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josephquinnswhore · 6 months

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Good Girl

Pairing: Male Nurse Joel Miller x female patient reader.

Summary: the nurse in triage calls you a good girl.

Word Count: 2k

Content Warning: Joel Miller with curly hair and glasses, praise kink. Taking pills—painkillers and steroids. Implied age gap, older Joel—mid twenties reader. No outbreak.

Note: based off the sexy male nurse tonight at hospital that called me a good girl 😭 maybe it was innocent but I have a praise kink baby! Anyway, I’m high off painkillers and steroids and I’m super sick so this is probably a terrible fic. Anyway enjoy… or don’t!

You were worn from the endless beat down and busyness that work had drained you with. Your car keys in hand jingle in the silence of the night, glad you put on that ugly navy-blue hand knit old man’s sweater you’d brought from lowes. It was cold—perhaps a symptom of her sickness, or maybe it was just cold.

It was too quiet for your liking—never taking too kindly to hospitals, let alone at 10:00pm, in the complete darkness. It was silent, not one pair of footsteps, not a monitor beeping. It sets the anxiety on hold in your throat skyrocketing into nausea.

Your converse on the ugly off-white tile is comforting, at least you’re not completely alone in the eerie building. You look around the front desk, sighing in annoyance that to your surprise, there’s no one there. The box of masks and tissues occupy the space of the counter. And a sign; made by the staff.

The notice was printed on a foul-yellow in big bold writing.

“STAFF ON BREAK. GONE FOR 30 MINUTES. PLEASE SEE TRIAGE IF STAFF NOT AVAILABLE.”

Oh—okay, that’s fine. Everyone needs a break, especially healthcare workers in these dire times.

Walking back past the section of the building you’d come through initially, the permanently open sliding doors, you come to find again; no one at the triage.

But there’s no note, perhaps they’re just busy tonight. If so; why was it so silent? The ache in your ear dulled, but still caught the sound of someone shuffling in the background, through the window you could see an older lady, short with greying hair and rectangular glasses remaking a bed.

You decide to press the giant green button that says “call.” The woman notices the sound, turning the alarm off as she approaches the desk.

Her voice is irritable; like you’re interrupting the most important task of her damned life. “Can I help you?” She asks rudely.

A man in dark blue scrubs interrupts. “Are you here to see a doctor?” His voice is husky, tired sounding but still kind.

“Yes, please.” You plead tiredly, eyes dropping lazily and scoffing at how late it was, and how you’d have to be at work tomorrow.

Damn it all, right?

“Come in sweetheart.” He swipes his card on the door that’s attached to the pocket on his scrubs, unlocking the door with a beeping sound, he holds the door open for you.

“Thank you.” You wearily and slowly walk into the triage, the body aches infecting every limb of yours too to bottom.

“Just sit down here, and we’ll get some of your details. My name is Mr Miller, but you can call me Joel.” He grins cheekily.

You sit on the uncomfortable leather seat, a monitor right next to you, a second seat next to your own remains unoccupied as you arrived alone.

The details are boring, your name, birthdate, address and allergies are all rushed through quickly, although you did seem to notice how the man’s ears reddened at the sound of your name.

Great, now you’re sick and delusional.

He scoots his chair over to you, the wheels rolling along the slick floors, his legs guiding him to the monitor, he puts the cuff around your arm and checks your blood pressure.

He frowns at the result.

You refrain from looking until he’s back at his desk typing notes. That can’t be good.

“Alright, what brings you in tonight lovely?” The man’s attention was undivided. Those deep brown—chocolate eyes were watching you. It felt a little intimidating.

“I’ve had a cough for a few days, but I’m struggling to eat and drink due to how swollen my tonsils feel. There’s also an ache in my left ear.” You explain hoarsely, your voice seemed to have changed as a result of your withering condition, even had started losing your voice.

“Alright now, I’m going to check your temperature first, so I need you to slip this under your tongue, okay?” Enamoured by how soft this man’s voice was, you only nodded in compliance.

He puts a small disposable plastic cover over the thermometer and when it beeps he throws the cover in the bin and hums to himself. “Temperature is okay.”

“Just going to have a look in that ear and see if there’s anything unusual going on, just hold on tight.”

You remain patient, watching his every move, eyes veering back and forth as you watch him, noting how small the ear torch thingy looked in his hands, Christ, was that even normal?

“Ears look alright.” He states confidently. “Now I just want to check your mouth, open up wide for me.”

You comply, wordlessly, tongue hanging out of your mouth, he can’t seem to find his torch as he rummages through his things, deciding to use the torch off his phone.

A phone that seemed old school to be owned by a nurse. “Just try and relax that tongue for me.” His voice was soft, squinting as he tried to see the condition of your throat.

He jumps in thought, pulling the small pair of glasses from his top pocket, he looks so sweet with them on.

“Let’s try again, just try and relax your tongue, keep it down on the bottom of your mouth if you can.” He encouraged, “relax that tongue for me.”

He pulls away, turning the torch off on his phone.

“Sorry sweetheart I’m going to need to use the tongue compressor.” He chuckles, you let out a huff of a laugh, due to your hoarse and irritated voice.

“Sorry—I was trying to keep it still, it’s hard when you’re trying to consciously keep it from moving.”

The man walks to the other side of the room, he lets out a laugh. “It’s alright—we’ll get you sorted.”

You notice more things about him as he walks around, the half sleeve that covers his elbow. Black and grey mainly, but a cherry blossom flower in pink. Not entirely neat, the ink had faded, you could only presume it was a result of being tattooed many years ago. Perhaps before your time.

His arms were thick, muscly. The poor seams of his uniform sleeves were holding with all their might in the double stitch. His neck were thick, and even though you could only see a small portion of his chest, you notice the defined collarbones and black coarse chest hairs that come up to the base of his neck. His hair was slightly grown out, curly hair seemed free range. The grey hairs in his hair matched his patchy—but neatly shaven beard.

God he looked tired, his expression matching your own, he yawned underneath the mask he wore haphazardly. “Pardon me, it’s getting to that time of night.”

“I feel you,” you mumble, tiredness laced in every syllable.

He takes the paper wrapper off the wooden stick, holding it out as he sits back in his chair, across from you. “Just gonna hold your tongue down and get a look.” He firmly presses the stick into your mouth, holding your tongue down to prevent it blocking where he needs to see.

Your tongue seems to dispute the sudden constriction and wiggles which he laughs at.

“Good girl, thank you.” He praises, sparing a glance before wheeling back to his desk to throw the wooden stick in the bin, going back to his computer to type in his notes.

Good what now? Surely that’s not apart of a normal checkup, or procedure, right? Your whole body tingles and you feel yourself feeling warm, almost faint at his praise.

“Alright darlin, if you wanna sit in the waiting room and wait for the doctor you’ll be right in,” he gives a polite smile, you miss the way he looks you up and down. He holds the door open for you, slowly you’re able to lift your aching body off the seat that's noulded around you, offering him a small smile as you walk past him. “Thank you so much.”

You hobble to the stiff seats, taking a spot in the second row from the front—directly across from the front desk.. where typically the attendant had turned the light on and sat back down, she stares at you as she takes down her sign.

The tv was quiet, but it depicted a movie you were quite fond of; Kingsman: The Golden Circle.

Well—your love for Pedro Pascal made the movie more enjoyable.

He made a fine cowboy after all.

After a few minutes of watching the scene on the quiet tv, and snap chatting with your friends to let you know that you’d been praised by a sexy nurse, you’re called into the doctor's office. In which; the sexy nurse himself was there, assisting the doctor.

“I hear you’re not feeling too well, young lady.” The doctor was an older man, lean and tall, one white patch at the front of his otherwise untouched brown hair.

“I’m just going to check a few things out, we’ll get this all sorted for you so you can go home.” He said cheerfully.

The doctor, same as Mr Miller—Joel.. checked your mouth, tongue, ears and asked a few of the same questions. After assessing you; he finally had an answer.

“Sounds like a viral infection—we’ll get you some pain killers, steroids and a list of symptoms we’ll need you to come back for, if you experience them. I’ll be back in one moment!” The lanky doctor exclaimed.

The nurse—Joel, stayed. “Why don’t we get you seated, you don’t look well.” His large hand guides your mid-lower back, taking your hand to sit you onto the freshly made bed, the linen now tainted with your sickness.

“Thank you,” a whisper is all your aching throat can manage.

The moment is ruined by the doctor. “These are the steroids and pain relief. I forgot to ask—do you need a medical certificate?” He tilted his head, handing you the small white paper cup that had 4 pills, two large and two small. With a cup of water.

“Yes please, I’m scheduled to work tomorrow but I don’t feel fit enough to work.” You manage softly, although feeling a little embarrassed to complain about working in your condition.

Joel looked tired and stressed, yet here you were complaining. You begin swallowing the tablets, the two large first, unable to stop yourself from gagging as the pill gets lodged in your throat—the swelling of your tonsils makes it difficult to swallow.

But you manage, thank t to the encouragement of Joel. “It’s alright, easy now, don’t rush.” He croons, standing a little too close to you.

You take his advise, taking a few moments to swallow the pills and eventually you’re done. “There you go, easy now sweetheart,” he murmurs gently. Your body halts it’s shuffling to get off the bed, but the man takes your plastic and paper cup and put it in the bin for you. You’re stunned by how thoughtful and beautiful this older man was.

“Medical certificate and some pain killers to take home.” The doctor stated, interrupting your delusion, sitting them down on the work bench across from your position on the bed. “If you start to feel worse, fevers, vomiting, shortness of breath please come back.”

You stand, suppressing a groan as your stiff ankles hold the ache for your weight. “Thank you so much. Have a good evening.”

He bids his farewells, and you pick up your paperwork and medication, noting how once again, the nurse is holding the door open for you, the stronger man gives you a soft smile.

“Feel better sweetheart. Don’t hesitate to come back. Want you looked after, yeah?” It sounded like a coo, like he was pleading for your condition to improve.

“Thank you for all your help.” You muster, feeling better already thanks to the fast working medication.

“See you around.” His hand brushed against your lower back as you walk past. “Have something to eat when you get home, won’t you?”

Your cheeks felt inflamed, not from sickness, but bashfulness. “I’ll do that.” You promised, making your exit out of that stale smelling room. Your stomach grumbled, as if it also wished to comply to this man’s sweet demands.

The only thought of that handsome man on your mind, was she imagining things.. surely not?

Either way, your immune system was no good, it was almost a guarantee you’d be back sooner or later.. you just hoped, nurse Joel Miller would be on the clock to assist you back to health.

#pedro pascal #Joel miller #Joel miller hbo #Joel miller fic #Joel miller x you #Joel miller nurse x patient reader #Joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem reader #joel miller praise kink #old man joel miller #this is garbage sorry #I’m drugged up and sick #stay delulu #the last of us

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potatoeofwisdom · 26 days

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I’m so insufferably sick rn I’m GHGNNNGNMBNMBB

MNfhnmbmmb

#crying sobbing on the floor #my mouth tastes like shit everything tastes like shit the sensory hell is real #can’t swallow it’s too painful #food is an uphill battle #I hate taking drugs but I need to #gOIUuHhhGhHhhgjgngm #everything aches feels like my head is breaking open #can’t stand up #everything is foggy #my head is heavy #I keep sweating like no tomorrow #but then next moment I’m shivering and freezing #dry ass mouth but constantly filled with saliva that I have to swallow = hurt cus throat hates me #GRRAGAHR #tw sickness #tw sick mention #anway #I’m gonna delete this in a second I’m just hating everything rn #ah well

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mutalune · 3 months

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love going on the “hi yeah I haven’t even looked at my inbox/messages for months sorry sorry sorry it’s nothing personal my life’s just been in shambles and I’m starting to pick it back up even though I know I’m gonna drop all the pieces at least 3 more times before the year’s over” shame tour I’mma make t-shirts later for it

#starlight personal #gonna be actually answering the questions in my inbox #planning to post the notes for tmagr since I’m probs never gonna finish it #and I’m making 0 promises to have any kind of consistent online presence #b/c I’ve learned it’s best for my mental health to delete these apps when I’m approaching crisis mode #so I’ll just be like the fun uncle who shows up to holidays with a six pack of nonalcoholic beer;#chats about whatever #slides you a $20 #and disappears for the next 2 years #tbf 2023 was a horrible year okay it was so bad #some of it included; I almost got a grippy sock vacation twice #i tried a few new meds and they all sucked and i went through Literal Drug Withdrawal to the point i was sick for a month and lost 30lbs #i started ketamine treatment and experienced ego death twice!!!! horrifying!!!!!#i got my manager fired #i got my coworker fired #everyone else on the team quit and j was the last one left #my cat died and it was the worst thing that ever happened and it still hurts so bad #the person i thought would be a forever best friend was just. not there for me. and b/c i was struggling and not putting in 150% effort #the friendship just. died. and we live 5 min away from each other yet she’s out of my life forever #it’s for the best but that’s a different kinda grief man #ANYWAY I HAD A TERRIBLE YEAR #2024 is off to a somewhat better start but I’m keeping expectations low #first ketamine appt of the year was. brutal. and tough. and it’s been over a week and I still feel raw #everyone who knows about ketamine: it helps you process emotions and trauma and brings those things to the surface so u can work on them #me when it brings trauma to the surface and makes me feel my feelings: this is HORRIBLE what the FUCK my entire innards are exposed and raw #I forgot how easy it is to babble in the tags like this it doesn’t feel real since I doubt anyone will read all of this lmao #god I’d kill for some weed rn BUT HAHA YEAH ANKTJER SHITTY PART LF 2023 I GOTTA CUT BACK ON WEED #can’t even have one bad coping skill like come on

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warriorsatthedisco · 2 months

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Man I used to sympathize people with chronic illness, but now I can really empathize. This shit sucks and it has the worst snowball effect too.

#helped my friend with her art booth at a con this weekend and it wasn’t even like a ton of work but it fucking exhausted me so much #I think I pushed myself too far because I also got sick and now I feel like shit and I’m so so so tired #and of course this is with steroids. like the drug that gives you energy to do shit and I’m barely functioning at work #I’m going to up my dose to 30mg bc the doctor said I could. cause even at 20 I’m still getting crohns symptoms #nothing like picking up groceries and feeling sudden impending doom where you have to get to a toilet as soon as possible #and then being so tired from just picking up groceries that you don’t have energy to make food #so you just lay in bed but you can’t sleep because you’re in pain and it’s hard to breathe from this stupid cold #this cold shouldn’t be kicking my ass but of course my steroids are immunosuppressants so it’s like I have fucking Covid #(I don’t have Covid)#and then crying because even on the steroids I still have to follow this stupid miserable diet because apparently #my body just fucking hates all good food #including goddamn rice #RICE!#not to mention the fact that prednisone can make your vision bad and it’s been making it hard for me to read even with my glasses on #and the foot cramps. idk what that’s about but I’m drinking so much water and taking supplements #anyways. rant over. hope I can work tomorrow. I accidentally slept thru my alarm today and was an hour late #personal

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floralsapphics · 5 days

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#really struggling today #my vet suspects my cat has FIP and I’m crushed since that’s basically a death sentence and he only just turned 5 :(#I know GS-441524 is somewhat available in Canada now but since it’s not FDA approved it’s like 8k #what’s worse is my family and I have a 2 week vacation scheduled on May 11 #so even though there’s this drug with a 90% success rate it’s just so incredibly expensive I doubt we could afford it #even if we did manage to get our hands on it we wouldn’t be able to administer it to him for those 2 weeks #and even though he’s doing somewhat ok at the moment who knows what his condition will be like during those 2 weeks :(#ultimately we’re trying to decide whether or not to put him down before our trip #like if he does have it and died alone and in pain while we were out of the country I would be crushed #but I’d also be crushed if we put him down when there’s the chance he doesn’t have it since FIP is so hard to diagnose #it’s the not knowing what’s going on that makes it worse #it’s so hard because he’s still so sweet and curious and has really been my rock since we got him I’m just absolutely beside myself #like the whole day yesterday he’s done nothing but cuddle me and my mom like he knows we’re upset but doesn’t know why #I just feel like I’m abandoning and failing him in his time of need #I desperately don’t want to go on this trip so I can spend more time with him and maybe scrounge up enough money to buy the drugs #and give him a fighting chance #but I can’t and I feel sick and trapped about it

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peppermintwhisp · 1 year

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Stop portraying Jason’s parents as deadbeats. You’re perpetuating a harmful stereotype without even realizing it.

You don’t have to be a bad person to work for a criminal. You don’t have to be an abusive dad or a petty thug or an alcoholic. Good people, kind people can end up in prison.

You don’t have to be a neglectful mother to end up with a drug addiction. You didn’t choose your addiction over your kid if you die of an overdose.

Picture this. The Todd’s are a middle class, nuclear family living in the suburbs. Both parents are working and they are able to have a comfortable living and save for retirement. Then Catherine gets a cancer diagnosis. In 5 months, the cost of treatments completely destroyed their savings. Catherine loses her job and her health insurance. They have to sell their home and move to a smaller, cheaper apartment in Park Row. The costs of medicine is too high. They have to sell their car. Willis doesn’t have reliable transport to his job. He loses his job. They need money to put food on the table. The only work he can find that pays enough to support his family is working for Two-Face. They can’t afford to see the doctor anymore to get prescriptions for Catherine’s painkillers. The free clinic doctors refuse to give her opioids. She starts using street drugs. Throughout all this, they still try to protect their 9 year old son from the devastating turn their lives have taken. Catherine helps him study for his spelling tests and reads with him every night. She gives him her portion of dinner when his stomach won’t stop growling. Willis teaches Jason to swim on free swim days at the community pool and gives vague answers when Jason asks him what he did at work. They try to hide the bills and the credit card statements and the past due notices until after he falls asleep at night. One night Willis gets arrested. They can’t afford the apartment without his income and get evicted. Catherine and Jason stay at the shelters when they can. Then Catherine gets a dose laced with fentanyl and dies, leaving their 9 year old son to fend for himself on the streets.

Tldr: Being poor is not a moral failing. Just because Jason was homeless when Bruce found him doesn’t mean one or both his parents were shitty parents.

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thatineffablewitch · 25 days

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me trying to record a video journal for school assignment and watching it back:

ha ha yeah wtf is wrong with me

#I’m still sick so the doctor gave me steroids #Why did I mention this in my assignment tho #Dear god I need to not be sick soon this is getting old fast #Am I really oblivious #Is something actually not on canvas #Am I just on too many fucking drugs rn?#Who fucking knows anymore #Leave me alone to sleep and try going and hour without coughing up a lung that’s all I ask #Do NOT recommend getting sick the first week of school lol

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mars-ipan · 2 months

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i am such a one drink girlie. tipsy is plenty and i do not want to experience a hangover ever in my life

#marzi speaks #think my roommate went clubbing or smth last night so i’m thinking abt it #and like. god that is not for me. clubbing/partying in general is fine but one drink is. plenty #being drunk is fun but i don’t wanna get so drunk that i feel sick. like ever #give me a single mixed drink for me to sip on and i am good for the night #don’t need anything more #it’s funny tho i talk to my parents abt this stuff and they’re like ‘you’re being smart but don’t miss out’#and it’s like. folks you both have alcoholism in your families. you both know it’s probably for the best if i minimize my alcohol intake #my parents were both party people growing up and sometimes it shows when i talk to them lmao #they’ve peer pressured me more than my friends ever have. they will respect it if i say no tho #what being gen x does to a motherfucker i guess #literally my entire childhood my parents’ philosophy on drugs was ‘there’s a time and a place for everything and it’s called college’#which. i learned was a south park reference as a teenager. and i felt so betrayed #bc i was convinced that was smth they came up with organically prior to that #ANYWAYS. i have never experienced a desire to get wasted and i hope it stays that way #weed’s more fun anywho. and i still have a low ass tolerance so it’s cheap too #uhhh do i tw tag this. sure #tw alcohol mention #tw drug mention #there we are :]

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vampireknitting · 4 months

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I have to get my wisdom teeth removed here on the 4th and I really wish medical anxiety wasn’t so dismissed or laughed at.

The anxiety has been slowly ramping up since Christmas and now that I have to cut out the only thing that’s managed the fibromyalgia bs. I mean sure it’s just weed. But when my health tanked and I was throwing up half of everything I tried to eat and losing weight like it was nothing. Unfortunately it was the only thing that helped stop the vomiting.

I’ve been put on and taking off several medications over the years for being the unlucky type that doesn’t react well to different meds. All the gut pills they wanted me to take hurt or was you know making me digest my own blood.

The Fibromyalgia began creeping in when I was in high school and the doctors I had told me to eat pills and go away. I had injured my knee and it just didn’t get better. I still have issues with it. Being a childhood cancer survivor means health complaints must be cry’s for attention or drugs.

They asked me to not consume any weed because they don’t know if it’ll hurt me to be put under so they can cut out the heavily impacted teeth. Which fine, I won’t fight because they could label me as some sort of user or drug obsessed or whatever. But the only drug that I know can kill you while being put under is meth.

My sister’s dental surgeon said don’t stop smoking weed because there isn’t anything out that supports either side. Pro weed or anti-weed before surgery. He didn’t want anything to add to the stress of the surgery so he said keep doing what you’re doing.

#disabled homemaker #just some thoughts #too much anxiety #i just wanna cry #how do you stand your ground against people who are so quick to label you as some sort of druggie #they argue with me when I say painkillers make me sick #I’m not asking for special treatment just for straight answers.#it’s made worse when I get eye rolls for saying my health issues started before I started smoking #I’m not asking you fucks to smoke with me I’m asking you why #how do you even begin working with an anxiety type that is triggered by medical professionals? why are drugs the only fucking answer?#I was diagnosed with leukaemia at 4.5 years old. my most important years of development #have been dominated by adults who kinda treated me like a fucking animal who couldn’t understand a lick of English #or ignored because she only misses the treatment she use to get as a child.#because I love being talked over like I don’t fucking exist or I’m just crazy #I just love the sneer I get when they read cancer survivor in my charts and suddenly I’m the paragon of health #even though I’ve been asking for help for most of my life because I couldn’t understand why I couldn’t keep up with the other kids.#because the cancer is gone you can’t possibly have any other health issue ever because that’s a direct insult the medical professionals #to insinuate that they couldn’t play god and make me magically so healthy that chemotherapy couldn’t possibly leave behind issues.#no that only happens to adults because children are supposed to be rubber and bounce no matter what #just ugh #fuck the medical system #medical anxiety

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