avoided the worst of it, only to be up all night anyway, keeping track of Mike's fevers.

It broke last night, but then they had had to run - the owner of the cafe they were sheltering behind had returned from her holiday, and released a pair of dogs to scare them off. Thankfully they did not get close to either child, but the running and the searching for another place to sleep had it return.

Maybe it would be better, to try and beg there way into the keeping of another orphanage?

... Pac takes four seconds to remember why that is a bad idea.

Mike whimpers, sweating more than their water supply allows for as he shifts under stolen blankets. Pac brushes his forehead, and gently, mentally shushes him.

Pac is thirteen, which means that Mike is eleven, which means that Pac has to be the one to look after them both.

The dogs? He would have fought them. When they steal? Pac is the distraction, the one starting a showpiece of a fight as Mike scoops up the bags. When they are sick?

When they are sick, Pac pretends he does not feel his own fever, and dedicates himself to looking after Mike.

He isn't really sure what to do, but he knows someone is supposed to watch people with fevers when they sleep. They don't have enough water to waste on wetting a rag, like people do in books, but he puts one on Mike's forehead nonetheless. Mike gets the blankets, and the cushion they found lying in a puddle, and the driest spot under the overhand. Pac, meanwhile, has scraps of fabric, and cold concrete, and a very sick best friend.

It is very hard to stay awake, sick and exhausted as he is from days of looking after Mike. He would give him the world - has given him the world - but it is very hard to keep his eyes open.

Pac needs to do something, else he will fall asleep. And he is not sure why that is bad, but he knows that it is.

... One of the bags they stole was not a bag at all, but a sewing box.

Inside are threads, and needles, and buttons, and little scissors and offcuts of larger pieces of fabric.

Really, Pac should use them to fix their clothes, or save them for when things are even worse. He remembers just enough of the right classes to know that both he and Mike have growth spurts still to hit, and that will mean needing to lengthen their clothes.

But...

Pac is thirteen, and Mike is eleven, and also in the sewing box are a couple of small glass circles, like teddy bear eyes.

Pac looks at the missing button on his coat, then looks at Mike, sleeping and distressed and reaching for something that is not there.

Pac picks up the fabric, and begins to sew.

Sewing is not one of his greatest skills, but Pac knows a little about it; when Sister Isabela has been in charge of discipline, she had tended to making him help her with repairs rather than the usual punishments. Pac had been in trouble a lot, and so he had learnt to fix many things - clothes and buttons and electrical sockets and plumbing and all sorts. He had not been allowed to help fix the gas stove, but he had been made to watch it happen.

Fixing things is not quite like making things, but... but Mike is eleven, so Pac has to look after him, and the books he learnt to read from say sick children are supposed to cuddle toys.

Pac thinks it might be wrong - even before his parents hated him, he did not get to cuddle toys, and the Nuns and the Priest certainly never gave them any. Still, he has no water to make the rags wet, and he needs to steal some energy drinks in the morning and force Mike to drink them, and it's late and if he does nothing he will fall asleep too.

So, he grabs the scraps of fabric, and the needles, and the thread, and does his best.

None of the scraps are the right shape, and he is scared to cut them. Working fabric in 3D is very different to flat, but Pac does his best. The head is two approximately round shapes stitched together, with bits poking out for ears. It has a body and two arms and two legs, even if all of the limbs are different sizes and the stitching stretches a bit too much. It is a patchwork of colours - and an actual patch where some of the fabric tore, Pac does know how to patch things - stuffed not with proper stuffing but instead the remaining fabric scraps.

It is an ugly, ugly thing.

Pac, desperate for some way to help, tucks it under the blankets with Mike anyway.

In feverish sleep Mike clings to it, and clings to Pac's sleeve too. In the morning, still sick, Mike holds it even tighter when Pac has to go.

Pac comes back to their camp with a bag of stolen energy drinks, and a few sandwiches grabbed from the same rack, to find that Mike has named her Alegria.

Alegria does not survive the winter.

But two boys do, and that is what matters in the end.

#qsmp pac #qsmp mike #qsmp tazercraft #qsmp fanfic #i wanted to mention mike still keeping the eyes from the bear in his pocket but it didn't flow nicely #so just have that #maybe pac doesn't know about it #i'll probably add this to an au on ao3 when i upload it in the morning #but for now it can be by itself #this is like the flip of that fic where mike was looking after sick pac #but without the resources for a shitty hotel room #also with the toy idea i mentioned earlier

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apalapucian · 2 months

Note

Took me a bit of time to come up with a prompt but I've been dying of a cold for two days so "stuffed nose" for a prompt ? I'll let you run in whatever direction you like :) and I love your snippet for the prompt you posted !!!

the whole thing starts on thursday, during potions. they're brewing antidotes to moonseed poison, and something in the ingredients sets off lily's allergies. she's sneezing even until they're in the hall on the way to dinner.

in the common room, much later, mary finally says, "lil, i think you should go rest. seems like you caught something."

"ah, no. just allergies. something in potions earlier..." stuffed nose, itchy throat, the beginning of a headache. but she has antihistamines in her trunk upstairs, so she should be fine. she just has to finish this essay. "although i am almost done, so i might actually go ahead soon."

mary looks for a moment like she's going to argue, but the point was to get her to rest. so she concedes and nods.

—

they don't notice james watching from the fireplace.

sirius does, though. he fishes a forgotten receipt from his pocket, crumples it up, and throws it at him. "at least be subtle about it," he comments.

james glares at him. he returns to his homework for about two seconds tops before looking up to steal another glance. sirius rolls his eyes. "it's just — she's sick," james says defensively. "she must have caught something."

sirius turns to look at lily then. besides the occasional sneezing, and the pink-tipped nose, evident even from this distance and in the predominantly red-orange of the gryffindor common room — lily seems fine. "she said it's just allergies. from potions today."

"no, it's..." james frowns, quill hovering over fresh ink. "never mind."

"what do you think is it then?" sirius asks anyway.

james adjusts his specs, but his eyes stay trained on his rune translation draft. "not allergies," he says simply.

"how do you know?"

he shrugs. "i just do." he's smiling a bit at his parchment; stupidly, like he's thinking of an inside joke.

continue reading on ao3

#jily #jily fanfiction #jily fic #jple #prompts #anon i hope you're feeling better!!#this is hogwarts jily #where basically lily gets sick and she downplays it and is all like “it's just allergies!” and everyone's like “K” but james #besotten boi #is like #uhh no #youre SICK sick #i cant believe im doing hogwarts jily in 2024 #thank you for this prompt!!!#the snippet u mentioned is also up already btw #it's also there it's called no questions asked :)))

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soft-for-yoongi · 7 months

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Fever dream Taehyungie. I read some fics with this and I'm hooked.

Choose whoever you like as the caregiver and whatever other sickness you want to add. I have no problem with emeto 💜

Fever Dreams, Hyung's Don't Leave (sick TH)

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Sick: Taehyung

Caretakers: ot7, Yoongi, Jungkook, Seokjin

Tw: emeto, vom**, mentions of nausea, stomach pain, dizziness, fevers, nightmares, puking

Word count: 1744

Thanks for the request, anon!! I really enjoyed this, and I hope it's what you had in mind 🫶

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Cold. Taehyung was so so cold. And... where are his hyungs? One second they were right there, and now it's all dark? They were with him before he got sucked into dreamland? But now he feels freezing and so... alone. "Hyungs?" Taehyung wants to reach out but his arms feel like lead and won't cooperate.

Shadows were growing around him and his brothers were becoming distant, his cheeks are wet with tears and he wants to yell for them to come back but the sounds don't make it past his throat. Did they really leave him?

"Taehyungie!"

He woke up with a sharp gasp, almost instantly dissolving into tears that wrack his frame. Yoongi is quick to pull him into an embrace, cradling his head into his chest. Despite the younger being taller than he is, Taehyung looks so small in the rapper's arms. "You're burning up, Taetae." Yoongi says, feeling warmth radiating off of the younger's skin.

"I'm c-cold... w-wh-where are the others?" Taehyung's head perks up, eyes wide and scared. The dream felt so vivid. "Hyungie, are they gone?" Taehyung suddenly tries to stand up, pulling away from Yoongi's grasp.

"Woah, careful." Yoongi rushes to help Taehyung and sits him back down with little effort needed. "They're okay, Taehyungie." He comforts, rubbing his back in circles. "I-I need to see them, h-hyung—" Taehyung cries, gripping onto Yoongi like a lifeline.

"Shh, okay. Let me get Jinnie and the others." Yoongi takes out his phone, frantically spamming Seokjin's number. All of Taehyung's weight is up against Yoongi and the flow of tears has him biting his lip in worry. "Yoongi-ah?" Seokjin sheepishly walks into the room, rubbing his eyes and taking a split second to register Taehyung.

"Oh, Taehyungie, baby." Seokjin rushes over, petting and soothing over his hair as Taehyung instinctively reaches for the eldest. "H-hyung... I thought you left me." Taehyung mumbles, breaking out in tremors and moving to wrap an arm around his stomach.

"Of course not, baby. Gosh, you're so warm. Yoongi, what happened?" Seokjin turns to the rapper. "He was dreaming, kept calling out for us and now he's got a fever." Yoongi explains. They both look at Taehyung with pity, thinking on what to do. "We have to give him some medicine, he's way too hot." Seokjin concludes.

"No—I need to see Jiminie a-and Namjoon-hyung—" Taehyung sniffles, hiccuping between words. Yoongi sadly rubs his back, turning to Seokjin. "Aw Taehyungie... how about we go to the living room and I'll get the others?" Seokjin offers, using his thumb to wipe away the tears. Taehyung nods approvingly, somewhat calming down.

They go on either side of the younger, helping him to the lounge. Yoongi flicks on a couple lights, putting them on the dimmest setting. Taehyung reaches for Yoongi and he gladly holds him on the couch. Seokjin starts off at the closest bedroom. Jimin and Hoseok's.

"Hoseokie? Jiminie?" He calls into the dark room, walking in to find the two curled in each other's embrace, both their beds pushed together. They start to stir after a few taps. "Sorry guys, Taehyungie is sick and a bit emotional. Can you both comfort him in the living room?" Seokjin explains in a hushed voice. It wakes them up and Jimin's eyes are already glistening with worry. "Of course, hyung." Hoseok replies. Onto the next bedroom.

"Namjoon-ah?" Seokjin hears the snoring cut off. "Hmmg..? Hyung?" The leader groans. "Can you go to the living room, please? Taehyungie has a fever." He says, gaining a hum as Namjoon swings his legs out of bed. And now, the maknae.

"Kookie?" Seokjin moves straight to the bed, gently rubbing over Jungkook's thigh. "Jungkook-ah." He tries again, making the lump roll over. "Taehyung needs you, Bunny." And that finally wakes him up. "Huh..? Is he okay?" Jungkook rubs his eyes, making a move to get up. "Fever, bad dream." Seokjin summarises, letting the youngest follow him back to the living room.

Taehyung is still next to Yoongi but Jimin is giving him a kiss on the cheek, Hoseok tying back his hair and Namjoon is standing nearby, not wanting to crowd the boy. "Taehyungie-hyung?" Jungkook says when he catches sight of the second youngest. He looks up from the couch and is visibly relieved. "You g-guys didn't leave?" Taehyung's lip quivers. The six of them butt in to reassure Taehyung, telling him they love each other way too much to even fathom the idea.

"Taetae, do you feel well enough to take some medicine?" Yoongi asks, all too aware of the sticky heat coming from the singer. He's still so out of it. "Mm.. I don't know." Taehyung pouts, "does anything hurt? Your ears, throat, head, stomach?" Jimin asks, kneeling down in front of Taehyung. "Tummy.. and my head feels dizzy." Taehyung concludes, just now picking up on the nausea washing over him in waves.

He shivers and curls up to Yoongi. "Hyung... I think I'm gonna throw up." Taehyung whines, face squashed into Yoongi's shoulder. "Aish–right now?" Yoongi looks to Hoseok for help, "I'll get a bag—" Hoseok dashes off, right as Taehyung moans in discomfort, chills going up and down his spine. Seokjin leaves to grab some towels and medicine. Namjoon and Jungkook take a seat on the other couch, talking to each other worriedly.

Hoseok comes back with a puke bag, quickly handing it to Taehyung who grips it shakily. "You're okay, Taehyung-ah." Yoongi starts rubbing up and down his back, sympathising when he feels his muscles clench and a dry gag escapes. Taehyung feels like he's on a merry-go-round, he's not enjoying it. Before he was cold and lonely, now he's covered in sweat, about to heave up his dinner. What a night.

He looks up from the bag, noticing Seokjin returning and all his brother's concerned faces. It makes him think back to his fever dream and a tear slips before a nasty heave takes over. It leads to a string of drool and acidic taste in his throat. Jimin uses his small hand to wipe away the tears, moving to sit next to Taehyung. "Let it up, Tae." Yoongi slips into daegu satoori, hoping to comfort the younger some.

Taehyung sucks in a deep, shaky breath before bringing up a mouthful of sick. It gets the momentum going and before he can relax, another bout exits him. "We're right beside you, Taetae. You're doing great." Hoseok comforts, looking away from the puke bag but also trying to support his dongsaeng.

Taehyung retches, spine curling over as he vomits. He feels so hot and sticky, tshirt plastered to his back. Seokjin uses a damp cloth to wipe Taehyung's forehead, holding it on as he coughs into the bag. "Namjoon-ah, can you get the thermometer please?" Seokjin asks, tone filled with concern.

"Sure, hyung." Namjoon responds quickly. "Ughh—my tummy doesn't feel good.." Taehyung whimpers, fingers still clutching the bag. Jungkook watches with sympathy. "Poor baby, Taehyungie. You'll feel better soon." Jimin rubs the 95's knee, Yoongi tracing along his back.

Taehyung doesn't feel like he'll ever get better. He would make another statement that he's dying, but a painfully dry heave cuts him off. It highlights just how empty Taehyung now is. But his stomach sets him off anyways, into endless (about 3) empty gags. "Tae-yah it sounds like you're finished. Wanna try relax a little?" Yoongi points out, slowly easing the younger's grip on the bag.

"Yoongi's right, Taehyungie. I'm sure Jungkook's happy to give you some company on the couch?" Seokjin smiles, and Taehyung swallows down a retch before weakly nodding. Yoongi manages to take the bag, making note to keep it away from Hoseok's general direction before disposing of it.

Seokjin and Jimin wipe down Taehyung's face, just as Namjoon comes back with the thermometer, holding it out. "Ah, thanks Joonie." Seokjin says, grabbing the device and hovering it over the second youngest's forehead. It beeps and reads, "39.1° (102.4°)" Seokjin says out loud, "shit. Taehyungie, you're really warm, how about we take your shirt off?" The eldest adds.

Taehyung nods, face blank and zoned out. "Arms up," Jimin helps take off the top, leaving Taehyung exposed on the couch. "Can I lay down with Jungkookie?" Taehyung looks up at Jin, then glances at the youngest. "Of course, Kookie? Is that okay?" Seokjin turns to Jungkook, who responds with a reassuring nod. Jungkook motions for Taehyung to come closer. With Hoseok's and Jimin's aid, Taehyung gets nestled on Jungkook's chest, both of them long ways on the couch. Jungkook has an arm tucked around Taehyung securely, while he listens to the soothing rhythm of Jungkook's heartbeat.

"Promise not to be sick on me?" Jungkook jokes, retracting the statement when Taehyung frowns sadly. "I'm sorry you're not feeling well, hyungie. You can throw up on me, that's fine." Jungkook kisses Taehyung's temple, ruffling his hair at the same time. At least that gets Taehyung to whimper-laugh, his body still isn't happy with him.

Before Taehyung lets himself drift off, he opens his eyes and scans the room. He sees five pairs of eyes staring back lovingly, the elder members smiling at the fondness between the two youngests. "Don't worry, Taehyung-ah. We'll be right here when you wake up." Yoongi hums, beginning to settle on one of their armchairs, letting out a huff when Jimin sits on his lap, but not making him move either. Fully reclining the other couch, Hoseok is comfortably squished between the leader and Seokjin.

"Okay, I love you, hyungs." Taehyung murmurs softly. He surrendered to the warmth of Jungkook's embrace, the presence of his brothers soothing him to not worry about any more dreams.

Hours passed and they slept semi-comfortably. Seven people in one living room was a lot. Slowly, Taehyung stirred awake, greeted by the gentle caress of Jungkook's hand on his head. Blinking away the sleep, he found himself still tucked up to Jungkook. "Hey there, sleeping beauty." Jungkook whispered.

Taehyung grinned weakly, "did I throw up on you?" He asked, voice raspy but amused. "Not this time, hyung." Jungkook chuckled. The lounge room was bathed in a morning glow, Taehyung noticed his other hyungs, still there and their expressions more relaxed. The worry he felt during his fever-induced dream was replaced by comfort, yes he was still uneasy but he now had some support.

"I told you we wouldn't leave, Taehyungie." Jimin chims in, perched on Yoongi's lap. "Thank you, Jiminie-hyung."

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