#maybe this will cure my covid | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fiapartridge · 3 months

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gabe perreault imagine please 🙏🙏

long time coming | gabe perreault 💌🌊⭐️

gabe perreault x fem!reader

summary: you're sick and the only person who can cure you is your best friend, gabe!

warning(s): fluff, fluff, fluff

author's note: eee this is my first gabe fic! thank u anon for suggesting him, i was in a huge writers slump so ty ty ty! enjoy!

You had heard stories of people falling in love with their best friend; it happened to your parents, your older sister and her boyfriend, all of your cousins, but to you, love just felt unattainable, like maybe you were the exception. The love bug skipped a generation and was already preparing for the next—but now? Now you felt it. You felt it crawl underneath your skin and bubble in your stomach. You felt your chest tighten and the heat rise to your cheeks.

You were in love, true love.

“Gabe,” you groaned over the phone, his breathing sounding staticy over the line. You had been sick for a few days, only a slight cough and an itchy throat, but today felt 10 times worse. Your stomach was aching, your head felt like it was getting hit by a basketball every couple of seconds, and you sniffled so frequently you were sure that something was going to go up the wrong pipe and straight up to your brain.

And you felt bad, not only because of your illness, but because it was nearly 2 AM and you could hear Gabe shuffle underneath his dark blue sheets in the dorm he shared with his best friend, Will Smith. You knew it was late and this was wrong. I mean, the boy had a game against Boston University in the morning, now was not the time to wake him, but you just didn’t know what to do. You felt like you were dying and all you needed was one of Gabe’s famous hugs and maybe a back rub (he was really good at those).

“Hey,” he said quietly, trying not to wake the snoring Will on the other side of the room. His eyes were fighting to stay open, determined not to lean onto his fluffy white pillow and fall back to sleep. “You okay?”

You sniffled, grabbing another tissue from the box that laid beside your bed. “I feel like I’m dying,” you responded, your voice sounding congested and nasally—not in the slightest like your normal tone.

You could hear shuffling on the other side of the phone. Then, you could hear keys jangling and his closet door opening, a hoodie getting thrown over his body, and then the door to his dorm being pulled open. You wanted to protest because you knew what he was doing, where he was going, but you had no energy to speak. Instead, your stubborn voice turned to loud coughs that made Gabe want to pull you in his arms and hold you until they faded into oblivion.

But he couldn’t. It was too much for you. It would be weird. You wouldn’t feel the same. It was the exact same thing he’s been telling himself for months (really what he’s been telling himself since the moment he met you). It would ruin your guys’ friendship and you will never want to speak to him again. If only he could hear your thoughts because then, maybe he’d be thinking differently, and it wouldn’t be so hard.

Three soft knocks on the door of your dorm signaled exactly what you suspected would happen. Gabe was your best friend and if he caught the flu, you would be there holding his hand and making him a bowl of chicken noodle soup. If you were crying about a failed test, he would buy you ice cream and agree to watch countless episodes of The Bachelor until you were feeling okay again. One time you were sick with Covid and Gabe didn’t even care. He stayed with you during quarantine, snuggled under mountains of blankets, watching movies until you were sick of them, and gossiping about anyone and anything. It wasn’t a surprise that he caught the sickness a couple days later. Your moms laughed about the memory, finding it endearing that you two loved each other so much that you were willing to be sick together.

Gabe settled some medicine on your bedside table before lifting your light pink covers and crawling into bed with you. You fit perfectly into his arms, like this spot was made just for you. Despite your sweaty forehead and aching body, he held you tightly, placing small kisses on the crown of your head. Your parents had always joked about you two getting married someday, but sometimes you wished that it was real; that you would grow old with him and live in a big white house with a white picket fence and a large rose garden in the backyard. You truly couldn’t see your life with anyone else.

But that was silly. Gabe was your best friend. That would just be weird—right?

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. He walked all the way from his building to yours in the middle of the night despite having a ginormous game tomorrow. He felt unreal, like how could a person be so perfect and somehow be yours?

“Don’t be,” his words were just as soft. His chin resting on the top of your head as yours fit in the space between his neck and shoulder, leaving delicate kisses on his adams apple. This isn’t what best friends do, you told yourself. Best friends don’t kiss each other. Best friends don’t cuddle underneath sheets and hold hands to “warm each other up.” It was confusing and you hated it. You hated not knowing how he was feeling when you knew exactly how you felt about Gabe.

“You didn’t have to come here.”

“You called.”

You laughed. “That doesn’t mean anything. You could’ve stayed in bed and slept longer and had good dreams and—”

“Hey,” he smiled down softly at you, lifting your chin to look up at him. His hand lingered there for a while, not wanting to move away from you. There was something about you that made Gabe want to be closer and closer. There was something that made him want to parade you around campus, telling everyone that you were his. He wanted to see you in his jersey and kiss you after games and hold you tight at parties. He wanted to take you with him to New York when he plays for the Rangers after college and introduce you to his family as his girlfriend instead of just his best friend. Gabe was ready for more, but he hated thinking that you might not be. “I wasn’t just going to let you die, okay?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, like that one time you pushed me down that water slide at Hurricane Harbor.”

“Pft, you wanted to go down that.”

You chuckled incredulously. “There is no way you just said that.”

“‘Oh, Gabe, please take me on this waterslide. I’ve been dying to go with you.’”

“I don’t sound like that.”

He grinned. “Yeah, you sound like this,” he said, pinching his nose with his fingers, his voice sounding blocked and nasally.

You pushed his hands away, hiding your face in his clothed chest. “Shut up.”

“C’mon, you love it.”

“I will fight you.”

He ran his hand up and down your arm, your eyes fluttering closed and your breathing steadying. He held you tighter, wrapping both arms around you and snuggling deeper into the bed. His last words before you fell into hypnosis lingered in your mind as you couldn’t even escape your lovestruck dreams of the perfect boy. “Keep telling yourself that, sicko.”

By the time the sun rose, you were sure that he would be gone; that his hoodie would be collected from the carpet, that his legs would no longer be intertwined with yours, and that his belongings would be gone, but he was still there and you were still in his arms and everything was still perfect. His breathing was soft and slow, his little curls were a bit tussled, his cheeks were pale, and you wondered what he was dreaming about that left a ghost of a smile on his face.

You wanted to wake up like this everyday and everyday after that. So yeah, maybe you were in love. Maybe you were in deep. And maybe you were ready to tell him.

He rustled around before lifting his eyes open, his smile growing wider when he saw your pink face, knowing he caught you staring at him as you glanced around the room, trying not to make eye contact with the boy.

“Feeling better?” he asked, turning to his side and facing you.

A strand slipped through your loose ponytail and settled on the front of your face, covering your eyes as he allowed his hands to work faster than his mind. He slowly brought his hand up, carefully moving the strand behind your ear. And you would expect the moment to be over but when his hand lingered on your cheek, his thumb lightly running over the smooth skin of your face, you knew that maybe just maybe there could be something more.

You nodded slowly. “I’m okay.”

“I’m glad. I hate seeing my girl sick,” he spoke softly as if speaking any louder would shatter the calming atmosphere.

My girl. You wanted to allow your mind to toss and turn, investigate the meaning behind those two words, search for his thought-process, his feelings, anything, but for the first time in forever, you felt serene and calm with him. You didn’t feel the need to wonder what this meant for the two of you. You were perfectly content where you were now, where you were going, and what you were going to do next.

You placed your hand on his chest, feeling his heart beat fast yet gentle. His eyes wandered down to your place of connection and when they met yours again, you could’ve sworn you saw something: a spark, hope, clarity, confirmation.

And when he leaned in, holding your face close with the hand still resting on your cheek, his lips hovering over yours, desperate to connect, you knew nothing would be the same. He would never be just your best friend anymore. And you were perfectly okay with that.

As Gabe leaned in, his lips met yours in a tender, yet passionate kiss. It was a moment that felt suspended in time, where every sensation was heightened—the warmth of his touch, the softness of his lips, the racing of your heart. In that instant, all doubts melted away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of certainty and bliss.

The kiss deepened, as if both of you were pouring all the unspoken feelings and desires into this one act. Your hands found their way to his hair, fingers threading through the soft strands as you pulled him closer, wanting to feel every part of him against you. His arms tightened around you, pulling you impossibly closer as if he never wanted to let go.

Time seemed to stand still as you lost yourselves in each other, the outside world fading into insignificance. When you finally broke apart, breathless and flushed, you found yourselves gazing into each other's eyes, the realization of what had just happened sinking in. But there was no fear, no uncertainty, only a profound sense of connection and joy.

“I’m sick,” you said, making Gabe chuckle softly. Of course your first words after a long-anticipated kiss would be that. But that’s what Gabe loved about you. You were you in every sense of the word. You are the reason his stomach hurts from laughing every time he comes back to his dorm, staring into space as he thinks about your giggle and your smile and your stupid humor. You are everything. You’re the world.

I just kissed the world, Gabe thought. My girl.

With a smile that spoke volumes, Gabe whispered, "I don’t care."

“You will when you get sick.”

“And will you be here? When I get sick?” he asked, his thumb running back and forth on the exposed space of skin on your pelvis.

You nodded. You would be there for him through anything no matter what. “Always.”

“Then I’m okay with it.”

And in that moment, as you nestled into his embrace once more, you knew that the stories were real and true; that love is real and true, because you just fell in it and you couldn’t be happier.

#gabe perreault #boston college #boston college hockey #gabe perreault x reader #gabe perreault imagines #gabe perreault imagine #gabe perreault fluff

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etakeh · 9 months

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Yes it's me again, nagging y'all about taking precautions against covid.

They're talking about Parkinson's here.

I want to make sure that everyone understands that Parkinson's isn't always Michael J Fox.

More often, Parkinson's is my dad, who had it for a few of years before it shut down all of his organs and he died.

And this was after his dementia and memory loss got so bad that he didn't know who anyone was except for me, and that's because I was living with him. He couldn't make his own food, he couldn't go to the bathroom by himself, he couldn't get dressed by himself.

There's no cure. There are ways to mitigate symptoms, but there is no cure.

Anyway yeah wear your flipping masks. If you don't care about yourself getting COVID, maybe think about the people who have to take care of you if Parkinson's becomes a thing.

#COVID #Parkinson's #health #long covid #psa #bitches love psa's #doom 2023

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userlando · 8 months

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Currently thinking about how THICK landos neck is omg it’s just perfection the things I want to do to it

Imagine giving bsf lando a massage after a little shunt on the track and he’s letting out the unholiest of sounds which have you literally squirming and trying not to whimper and keep your cool yourself

Maybe one evening you’re just a bit sad and down and he pulls you onto his lap to reassure and snuggle you and wow your face just slots right into his neck and you’re just nuzzling into him whilst you get it together with lots of supportive whispers and back tickles encouraging you

One night you guys are hitting the club as a big group and pair off to do shots as a funny challenge or something which max f thinks is a brill idea, someone puts salt on his neck for you to lick off and the lime is in his mouth. With all the alcohol in his system he’s loosened up with way less filter, ending up panting and groaning as you lick his neck and then into his mouth and the EYE contact you guys have as he then has to lick the salt off your chest because EVERYONE knows that you guys are crazy about eachother but the two of you so they’re doing everything they can short of pushing you guys into eachother

Continuing with bsf or maybe even fwb lando imagine being in his lap for something like doing his brows or an innocent reason but all of a sudden there’s a massive shift and one of you finally has the guts to make a move. You’re gripping his neck to steady yourself because wow that first kiss makes you feel dizzy and can’t help yourself when you pull back for air he’s rambling that he hopes that was ok and there’s no expectation blah blah blah blah but you just can’t stop looking at his neck and you just HAVE to kiss it suck it bite it squeeze it (bop it lol) and he is squirming and almost gets too much when you find his sweet spot and he’s gripping your hips and whimpering about how good it feels and how sensitive he is there and to please not stop omg maybe cums in his pants(I love that piece you wrote with that happening omg truly my fav concept)

This man’s neck and hands are literally on my brain 24/7 I really can’t cope hope it’s ok that I’m sharing so others may now suffer lol. I can’t decide what kind of kisser I think he’d be in general?

Also I hope you’re having a great week and doing well or that things are getting better for you! I literally think re-reading most of your fics everyday will cure my covid lol just when I think I’m done for the day keep coming back for more because your writing just scratches that itch in my brain and is the best distraction

-🌻

help. MEEEEEEEEEEE. what is this!!! i'm bawling my eyes out!!

you can't tell me he's not a good kisser because that man would rock your world. he'd be all slow and deep, really tasting you and rendering you into a whimpering mess. he's the kinda man who'd gently hold your jaw/throat and kiss you so deeply that you can't help but want more. and he'll absolutely give you more and then some 😭 lord have mercy on me

thank you for re-reading my work, it warms my heart like you couldn't believe!! i hope you're feeling better now, but i'll send all my energy and love your way 🤍

#zee’s asks 💌#lando brainrot #🌻 anon

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f1nalgirlz · 7 months

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Charlie Walker’s music taste | headcannons

Just some of my opinions on music I think Charlie would listen to. Just some short stuff while I’m home sick with covid :(

• starting off super easy he would 100% have a full playlist of his favorite songs from horror movies.

• I feel like he’d listen to Metallica, but like only a handful of songs, he’d definitely get called a poser by annoying metalheads 😭

• I like to think he’d be fairly versatile in his music taste, branching out into a lot of alternative music subgenres

• Charlie religiously listens to The Cure you’re not changing my mind (not because I love the cure or anything..😃)

• he frequents goth&goth rock but also grunge ????

• he loves Nirvana & branched out into Foo Fighters because of Dave Grohl

• really likes Hole’s music but is conflicted because of Courtney Love

• he’s not a huge fan of nu metal but enjoys Deftones for sure!!

• not a pierce the veil stan per say, but he did scream cry to “bulletproof love” when dealing with his first heartbreak

•He’s 100% the type who loves the music but knows absolutely nothing about the band with the exception of a handful of bands.

• definitely listens to “Tear you apart” at least once a day.

• the occasional listen to Asking Alexandria or Motionless in white to spice things up for him.

• this man has an INSANE vinyl collection. You can tell he’s poured hundreds of dollars into amassing it

• he always gets soooo excited to show off his fav vinyls & rushes to show you his new finds <333

• some might think he’d be an ICP guy, but he couldn’t really get into them

• he loves to burn CD’s, not just for himself but he makes them for you constantly.

• he puts together playlists he thinks you’ll like or just songs that remind him of you and burns you a CD of them.

• spotify user for sure

• finds himself humming along or tapping his foot to Lady Gaga when she’s on the radio maybe even singing along, but he would NEVER admit that. He says he’s “never heard her music.”

• PLAYLISTS TITLED Y/N !!!! <333

• Charlie is 1000% way more into cinema than music, but he thoroughly enjoys music, especially because it’s such a big part of the movies he adores. He’s a man that can appreciate good sound design, a man of many interests!

#rory culkin #rory culkin character x reader #charlie walker #scre4m #scream #charlie walker smut #charlie walker x you #charlie walker x y/n #scream 4 #scream4 #charlie walker headcannons #headcanon #music headcanons #i ❤️ rory culkin #culkin cult #give your headcannons if you want idk

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girlindividual · 1 year

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Hello!

I was wondering if you could write something with Sanji (and whomever else you feel like) with an S/O that just had a horrible week and no matter what they do, everything seems to get worse?

This is the FIRST request so i will treat this one specially and SERIOUSLY since all the things I've written are all silly guy stories.

OP GUYS CHEERING U UP AFTER A HORRIBLE WEEK

Luffy

You wouldn't even have a horrible week around him wtf he'll just be like "dont worry about it" then invites u to do some shit like fishing 💯

Zoro

Ok he'll probably say some tough shit like "if you have time to be down, you have time to be up 💯" idk what he means by that but he means well.

Sanji

Will personally intervene with how things are turning out 🤷 he's not gonna sit there and WATCH u have a horrible week tbh. Will help you through it. and comfort you. and just do simple things. idk tbh he'll make u soup 💯 and listen to what ur going to talk about. Whole time he's imagining his future with you. (He's like that with anyone ever)

Law

HE WILL LISTEN TO UR PROBLEMS AS LONG AS UR NOT CRYING. the moment u cry he's gone I'm sorry. he wouldn't even know how to respond to ur problems. he'll just stare at you. Unless he has advice!! I don't know what advice he has so this is only the farthest i can assume.

Usopp

He'll be like "don't worry the great usopp-sama is here to cheer you up" then he'll tell you his great adventures about how he cured covid or something 💯 and I'll ALWAYS believe him.

EUSTASS KIDD

I think he'll laugh and tell you to stop being such a loser about it. HE IS NOT THE BEST AT THESE THINGS!!! maybe thats just my perception of him.

Ace

Ok (SERIOUS) he'll probably cheer you up the normal way. he's normal guys he learned it from makino. "Don't let it bother you, the next one is gonna be better" he will make u forget about it. Idk like he'd party or something. I don't think it's possible to have a horrible week with him. Cool guy.

Sabo

Guys i can't imagine him ever trying to cheer anyone up. He's between "stop crying" and "don't let it bother you". he's only 17 missed calls and 48 unread messages away if you ever need him. 💯

FEEL FREE TO DISAGREE 🗣️🗣️

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anamericangirl · 3 months

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Hey there, just wanted to weigh in on the mask thing.

First off, should my English have some errors, I apologise, it is not my first language.

My mum, who is a surgeon, explained it to me. Surgical masks can’t stop a virus, that is true. But they are able to hold back bodily fluids, in this case, saliva. Covid was a disease that was transmitted through droplet infection (I translated this from the German „Tröpfcheninfektion“, so it may not be the correct term). So picture this: You are in a supermarket aisle, looking at chocolate. Next to you is a person without mask, and they cough and sneeze. Through this, tiny droplets of salvia are spewed everywhere (You can find videos of experiments showing this on YT). The droplets, with potential viral pathogens, are on everything. On them, their hands, you, on the chocolate bags…. Now you have tiny pathogens on your hands, without knowing it, and maybe touch your face, and they get in your mucous membranes, potentially infecting you.

But if this person wore a normal, surgical mask, and sneezed/coughed, there’d still be droplets with potential pathogens, but a far smaller amount, since that is exactly what those masks are intended for.

Did the government make masks into a „cure all, protect you from everything“ thing? Yes, definitely. But they still aren’t completely useless. If you wanted complete and absolute protection, you’d have, as we call it in Germany, a „whole body cond0m“, that keeps you safe from everything.

So, surgical masks, the ones we wore, were in fact useful to a certain degree.

Cheers

Surgical masks do have their uses and they aren't completely ineffective if you're using them for intended purposes. But they don't stop viral infections. Even with droplets they are so small some can get through the mask or leak in around it.

They do little to protect from viral infections even if those viruses are passed through droplets, but can be effective in the operating room.

Thanks for sharing!

#anon #answered

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floral-force · 2 years

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The Cure - one shot

Din Djarin x Sick!Reader

summary: after you fall ill, the mandalorian is there to take care of you.

warnings: none, I got covid and wanted some self-indulgent sickfic, so here we are...enjoy <3

word count: 1.7k+

read on ao3 | masterlist

It started with just a few sniffles after a quick trip to Pagodon. It had only been a few days of hunting a bail jumper—nothing you or Mando couldn’t handle. You had figured it was just some residual chills from the icy planet and its bone-chilling climate, but when the sniffles persisted, your copilot demanded answers about your condition.

“It’s really nothing,” you said, sniffing and engaging auto-nav controls on the Crest.

“If it was nothing, you’d be better by now,” the Mandalorian said. His helmet was focused on you, analyzing your every move.

“Everybody is different, Mando.” You rose from your seat, quickly moving to the ladder that led from the cockpit to the cargo hold. “You just have to trust me.”

You barely heard him grumble in response as you descended, stumbling a bit upon hopping off the rung a meter off the floor. Come to think of it, your coordination the past couple days had been off, and motor tasks that you normally completed without a second thought had suddenly required more cognitive effort than they had before. Even flying the Crest was an unusual challenge—you were leaning more on Mando for affirmation and guidance, and you were less sure of the maneuvers you executed. Maybe you really were sick, or maybe the bucket head was just making you paranoid.

After recovering from your unsteady landing, you walked to the right and through a mess of rags and fabric that divided your makeshift rack from the rest of the cargo hold. You rolled your eyes at the thought of him muttering a snarky “I told you so” if you admitted that you were suspicious about being sicker than you originally believed. You couldn’t afford to give him the satisfaction, you thought as you gathered your sleeping clothes from your makeshift shelving unit next to your cot. One of the drawers got jammed and you cursed as you attempted to shove it back into place, eventually growing frustrated and giving up, storming out and into the ‘fresher to wash up before taking your rack break. Looking in the mirror, your eyes did look a little more bloodshot than normal, but again, you brushed it off, quickly freshening up and heading back to your rack, quickly falling asleep.

You woke to the sound of your name being called urgently, and all you had the energy to do was open your eyes and mumble a “Yes?” and sit up on your elbows.

“Are you alright?”

It was the Mandalorian—was something wrong? His tone worried you, but your brain was too foggy to register anything beyond that.

“I’m fine,” you mumbled. “Is it my turn?”

“Your turn? What do you—Never mind,” he sighed. “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” you said, laying back down and rubbing your eyes. Your head felt heavy, and your bones felt like lead; fatigue was waging war on your body, a harbinger of something far worse.

“You look like shit.”

You scoffed. “Thanks, metal man.”

The Mandalorian knelt at your side, his chest entirely too close to your head, his helmet focused on you. It made your heart race and heat rush to your face, and you were suddenly embarrassed about your current state. You watched him gently set one of his gloves on the floor and then press the back of his bare hand to your forehead. The touch felt gentle, almost intimate; it was something you never would have imagined he could be capable of executing. It lit a fire in your chest and soothed you for some reason, but it was over as quick as it had happened.

“You’re burning up,” he said, resting his hand on your shoulder.

“Really? I feel cold.”

He sighed and gently tugged your cot’s blankets up to your neck, and it took all your strength to remain composed and not comment on your companion’s sudden gentleness.

“I think you have more than just a cold,” he said. “But I think I could have told you that yesterday.”

“Ha, ha.” You laughed dryly, rolling your eyes. “I haven’t even been that sick.”

“You think I haven’t noticed the little changes?” He sounded shy, but you couldn’t be sure in your current state. “You’re always around me, I notice when you have a change in demeanor or behavior.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have a liking towards me, Mandalorian.” You smirked, feeling a quick burst of energy spring forward.

Hearing him admit to watching you, caring for you, even if you didn’t notice it, made your heart sing. You did the same for him, and not just because you were copilots—you had developed feelings for him over the past few months. His broodiness, incredible skills, and surprising honesty drew you in, and you had learned through conversation how interesting he was as a person beyond his impressive Guild rates. The Mandalorian was a man of devotion, honor, and few words, and whenever he spoke to you, whether it be about the Crest, a hunt, or his life, your heart sang and you had to fight a smile from creeping across your face. It would be entirely unprofessional for you to admit that you had been watching him, too.

His lack of response to your comment told you that you had been accurate in your assumption, which was both a relief and a shock. It was a little too much for your foggy head to comprehend, though, so all you could do was smile up at him. You didn’t know if you were dreaming when you reached out and placed a shaking hand on his helmet, and you certainly didn’t know if his gentle lean into your hand was a mirage as well.

When you opened your eyes again, you saw a pile of beskar slumped against your shelves, facing you. The Mandalorian was keeping watch over you, and when he noticed you shift and stretch, he rose and then sat at the end of your cot.

“You fell asleep again.”

“Really?” You scrunched your eyes closed, tensing and relaxing your muscles from your toes to your fingers.

“Your body obviously needs the rest,” he said, and you felt him gingerly place a hand on your leg. “I think you should rest until you’re well again. Luckily, we’re in hyperspace right now, so you have some time.”

The weight of his hand caused your eyes to snap open and take in the sight of the deadly Mandalorian. He was nervously perched on the edge of your cot, his bare hand on your leg, visor trained on you. His body language gave away his desire to do more for you; his shoulders were relaxed and forced open to angle his chest toward you, his legs spread and head tilted in concern. You wanted—no, ached—for him to do more, and you didn’t want to fight that feeling. If he rejected you, you’d blame it on your sickness and the mental fogginess it gave you.

“How much longer are we going to be in hyperspace for?”

“Longer than normal, maybe twice the time it usually takes us.” He paused, turning his body toward you. “Why?”

“C-Could you rest with me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

You felt like a child under his gaze, your blankets pulled up to your chin and your eyes wide as you waited for his response. The Mandalorian withdrew his hand from your leg and stood, placing his hands on his hips.

Then, he sighed and shrugged. “Fuck it.” He murmured under his breath, bending down to detach one of his beskar tassets off his thigh. “I don’t see why not.”

You were so prepared for rejection that you hadn’t considered his agreement. Due to this, you stuttered a word of thanks and watched him strip off his beskar piece by piece. He was incredibly neat about it; everything was placed gently in a pile at the foot of your cot and although you couldn’t see how he placed every piece, you could tell it was deliberate and exact. You expected nothing less from this methodical hunter, and it brought a nervous heat to your face and neck as you considered how intimate it was to see him literally strip away his defenses. Knowing it was all for you made it even sweeter, and it made you question how platonic your relationship truly was.

Finally, he was down to his flight suit and helmet, staring down at you where he stood. Without him asking, you shifted yourself to the right of the cot, making room at your right side for him to lay. Understanding your movement, he walked to that side and cleared his throat.

“If I dim the lights, you have to promise not to open your eyes.”

You smiled and rolled onto your left side, closing your eyes. “Of course. I’ll even turn around.”

You heard him chuckle and then the hiss of his helmet as he took it off. There was a click and a hum, and you barely noticed the environment in front of your closed eyes grow darker. Then, the cot shifted with the addition of the Mandalorian, and you jumped when you felt his arm slowly wrap around you, his hand running down your arm and resting atop yours. You were trapped in his warm embrace, and it immediately made your heart race.

“Is this okay?”

You nodded vigorously. “This is perfect, Mando.” You exhaled deeply, nestling into his chest. “I could fall asleep right now.”

“That’s the idea,” he said, and you clung onto every syllable.

His warm voice hit your ears and sunk into your bones like honey, intoxicating you with intimacy and sweetness. You didn’t think that this deadly man was capable of such softness and domesticity, but here it was for you to experience and hold in your memory forever. Though your heart was racing, you were more relaxed than you had been in a long time, and you were positive that this alone would be a prime ingredient in the recipe that would cure your sickness.

He squeezed you, holding you tight against his warm body. It eased the occasional chill that ran through your bones, and you relaxed in his embrace even more. He planted a gentle kiss on the back of your head, and you smiled, hoping he could tell from your gentle hum of contentment that the gesture didn’t go unappreciated.

“I’ve got you, sweet one,” he whispered, kissing you again. “I’ll make sure you get well soon.”

taglist: @andiesturgss @theamuz @jellybeanstacey0519 @elinedjarin @maddiedrmr @kaqua @tortor-mcgee

#din x y/n #din djarin x you #mando x reader #din djarin fic #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x y/n #din djarin x reader #din djarin x y/n #my fic #star wars #the mandalorian fic #sick fic #Din Djarin sickfic #sick!reader

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branchflowercuriosa · 1 year

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I don't make much in the way of personal posts on Tumblr these days but I feel obliged as today is International ME Awareness Day. It's also ME Awareness Month but I won't bore you with infographics every day because let's face it, nobody really cares 🤷

ME stands for Myalgic Encephalomyelitis, also known as Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, but they're phasing out that term now due to stigma and frankly, inadequacy. It's much worse than it sounds - and this is my life now. There is no treatment or cure for this chronic and severely debilitating multi-systemic disease, which is put in the same basket as Parkinson's and MS, with a quality of life comparable to that of an end-stage AIDS patient who has about 2 months to live. Except this won't kill me.

I am one of the "millions missing" as it is commonly referred to in ME circles (and Long Covid) - due to those who suffer just disappearing from daily life (work, social, general life stuff everyone takes for granted), with little to no support from the medical community. The Australian govt has put a total of $4 million into ME research in the last 20 years. We are overlooked. Many doctors don't even believe it's a thing - the ignorance around ME is staggering.

I am never not sick. I hardly leave the house and when I do it's never without a mobility aid. I have a Rollator (walking frame with wheels) and a powered wheelchair which I am rarely well enough to use.

Occasionally I get driven to the shops just to get out of the house, but I stay in the car and wait because I can't walk more than about 20 metres without having to sit and the exertion of going into a shop, even with an aid, will cause me to have a symptom crash. It's still an outing though for which I am grateful, even sitting in a carpark. If I do more than this, I pay dearly. Recently I felt ok enough to help feed some cows on the farm and it put me in bed for a week. I spend most of my time in bed. I move to a recliner in the lounge on a good day.

I'm fortunate to now live in a lovely house in beautiful surrounds on a farm estate, which I can't enjoy nearly as much as I'd like, but I'm still here and living in the country with the birds and bunnies is a whole lot nicer than being stuck in the 'burbs.

So. M.E. awareness. There needs to be more of it so maybe, just maybe a cure will be found in my lifetime.

Ok, I'm done. Thanks for listening x

#mecfs #myalgic encephalomyelitis #chronic illness #spoonie #disability #disability awareness

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