sweetsxffering

✨comfort✨

[shipinna-bottle]

Burnout whump my beloved; make your character physically and mentally exhausted from a cycle they can't escape. Bury your whumpee in so much stress and pressure they don't realize they're Not Okay until they're on the brink of a nervous breakdown. Give them literal illness from the idea of having to do it again tomorrow! Take away their ability to cope and self-regulate! Give them existential, resigned hopelessness at the neverending exhaustion and malaise!

Most importantly, make sure they feel so ashamed they refuse to rest or tell anyone. This ensures that eventually, they'll crash and burn so hard everyone will realize how bad it's gotten, maximizing hurt/comfort potential.

I'm so incredibly burnt out that I'm putting it to use, at least. I feel ill.

[mythshire]

⋆ · 𖤓 · ⋆ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐌𝐄 ··· a collection of soup gone cold and blankets shared, the intimacy of being cared for when you are at your worst. genre: romance, hurt and comfort, soft angst, domestic.

You're burning up. Don't argue with me. Get back in bed.

I made soup. It's not great. Eat it anyway.

You should have called me the moment you started feeling like this.

Stop trying to get up. There is nothing on this earth that needs you upright right now.

I found three blankets and a hot water bottle. Pick your combination.

You look terrible. I mean that with so much love.

Let me take your temperature. Stop being difficult about the thermometer.

I cancelled everything. Don't apologize. I wanted to be here.

You fell asleep mid-sentence. I stayed anyway. I hope that's okay.

Drink the tea. Yes, all of it. I'll make more.

I've been checking on you every hour. You keep telling me to go home. I keep not going.

Your voice sounds awful. Rest it. We can talk tomorrow.

I'm not going anywhere. Stop thanking me for staying.

You hate being taken care of. I know. Do it for me anyway.

The fever broke. I don't think you know how relieved I am right now.

Sleep. I'll be right here. I'll wake you up if anything changes.

I brought your favourite thing from the place on the corner. Don't cry. Please don't cry.

You're a terrible patient and somehow I still want to be the one doing this.

I know you think you're being a burden. You are not a burden.

Let me sit with you. I don't need to talk. I just don't want you to be alone.

You tried to make your own tea and you could barely stand up. Sit down. I've got it.

I've seen you strong. This doesn't make you weak. It just makes you human.

You smell like fever and you still somehow look like everything to me.

Lay your head here. Right here. I've got nowhere I need to be.

I brought every movie you've ever mentioned. We have time.

You're mumbling in your sleep. I'm not going to tell you what you said.

I changed the sheets while you were in the shower. Don't make it weird.

You need to eat something real. I know you don't want to. Eat something real.

I've been sitting in this chair for four hours. I'd do it four more.

Stop apologizing for being sick. People get sick. Let me help you.

Your hands are cold. Give them here. I'll warm them up.

I found the medicine in the back of the cabinet. Take it. All of it. Don't negotiate.

You're not inconveniencing me. Taking care of you is exactly where I want to be.

I didn't know you got like this when you were sick. Softer. I like knowing this about you.

You asked for me. Out of everyone, you asked for me. I haven't stopped thinking about that.

The heating pad is on the lowest setting. Tell me if you need it warmer.

I'm not leaving until your temperature is normal. Make your peace with that.

You cried a little when the soup was too hot to eat yet. I pretended not to notice.

I've never seen you let anyone take care of you before. I'm honoured. I mean that.

Your hair is a mess. Can I? Is that okay? Let me just — there.

You keep saying you're fine every time I check and you are so obviously not fine.

This is the third night in a row. I'm not going anywhere. Stop looking at me like that.

You're delirious and still trying to be funny. It's working. Please stop, I'm worried about you.

I learned how to make your mother's recipe. It took three attempts. Don't tell her.

There's nowhere I'd rather be than right here, even like this. Especially like this.

You always take care of everyone else. Just this once, let someone take care of you.

I left the light on in the hall in case you woke up scared. I remember you mentioned that once.

I'm here. I've got you. Just rest. Everything else can wait.

[how-the-powerful-fall]

Whumpee who is kind of an asshole to the people who saved them. Bad attitude, grumpy, misplaced outbursts, etc.

Just as it's getting too tough for caretakers to keep helping them despite it all, they break.

[justbreakonme]

Very valid, psychologically. And well documented, it’s a way of pushing boundaries to build trust, to see if they’ll still be safe, despite despite despite

[uh-whump]

I really, really like this type of reaction. Of course, a character who's totally wrecked and crying as soon as they get rescued is amazing, don't get me wrong. But there's just something about whumpees who need to fight back, who need to try and get a reaction from who's helping them, who need to find their caretaker's limit. Whumpees who need to know they will be loved anyway.

And as soon as they understand it, they can finally allow themselves to be vulnerable.

[beastliness]

obviously I take no pleasure whatsoever in tenderly caring for you while you're sick and writhing in bed with a fever

[beastliness]

comforting you while you're vulnerable, running my fingers through your disheveled hair, placing a cold compress to your skin, flushed and hot to the touch, etc.

[beastliness]

what do you take me for - some kind of pervert?

[deactivated-blog]

Casual admission of illness with just the slightest hint of neediness will never not slay me.

Someone's huddled up on their sofa in their pajamas, wrapped in a blanket and quietly nursing a cup of tea while someone else stands behind the back of the sofa, silently inquiring "What the hell happened to you?".

"I don't feel well..."

"My throat hurts..."

"I feel hot/cold/dizzy..."

even just the simplest "I'm sick..."

Very matter-of-fact, straight to the point, but said in a way that yanks violently on the heartstrings.

Needy without being whiny, the slight inflection that spills all of the pathetic-sounding details they left out:

"I don't feel well...and I'm all alone, and cold, and lonely. I can barely stand... I could really use a glass of water and another blanket...maybe someone to rub my back until I fall asleep."

[tenderwhumps]

whumpee is too weak to talk, but caretaker knows them well enough to interpret all their noises/gestures/expressions.

when whumpee twitches their fingers, caretaker knows that means they want their hand held.

when whumpee’s brow creases and they whimper, caretaker knows that means their head is hurting.

when whumpee soundlessly moves their lips, caretaker knows the’re saying i love you.

when whumpee gets restless and squirms a little, caretaker knows they want to adjust their position.

when whumpee curls towards caretaker, caretaker knows they want to be held.

when whumpee’s breathing gets thin and labored, caretaker knows to help them sit up so they can breathe easier.

when whumpee opens and closes their mouth, caretaker knows that means they’re thirsty.

and when whumpee squeezes caretaker’s hand, caretaker knows that means stay with me. please don’t go.

[warmblanketwhump]

close proximity

two rivals, one bed, one snowstorm. what could go wrong? (word count: 1.3k)

A was furious. They’d told B that their university project could wait until tomorrow, that they’d work out the details before class. But no, B just couldn't settle for that – they had to prepare the night before. And now, B was stuck at A’s apartment as a blizzard raged outside.

"Are you happy now? Class'll probably be cancelled, and it won't even be due," A snaps.

B stands in the doorway, arms crossed, stifling a cough. “It’s your fault that I even had to come over here in the first place. If you hadn’t put your part off, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”

“Oh don’t start,” A retorts. “I’ve got better things to do than help you keep your precious 4.0.” A and B had been at each others throats all semester, but this project was the last straw.

The snow was coming down in great white waves, and if A was a crueler person, they'd throw B right out on the stoop. But they weren't heartless.

“Look,” huffs A. “You might as well not skid off the road and blame me for that, too. Sleep on my couch. Or don’t. I don’t care.” With that, A snatches the nearest blanket and throws it B’s way, and B catches it. B looks torn, eyes glancing out at the storm and back at the blanket, then to the storm again. Coughing weakly, they sink onto the couch, resigned to their fate.

“Sleep well,” A mumbles. With that, they head back to their room, burrow into their bed, and promptly fall asleep.

Hours later, they’re woken by the freezing cold biting at their nose. A groans as they sit up, rubbing the sleep from their eyes. They snatch a blanket from the top of the pile to wrap around themselves, slip a pair of socks over their cold toes, and step back into the hallway.

They make it to their thermostat and are greeted by a dark panel where a warm glow used to be. The blizzard must’ve knocked out power - and hours ago, if it’s this cold.

A turns to go back to their room, but they’re stopped by the sound of a weak sob. They listen again, confused. Someone, sniffling, coughing in short, shuddering breaths - wait, B. That’s who’s here in their usually empty apartment.

A takes a couple hesitant steps. B’s huddled on the couch, the thin blanket pulled closely around them, knees tucked up so they’re a tightly wound ball. And even in the dark, A can see them shivering.

“B? Hey, come on. What’s wrong?” In the darkness, A can make out a small tuft of hair poking out above the blanket.

“M’ cold,” they whimper. A reaches out to feel B's forehead, too warm and speckled with sweat. A’s hand trails down to B's shoulder, feeling the thin blanket that's now their feverish body's only protection against the freezing air. The anger from hours before melts away, replaced by a guilt that punctures A's chest.

“Oh, honey-” The term of endearment slips from A’s mouth before they can stop it, remember who they’re talking to. But B either doesn’t hear or doesn’t care enough to respond, and a weak cough slips from their lips. They've been down here for hours like this.

A sits on the couch and pulls B close under their blanket, rubbing B's arms, their back, their shoulders, desperately trying to warm them up. B just presses closer, and A can feel the heat of the fever radiating off them.

The sudden intimacy just compounds A's guilt. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

B shrugs limply, head buried in the crook of A’s neck. “I was just tired and achy before. I was just going to try and make home if you hadn't offered for me to stay. I figured you didn't really care what I did or how I felt.”

A momentary vision of B sick and stranded in a cold, broken-down car puts a lump in A's throat, and they swallow hard. "C'mon, B. We don't get along, but you can't think that I'm enjoying your suffering."

B snorts softly. "The way we go at it? I was expecting you to pitch me out on the porch." A feels a twinge in their chest - they had considered it. And yet here they were, trying to keep their sworn enemy just a little bit warmer.

Despite the fever, B’s hands are like ice. A puffs warm air onto them, vigorously trying to rub the blood back into their chilled fingers.

B groans with gratitude. "It's so warm."

A sighs. Their options for keeping B comfortable are few, especially with the power being out. And honestly, it makes their heart squeeze a bit to think of B down here, alone and sick. There's only one feasible option - and it's not one that they think B will love, either.

“C’mon,” A says, standing. They hold out their hand to B, who has the decency to look confused as they take it. “It’s freezing and God knows how long it’ll be until the heat comes back. It’ll be warmer with two of us.”

B, still drowsy, is halfway down the hall before they find it in themselves to object. “A, I’m not - we can’t share -"

“You honestly want to turn into a popsicle on my couch and get sicker?”

B drops their protests, and they reach A’s bed, piled in blankets. “It’s a mess," A says sheepishly, "but I promise it’s warmer.”

“You have SIX blankets on your bed? Normally?” A can hear the disbelief in B’s voice.

“Seven, once you bring yours. I hate being cold.”

“So do I - that doesn’t mean I need SIX blankets. Do you even feel a difference after the first three?”

“Do you want to go back to the couch?”

“....no.”

“Then be quiet and enjoy this beautiful, majestic nest I've welcomed you into.”

They help B clumsily navigate the layers, and soon they’re both tucked away, A leaving generous space between the two of them.

“A...” B whispers after a few minutes of silence.

“What?” A huffs.

“You said it'd be warmer. I’m still cold.”

“You have a fever, you kumquat – of course you're cold. These are all the blankets I have.”

B rustles in the blankets for a moment. “You know, it was kind of nice when you hugged me.”

“You mean it was warm when I hugged you.”

“Yes. It was. And being warm felt nice.”

“Are you...implying something?”

“C’mon, A. I’m cold. You’re warm. There's only one solution I can see for that.”

"B, you've got germs and you're technically warmer than I am. Just give it a minute."

B sighs dejectedly, and A can't help but feel an ache of sympathy. Even on the other side of the bed, A can feel B shaking. Though they're loathe to admit it, the bedroom is still cold. And maybe the idea of curling up next to another warm (okay, fevered) body is tempting, even if that body is likely to promptly pass on whatever plague they've got.

“Please?" B whispers a few minutes later. "I'm freezing. Just a minute or two. And then I promise you can shove me off and I'll shut up.”

A pauses for a moment. B's voice is so soft, so pleading, so unlike their usual intolerable self, and A knows they must be truly miserable if they're begging. So they give in.

"Fine. Just until you're warm enough." A scoots closer, pulling B's fevered head onto their chest and wrapping their arms around them. A can feel the tiny shivers that ripple through B's body, and they rub soothing circles onto B's back as their breathing slows. B nestles closer, and an unexpected warmth floods A's whole body. Their hand slowly makes its way towards B’s head, fingers gently running through their soft hair.

Before long, B is completely asleep. But A doesn't let go. Somehow, a small sliver of them has been won over by the least likely person imaginable. And as they drift off, they realize they might not mind at all.

[pain-in-the-everywhere]

whumpee whose immune system is absolutely shot to pieces after being under so much stress for so long. they're not in danger anymore. they're recovered (mostly). but they're sick all the time.

a simple cold goes around the neighbourhood, and whumpee is out for weeks. a stomach bug sends them to hospital because they're throwing up so much. they catch everything and it hits them ten times harder, and god do they just want to rest.

[allthewhumpygoodness]

I will NEVER be over the gentle little "shh, you'r okay" + a hair stroke from one character to another who's feverishly and fearfully mumbling in their sleep

[coldexposure]

Caretaker learns how high their fever is, and their gentle reassurances change from “you’re okay” to “you’ll be okay”.

[allthewhumpygoodness]

I ----

[medievaljournalist]

everyone riding the train today got 250 xp after a level 32 dracula wandered onto the tracks

[allthewhumpygoodness]

I will NEVER be over the gentle little "shh, you're okay" + a hair stroke from one character to another who's feverishly and fearfully mumbling in their sleep

[comfort-questing]

waking up a sick or hurt character... hesitating by their sleeping form, because maybe for once they're almost peaceful, or maybe they've taken so long to reach sleep in the first place. but in the end they have to do it, to help them drink water or take medicine, or maybe to move them from their place to somewhere safer or more comfortable. so they regretfully, gently shake their shoulder or run a hand over their sweat-slick forehead, speaking in a soft voice, soothing them in their dazed drowsy confusion. it's all right, just a moment, I'll let you rest again in a moment.

[whumpbees]

Whumpee who cries being treated gently. Who's chest shakes with sobs until they run out of tears to cry and just shake. Whumpee who can't fathom that the hands that hold them gently won't hurt in turn

[sickfictropes]

trying to get whumpee's fever down when they can't keep down fever reducers!! the frustration!! trying to fight between "you need these meds before that fever gets any higher" and "you're going to get dehydrated if you keep throwing them up" that's where it's at babey!!

[allthewhumpygoodness]

When a concerned character asks to feel another's forehead, and the sickie has that split second of hesitation where their usual pride and stubbornness peeks through the dazed fog of exhaustion, questioning whether they should brush them off like usual...but they're so worn down that the feverish exhaustion quickly weighs out and they let their friend check away

[swooningdelirium]

someone who is stubborn and reserved on a good day is known amongst their loved ones to be an absolute nightmare when they’re sick. they hole up in their apartment like a dying animal and refuse any visitors. they insist they don’t need to see a doctor and continue to snap and push people away when they suggest it.

so, when they call their friend at an odd hour, their voice paper-thin and apologetic when they explain they know it’s late but they need to get to the hospital and they can’t drive like this and they just really need help, it’s enough to induce a panic.

their friend makes it to their place in record time, and sure enough, the sick one is radiating heat and doubled over in pain. they heave half-coherent apologies between sobs as their caretaker carries them to the car.

“i’m not mad,” they reply as they position their ailing companion in the passenger seat and tuck a bottle of water by their feet. “i just wish you had let me take care of you sooner.”

[patheticandmiserable]

I love the image of a sickie sitting on the floor by a radiator, trying to stay warm. It’s the warmest spot in the room, so they huddle up next to it with some blankets, holding their hands out in front of it like it’s a campfire. The floor is cold and not very comfortable, but this is the best (or only) source of heat they have access to. Their caretaker later finds them asleep and shivering in the little nest of blankets they’d built, still trying to soak up as much heat as they can.