#ginger tea for cough and cold

[machidielontheway]

hm. accidentally made mead ??

[breakingjen]

.

[spartanmemesmedical]

सर्दी-जुकाम और घरेलू उपाय

सर्दी-जुकाम एक सामान्य लेकिन कष्टदायक समस्या है जो किसी भी मौसम में हो सकती है। यह खासकर तब परेशानी का सबब बनता है जब मौसम बदलता है। सर्दी-जुकाम होने पर शरीर में कमजोरी महसूस होती है और सामान्य दिनचर्या में विघ्न डालता है। इसकी शुरुआत अक्सर नाक बहने, गले में खराश और धीरे-धीरे बुखार चढ़ने के साथ होती है।खैर, घबराने की जरूरत नहीं है क्योंकि सर्दी-जुकाम के लिए कई कारगर घरेलू उपाय हैं जो आपको इस…

[letusdiscoverindia]

If you are suffering from a severe cough, cold and sore throat? Then you must follow this quick and easy home remedy. For complete details Click Here:

[chicken-remnants]

lemon ginger tea.

[solshop]

Herbal Turmeric Tea For Immunity And Radiant skin – Solshop

Herbal turmeric tea, like the one you described, offers a range of potential benefits for both immunity and radiant skin. Here are some of the key benefits associated with the ingredients in your tea:

Immunity Boost: Turmeric, ginger, and black pepper are all well-known for their immune-boosting properties. Turmeric contains curcumin, a powerful antioxidant with anti-inflammatory properties that can help strengthen the immune system. Ginger is rich in bioactive compounds that have antimicrobial and anti-inflammatory effects, while black pepper enhances the absorption of curcumin, making it more effective.

Anti-Inflammatory: Turmeric and ginger are natural anti-inflammatory agents. They can help reduce inflammation in the body, which is often linked to various health issues, including a weakened immune system and skin conditions.

Antioxidant Rich: Turmeric and cinnamon are loaded with antioxidants that can help combat free radicals and oxidative stress in the body. This can protect the immune system and contribute to healthier skin by reducing the signs of aging.

Skin Health: Turmeric, with its anti-inflammatory and antioxidant properties, can help improve skin conditions such as acne and psoriasis. It may also contribute to a more radiant complexion by reducing redness and promoting an even skin tone.

Digestive Support: Ginger and lemongrass are known for their digestive benefits. A healthy digestive system can indirectly support your immune system by ensuring proper nutrient absorption and waste elimination.

Cold and Cough Relief: The combination of ginger and cinnamon can help soothe cold and cough symptoms, providing relief from congestion and sore throat.

Detoxification: Turmeric and lemongrass may aid in detoxifying the body by promoting liver health. A well-functioning liver is essential for overall health and can help improve the appearance of your skin.

Weight Management: Some of these ingredients, particularly ginger and black pepper, have been associated with weight management and metabolism support, which can indirectly benefit skin health and overall well-being.

Stress Reduction: The warm, aromatic qualities of cinnamon and ginger can help reduce stress and promote relaxation, which is important for maintaining a strong immune system and healthy skin.

It's important to note that while these ingredients have many potential benefits, individual responses can vary. If you have specific health concerns or are taking medications, it's advisable to consult with a healthcare professional before incorporating herbal teas or supplements into your routine. Drinking herbal turmeric tea can be a delicious and soothing way to promote both immunity and radiant skin when used as part of a balanced and healthy lifestyle.

Continue

[augustinewrites]

“oh, you poor thing…” you murmur, stroking megumi’s hair. he’d been caught in the rain during the walk home yesterday, and had come down with a bit of a cold. the seven year old is curled up next to you on the couch, his head resting in your lap.

you glare at satoru when he scoffs from his end of the couch, the tip of his nose rosy and dripping with snot. “i was caught in the rain too, you know.”

“take some nyquil.”

you don’t even bother to spare his suffering a glance.

“can i have hot chocolate?” the little brat asks, his request followed by a weak cough. “my throat hurts.”

it’s almost ten in the evening, and the kid’s already brushed his teeth. there’s no way you’d say yes—

“of course! i’ll make some for your sister too.”

satoru’s mouth falls open - because he can’t breathe through his nose and because he’s shocked. “can i have some too?”

“i’ll make you tea with lemon and ginger,” you reply, carefully adjusting megumi on the couch as you get up. you even steal his blanket, draping it over the kid’s curled up form.

megumi peeks one eye open as soon as you leave, and satoru swears the smirk that follows is directed at him.

people have told him that kids are supposed to be gifts. but later - when he’s watching a lame documentary and choking down some bitter lemon ginger tea as megumi is spoiled with sips of chocolately heaven - he thinks they must mean gifts from hell.

_____

your lips are brushing over satoru’s collarbone when he wonders if he’d locked the bedroom door.

but then you bite and all his concerns go out the window.

your breath is hot against his skin, picking up when his hands grip your waist. chests rising and falling, the two of you love in sync. slow, deep kisses are exchanged in time with gentle grinds—

“i’m hungry.”

it makes satoru startle, banging his head against the headboard as you sit up, stuttering as you both turn to face the doorway.

“megumi,” you gasp. “how long have you been standing there?”

the blush colouring his cheeks is answer enough.

“i’ll make you something to eat,” you offer, leaving your boyfriend with a very unfortunate situation as you climb off his lap, shooting an apologetic look over your shoulder as you herd megumi out of the room.

satoru swears the kid shoots him a smug grin over his shoulder.

this, he thinks glumly as he heads to the bathroom to try and calm himself down. this is why he needs to stop doing nice things.

_____

exhausted can’t even begin to describe the way satoru feels after a long day of bugging nanami and exorcising curses.

he’s practically dragging his body through the apartment towards the bedroom, wanting nothing more than to strip out of his uniform and fall into bed next to you.

but he can’t, because the first thing he sees when he opens the bedroom door is megumi hogging his side of the bed.

you press your index finger to your lips as soon as satoru opens his mouth to protest. “tsumiki’s at a sleepover,” you explain.

“so? i’ll carry him back to his room—”

you make a noise if protest, waving his hands away as you whisper, “it’s his first night here without her.”

hands on his hips, satoru examines the very little free space left on the bed. “so that means you’d let me sleep on the couch?”

he doesn’t like sleeping alone. hasn’t liked it ever since you’d moved in and he’d decided he liked waking to the warmth of your body next to his.

“well, you could sleep in megumi’s bed.”

“or you could wake him up,” he counters loudly on purpose, earning a shush and a glare from you in answer.

“this is a good thing,” you insist once you’ve ensured the kid’s still asleep. “it means he trusts us!”

“but i’m tired,” he whines, even stamping his foot a little for emphasis. “i wanna cuddle with you.”

“fine,” you relent with a little sigh. “but you have to wake him.”

gleefully, he goes to shake the kid awake. he’s about to do it, but all it takes is one look at the peaceful look settled over that little face. over the year he’d gotten to know megumi, he’s only ever worn a scowl, or a look of general boredom. so to see him like this, finally settled into the household…

it’s enough to make the sorcerer smile, even as he sets up the makeshift bed of blankets on the bedroom floor.

_____

“sharing is caring,” satoru proposes the next afternoon at the dinner table. it’s just him and megumi right now, as you’d just left to visit shoko. “so you can cuddle with her on the couch, but the bedroom is all me, got it?”

megumi frowns, staring at the list (can he even read yet? gojo has no idea) “but what about movie night?”

“fine, but only for a little bit. after that she’s all mine.”

he takes the kids shrug as agreement and moves on.

“knocking,” he starts with the utmost seriousness. “is a very important thing to do when any door is closed. and next time tsumiki is out, you’re the one sleeping on the floor.”

(they both know that’s not going to happen, but it doesn’t hurt to try.)

once the terms of their deal are finalized, they shake on it.

“so we’ve come to an understanding, good. because i’d rather have you as my bro than my foe,” he says, dragging the edge of his thumbnail across his throat for emphasis.

megumi rolls his eyes before sauntering off to his bedroom, and satoru sighs, letting his forehead hit the tabletop with a dull thud.

he’d fought off suitors vying for your attention before, but never one as tough to beat as this one.

[blushpawss]

feeling sick

warning: fluff + pet names — soft!sylus takes care of you while you’re sick 🩷

main acc: @sushiyuzu

your body ached in every possible way, and the stuffy feeling in your head made it hard to think straight. it had started with a slight scratch in your throat the day before, but now? the full force of the cold had hit. you were miserable, curled up under layers of blankets, trying to find any ounce of comfort. each breath felt heavy, and every time you moved, a fresh wave of fatigue washed over you.

through the haze, you heard the soft creak of the door opening, and you didn’t even need to lift your head to know who it was. sylus’ presence filled the room instantly, warm and steady, a quiet strength that made you feel just a little less alone in your misery.

“kitten, how are you feeling?” his deep voice reached you, soft and full of concern, as he stepped closer to the bed.

you groaned, barely able to answer. “terrible,” you muttered, your voice muffled by the blankets and the congestion in your head.

sylus frowned, his silver hair falling into his eyes as he knelt beside you, placing a warm hand on your forehead. his crimson eyes softened as he took in the heat radiating off your skin. “you’re burning up,” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

you didn’t have the energy to argue. everything felt like too much effort, even talking, and all you could do was close your eyes and lean into his touch, hoping the warmth of his hand might somehow ease the fever.

“just stay still, sweetie,” he said softly, pulling his hand back. “i’ll take care of everything.”

you heard him move away, the quiet sounds of him gathering things from the kitchen and bathroom echoing in the background. it wasn’t long before he returned, sitting back down beside you with a cold compress and a steaming cup of tea.

“sit up for a minute,” sylus said gently, carefully helping you into a sitting position. his arm wrapped around your shoulders, supporting your weight as if he knew exactly how weak you felt.

you leaned into him, grateful for the support, as he pressed the cool cloth against your forehead. the relief was immediate, the cold soothing the fever that had been making your head pound for hours. you sighed softly, letting your eyes drift shut as the tension in your body began to ease.

“that better?” sylus asked quietly, his voice low and soothing.

you nodded weakly, feeling the coolness of the compress working its magic. “a little,” you whispered, though even speaking felt like it took too much effort.

he held the cup of tea up to your lips, his other hand steadying you as you took a few slow sips. the warmth of the ginger tea settled in your throat, the honey soothing the scratchiness that had been bothering you all day. you swallowed carefully, feeling the heat spread through your chest, a small comfort in the midst of all the discomfort.

“good girl,” sylus murmured, his voice soft, almost a purr. “just a little more, kitten. it’ll help you feel better.”

you managed a small smile, his words bringing a hint of warmth to your chest that had nothing to do with the tea. even when you were feeling awful, sylus always knew how to make you feel cared for, his gentle tone and the way he called you kitten wrapping around you like a comforting embrace.

once you’d had enough, he set the cup down on the nightstand, easing you back down onto the pillows. “you need to rest,” he said quietly, tucking the blanket around you more snugly. “your body’s working hard to fight this off. let me do the hard stuff for now.”

you gave a weak chuckle, though it came out more as a cough. “you’re doing enough already.”

sylus smirked, his crimson eyes twinkling with that familiar glint of protectiveness. “you know i’ll always take care of you, sweetie,” he replied, brushing a few stray strands of hair from your face. “you don’t even have to ask.”

he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering just long enough for you to feel the warmth of his lips against your skin. the gentle gesture sent a wave of comfort through you, his touch soothing the aches in a way that went beyond just the physical.

“you’re too good to me,” you mumbled, your voice barely a whisper.

“you deserve it,” sylus said simply, sitting down on the edge of the bed, his hand still resting on your cheek. “i’ll stay with you the whole time. i’m not leaving your side until you’re feeling better.”

he settled beside you, reaching for your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours. the warmth of his hand against yours was comforting, grounding you in the moment, even as your body continued to ache. every touch was so careful, so deliberate, as if he was afraid of hurting you, though you knew he was just being extra gentle because he hated seeing you in pain.

after a few minutes of comfortable silence, sylus spoke again, his voice softer now, almost like a whisper in the quiet room. “i’ve got everything you need right here. i’ll make you soup later, something light that won’t upset your stomach.”

you nodded, grateful for his thoughtfulness. you didn’t have much of an appetite, but you knew he was right—once the worst of the fever passed, you’d need to eat something to keep your strength up.

sylus shifted slightly, lying down beside you and pulling you into his arms. you nestled into his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the warmth of his body radiating against yours. his hand traced slow circles on your back, soothing, lulling you into a calm state that made it easier to forget about the aches and fever.

“just sleep, kitten,” sylus whispered, his lips brushing the top of your head. “i’ll be right here.”

you nodded sleepily, your body already beginning to relax under the comforting weight of his presence. the fever, the aches, the exhaustion—they were all still there, but sylus made it all feel distant, as if none of it could touch you while he was holding you.

you drifted off slowly, your hand still resting in his, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles in a rhythmic, calming motion. his touch was constant, a reminder that even in your weakest moments, he was there, ready to care for you.

as you slipped into sleep, the last thing you heard was sylus’ voice, soft and low, as he whispered, “i’ve got you, sweetie. you’re safe with me.”

[bunnys-kisses]

hello bunny! I love the concept of your bakery it’s literally so cool

do you think I could get chocolate cake & honey cruller with a side of espresso shot?!? with carlos sainz? tyy!

bakery menu

want to suggest your own order? then hit up the bakery! we're always open! and thank you to this anon for a great suggestion! a little bit of size kink and some dirty talk, now that's what i'm talking about! i hope you enjoy the fic!

chocolate cake ("do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day.") + honey cruller ("i forget how small you are sometimes.") + espresso shot (dirty talking) served by carlos sainz jr (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, dirty talking, (slight) size kink, thigh fucking, sick fic

there was something about how vulnerable you looked when you ha d a cold. you poor thing, sick within the first week of summer break! how unfair! but, carlos wasn't going to shy away from his lover at her weakest.

so he followed you like a shadow most of the day in the house you shared. if you wanted to move from the bedroom to the living room, he'd grab your blankets and bring them to the couch. if you wanted to go to the kitchen to get some ginger tea, he was right behind you, making sure that you didn't have any problems.

he let you rest against him, or prop your feet up on his lap. and while he was being the perfect boyfriend, something deep was clawing inside of him. the sight of you so reliant on him, made his cock stir.

carlos wanted to fuck that sweet pussy of yours. it had been on his mind since he came home and found you bundled up on the couch. you had swapped from wearing his t-shirts to just a sports bra because the heat of the sickness was making you uncomfortable.

so very clearly he could see the lines of your body. the softness in your stomach and your cute breasts were on full display. he wanted to sink his teeth into you. it was painful for him.

it all came to a head when you were curled up in bed with him. he was on his phone. you shifted a little and made a small moaning noise. it struck a cord with him as you peeked out of the blankets.

"are you okay, mi amor?" he asked. as he looked down at you, trying to ignore the erection in his sweatpants.

you nodded, "yeah, you're looking a little flushed, honey." you reached out from your blanket nest and went to touch his face gently, "are you getting sick too?"

"no, no." he said, "i'm not sick. i just want to fuck you, mi amor." he admitted, "i know you're sick, but i want to feel you." he brushed hair out of your face. he knew that he couldn't keep secrets from you, it was impossible. he remembered the time that he had to keep your surprise party a secret and he felt like he was going to die.

you blinked up at him from your nest of blankets, you said, "i don't know if i can take it inside me right now."

he pulled the blankets away from the lower half of your face and said, "you don't have to do anything, beautiful. just lie there and i'll use your thighs. but, i need your permission." he rubbed your cheek, it felt warmed under his touch.

carlos was a sucker for consent, he was the type to think that the more consent the better. so even if he wanted it badly, he would stop himself if you said no.

you pulled the blankets from your body, exposing your almost bare chest and barely covered bottoms. your hair was a mess and you looked obviously sick. carlos wanted to bite his fist to keep himself together.

you looked at him before you coughed a little, "you can carlos." you said with a smile, "you didn't have to ask."

he took you by the face and kissed you on the nose, "no, no. i gotta ask, i need to know how sick you are. i never want to force myself onto you."

you smiled a little, "then feel free to use my thighs, carlos. i trust you. okay? i love you."

"i love you too." he said softly as he put you onto your stomach with your hips up. as much as he'd love to sink his cock into your pussy at the angle you were in, he had to be careful of you for now.

he got his cock out of his sweatpants, and then got your naked. in all fairness the lack of clothes felt nice on your hot body. he used his spit to lube up his cock before he spread your thighs a little with his to slip his cock between your soft flesh.

he felt a shudder run through him, "do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day." you had been on his mind since he woke up, after he got you some medicine for your cold, he had thought about you neediness. it made him so painfully turned on.

you whined into the pillows as your back arched a little bit. you wanted him, but knew that it would all take too much out of you. you were supposed to be overcoming the cold, as badly as you wanted to be fucked by your loving boyfriend.

carlos loved he feeling of your soft thighs around his cock. not the most ideal position, but he'd take what he could get. he wanted to feel close to his precious girlfriend. he could feel the tingle of heat in his body as he moved against you.

you laid under him so pretty, your cute little moans between sneezes and coughs. it was so painfully cute. it was cute in a way that made carlos swear he saw stars as his achy cock leaked pre cum all over your soft thighs.

"i forget how small you are sometimes." he admitted, "you're so tiny compared to me. no wonder you need my help when you're sick. it just ravages you. need your big strong boyfriend to protect you, my love." he groaned as he continued to move.

you held onto the covers and let out a hearty cough before carlos leaned over you and kissed you on your flushed cheek. you croaked, "thank you, honey."

"of course, of course. you take such good care of me. i might as well take good care of you too. do everything in my power to make sure that you are safe."

you felt his love and moaned under his touch. you promised yourself when you were feeling less achy and sick, you'd get your own orgasm too. you knew that carlos would make sure that he got a few dozen out of you.

your thighs were so cute, so sweet around his cock. it was different than having regular sex with you. but it curbed an ache in his gut.

"shit, mi amor. that's it. your thighs feel so good." he panted as he moved against you. his hands still on your hips as he rubbed against your thighs. he knew he was getting close and picked up the pace to reach his climax.

his pre-cum was already making a huge mess on your body as he dragged his cock up against you. he panted how much he loved you until he felt the climax fully over take him. with a few heavy thrusts, he finished between your thighs.

"ah. carlos." you whimpered.

"i know, i know." he groaned as he got himself over that hill. cum spurted out all over your skin. he slowed down, his cum was stuck to your stomach and pussy. he pulled out and you got onto your stomach so it didn't even up all over the covers. even though a lot of it was dripped onto the sheets.

he got up and grabbed a towel to wipe you down. he admired your naked body and the steady rise and fall of your chest. his hands then grazed your soft skin and he went in to kiss you on the lips.

"how was that?" you asked.

he nodded, "perfect. god, you're so perfect. mi ángel. my little sick angel." he kissed you once more. he got his cock back into his sweatpants before he pressed his weight on top of you. his strong arms around you.

eventually it turned into spooning and his legs tangled up in yours. as he held you, he winced when you coughed violently. he kissed you on the neck and whispered a promise, "i'll take care of you, my love. anything you need, is yours."

you replied, feeling sleepy again, "i believe you, you've already done so much for me." you yawned and turned over in his arms to press your face into his chest.

he chuckled, "i only try to match what you do for me. now get some rest. i'll be here when you wake up." he kissed you once more, as a promise. you take care of him and he takes care of you, no matter what. <3

[p0orbaby]

sick lessi fic 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️ clingy gf

taking care of that cutie

-

Alessia is splayed across your sofa like an artist’s rendering of human misery. Her hoodie—an oversized navy monstrosity with a faint Arsenal logo she swore she didn’t steal from Leah—clings to her like damp moss. The grey sweatpants are worse. They’re not hers, nor are they yours. They came from the pile of clothes you were supposed to donate three years ago but never did because you thought you might need them someday. This is the day. You resent the foresight.

She’s been coughing sporadically for the past fifteen minutes, which is to say, coughing exactly every 47 seconds. You know because you’ve been counting. Alessia calls it “a tickly throat.” You call it self-inflicted.

“Stop licking your lips. You’ll make them worse,” you say, watching her smear yet another layer of cherry ChapStick over the crime scene that is her mouth.

“I have to,” she whines, drawing out the words like a five-year-old begging for a toy. Her voice is raw, a strange mix of gravel and helium.

“You don’t. You really, really don’t”

She ignores you, opting instead to roll onto her stomach in a manner that could only be described as unnecessarily dramatic. Her head flops onto the throw pillow you bought at a John Lewis clearance sale. The tag is still attached.

“I think I’m dying,” she declares, muffled by the pillow.

“You’re not dying, Less. You’ve got a runny nose and a bad attitude” you deadpan, sitting cross-legged on the rug in front of her, a bowl of soup balanced precariously on your knee. It’s the tin stuff—Heinz, chicken, condensed. She hates it. It’s why you made it.

“It’s the flu,” she says. “I Googled it”

“You can’t even spell ‘flu’ properly when you text”

“That’s because I was using my thumbs.”

“You always use your thumbs.”

“Rude.” She huffs, tugging the blanket tighter around her. It’s your favourite one, the soft grey one you bought when you first moved in together. Now it smells faintly of menthol rub and despair.

“You know, my mum used to make me this lemon and ginger tea with honey when I was sick,” she says suddenly, wistful, like she’s narrating a nature documentary.

“I’m not your mum”

“She also used to rub Vicks on my chest,” she continues, undeterred.

“Still not your mum”

There’s a pause, her blue eyes narrowing at you. “You’re actually a terrible girlfriend”

“Debatable”

She sneezes. A full-body event. You flinch, watching in real-time as her face contorts, her nose scrunching, her eyes shutting like a malfunctioning robot. The sound is seismic. You wonder if the neighbours heard it.

“Bless me,” she says automatically.

“No”

She sniffles pathetically, then gestures weakly towards the coffee table. “Can you hand me a tissue?”

You glance at the tissue box—one metre away from her outstretched hand. “No. Work for it”

Her lips twitch, the faintest flicker of a smile, but it vanishes as she rolls onto her side. “Why are you like this?”

You shrug, finishing the last spoonful of her soup. It’s cold now, congealed in a way that makes you feel vaguely ill. You wonder if this is what marriage will look like—fighting over tissues, stealing each other’s soup, and coexisting in a quiet ballet of passive-aggressive care.

As you scrape the bowl clean, Alessia shifts again, her head now hanging off the side of the sofa like some deranged bat.

“You’re so lucky I love you”

I know,” you reply, leaning over to press a kiss to her forehead. She’s warm—not feverish, just Alessia warm.

For a moment, there’s quiet. She shifts again, her head now resting on the arm of the sofa, her eyes fluttering shut. You stand to pull the blanket up higher around her shoulders and tuck it in gently.

And just before you leave the room, she murmurs, soft and sleepy, “Love you”

You smile to yourself, the words lingering in the air like a balm. “Love you too, Less”

[pretty-toru]

lovesick┆gojo satoru

୧ genre: fluff

୧ wc: 1.4k

୧ synopsis: megumi is sick with a common cold, and gojo is simply lovesick for you.

Gojo Satoru convinces himself that he's not jealous.

How could he feel such a prickling and burning sensation in his lower tummy, slowly rising towards his heart making his blood boil and face grow hot just because you're nursing eleven-year-old Megumi back to health? The same little rascal that he had previously gotten into a spat with over something stupid and it doesn't help that the brat's sticking his tongue out and pulling down his lower eyelid taunting him.

But of course, you're too busy doting over sweet and innocent Megumi to notice. Too preoccupied with fluffing the pillows for the young boy to rest his poor head on, gently tucking him in with a cozy throw blanket, putting something on the platinum screen with the promise of brewing him a ginger-honey tea to make him feel better.

No matter how much Gojo tries to ignore Megumi, his facial muscles twitch and contort on their own in utter dismay and his Six Eyes zeroes in on the couch-ridden boy with his lips curling into a deep frown before sticking his tongue back at him.

"Come on, Satoru. Be nice to him, he's really sick." You say as you start the kettle and reach for a mug from the cabinet. Gojo's forced to acknowledge that Megumi wasn't faking the snotty nose and loud sneezes, but he still doesn't like the idea of losing to one smug child and giving him the satisfaction that he's secured his revenge which is your devoted attention. Maybe Megumi knew that his guardian would go a wee-bit insane being treated as a second thought but Gojo will never admit that it's working.

"Hey honey, you know what? I don't feel so good either. Here, feel my forehead." Gojo takes your hand and places it over his forehead to check if it's warm to the touch and he makes sure to do his best impression of looking pathetically sick—droopy eyelids, jutting his lower lip into a pout, and slumped shoulders to get your sympathy.

"Satoru, you feel perfectly fine. There's nothing wrong with you."

"I swear I'm not feeling well. My throat feels weird and scratchy, my body feels flashes of hot and cold, my head is pounding and it's killing me, and.." Gojo tries to convince you that he's experiencing every symptom he could think of and you knew he was determined to be sick. Between your "uh-huh" and "right" you decide to humor him as you follow his explanation and tried your hardest to hold back a smile when he throws in an exaggerated detail or two.

"Alright, you big baby. We can't have you feeling sick now, can we? Can't have the strongest sorcerer out of commission for long, hm?"

"Nope, that'd be very bad. As long as you drop everything and pour all your attention on me, I should get better in no time. No pressure or anything, but the world does kinda depend on it~" Gojo flashes you a toothy grin then quickly remembers that he's supposed to be sick and feigns a cough or two averting your knowing glance.

"Hmm, okay I'll see what I can do. Now come here, let's get you all nice and comfortable so you can get your much-needed rest and get well again." You lead him to your shared bedroom and reflect the covers back for him to climb onto the mattress and ensure he's warm and cozy as you pull the comforter over him. For someone who's supposed to feel horribly ill Gojo sure can't seem to wipe the smile off his face. "You seem a little too happy to be sick, don't you think?"

"Just glad that you'll be the one to help me get back my strength is all." Through his fluttering lashes, he sports the most innocent and angelic expression he can muster and you can't help the soft giggle given his stellar performance up until this point.

"Alright, if you say so. I'll get you something to eat, okay? I'll be right back."

As you're turning on your heel to head for the door, Gojo pouts and protests. "Wha- No sweet kiss to hold me over? You might be a while and I'll get lonely since you're not here to keep me company."

"Aw, sorry baby. But you know there's no kissing until you're all better. Can't get myself sick now that I have to look after you and Megumi, right? I promise you I won't be long."

"...Not even a forehead kiss? :(" He murmurs under his breath as he watches your back to him and eventually disappears into another room. Once Gojo's left to his own devices, he wonders how long it would take you to complete your task on hand. He fiddles with his thumbs and counts the passing minutes. One minute becomes five, five becomes ten, then ten becomes twenty and he suddenly cannot bear to be apart from you much longer and checks on you.

"Sweetheart, what's taking you so long? I thoug-" And there he stumbles across the answer to his own question. Megumi is being spoon-fed rice porridge by you because he claims that his arms are too weak to do it himself and you couldn't leave him starved in his condition. Gojo appears crestfallen and disgruntled in the throw blanket draped over his lanky body and with a small huff he grumbles, "So that's what you've been up to. Fine, fine I guess it's up to me to take care of myself, huh?"

"What's wrong with him? Is he sick too or something?" Megumi asks nonchalantly as he watches his mentor's dejected form return to his bedroom to sulk. You gently shake your head and offer the young boy a soft smile, but you do feel a little bad that your husband has been acting unusual lately hence his needy and clingy tendencies.

"He's just going through a phase, but don't you worry about him and focus on getting better, okay? I'll find a way to make it up to him."

When you enter your shared bedroom with a platter of breakfast in your grasp, you found Gojo hiding under the covers in an attempt of giving you his silent treatment. You place the serving tray of food on the nightstand and situate yourself on the bed beside him, smoothing your hand over his covered shoulder as he's laid on his side with his face away from you. "Satoru, my love, I've brought you breakfast."

With a soft shrug of his shoulder, he responds with a strained hum but you know it's just him being melodramatic because he could never truly be mad at you. "Do you wanna tell me what's on your mind? I'm all yours if you come on out from under the covers."

Gojo shifts his body weight around and tufts of white hair start to peek as he gradually pulls the blanket down until you meet his azure gaze and he receives your sweet smile. "Hey there, is everything alright? Did I do something to upset you?" The tender warmth of your hand finds its home on his cheek with a gentle caress and he sighs contently at the familiar touch. You're patient as you wait for him to gather his thoughts, your fingers moving to his soft tendrils in soothing motions and he inches closer to you.

"You've never done a single thing wrong ever. You are perfect," he begins slowly. "I just missed you and ever since I got back from my mission you were too busy with the kids (Megumi and Tsumiki) that we haven't had any time together and I just wanna be with you." Gojo confesses as he's playing with the hem of your shirt, feeling a bit vulnerable to look you straight in the eyes. "Oh, and another thing... I'm not actually sick I only said that so you'd notice me more."

"Thanks for being honest with me. And I knew that you weren't sick. For someone who's supposed to be good at anything he tries, I'm glad that you turned out to be a pretty bad liar."

Gojo's face heats up at that and he unceremoniously buries his face in your lap from embarrassment, as muffled words of "Oh, so you knew. I thought I was pretty convincing" managed to reach your ears.

"Tell you what, how about we have ourselves a nice picnic this weekend? Just the two of us, I'll find someone to watch the kids. And I think maybe spending an afternoon in the sunshine will do us some good. What do you think?"

Gojo suddenly lights up at your proposal. "I think you're wonderful for planning the perfect date."

"You're sweet for giving me so much credit." Your soft laughter quickly melts his heart and he returns your affections, feeling a little more in love with you as you're both sharing a moment together. "I love you."

"I love you so much more, my sweet angel."

[crystallinestars]

Caring for you when you are sick

A short little drabble about Jiaoqiu caring for you when you fall sick. Jiaqiu x Reader (Established relatioship)

Whenever you fall sick, Jiaoqiu fusses over you like a worried parent. Even if it’s just a common cold, he gives you strict instructions to rest and eat his cooking to get better.

And cook for you he does.

Even when Jiaoqiu is busy serving Feixiao and completing his duties as a retainer, he makes time to cook healthy and tasty dishes to nourish you back to full health. Chicken noodle soup, congee, tea with lemon and honey, and more are delivered to your bedside on a tray each day by a concerned Jiaoqiu.

He checks your temperature by placing a cool palm on your forehead, brows pinching together when he feels how hot your skin is, and his tail sways in displeasure whenever he hears you coughing or sniffling. If you complain about a sore throat, he whips you up a hot drink of ginger and lemon to soothe the pain and observes to ensure you drink it all.

He places a damp towel on your forehead to lower your fever, and regularly swaps it out for a fresh one. Jiaoqiu even visits you at night to check your condition and spends the night by your bedside if he discovers your fever worsening. You’ll wake up to find him sitting in a chair beside your bed with his head resting on the mattress and your hand grasped tightly in his. He gets little sleep on those nights because he stays awake to fight your fever, so finding him napping like this is a common occurrence.

Despite you telling him your condition is not so bad that it requires round-the-clock care, Jiaoqiu won’t stop worrying. How can he not worry when you don’t feel your best? When you shiver while running a high fever, when your voice sounds hoarse, when you wince each time you swallow his food because your throat is so sore?

As a healer, it is his duty to care for the sick, or so he tells you while spoon-feeding you some soup. You can feed yourself? He knows, but he saw how weak your grip was on the spoon earlier, so it’s safer if he feeds you. You can bathe yourself? Yes, but you sway while standing on unsteady legs, so let him carefully wipe you down with a cloth instead. Besides, he likes actively caring for you like this, though you don’t need to know that.

Jiaoqiu is mischievous and sometimes sadistic, but when it comes to seeing others suffering or not feeling their best, his caring side shines through. Even if he gave up on being a healer, he can never give up on taking care of those who need help, especially those whom he loves.

You will be nursed back to heal by his caring and gentle hand, given the best treatment a patient could ask for, so make sure to thank and praise him when you recover, alright? For now, get more rest and get better, dear.

[transmascsteveharrington]

Steve likes taking care of people, has done it since he was a child and his mother would retreat to her room under the excuse of migraines quite frequently. Steve would bring her some aspirin and water, later if she was up for it some toast he had made for dinner for both of them.

Most of the time she would take the pills and the toast and make a shooing motion for Steve to leave again. And he would as quietly as a shadow sneak out of her room and into his, hoping she'd be doing better tomorrow. On some days though, she'd gently cup his cheek, ruffle his hair and whisper, "Thank you, Stevie."

She'd pull her blanket aside for him to curl up next to her and nap with her for a while. Steve had thought that maybe, those few days would be enough, enough to make her stay.

It wasn't, still, Steve likes taking care of people. He comes over to Robin's when she has a cold with several bottles of pills and coughing syrup (because she is a hypochondriac who thinks every cough might be her last) makes her herbal tea and curls up with her watching old movies. Her parents will invite Steve over for dinner once they come home and he stays, carries two trays of food up to Robin's room, opens the windows for some fresh air and makes sure they are not getting any crumbs on the bed. She technically doesn't need him to take care of her, but she always appreciates the company nonetheless.

Eddie is more fussy when he is sick, hates being trapped in a bed for too long, hates how the sheets grow sweaty and how sleep seems impossible after an entire day of just lying in bed. So Steve helps him move to the couch in the trailer, fluffs up his pillows and brings him blankets that are keeping him just the perfect temperature.

While Eddie recovers from the journey to the couch Steve goes into the kitchen, grabbing all the ingredients he needs for chicken soup. It's Claudia's recipe with some adjustments from Wayne and some little changes made by Steve. He personally likes the faint hint of bay leaf but he knows Eddie can't stand the stuff. While the soup simmers until all the flavor has been brought out Steve returns to the couch. Eddie likes to read when he is sick, but his eyes are heavy and his hands week. So Steve gently nudges Eddie until Steve can sit down and pull Eddie back against his chest, takes the book from Eddie, and begins to read out loud. He isn't the best reader, tongue often stopping, refusing to smoothly curl around certain words like Eddie's does and he isn't that good at doing voices either. But for Eddie it seems to be enough. He hums sleepily and just snuggles closer to Steve until the soup is done.

Steve knows that Dustin only takes cough syrup if it's mixed with apple juice and that neither El nor Will like swallowing pills. He knows that sometimes Max will get headaches and the only thing that'll help her is sleeping through the afternoon and not letting anyone bother her. He knows that Nancy hates the smell of vickvaporub but loves elderflower cough drops. He always has ginger tea in his house because Mike tends to easily get an upset stomach and keeps heating pats around because Lucas had a sports injury the last year of middle school and it likes to act up.

So yeah, Steve really likes taking care of people. But no one ever really takes care of him. Which is fine, Steve is a big boy and can take care of himself, always has. It's not like his parents were around to call school when he got sick. Or to make sure food was in the house, to run him baths, or to give him cold compresses to break his fever. Steve managed all of that on his own, knew how to fake being healthy enough for none of his teachers to send him home, knew how to drag himself to the store, to change his own pjs and sheets, to manage with whatever cold medicine his parents had left behind. Ans it's fine, it has always been fine, Steve has managed.

Only that after their fourth run-in, things have been less fine. Steve has been getting these killer headaches, that make his vision blurry and his stomach turn. He keeps telling himself that it's fine, doesn't need to ask for help, doesn't want to, doesn't know how to. He doesn't want to bother anyone, also what would they do anyways? Hold his hand and tell him it's all going to be fine? Steve doesn't need them to do that, he'll just pop his aspirin the same way his mother used to do and soldier through it. Gritting his teeth through the skull-splitting pain is still better than asking for help. And it works, has always worked, until it doesn't.

One moment Steve pops some aspirin and grabs his keys to pick up Robin, the next his face is smushed into the cold tiles of the floor and his vision goes dark.

When he wakes up again he no longer is on the floor. He doesn't quite now where he is, opening his eyes still hurts, just that he is somewhere soft and warm. There is a hand gently playing with his hair and he leans into the touch.

"Back with us, baby?" he hears Eddie whisper and it's such a lovely sound.

Steve tries to shift, to sit up but his entire body aches and he can't help but whine.

"Woah, take it slow," he hears Robin's voice from a bit further away and a pair of hands gently pushes him back into what he assumes must be his bed. "I got you some painkillers and water," Robin says and he can feel a pill being pressed into the palm of his hand. He guides it to his mouth and a glass of water is pressed to his lips to help him swallow it.

"That's it, just keep your eyes closed, we got you," Eddie murmurs and keeps gingerly stroking Steve's hair. There is something delightfully cool pressed against his temple an ice pack probably, Steve figures before he falls back asleep.

The second time he wakes his headache has finally disappeared he manages to open his eyes. He is in his bed, curled up between Eddie and Robin, both still snoring gently. Eddie wakes up next, gives Steve a tired smile and a quick forehead kiss before he tells Steve to stay put and disappears downstairs to make some breakfast. By the time he is back up with orange juice and strawberry jam on toast, Robin has woken up to.

"Do you get migraines like that often," she asks eventually as she nibbles on her toast. Steve just shrugs, tries to downplay it all.

"Every now and then," he lies. The only problem is that Robin and Eddie know him, know his tells, know when he is lying, know that he sometimes thinks just his existence is a burden. Eddie cups his cheek and looks at him with so much sadness in his puppy dog eyes.

"It's okay, baby, you can tell us," he says and even though it's hard Steve nods, gives in, tells them about the frequent migraines, how he doesn't want to bother anyone.

Eddie and Robin tell him that it's fine that they don't mind, that they are here for him. And they prove it the next time he has a migraine and the next time and the next time. After that Steve still likes to take care of people. But he also doesn't mind if they take care of him.

[cottonlemonade]

Home Remedy

It took approximately five minutes from your first cough to your husband Shinsuke putting on his Wellington’s, a list in hand, neatly written after a short phone call with his grandma, and heading outside into the garden behind your house. Checking the small scrap of paper every so often he plucked leaves from herbs, unearthed vegetables with routine moves, and dug up a ginger root to boot.

Coming back inside, he ushered you to bed but after you protested, allowed you to stay on the couch, bundled up in at least two layers of blankets, the scarf Yumi had knitted you for Christmas last year, cozily wrapped around you. The soup was swiftly set on the stove, simmering away on this brilliantly cold October morning. You were looking forward to it - your husband‘s soup was the best part about being sick. But you already felt like misery reheated and hated what came with having a cold in the Kita household. Yumi and Shinsuke swore by this concoction they called a „tea“ but the ungodly amounts of various herbs and spices that he pulled from drawers and jars and the garden begged to differ. He insisted on you having one teapot a day of this secret home remedy and it tasted horrible.

But the worst part was, it actually helped so you couldn‘t argue against it.

“Here, my love.“, Shinsuke sat down next to you on the couch, pouring the curiously brownish, yet somehow still vivid green-colored potion into a shallow cup so it cooled down quicker for you to drink.

You made a face.

“Ya know the drill.“, he said patiently as he lifted it to your lips.

Very brave as you were, you took the first gulp and suppressed the need to shudder at its bitterness.

“Still bad?“

“Worse.“, you croaked but leaned forward again to obediently take another sip.

He smiled pityingly and reached out to cup your chubby cheek, then pressed his lips to your burning forehead before pouring more tea.

a/n: I’m sick and angered by the audacity of having to make my own tea and soup 😔

[honeygrahambitch]

"Since laryngitis is not contagious I told Will he should definitely come to work today. Especially now that the Ripper dropped a body. He doesn't need to talk much. He can do his thing and then write a report on it." Jack explained to Hannibal as they arrived at the crime scene. "No one gets hurt and we get even closer to catching the Ripper."

"It's quite cold today." Hannibal commented as a tiny snow flake landed on his palm. "Will agreed I suppose?"

"He did, yes. But we have only been texting so I am not sure what state he actually is in."

Will was already there, next to Beverly, looking around the crime scene, examining something in particular. He was so focused that he didn't even hear Hannibal and Jack.

"Will." Hannibal greeted him. To that Will and Beverly turned to them.

"Will can't speak. Like, at all. I am doing the talking for him today." Beverly explained. Will rolled his eyes helplessly. "He is not thrilled about it but I can do a pretty good job."

"He definitely should not force himself." Hannibal agreed, frowning in concern. If Will was not making any effort to talk then it definitely meant his voice was gone. His usual strategy of ignoring any symptoms he would have did not work in this case.

Jack sighed loudly, probably understanding that Will should have indeed stayed home to rest instead of standing outside in negative temperatures.

"He wants to say that your coat looks majestic, Dr. Lecter." Beverly commented. "Jack, I'm not allowed to say what Will thinks about you at this very moment. I really want to keep my job."

Will didn't protest to any of the things Beverly said and pulled out a little bottle of pills. Hannibal was wondering if Will knew that aspirin won't help that much with getting back his voice. Was his throat sore as well? Probably. Will wouldn't complain about stuff like that even when his voice was perfectly fine.

Hannibal wished he would know that kind of things.

He wished Will would allow him to care for him.

That is why as soon as they were done with the crime scene, he asked Will to get into his car instead of Beverly's. He wanted to open his mouth to protest but the stern look on Hannibal's stern expression made him abandon his attempt to force his larynx.

As soon as they arrived at Hannibal's place, he started making some tea in a navy blue kettle.

"Ginger and chamomile tea does wonders for a sore throat." He explained as Will followed him with his eyes around the kitchen.

Will felt partially powerless and partially grateful. He could admit to himself that other than popping pills, he usually did nothing about feeling sick. He mostly took medication to function at work, he wouldn't need those at home.

"Thank you." He whispered.

Hannibal felt something warm inside himself at hearing his voice for the first time that day.

"You should have told- well, wrote Jack that you are too sick to work, Will. Just so you know, I'm not expecting you for our therapy session tomorrow." Hannibal said as he moved the cattle away from the electric stove.

"No, I can do it." Will whispered a bit louder and coughed immediately after.

"Therapy implies having conversations. And by canceling your appointment I don't mean that I don't want to see you tomorrow. You should definitely come here for dinner." Hannibal went on while pouring tea in two cups. "Sitting with you in silence is not something that I dread."

Will smiled at that. When it came to the two of them, silence was indeed not an obstacle. There was always something to project and something to observe.

Hannibal added a generous spoon of honey in Will's cup and none in his own.

Will opened his mouth to say something more but he coughed again. Hannibal passed him a note book and a pen.

"We can pass notes."

"How romantic" Will wrote to that, earning a genuine smile from Hannibal. Then he kept on writing and then handed the notebook back Hannibal.

"Since I can't talk and you insist on having me around I can finally do what you've been asking me for ages."

"And what have I been asking you for ages?" Hannibal asked curiously as he gave Will the notebook.

"You can draw me in your sketchbook and I promise not to move or make any comment about how boring it is." He wrote back and raised his eyebrows, watching Hannibal's expression as he was reading his words.

"Are you sure?" Hannibal asked trying to conceal his excitement behind a satisfied expression. He was already picturing each pencil or charcoal he could use.

Will nodded.

[flowerchild28]

Can you write about Louis having a bad cold and the reader takes care of him?

Sure love. Hope you like it :)

Sick days

Louis Tomlinson imagine

Warnings: fluff, louis beeing sick

1.2k

It was just after sunrise, and the chilly autumn morning crept through the crack in the window. Y/N padded into the kitchen, yawning as she started her usual routine: coffee, breakfast, and then waking up Louis, who had been up late recording the night before. Today, though, she was greeted by the sight of Louis sitting slouched over the counter, a tissue balled up in his hand, eyes barely open, his nose red and sniffly.

“Oh no, a sniffle?” she teased, hiding her smirk behind her mug. “Are you sure you’re not coming down with the man cold?”

Louis shot her a weak glare, but it only made her grin. He sounded stuffy and nasally as he tried to respond, “I’m seriously sick, love.”

“Mhm,” she hummed, crossing her arms and leaning against the counter. “Let me guess, sore throat? Bit of a cough? Slight fever?”

“Yeah,” he said, sounding rather wounded. “All of the above, actually.” He sniffled loudly, dabbing at his nose with the tissue.

“Oh no, that sounds awful,” she said dramatically. “But, I mean, it’s just a little cold, right?”

He scowled, his usual humor barely peeking through his obvious misery. “You wouldn’t understand. This is… this is the worst cold.”

“Sure it is, Lou,” she replied with a chuckle, ruffling his messy hair. “You’re gonna be fine. I’ll get you some tea, and we’ll carry on.”

That morning, she busied herself making him some ginger tea, handing him a warm blanket, and plopping him down on the couch. He looked half asleep as he mumbled his thanks and sipped at the tea, nestling down into the blanket.

“You’ll be back to singing and cracking jokes in no time,” she said, giving him a quick peck on the forehead. He mumbled something about it feeling like the end, which she just laughed off, rolling her eyes. “Poor baby,” she said with exaggerated sympathy.

But by evening, Y/N started to suspect it might actually be worse than she thought. Louis, who usually bounced back from everything, was still huddled up on the couch, face pale, with dark circles under his eyes. He’d barely spoken all day, and every so often, he’d let out a sad little cough that tugged at her heart.

“Alright, alright, maybe you’re actually sick,” she admitted, sitting next to him and taking his hand. “Anything I can get you?”

Louis looked up at her with a pitiful expression, his voice scratchy. “Just… stay here?”

She softened, brushing a hand across his forehead. “Of course. And, okay, I’m sorry for doubting you, okay?”

He let out a weak laugh. “Aha, see? Told ya. This is not your average cold.”

She settled in beside him, wrapping his blanket more securely around his shoulders. Over the next few days, his cold only seemed to worsen, and she could tell by the way he tried to smile through his discomfort that he didn’t want to worry her. But even his usual playful energy had waned, and it was hard to see him like that.

One afternoon, as Louis slept soundly under layers of blankets, Y/N busied herself making him a hearty soup. She chopped vegetables and simmered everything on low heat, filling the house with a warm, cozy aroma. She even prepared a care basket—stuffed with extra tissues, honey for his tea, and some lozenges.

As soon as he woke, she was by his side, holding a steaming bowl. “Look what I made you,” she said softly, placing the bowl carefully on his lap. “A nice, warm soup. You’ll be back to yourself soon.”

He smiled at her, the kind of lazy, drowsy grin that made her heart melt. “You’re amazing, y’know that?”

“Well,” she said, grinning, “I have to be to deal with all this.” She gestured to him dramatically, earning a little chuckle.

“Hey, I thought you liked taking care of me,” he teased, though his voice was raspy.

“I do,” she admitted with a smile. “Especially when you’re this helpless.”

The two of them laughed, and he sipped the soup gratefully, nodding as he tasted it. “Alright, you’re forgiven for all the ‘man cold’ jokes,” he said between bites. “This soup is top-tier.”

She snorted. “Oh, now you’re complimenting me. Desperate times, I suppose.”

But despite the teasing, Y/N stayed by his side, checking his temperature, pressing cool cloths to his forehead when his fever spiked, and even humoring him as he rambled on in his slightly delirious state. He’d joke here and there, sometimes breaking into laughter that quickly turned into a cough, which she’d soothe by rubbing his back and handing him his tea.

By the time a few more days had passed, Louis had started to bounce back, the color returning to his cheeks and his voice losing that scratchy edge.

One morning, he finally came into the kitchen on his own, looking slightly more alive, and wrapped his arms around her from behind. “I have to admit,” he murmured, his voice still a bit husky, “I might’ve milked it a bit.”

She turned around to face him, her mouth open in playful shock. “You milked it?”

“Just a little,” he admitted, grinning as he leaned against the counter. “I mean, it’s nice having you fuss over me like that.”

She laughed, giving him a light punch on the arm. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“Ah, don’t act like you didn’t love it,” he said, his usual spark coming back into his eyes. “Admit it, you felt bad for making fun of me.”

“Alright, alright,” she said with a sigh. “Maybe just a little. I’ll admit, I probably underestimated the almighty ‘man cold.’”

“See? I knew it,” he said, chuckling. “Don’t worry, love, you’re forgiven.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled, wrapping her arms around him. “Well, next time you’re the one making soup for me.”

“Oh, absolutely. You can count on it,” he promised, grinning. “I’ll go all out—soup, tissues, even singing you lullabies if that’s what it takes.”

“Oh no, not the singing,” she said, laughing. “You’d be getting me out of bed in no time.”

He laughed, pulling her close. “Alright, maybe I’ll just stick to soup.”

They shared a long look, and she leaned her head against his shoulder, feeling his warmth now that he was back to his usual self. And as she stood there in his embrace, Y/N knew that no matter how dramatic he might get with the next “man cold,” she’d be there, soup and tissues at the ready.