#Flu Throat Lozenges

[ballowvalence]

getting sick is the fucking worst, holy shit.

i woke up this morning feeling as bad as i did yesterday, and then i started feeling tolerable, but i sat at my PC for like an hour and now i feel like i'm dying again.

time to lie down for the seven millionth time the past three days. i love being horizontal but the love of god i just wanna do some writing. i just wanna WRITE SOME JANACK. fuck.

[monzamash]

Hiya Cate! For the Lando drabbles, could I request

“Don’t feel like it today.”

Love you! 💜

lando norris x reader short blurb, needy lando fluff a/n - love you too, mar 💖 sorry this took so long!

"don't feel like it today."

lando flopped onto his drivers room bed, hands rubbing at his swollen face. everything ached, he said – his nose, head, throat, chest – everything and all you could do was soothe him through whatever sickness he'd caught over the last week.

"the tablets should kick in soon, baby. just lay down for a bit."

"but i'm laying and it still hurts," he grumbled, eyes shut as he sniffled for the millionth time, "feels like i'm swallowing razorblades."

you hated seeing lando like this but it was hard not to bite back a chuckle every time he whined – he was the worst patient, mumbling and complaining in great detail about every ache and symptom he felt at any given moment. he was fine during the first race, pushing through with a lingering cough he couldn't shake but it had gotten so much worse by the second race of the double-header. so bad that he had refused to get in his car before free practice, insisting that pato o'ward would love the opportunity to drive his car for the weekend.

jon had given up trying to talk sense into the man dosed up on cold and flu tablets so he called in reinforcements. maybe lando needed some tough love, he thought after spending an hour begging him to get into his race suit but really, all he needed was you.

"i'm sure if you stop talking and suck on that lozenge, you might find that it helps you." your voice was soft but stern, prompting lando to pull himself up from the bed and shoot you that puppy dog stare he'd been giving you all week.

"you hate me, don't you? sick of me being sick and complaining and annoying everyone..." he whispered, head lowered as he begrudgingly popped in the blackcurrant lozenge you'd been trying to give him for hours.

you sighed and looked down at his legs swinging off the edge of the bed like a child at the doctor, "i don't hate you, sweetheart and i get it – this sucks and i wish you could call in sick and lay around in bed with me all day."

that piqued his interest, head immediately flying up with a pursed frown on his face, "i want that so bad."

"me too," you smiled, brushing your hand down his back, "but you just have to get through this afternoon and we can do that – i know you can do it."

lando nodded and pressed a quick peck to your forehead, "thank you for putting up with me and looking after me i love you so much," he mumbled, teeth clanking against the hard lozenge as he rested his head on your shoulder.

"love you more," you whispered before he shuffled down and placed his heavy head in your lap, closing his eyes for one last nap.

jon stood quietly in the door way, shaking his head as he watched his superstar f1 driver client nuzzled into his girlfriends lap. his soft snores filled the quiet room and all you could do was shrug while you brushed your fingers gently through his dampened curls.

lando was a man-child but he was your man-child.

[ssahotchnerr]

okay but hear me out: hotch and bau!reader are married and she absolutely is the mom friend so the team calls them mom and dad

simultaneously

i LOVEEEE that cw; fem!reader, brief talk of illness, sweet domestic fluff (i'm crying)

interrupting the current, comfortable silence of the car - mind the radio playing lightly - spencer erupted into a sneezing fit, one that lasted at least a good ten seconds.

once his sneezing had ceased, you turned in your seat, allowing you to peer into the back at him. aaron's eyes quickly darted towards you, double checking your seatbelt was still properly laid across your chest despite your movement - just by force of habit.

"do you need tissues..?"

spencer weakly nodded his head in response, you plucked a few from the package you had conveniently stuffed into your pocket.

"how about a throat lozenge?" spencer croaked quietly and hopefully after he blew. the congestion was clear in his voice, as well as on the hoarse side.

"here." aaron didn't skip a beat, answering immediately. he dug into his pocket to retrieve a few, reaching his arm back behind his seat to hand the cough drops off to reid, all while keeping his eyes set on the road ahead.

emily snorted out a laugh, surprised, but not surprised at the same time. "you just happened to have some on you?"

"cold and flu season," aaron shrugged, flicking on his blinker and taking a right turn.

"and," you finished for him, looking out the window as he turned through the intersection, "with jack, the amount of germs he brings home from school. then you add his age to the mix - being more susceptible and all - you can never be too careful." you too shrugged, mirroring aaron's to a tee. "same goes for a team of profilers."

"speaking of," aaron searched through his other pocket, retrieving a pocket-sized container of purell and handing that back as well. "best we try not spread it if we can. the last thing we need is everyone calling out simultaneously."

"or," you reached into yours, grabbing a small hand gel also. "this one's scented. warm vanilla sugar, if you'd prefer this over the generic. and you know what," you adjusted in your seat again, facing aaron a little more head on, "we should probably stop and pick up vitamin c tablets for everyone before we get back to the pd. just to be on the safe side."

"ugh you two are so married and so mom and dad," emily feigned disgust as aaron nodded his head in agreement to your suggestion, but was still immensely entertained nonetheless, "it's sickening, pun intended. are you going to do the forehead check next?"

[604to647]

Sniffles

1.5K / Detective Tim Rockford x fem!reader

A/N: Inspired by @bebsjo’s ask about Tim wanting to take care of Shutterbug when she’s sick. I answered it but couldn’t get the thought out of my brain; thank you for the ask, love - please consider this a more complete answer! 💕

This is our The Rockford Portfolio couple but as always with their stories, can be read as standalone (though there is a relationship milestone in this one 😊).

Summary: You’re sick and you don’t want to give Tim your germs.

Warnings: None! Fluff. Snot. Soft!Tim, established relationship, nicknames as usual (Shutterbug, baby, gorgeous).

Dividers by @saradika-graphics 💕 / Series Masterlist

Tim is just putting the finishing touches on the arrest report for a pair of mid-level Pie henchmen when his cellphone starts to buzz with an incoming call.  He picks up upon seeing from the caller ID that it’s you, “Hey Shutterbug.”

“Hey baby,” you croak.

“What’s wrong?  Where are you? Baby, are you okay?” Tim stands up, ready to sprint out of his office to get to you.

Laughing at your sweet boyfriend’s reaction to a simple cold, you try to talk him down from the ledge in a soothing, albeit scratchy, tone of voice, “Don’t worry, Detective - it’s just a cold!  But I left work early so I wouldn’t spread my germs around.  I took some medication and I’m just getting into a bed with a hot cup of tea right now.”

“Can you FaceTime?  Need to see you, gorgeous.”  Not that he doesn’t believe you, Tim would just feel a lot better getting visual confirmation that you’re all tucked into bed, getting the rest that you need.

Your tired but still cheery face lights up Tim’s phone screen, and he exhales a little sigh of relief to see you already in your pajamas even though it’s still early afternoon, “Do you have everything you need?  Soup?  Drugs?  Tissues?  Throat lozenges?”

“I do, Tim – thank you, but baby,” the you on his screen chews your bottom lip and looks at him apologetically, “I don’t think you should come over tonight.”

Tim tilts his head, confused, “What do you mean?  Who’s going to take care of you?”

You start to laugh but it immediately devolves into a coughing fit, “I’ll be fine, Detective!  It’s just a cold – I’ll take drugs, I’ll sleep, I’ll get better.  I don’t know how contagious I am, but I don’t want to get you sick, Tim.  I know you.  You’ll insist on going to work even when under the weather and you’ll be miserable.  While I’m sick you should stay at your place, just to be safe.”

“But-”

“No buts, Detective.  It’s not my first cold!  I’ll be fine, I promise.”

Tim is about to respond when his Captain peeks her head into his office and gestures with her hand for Tim to follow. 

“I gotta go, Shutterbug, but text me if you need anything and I’ll bring it over, okay?  Feel better soon, baby.  I love you.”

“I love you too, Detective Rockford.  Be safe!”

Four days.

You’ve been sick for four days.  Tim takes some solace in knowing that you’ve taken the time off work to properly recover, but still… it’s been four days.

After the first night back at his house, Tim takes to sleeping on the couch in his office.  Even though the mattress in his master bedroom is indisputably less lumpy, the couch is less depressing.  At least his office is something: it’s work.  His house constantly reminds Tim of what it is not: it’s not his home. It’s not with you. 

Every time you and him talk on FaceTime, you’re decidedly still sick (are you actually getting worse?!) and the tiny bit of hope Tim harbours that he’ll be able to come home to you soon evaporates.  He decides not to tell you where he’s been sleeping - you’ll just worry for his back, and then he would have to explain how miserable he is without you and make you feel bad.

Instead, Tim listens as you tell him you took yourself to the doctor to learn that you have the flu, not the cold, and listens at your wheezing laugh at how ironic it is that you had your flu shot scheduled for next week.  Tim nods approvingly when you confirm that you’re having groceries and meals delivered and bites his tongue from saying that he could - wants to - do all that for you.  He watches as you trudge to the kitchen in your bathrobe with your runny nose and messy hair to make food, and he tells you you’re the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen - because you are.  You tell him he’s silly but still give him the biggest smile you can manage in your exhausted and achy state.

You fall asleep every night while still on the phone with Tim as he tells you all about his work day and his current case, lulled to sleep by his soothing baritone voice.  Even after you’ve nodded off, Tim doesn’t hang up right away – partially to make sure your breathing doesn't get too laboured through your stuffed up nose, but mainly so he can look upon your peaceful visage for a little while longer.  He misses you so much.

By night five of sleeping without you pressed up against his chest, Tim has had enough.  After work he makes stops at the grocery store and pharmacy before heading to your place.  Laden down with bags full of soup and frozen lasagna, cold medication, ice packs, a new hot water bottle, cough drops, plus one plushie (something called a "Squishmallow"? Its "bio" on the tag says she’s a nurse) among other supplies, Tim turns his key in the lock of your apartment for the first time in nearly a week.  Immediately, he’s hit with the familiar scent of your perfume and the peppermint of the tea you’re currently making; he knows you're in the kitchen just from the soft shuffling and sniffles he hears - all of it a comfort to his senses.

Now all he has to do is see you and hold you and he can finally feel complete.

At first you think you’re hallucinating when your big, burly detective appears in the doorway of the kitchen.  You must be sicker than you thought - or maybe you accidentally took an extra dose of flu medication?  But the strong, thick arms that wrap around you feel real.  And the rough hands that cradle and massage your head feel soothing.  You melt right into that hard but cushiony chest despite not being 100% sure it isn’t a figment of your fever addled imagination.

“Whhhharrhwudoongnhrrrrtm?” you mumble.

Petting your hair indulgently, Tim chuckles, “Want to say that again, Shutterbug?”

You tilt your head back to look sleepily at your handsome boyfriend, “What are you doing here, Tim?”

“I’m here to take care of you, baby,” Tim says matter-of-factly, “You’re not getting well fast enough for my liking – I’m missing you too much.”

You melt a little at Tim’s puppy dog look, but sigh, “Baby, I miss you so much, too.  But if you’re here, you could get sick.”

Tim presses a soft kiss to your hot forehead, “Shutterbug, when we live together, we won’t be able to escape the other person when one of us is sick.”

Your gasp transitions into a cough and you have to wait until your throat clears before you ask, astounded, “You want to live with me?  Even with all this snot?”

Tim nods as if to say, even with all this snot, adding, “Only if you want, Shutterbug.”

You wonder how long he’s been thinking about this, “When were you thinking would be the right time for you to move in?”

Very aware that you haven’t actually agreed to live with him, Tim answers with truthful, but carefully chosen words, “I’m ready whenever, if ever, you’re ready, baby.”

You look up at Tim wide-eyed, trying to make sure that he means it - that he’s serious about taking this next step in your relationship; when you see nothing but eagerness in the softness of his eyes and the steadiness in his bright, reassuring smile, you throw your arms around Tim’s neck, germs be damned, “I’m ready, Detective!! As soon as I’m better, please move all your stuff in!”

Tim hugs you back tighter than he probably should - absolutely over the moon that he’s never going to have to leave your side again, that he and the woman he loves are going to make a home together.  So lost in his own reverie, he’s jolted back when you let out a whimper of pain, “Oh fuck, Shutterbug, did I hurt you?”

Shaking your head, you’re still beaming at your considerate boyfriend, “No, I’m just achy all over, all the time.  You could never hurt me, Tim.”  You genuinely believe this with all your heart.

“How about I run you a bath with these bath salts I bought and you have a nice warm soak while the lasagna heats up?” offers Tim.

“Will you sit with me while I’m in the bath, Detective?”

“Of course, gorgeous.”

“And we can make plans for the big move in?” You grin, eyes twinkling - you haven’t felt this energized in days.

“Nothing I would like more, baby,” Tim smiles as he hands you the plushie cat he bought you, grinning even wider when you squeal with excitement and crush the stuffed animal to your chest in elation.

You titter with happiness, grabbing Tim’s hand to lead him towards the bedroom. But when he doesn’t come readily, you turn back and to your confusion, you see Tim wincing, the hand not in yours reaching behind to press against his lower back as he arches in a painful stretch.

Eyes narrowing, you place the hand that’s still clutching Cassie the Nurse on your hip and tilt your head suspiciously, “Timothy. Where have you been sleeping?”

Btw this is Cassie the Nurse:

[nurse-floyd]

Lestappen, Lozengers and Lizard Soup?

Word Count: 890

Pairing: Lestappen

Warnings: None

For my dear @biancathecool, thank you so much for the donation sweetheart.

If you’d like a fic or a moodboard, please consider donating to the link in my description, all proceeds are going to surgery for the stray cat I recently took in.

It was just typical that Charles would come down with the flu on the summer break. The constant travelling, long days training and late nights had all caught up with him and weakened his immune system and had made him susceptible to all sorts of bugs.

He’d been absolutely miserable.

It was a miracle Max hadn’t caught whatever had taken the Monegasque down, having spent the past few days leading up to his illness practically on top of the man, sharing the same bed and being his nurse while he’d been laid up in bed.

Max opened the door to their bedroom, seeing the Charles shaped lump bundled under the covers. He made his way further into the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed as Charles poked his red and stuffy nose out from the covers. His bedside table was covered in empty wrappers of throat lozenges, cold and flu medicine and used tissues. Being truthful, Max thought the love of his life looked disgusting, not that he’d ever admit that.

Leo was curled up at the bottom of their bed, wagging his tail excitedly at Max’s arrival. He gave the dog a few scratches before he knelt by the head of the bed where the other driver was hiding beneath the covers from the light.

“Okay,” Max began, “I think I’ve raided every pharmacy in Monaco for you and I stopped off and got you some of that soup you like, my cooking will only make you sicker.”

Charles just blinked up at Max as he began unloading the shopping bags. “I grabbed you some more flu medicine but I also couldn’t sleep last night and found a whole article about natural remedies for colds and the flu and thought they could work since you’ve been sick for a few days now.”

Charles didn’t reply, instead releasing a few harsh chesty coughs before groaning.

“Oh, Liefje…” Max cooed as he smoothed back the soft curls from Charles sweaty forehead. “You’re still burning up.”

Max was willing to try anything if it meant Charles wouldn’t be sick for much longer, and at this point Charles was beginning to think the same.

“Okay, so this article said rubbing vapour rub on the soles of your feet before your socks is meant to help with congestion,” he explained as he pulled out a small glass jar. “I also read that stuffing an onion in your socks can help, but that’s just weird and would make the bedroom smell.

“Max…” Charles croaked, but Max was on a roll.

“Eating raw garlic is supposed to also help because it's antibacterial, but I couldn’t kiss you after you’ve been eating that…”

If Charles didn’t already have a headache, he’d find Max’s rambling utterly adorable.

“Max…sweetie. I don’t want any weird remedies. I want sleep,” Charles whispered, “do you know how to look after a sick person?” He snapped the last part a little harsher than he meant to.

“Well…I guess you won’t want any hot chocolate then,” Max replied almost smugly.

Charles squinted back, wondering if there was some sort of catch. “Well…I wouldn’t say no…”

Max held up his index finger, “you said, and I quote, ‘I don’t want to try any weird remedies and just want to sleep’ so I might just have to enjoy a mug all by myself while you sleep,” he teased.

Max wouldn’t hide his smug grin as he saw the pout grow on Charles' face. He reached out a hand and messed his hair a little, “okay. Okay. I’ll get you a mug, but you are taking more of your medicine.”

“You know…you say my remedies are weird, but a study found that cocoa can help suppress coughs more than some medication,” he rattled off as he carried two steaming mugs of hot chocolate into the bedroom. “And the warmth will probably be good for your throat too.”

Max helped Charles to sit up, the covers falling from his bare chest, also glistening with sweat in the glow of the bedside lamps. If it were any other time, the hot chocolate would definitely be abandoned for other activities, but Charles was definitely not in any state.

The pair sat in silence for a moment, each taking sips from their mugs and groaning at the sweet taste. Charles was silent for a moment before he cleared his throat, “so…you can find research on all of that but you didn’t read anywhere that rest, medicine and fluids are best for a cold?”

“I mean…whenever I got sick as a kid I was told to just get over it,” Max shrugged.

Charles hated moments like that, the little jokes from Max about his upbringing, where the smile didn’t quite meet his eyes. He vowed to himself the moment they got together, that Max would never be made to feel like that again.

Once they’d finished their mugs, Max placed a kiss on Charles cheek. “No no no,” Charles began to say as Max leant in, “I don’t want you to get sick, Amour!”

“At least I know you’ll take care of me,” Max replied and kissed him again. “If we were in China, you could be eating lizard soup…I think it isn’t any different to chicken noodle. The hot liquid would help with your throat and help replace fluids.”

“I think I’ll stick with the hot chocolate, Amour.”

[katelynnwrites]

And I Say To You (Soon You'll Get Better) | Laura Freigang

warnings: flu and other general sickness stuff

word count: 1160

summary: you get sick and your lovely girlfriend looks after you. when she gets sick, you repay the favour

a/n: requested, thanks for sending this in 🥰

It started as a tickle in your throat.

You drank as much water as you could to try and get rid of it but it doesn’t work.

Barely a day after your realisation, you’re waking up with a full body ache.

Sneezes and a coughing fit follow suit and you’re breathless by the time you manage to get it under control.

Gentle, cool fingers slide themselves under your shirt, rubbing soothing circles onto your back. It doesn’t take much for you to figure out who they belong to, even when your head is pounding.

‘Sorry for waking you.’ You hoarsely say, wincing at how dry your throat is.

‘It’s okay.’ Your girlfriend whispers.

Her hands touch your forehead and Laura frowns worriedly.

‘You’re burning up baby.’

‘S’okay.’ You mumble tiredly, wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep.

Everything is a little hazy but you can feel the bed dip as the blonde leaves.

She’s back a moment later, fever reducers, lozenges and a mug of warm water in hand.

You groan as she gets you to sit up. The world swims a little and you don’t like it.

A distressed whine must have left your lips because the striker seems doubly worried now as she looks you over.

Her palm rests against your forehead again and her brows are furrowed anxiously as she pulls away.

The mug is pressed into your hands and your girlfriend helps guide it to your lips.

You sip slowly and Laura hums in approval.

She swaps the mug out for the medication after a few minutes.

‘You’ll feel better after these, I promise.’ She coaxes.

‘Thanks schatz.’ You murmur and she kisses your too hot cheek.

‘I’ll let the staff know we’re not coming for training today.’

‘No no. You should go. I’ll be okay.’ You immediately say.

The striker shakes her head, already putting the mug and remaining medication away.

‘I’m staying here to look after you.’

‘Lau…’ You try but she is adamant.

‘You know you would do the same for me.’ She states, leaving no room for argument as she strips her shirt off.

She slowly eases yours up and over your head before getting you to lie back down with her.

Your girlfriend spoons you close, smiling when she hears the sigh of relief you let out. Her body is so much cooler and is a welcome touch against your feverish one.

Carefully, she pulls the blanket back over both your bodies and you melt into the German forward.

Laura’s efforts have made you feel a lot more comfortable that it’s not long before you are falling back asleep.

******

It’s your girlfriend’s hushed voice that registers on your bleary mind when you begin to come to.

‘No her fever hasn’t broken yet so you may as well go ahead and tell the coaching team that we’re both not going to be able to come in tomorrow.’

You crack open an eye, making out the blonde’s figure in the dimly lit room.

She is sitting at the foot of the bed, her phone held to her ear.

In doing so, you note with some displeasure that your head still hurts.

Shifting your body, you find out that the rest of your body still does too.

Laura must have heard the sheets rustling because she turns around immediately and hangs up the call with a rushed, ‘I’ll call you back later Lara.’

‘Hi.’ You mumble as she fusses over you.

‘Your temperature is still running too high.’ She unhappily says after checking once more, this time with an actual thermometer.

Curiously, you ask, ‘Where did you get that?’

Your fever is not so high as to forget that you do not own a thermometer.

‘I had a few of our teammates drop off some stuff earlier.’ The blonde explains, blushing a little.

‘I love you.’

Your favourite person smiles, gently pressing her lips against yours.

You melt until you remember that you remember that you are sick.

Weakly, you push her away, ‘Lau! No kissing! No kissing! I don’t want you to catch my bug.’

Your girlfriend laughs, ‘My girl I hate to remind you but I’ve been cuddled up with you all day. Kissing you doesn’t make a difference because I have already been exposed to your germs.’

Your eyes widen and the striker giggles again.

‘Don’t worry, I love you and that includes your germs. Plus I have a great immune system.’ She confidently states.

The striker firmly kisses you once more to prove her point.

You kind of want to keep her away, to make sure she doesn’t get sick despite what she had said but you are really feeling too ill.

You’re exhausted too and as Laura keeps running her fingers through your hair, with you settled on your chest, your eyes begin to slip close.

‘Sleep my love.’ She whispers.

******

When you next wake up, it’s because Laura’s hand is on your forehead.

‘Hey you.’ She smiles.

You smile back, feeling significantly better. Your head is clear and your limbs hurt less.

‘Your fever’s broken.’ The blonde murmurs, affectionately stroking the space between your eyebrows with her thumb.

‘What time is it?’ You ask.

‘Late. Four in the morning last I checked.’ She answers, after thinking for a moment.

‘Schatz! What are you doing up?’

The forward shrugs, ‘Looking after you of course. I couldn’t sleep till I knew for sure that your fever’s gone down.’

You pull your girlfriend down beside you.

‘I love you so much. So so much.’ You whisper.

‘Love you too.’ Laura easily promises.

‘My fever is gone so please get some sleep.’ You insist, somewhat guiltily realising that she has the beginnings of dark circles forming around her eyes.

‘Take your medicine first. You’re due for another dose.’ The German woman argues, pointing to the pills and bottle of water set neatly on your bedside table.

You do as she asks and then tuck her into your side, kissing her chastely.

‘Goodnight schatz.’

******

Laura’s right.

Her immune system is strong and she does not catch whatever illness you have.

She does however wind up with a cold after her impromptu snowball fight with Lina.

Then it’s your turn to look after her, holding her close as she sleeps restlessly, her fever running its course.

‘Love you.’ You whisper to your silly, silly girlfriend.

She had really gone at it with the Bayern midfielder, the both of them stuffing handfuls of snow down the back of each other’s shirts.

It had been hilarious and you are sure the photos would turn out so too. You love that side of Laura, the one that draws in everyone, fans and teammates alike with her antics.

But this other side of the blonde, the one that only you see, who makes grabby hands for your cuddles with fever flushed cheeks and whines when she has to take her medicine, well you love it too.

German Translation:

schatz - sweetheart

[lowkeyrobin]

hiii so im very sick right now (allergies💔), so could you maybe do like mcyt comforting/taking care of a sick reader? thank youu -🦢

omg sameeeee eugh ; but yeah, thanks for requesting! ; hope you feel better 🦢 🫶❤️ ; cast is short bc I didn't have anymore ideas lmfaooo

MCYT ; sickly

includes ; tommyinnit, ranboo, badlinu, & maxggs

warnings ; language, mentions of throwing up, allergies/flu/fever symptoms

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

giving you lots and lots of soup / tea & honey

he does not give two shits if he gets sick, he will be giving you love and affection

he's making sure there's a trash bin / large bowl at your disposal for any... bodily fluids /ns

he has to go get you more tissues and literally spends 15 minutes in the store debating which ones you'd want

he can't even ask cause you're asleep for once and doesn't wanna disturb you

"i got four flavors of throat lozenges because i dunno what you like"

runs you a warm bath every day you're sick

you're basically quarentining together let's be honest

2020core!-

RANBOO

again, a sweetheart

they're not getting within a 6 foot radius of you cause they don't wanna catch anything from you

"its allergies, I'm not contagious"

"you don't know that"

buys the entire pharmacy for you

straight up calls his mom because he doesn't know what to get you

in their defense, what's the difference??

makes you watch asmr videos when you're dealing with headaches cause your sinuses are fucked

they're actually really entertaining

there's a whole rainbow of medicines so they organize it in rainbow order while you're asleep

FREDDIE BADLINU

there's now a whole row of soup in your pantry

literally the only liquids you're drinking for a week are water and tea ���

there is no shame in this game, he couldn't care less if you throw up cause like, you're sick, why would he judge?

always making jokes/saying dumb shit to make you laugh

but then you start coughing and choking on mucus and then he feels awful

tweets that your "cough sounds like a dying squirrel" 💀

not afraid to cuddle with you or anything once he realizes you aren't contagious/ remembers he has a good immune system

(he ends up sick as well)

might as well be March 2020 again cause the amount of wet wipes he has laying around is wild like calm down

MAXGGS

feels so bad that you're sick

he was blowing pollen in your face so he feels like he's to blame (it's just the seasons changing)

he'll make fun of you plenty tho

so many sick selfies 💀

"which flavor do you prefer? cherry or grape?"

"neither tbh"

"cherry it is then"

"just take a throat lozenge"

"I'd rather die"

if your hair is long enough, he's holding it back when you're throwing up

lots of just trying to physically make you feel better

and lots of joking and watching funny shit on YouTube

[theseshipsshallsail]

Summary:

Thanks to an especially virulent strain of the winter flu, his headstrong boyfriend’s voice crackles and rasps; punctuated by the occasional rattling cough that shakes him to the bones. His skin is pasty. His lips are chapped. Every flash of animation, it seems, comes at a cost of energy he just doesn’t have, and eyeing the general detritus of Kleenex boxes and lozenge wrappers that litter the wooden coffee table, Oliver’s hard-pressed to remember if he’s actually seen him eat.

Elio’s been slouched on their tan three-seater since the first light of dawn: swaddled in an oversized sweatshirt and some plaid pyjama pants as he rifles through various files of staff paper and his ubiquitous notebook. I’d much rather fail at originality than succeed in imitation, he’d declared last Wednesday, lamenting each scathing critique from his pompous review panel, yet much as Oliver appreciates his righteous indignation, his protective instincts can’t help but bristle at the fact he sounds utterly miserable, to boot.

Thanks to an especially virulent strain of the winter flu, his headstrong boyfriend’s voice crackles and rasps; punctuated by the occasional rattling cough that shakes him to the bones. His skin is pasty. His lips are chapped. Every flash of animation, it seems, comes at a cost of energy he just doesn’t have, and eyeing the general detritus of Kleenex boxes and lozenge wrappers that litter the wooden coffee table, Oliver’s hard-pressed to remember if he’s actually seen him eat. 

There’s been plenty of herbal tea to soothe his scratchy throat. Nasal spray. VapoRub. A regular dose of Tylenol from the Walgreens two blocks over. But nothing that falls under the category of food. An untouched plate of toast on the nearby bookcase bears out his suspicions, so Oliver raids the kitchen cupboards for a can of chicken soup, then heats the contents on their gas-powered stove; wincing in sympathy when Elio convulses with a gut-punch sneeze, swearing and hacking in alternate breaths.

Several minutes of snotty sniffing later, Oliver turns off the burner then pours the simple meal into an old Columbia Lions mug: the one Elio’d claimed for his own upon his initial move to the States. The other man’s squinting at a dog-eared composition sheet when he eventually returns to the couch, and Oliver figures his blocked sinus is the culprit as he pinches the bridge of his cherry-red nose; probably trying to banish the cobwebs.

“Scoot up, Patient Zero,” he says, sitting down carefully beside him, and when Elio blinks sluggishly his mercurial eyes are nothing but dull slits of colour beneath his heavy lashes; the light of their freestanding lamp shade apparently too much to bear. “Tell me again how you never get sick?” 

Elio summons a gimlet glare. “I'm not sick; I’m dying,” he groans - the edge of a wheeze rattling the vowels - but he accepts the mug all the same, and Oliver hums indulgently as he sweeps an unholy assortment of balled-up tissues into a neat little pile. 

“Your stubbornness is commendable,” he says, pleased to see Elio make short shrift of the steaming liquid, if not the noodles themselves. “But do yourself a favour and get some rest, yeah?"

“Un mal nécessaire.” A yawn: barely stifled. “I have to finish these -” 

“Not today you don't.” Oliver rescues the mug from his slightly-drooping hand. “Even us creatures of habit deserve a night off.” 

Elio smirks; slow and playful. “Is that so?” he says, nodding at the Sophomore Ontology coursework partially obscuring the living room rug.

Which, yes. Fair enough. But -

“I’m still new to the syllabus,” Oliver replies, nudging him gently with his knee. “Professor Johnson’s lesson plans were shoddy at best. You, however, have a fever of thirty-eight.” As the flush on his sunken cheeks can attest. “So don’t pretend you’re not ready to pass out from exhaustion.”

A grunt is the only acknowledgement he receives, and Oliver’s all set to try a different tack when Elio slumps sideways like a stringless marionette. It’s completely proprietary - the way he claims his unsuspecting lap as an ad hoc pillow - but Oliver’s quick to adopt his role as a piece of human furniture, uncaring of the knobbly shoulder blade digging exorbitantly into his thigh.

Little victories, he decides, and reining in a grin, smooths the messy curls from his maestro’s clammy forehead. 

“Do you need anything else?” he asks instead, the slim column of Elio’s neck spasming amidst his muttered grumblings. “A blanket? Some water? There’s a fresh bottle of vitamins in the bathroom cabinet…”

“Just your support in these harrowing times,” Elio murmurs, the arm around his middle snugging tighter, so Oliver follows his own advice as he drags a knitted Afghan over the curve of Elio's body - fishes a dog-eared copy of The King Must Die from between the sunken cushions - then crosses his legs at the ankles as he settles in for the duration. 

[decojellyfish]

Baby Got The Flu :(

This a just a little drabble, but I am currently working on other fics as well!

I hope you enjoy this, if you have any constructive criticism, feel free to comment! And if you have any requests, feel free to submit them!

------

Gaz x Sick! Reader Warnings: Brief mention of vomiting near the beginning (but that's it) SFW ~ Fluff! Pure comfort fluff!

───♡───────────── Beginning When you come down with a pretty bad cold, you are suffering. And Gaz hates seeing you like this. His lover was in pain, whimpering, too hot and then too cold, joints aching. It tears him apart seeing you like this.

He makes sure that you have all the stuff you need, want, and desire. Water, a hot beverage (tea, cocoa, hot lemon water, you name it, he’s already making it), a stuffed animal if you sleep with one, and all the pillows and blankets you could ask for. If you have long hair, he will tie it back to make sure it doesn’t cause you to overheat. If you end up throwing up for whatever reason, he will be right by your side. A bucket in hand if you couldn’t make it out of bed, a towel ready to clean up your mouth and chin once you’re finished, and a loving hand rubbing your back as he gently soothes you with his soft words.

“It’s okay, baby, it’s okay. You’re okay. Just a little flu, that’s all. I know it’s not fun, but it’s only temporary, love. You’ll get through it, I know you can…”

Will have throat lozenges right on the nightstand (in your favorite flavor, of course), next to a bottle of Tylenol and cough syrup. When you need a little spoonful of the syrup, he will have water right by him once you’ve finished swallowing the medicine. He knows how much you hate the stuff. Once you get the medicine down, he’s already got the cup of water ready at your lips so you can get the bitter, soapy flavor out of your mouth.

He’s also 100% willing to feed you while you’re sick. He’ll put on a show or a movie you like and he’ll just spoon-feed you whatever desired soup you asked him to pick up. You’d be tucked in, nice and safe, sitting up on a pile of pillows he had set up beforehand. He would also have a separate towel ready in case he accidentally spills a bit on your chin. When he sees that you’ve fallen asleep after finishing up the soup, he’ll close the curtains to the windows in your bedroom, turn down the volume on the T.V., and make sure that you’re as comfortable as possible before going into the kitchen and making dinner for you both.

This man would do anything in his power to heal you as fast as possible. If just looking at you causes him this much pain, he can only imagine how much it hurts you to have to deal with this sickness. ;0; ───♡───────────── End

[fanaticsnail]

Update on what's going on in the Snail Household

If you're just new to my account, you'd likely not know that chef-husband (how I refer to my husband here) had broken his shoulder in late January, had complications in recovery, had been off work for nearly 5 months to nurse the injury back to health.

I'll put the update under a break here to not take up too much space on your device. If you take the time out of your day to read here, I love you 🖤

He has returned to work now, which is amazing. His apprentices and coworkers had missed him so much, and he is so glad to be back. He is attending some physio appointments and rehabilitative therapies to regain strength - and he is doing very well. I'm so proud of him.

The two breaks were within his armpit, the bone where the socket meets the join. There are also several debris still in there and his ligaments are still very tender from splitting them and the cartilage apart on impact. The injury happened at work, so every medical expense has been covered by his workplace.

While he has enjoyed being back at work, he has been missing home time with Young-Sir & Dottir-Bean (my 4yo & 3yo) and they have been missing their dad when he goes - especially my son when he does the night shift.

I am very proud of him for returning to work, but I do miss him at home too. Very selfish of me to love my husband so much to want him home. 11 years of relationship, almost 9 years of marriage, and he's still my best friend and love of my life. Something about tall men with broad shoulders, who are kind and compassionate, who smoke to cope with stresses at work...

Now that I've said all that, here's a little going on with me, currently.

I am recovering from the flu right now, still all gross and foggy and blocked nosey. The kids have had it and it's always my turn to get it last. It's gross, and I am surviving on black coffee, honey and lemon tea, paracetamol, and numbing throat lozenges.

Now for the uncomfy stuff.

I've had to say goodbye to a friendship of 15 years with someone who, once upon a time, was very important to me. He wrote me a handwritten letter that hurt me very deeply and came across a little yandere. It made me very uncomfortable reading it. Yandere belongs in books fanfiction, not in real life.

The letter was given to me at the Star Wars themed wedding I attended on May the 4th - which I think I posted here in response to an ask from @mfreedomstuff: which I appreciate all the time, love.

I have been speaking to my extended family, and a few mutuals on here have been reassuring me that ending the friendship was the right thing to do. It was sad and I've been having a lot of anger about it that I'm working through.

This is what's been going on for the month of May, alongside finding out one of our prettier chickens was actually a rooster in disguise. He's going to make the most beautiful chicks with our hens - particularly our Araucana. Gonna get a Black Copper Marans Hen one of these days if it's the last thing I do 😤👌.

If you've made it to here, thank you so much for reading. I'll get right back into writing some content for you. Just thought I'd share a little about my personal life here to give you a glimpse into what's going on with me (and why I've been writing so much this month: to deal with all this).

Writing and this community has been such a beautiful aspect of my life, and I have enjoyed getting to know you on here. Even though I am just a snail on here, this part of my life has been so much sunshine amongst the dreary. Love you all, and I'll get right back into the writing soon.

[mchug]

Being super sick REALLY makes you appreciate when you’re not super sick. Like I’m just sitting here in complete bliss because my throat no longer feels like it’s being stabbed with serrated knives every time I swallow or cough. I don’t have a cough drop in my mouth for the first time in like 4 days. I can swallow food again! My ears aren’t clogged with congestion!

I went to urgent care 3 times (once just over the phone). The one over the phone just told me to take ibuprofen and gargle salt water. The first in person visit was good. I wasn’t *that* sick yet and they’d ruled out strep, covid, flu and pneumonia so just giving me some cough suppressant and an inhaler for an upper respiratory infection made sense.

However during the SECOND in person visit when I said I was in so much throat pain I couldn’t talk, eat or sleep? That doctor just said I needed to add some Tylenol to my ibuprofen and take some decongestants and nasal sprays (which I was already doing) and to get some medicated throat lozenges. Oh and he essentially said it was my fault for having post nasal drip when my sinuses are so bad I have literally had 2 surgeries on them to fix chronic sinusitis. (Me struggling to talk besides I’d lost my voice definitely didn’t help)

Anyway it finally took going to the ER at 4am because I threw up after taking so many meds on an empty stomach because I couldn’t swallow food for someone to be like “oh this is tonsillitis. You need steroids and I’ll give you an anti inflammatory shot. Also here’s some zofran for the nausea” and then I get my meds and an hour later I can eat again.

I want to send every one of those poor overworked people at the hospital a bouquet of flowers for helping me and knowing how to help me. That poor ER doc was the only one on duty that night and I know my case wasn’t priority number one. But it helped SO much. I’m so happy I don’t feel like that anymore.

Sorry for babbling, I just needed to get the words out

[fvfstn]

after my crazy stomach ordeal im now at like 17% energy in bed with some flu or covid shit and i'm soooo mad. i like can barely move. but my friend is going to deliver me throat lozenges and honey and some fancy cold berry matcha drink (? i've never had it but i'm so intrigued) so actually i'm the luckiest person on planat earth, in a way

[candycov3redros3s]

I almost made it the whole season without getting sick like my entire family. But now I have a sore throat. My cousin thinks it's the flu and said her fiance's flu started with a sore throat too... so I took a tamivir that his mom gave us this morning, and I'm going to take another tonight to be safe. I had some spicy chicken noodles soup, and I took a nap. I am determined to feel better by tomorrow. I've got theraflu tea, mucinex, and lozenges.. I'm gonna take a hot bubble bath tonight. My throat is already starting to feel kind of better, but my goal is 80% to 100% better by tomorrow

[mayaas]

everything as of late's been 'the met' this and 'the met' that, but honestly? i'm just ready for the summer solstice. give me the longest damn day of the year and i'll be just peachy, soaking in all the serotonin that the summer brings and fuels my little cancer heart forward. that, and it'll also signal that we are far past flu and cold season — if one more casting director asks if i'd like a lozenge to soothe my throat, i just might throw a shoe at someone. anyways. hi, i'm maya, and i'm curious: what's everyone got on the calendar for this summer? more importantly, are you looking for a plus one for said summer plans? if so, look no further. the girl for the job has arrived. / @hillsfmsstarter

[capseycartwright]

What's the one thing you always have in your purse beyond the usual (phone, wallet, keys, etc.)?

not to expose myself as being slightly neurotic but i have a small bag that transfers between all of my bags that my friends poke fun of and call the Emergency Pack

the emergency pack contains multitudes, jen. it’s got medication - paracetamol, ibuprofen, allergic medication, cold and flu medication, throat lozenges, a nasal spray - and it’s got bandages and spare contact lenses and glasses wipes and hair tied and bobby pins and a claw clip and not one but three different lip balms (one for soothing, one for gloss, one with an spf there’s a need for three) and also a lipstick and a lipgloss that are a duplicate of my favourite lipstick and lipgloss in case i ever forget them and there’s a hairbrush and toothpicks and a mini mouthwash and a hand sanitizer and antibac wipes and a sunscreen spray (spf 50 im not messing around) and also a pen. you always need a pen AND pads and tampons (thank u for the reminder)

do i regularly need all this? no. do i feel like a proud mom when someone needs something from the Emergency Pack and i can save the day? you bet. i wasn’t the erasmus year mom friend for nothing

inbox me (1) thing you want to know about me

[neurodecadence]

Oh my god I have a sore throat, which is actually good news!

It means all the joint pain and shit tracks to having the flu or something, which isn't ideal BUT it's an actual cause and effect and not just "your nervous system is converting all signals to pain"

I've retained my sense of taste and smell so probably not covid (will order a test come morning) but yeah, okay, this is workable. Not good, but I can deal with this.

Also I have a giant box of lozenges already, so I got thsr covered.