“oh Your Poor Thing” Is Such A Versatile Statement And It Makes Me Melt In Any Situation

A little weakness of mine is when one character in a couple has a severe cold/flu and the other is very sympathetic. Especially when that person sneezes and their concerned partner offers a soft, loving “Bless you, honey”.

I love when sickie shows small signs that they’re frustrated about being sick.

Like, a light groan after a sneeze. A sharp string of curses when fever chills pick up again. A deep sigh as they massage their pounding forehead.

O Olho da Deusa/Deus - arte indígena muito conhecida só que na sua forma com fios de lã. Um amuleto lindo que normalmente confeccionamos para pedir algo simples aos deuses como esperança, felicidade, prosperidade, amor e etc. Faço esse amuleto nas cores prata, preto,vermelho,lilás, azul ou verde…só por encomenda falando comigo por mensagem privada!🍃💚

*feito com fio colorido de alumínio.

#dhyngetal #olhodedeus #olhodadeusa #wicca #arteindigena #amuleto https://www.instagram.com/p/B4Ar3Dnhty2/?igshid=1qkoj9gmn6dx5

When Sickie was delirious with Fever and mistook Caretaker’s laps as his pillow😏😏😏

So I know I have a thousand prompts to fill, and I apologize to all of you who’ve sent me a request forever ago.  I fully intend on working on them once I’m on winter break (in about three weeks).  Anyways, here’s a prompt fill for anon, I hope you don’t mind a college AU and that you feel better soon <3

*

It starts with a sneeze - it’s a scratchy, just barely congested sneeze that signals the beginning of a cold.  It’s the kind of sneeze that tears Allura’s attention from her textbook to her husband who’s been lying on the couch with a blanket, watching Netflix through half-lidded eyes for the last two hours.  

“Bless you…you okay?”

He sniffles, shivering lightly as he shrugs.  He’s not - he’s felt awful all day - but those five words feel like they’ll take too much effort to get out, so he resigns to just shrugging with the hope she’ll pick up on it and come sit with him.  

Allura stands up from the table and walks over to where he’s laying, presses a cool hand to his forehead and then purses her lips.  

She flips her hand over so that she can run the back of her fingers up and down his cheek, “you seem warm…but not worryingly so.”

His breath hitches and he turns his head to muffle not one, not two, but three sneezes into the sleeve of his sweatshirt.  

“Mmmngh…Allura,” he rasps, voice shredded and congested beyond belief.

“No wonder you’ve been so off lately.  You sound awful, want some tea?”

“No…I just want to go to bed,” he whispers, rubbing at his throat with a grimace.

“Medicine and water first,” she says, leaning down to kiss his forehead.  

Shiro rubs at his nose, and then ducks his head into the blanket with a sharp sneeze that makes his head throb.  He sniffles, and pushes himself into a sitting position with a yawn before he pads into the kitchen, over to where Allura is rummaging through their stash of medication.

“I don’t need medicine,” he croaks, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on the top of her head, “I’m fine.”

“Shiro, you sound miserable.”

He sniffles pitifully, and twists away from her to sneeze twice into his shoulder.  

“See? You need sleep, and you won’t be able to if you’re sneezing all night.”

“Sleep is for the weak.”

She rolls her eyes, “not sleeping is what got you into this mess. Go lie down, I’ll be there in a minute.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but the buzzing in his sinuses distract him, and he stumbles backwards and slams into the counter as he goes into a sneezing fit.  

After the fifth sneeze, he groans and wipes at his nose with a miserable, stuffy sniffle, and Allura quirks a brow, “you are a hazard, go lie down before you hurt yourself.”

He groans and slides to the floor, holding his head in his hands, “give mbe a mbindute…dizzy.”

She crouches in front of him, and puts a hand on his cheek.  She frowns and flips her hand to feel his forehead, “I think I know why…your fever spiked…how the hell? You didn’t seem nearly this warm a few minutes ago.”

He groans and blinks rapidly, trying to clear the dots that are clouding his vision,  “I wandt to go to bed.”

“Do you think you’re going to pass out, or are you okay to move?”

“I’mb okehh…heh…Nngtsh! In’gsTCH! *snff*”

“Bless you,” she frowns, helping him stand up.

*

Three days later, Shiro and Allura are in bed. Shiro’s been awake for hours, and he already knows that he’s not getting up today, again.  Everything is aching, and he feels too tired to move, let alone get out of bed and go to work.  He already texted his boss that he wasn’t making it in, and then he promptly tossed his phone onto the ground, because the light was agitating his headache.  

Part of him is tempted to wake Allura up, because he’s miserably stuffy and has been muffling coughs and sneezes for the better part of the last three hours.  It’s only about six, though, and she was exhausted when she fell asleep, and he doesn’t want to bother her.  

“Ihh…ihhtchiew! *snff*”

Shiro’s watery eyes snap to his wife’s sleeping form, and when she starts coughing, he puts a hand on her back.

“Allura?” He rasps, “baby, are you okay?”

She groans and flips around so she can bury her face in his chest, “m’tired.”

“Yeah, mbe too,” he croaks, but looks down and strokes her hair, “I cand feel how warmb you are through mby shirt…I think you have a fever.”

She groans, “everything kinda hurts.”

“Sambe here…you sound awful, by the way.”

She coughs again, shivering as she presses closer to Shiro.

“I feel awful.”

“I’mb sorry, Allura,” he groans, “this is all mby fault.”

“Don’t blame yourself…it was going to happen sooner or later.”

He sniffles, “‘kay…wannda mbove to the couch?”

~

“Shiro, we need to call someone,” she rasps, voice shot from all the coughing.

“I kndow,” he groans, muffling another scratchy and congested sneeze into his shoulder.  

Allura coughs miserably, slumping into Shiro even more than before.  She pulls the blankets up to her chin, and pulls her knees to her chest.  Shiro’s head drops back, and he stares up at the ceiling, sniffling incessantly.  Although it seems his fever had gone away for now, he still felt exhausted.  He wraps his arm around her shoulders as she coughs, and stretches his legs out to rest on the coffee table.  

Shiro had managed to make them tea before collapsing onto the couch in exhaustion.  He was spent, and the short walk from the bedroom to the couch had exhausted Allura beyond belief.  Allura is fading fast and needs medicine, and his head is so stuffy and he’s so fuzzy, he knows he needs medicine, too.  

“Call Lance,” she croaks, “or Hunk…I really don’t feel well, Shiro.”

“I kndow,” he sniffles, “we’ll get you feeling better, I prombise.”

She’s half asleep when he dials Lance’s number, so he balances the phone between his ear and shoulder so he can rub her back with one hand and play with her hair with the other.

“Hey, Shiro, what’s up?”

He sniffles, “would you mbind doing us a f-feh…heh…Hih’ihGNXT!”

The phone falls to his lap, and Allura jerks awake as he mutters a string of curses.  

“Wha-?”

“Sorry, hondey,” he mutters stuffily, sniffling miserably.  He raises the phone back to his ear with a grimace, “Landce?”

“Are you dying? You sound like hell.”

“We’re both sick, guh *snff* would you mbind doing us a favor?”

“Yeah, sure.  What do you need?”

“Umb…just…we’re too tired to get up, but Allura ndeeds mbedicinde, and we ndeed tissues and stuff, could you combe and help us?”

“Shit, you guys are too sick to get up?”

“Yeah…we tried, but-”

“-I’ll be there in a few. Try not to die until then.”

“Thanks, Landce.”

“Of course. See you soon.”

Shiro hangs up the phone, drowsiness hitting him like a brick wall as he feels himself beginning to drift off.

The last thing he remembers is Allura coughing and the door opening, and then, nothing.

Just gonna drop two of my favorite requests to give and ask if you'd be willing to draw Queen Bianca and/or Eetl. Thanks a ton if you do it!

Wonder what they're chatting about...

🐝🪲

I love the way you write soft whump!! Would you consider writing a sickfic in which A is very sick (fever, weakness, the works) but keeps trying to get up and do things so B and C have to band together to keep them in bed and take care of them?

thank you so much!! and thanks for being patient - this was a perfect prompt for @sicktember!

sicktember day 30: get back in bed!

“Finally got them back in bed,” C says, walking back into the living room where B is watching TV. 

“What was it this time?” B asks, eyes not leaving the screen.

C huffs a laugh. “They were trying to reorganize the bookshelves.” 

B rolls their eyes. “Why? You wouldn’t catch them dead doing that if they were healthy.” 

C shrugs. “I guess fevers make them restless? In any case, they should be–”

A crash interrupts their train of thought, and both B and C look up the stairs, groaning in unison as they head back to A’s bedroom. 

But A’s not in the rumpled covers, nor are they in B or C’s beds (of which they tried to change the sheets twice already today). No, this time they’ve crawled to the bathroom, where they’re carefully lining up all the bath products from the cupboard along the floor next to the shower. A blanket’s tangled around their shoulders, and their hair is sleep-mussed and wild.

“A, honey,” B kneels down next to them, laying a hand on their shoulder. “You shouldn’t be up.” 

“I have to return these, B. There’s too many.” Their voice is scratchy, frantic, and their glassy eyes are wide. “But I can’t find the shampoo.” They’re clutching a bottle of body wash to their chest, lower lip trembling like they’re ready to burst into tears. 

B presses their other hand against A’s forehead, then looks up at C with worried eyes. “Their fever’s worse.” 

C nods, kneeling down on the floor next to the other two. “A? We can take care of this later. Right now, you need to get back in bed.” They gently pry the bottle out of A’s trembling hand and hoist them up, B with their arm around their other side. A is dead weight between them, and C catches B’s eyes as they stumble down the hallway.

“Desperate measures?” C asks.

“Desperate measures,” B replies.

When they get to the bedroom, C pours another dose of flu medicine into the small plastic cup, and B helps prop A up on the bed so they can choke the cherry-flavored liquid down. Afterwards, they ease A back under the covers, then C and B take their places on both sides of them.

“What….what’re you doing?” A’s still out of it, but they’re lucid enough to know that C and B are two unusual additions to their bed.

“Making sure you stay,” B says, gently tapping A’s nose. “Close your eyes and let the medicine do the work. We’ll be right next to you.”

A looks like they want to argue, but their eyes are already slipping shut, and the protests die on their lips. In minutes, they’re unconscious, as evidenced by their short, shallow breaths. B leans up on one elbow, casting a nervous glance at C.

“They’re really sick, aren’t they?” B’s voice is hardly more than a whisper.

C nods. “Yeah, they are.” They gaze down at A’s sleeping form, raising a hand to brush a lock of their hair behind their ear. “But they’ll be okay. We’ll make sure of it.”

Still, neither of them leave A’s side for the rest of the night.

Bugtober

Day 3: Cozy