#the last of us sick fic

[ninebluehearts]

I beg you for fluffy fluff (or as fluffy as possible, all things considered) Joel / whomever with Joel being sick (not seriously, but like a guy tends to get a bit helpless when he has a cold!) and his s/o having none of it!

Ahhhh, thank you for the ask anon!!💗 Man-colds are no laughing matter 😤✋

Rated: E

Your eyes slowly fluttered open in the limited light in your bedroom- you sat up, glancing around for anything that could've woken you up before the sun could. You squinted your eyes, trying to focus them on the clock that quietly ticked away on the wall nearest to you. It was only three in the morning; you didn't start your shift for another two hours.

Figuring you just had a nightmare and didn't remember it, you tried to lay down and go back to sleep. As you slowly started to let your body slip into the heavy darkness, a sudden thud right next to you pulled you out of your light sleep. You stared at the wall again, waiting to see if it would happen again.

Not a minute later, another thud sounded next to you, followed by what sounded like a bear's growl. You sat up once again, gently pressing your hand against Joel's shoulder. "What is it baby?" You mumbled, gently running your nails along the skin his t-shirt sleeve didn't cover.

"Don't feel good." He mumbled, followed by another deep groan.

"Awe, my poor baby," You cooed, reaching over to feel his forehead. "You're warm."

Joel leaned into your touch, pressing his forehead against the palm of your hand. "But I'm soo cold." He whined.

To be honest, you were more than a little shocked. The man that was always so stoic and intimidating was now here, cuddling your arm and whining over a little cold. You thought it was the beginning of October, considering all of the leaves started dying and falling once again, and the familiar gentle nip of a chill hung in the air, but no one could know for sure. Allergies would explain where the cold came from though.

"Oh baby, what can I do?" You asked as you ran your fingers through his hair, gently massaging his scalp. Joel slurred out an answer that you couldn't understand, but a yawn followed, and soon he was fast asleep once again. You laid down beside him, one arm draped over his chest as the other continued to gently play with his hair.

-

You don't remember exactly when you fell asleep, but thankfully Joel was still fast asleep when you woke up. You managed to get yourself up and ready for work without waking him up, leaving a glass of water and two antibiotics Joel had been saving on the counter, waiting for him when he got up for work.

You worked from five in the morning to seven that night, waiting in line for an extra thirty minutes for your pay. When you reached the front of the line you noticed your friend Ben was working the counter today. Though Joel didn't like him very much, Ben let you get away with a lot of shit, and that was enough to convince Joel to swallow his pride and play nice.

"Hey Benny, how ya been?" You asked as you stepped in front of him, gently rapping your knuckles on the table.

"Same old, same old." Ben said with a sigh, licking his thumb before picking through the box of cards. "Oh hey, have you seen Joel today? He didn't show up for his shift this morning." He asked as he held out the cards you had earned for today and a small piece of paper that had the details for tomorrow's assignment.

"No, I haven't seen him since this morning." You said as you took the papers from him, worry laced in your tone. "I'll make sure he shows up tomorrow though. Thanks Benny." You didn't register his goodbye as you walked away, your mind swarming with the What-If?'s.

You knew about Tess and Joel's missions outside of the QZ- what if he got bit and didn't know? What if he got tetanus from a rusty fence? What if he took a bad batch of pills? The list of things Joel Miller could've done to accidentally kill himself went on for miles, and it felt like you went over every scenario on your way back home.

As you approached the door to your apartment, your hand wrapped around the doorknob, you froze. What if he was infected? The thought made you sick to your stomach, but you had to consider it..

Fuck, when was the last time he left the QZ? You thought, trying to think back to the last time you had to cover for him when he didn't show up for work. Though you hoped he was actually sick this time.

Infected or not, you had to check on him. If he was infected, then there was a bat he kept by the door you could use.

You gently turned the knob to the right, scanning the room as you slowly pushed the door open. When you didn't see anyone, you fully stepped into the room, looking behind the door just in case. "Joel?" You called out as you slowly walked towards the wall that hid your bed.

A deep growl sounded from behind the wall, stopping you dead in your tracks. Your heart dropped to your stomach, sweat beaded on your forehead. You had never seen an infected person before; only hearing stories about them from Joel and Tess or others from the QZ. But if you had to guess, growling was a sure sign of infection.

You took a quiet step back, grabbing the handle of the bat and holding up and ready. "Honey?" You called out, slowly walking towards the bedroom once again. Though this time there was nothing but silence. Once you were close enough, you whipped around the corner, ready to smack an infected for the first time ever.

What you weren't ready for was Joel lying in bed with two tampons shoved up his nose, cuddling a bottle of cheap QZ moonshine.

You sighed, lowering the bat. "What the fuck Joel? I thought you were infected or something!" You hollered, tossing the bat onto the nearby couch.

Joel groaned, rolling over onto his side. "Why would I be infected?" His voiced sounded hoarse.

"Well, considering that all I knew was that you recently went out of the QZ, you had a fever when I left, and you didn't show up for work today.." You huffed, your hands planted on your hips.

"That run was over a week ago; would've been dead by now." He mumbled, sniffling around the long piece of cotton.

Your hand flew up to cover your mouth, trying your best not to laugh. "Joel Miller, are those my tampons? Really?"

"I couldn't find a rag!" He said with a groan, throwing the blanket over his head.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head in disbelief. "And you're the Joel everybody's scared of.." You mumbled as you grabbed the edge of the blanket, gently pulling it off of him. "Up." You said, rolling your eyes at the mix of a groan and a whine he let out. "Come on, I'll make you soup. You can't just lay around all day." You held out your hand for him to take, pulling him to his feet when he did.

Joel sighed, leaning against you as some form of hug. "You're late." He mumbled into the crook of your neck, his arms wrapping around your waist.

You rested your chin on his shoulder as you gently rubbed his back, enjoying the closeness after a long day. "I know. I had to help clean up after the after-work rush and there was a long line at the card table today."

Joel nodded, taking a deep breath in and out, his hot, sick breath striking your neck.

You shivered, gently pushing him away. "I love you, but you're so gross. Seriously, let me make you soup and then you can lay back down." You guided Joel into the living room and sat him down on the chair in the corner. After that, you grabbed a pot and a can of chicken noodle soup Joel had found on one of his missions and stashed under the bed for times like this. You used the small, white heater under the window as a makeshift stove to heat up the soup.

Once Joel finished eating, you tucked him back into bed and felt his forehead, his fever had thankfully gone down. "Did you take those antibiotics I left for you?"

Joel nodded, patting the open space next to him on the bed. "Will you sleep with me? I know it's a little early, but I don't wanna be alone."

"If it'll make you feel better faster." You responded with a smirk, lying down next to him.

"It will." Joel pulled the blankets up and over you then slung his arm around your waist, holding you as close as possible. "You always take such good care of me.. I love you, baby." He pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek then buried his face against your neck, his thumb gently rubbing circles on your stomach where your shirt rode up.

"I love you too, honey." You settled into his embraced, your eyes suddenly getting heavy. It had been a long, draining day and you couldn't imagine a better way to end it.

[unfinishedslurs]

The boy stops in his tracks. “I know you,” he says, tilting his head curiously. He’s not tall, but he’s regal nonetheless, dressed all in white. Something about him makes Leia’s hair stand on end, and although she hides it she feels a stirring in her own chest. I know you like I know my own soul, she thinks wildly, and wonders where it came from. Has she gone insane?

“That’s nice,” she says, and shoots him anyway.

He deflects it in a flash of light, a glowing blue laser sword appearing in his hand like magic. She’s only seen one of those before, and it’s Vader’s. If this boy is anything like Vader, she realizes, she’s in deep shit.

She’s smart enough to know when she’s outmatched. Leia makes the tactical decision to run for her life.

Later, as she’s getting the hell out of there, she wonders why he didn’t try to stop her.

She remembers being young and tugging on her mothers skirts, demanding to know why their guest was so sad. “Does he not like it here?” She’d asked, and then, trembling, because Kenobi always seemed saddest around her. “Is it…because of me?”

“Oh, Leia,” her mother sighed, lifting her into her arms. “It’s not that, I promise.”

“Then what is it?”

“Master Kenobi lost a child under his care, years ago.” Breha’s eyes grew deeper, darker. “It was not his fault, but he blames himself. You remind him of that child, that’s all.”

Leia had quieted at that, contemplative.

The next time she’d seen Master Kenobi, she had given him a hug. He didn’t seem to know what to do with that, so she resolved to give him more of them. “He’s lonely,” she’d told her mother. “No one should be lonely.”

Looking at Obi-Wan Kenobi now, the memory seemed so far away. He’d aged thirty years in the ten it had been.

He looks, Leia thinks with a small twinge of regret, very lonely.

“Leia,” he greets. “It’s been a long time.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Leia sees a glint of white.

Kenobi freezes in his tracks. “Luke?” He whispers, and through the distance Leia can hear it as if he’d been speaking directly into her ear.

Master Kenobi lost a child under his care, her mother whispers in her head. He blames himself.

In an instant, Leia understands everything.

Kenobi is still staring at the boy he’d lost so long ago when Vader cuts him down.

Later, as she’s pacing around on the Falcon to Han muttering darkly about Princesses and supernatural abilities, she rememberers the way the boy collapsed, as if all his strings had been cut. Vader was too occupied with him to even look at her as she shot at him desperately.

Luke. She hates him more than she hates herself.

“They know where you are,” he hisses frantically. “They’re coming for you. You have to run.”

“Wait!” Leia quickly pulls up their sonar. Nothing yet, but it would explain the distant queasiness she’d felt since they’d landed. She tended to trust her gut. “How do you know? How much time do we have?”

“Not important, and not enough,” he says. “I have to go, and so do you. You need to leave yesterday.”

“How do I know I can trust you? I don’t even know who you are.”

He pauses. “Call me Skywalker.”

“That’s not an answer, Skywalker.”

“Yes it is.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but there are faint voices on the other end, drawing nearer.

“Shit,” Skywalker mutters. “I have to go. I’ll be in contact, okay? Don’t ever tell me where you are, or where you’re heading. Vader and Palpatine aren’t shy about reading minds. Just leave as soon as you can, and figure out the rest.”

“But—“

It’s too late. The comm has disconnected.

She stares down at it, disbelieving. How would the Empire know they’re here? Why should she trust a stranger who somehow got her personal comm code?

Gut feeling or not, on paper this was a perfect location. Supplied, armored, and most importantly, extremely well hidden. There was no real reason to think it would possibly be found out.

It’s probably a trap. Almost definitely a trap.

Han sticks his head in the door, a sour look on his face. “Hey Princess, can you tell these idiots—“

She makes a decision then and there.

“We’re leaving.”

“What?”

“We’re evacuating, effective immediately.” She pushes past him, and he follows so close he’s nearly stepping on her heel.

“Why? I think it’s pretty cozy here. Actual sunlight doesn’t hurt, either.”

“Apparently too cozy.” She grabs the first person she sees, a pilot who stares at her with wide eyes. “Emergency evacuation. Spread the word to pack everything you can and leave, I’ll let you know where we’re headed when we’re in orbit.”

He salutes and scurries off.

“Woah, hey now.” Han snatches at her elbow until she turns around to face him. “What’s going on?”

“There’s a new informant. He told me the Empire knows we’re here. They’re coming for us.”

“And you trust this person because…”

“I don’t have a choice,” she snaps. Someone runs past them, holding three packs filled to the brim with rations. “It’s either he’s lying and we’re not in danger, or he’s telling the truth and we’re going to die if we don’t listen. It’s not exactly hard math.”

It could be a trap of course, but he hadn’t suggested any sort of direction or destination to follow, and Leia wasn’t inclined to share. Especially not after his tidbit about Vader and Palpatine reading minds.

He squints at her. “That’s not it.”

“What?”

“I don’t believe you,” he insists. He’s so infuriating. Leia doesn’t know why she hasn’t kicked him out yet.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do, and you’re either gonna tell me why, or find a different transport when we head out of here.”

“Who said I was riding on your hunk of junk?” She demands. She actually was planning on going with them, since the Falcon has more than enough room for all the supplies that can’t fit in the other ships and none of the trustworthiness of the other pilots, but Han doesn’t need to know that.

“Well?”

Damn him. Damn him for knowing how to read her. She doesn’t know when she let that happen.

“I feel it,” she admits, defeated. “Something tells me he’s trustworthy. We’ll wait and see if it’s right.”

He studies her. She holds her head high, but inside she’s jittery at the scrutiny. They don’t have time for this.

“Yeah, all right,” Han finally says.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” He rolls his eyes, like she’s not acting absolutely insane by putting all her trust in a random man she’s never even met. “Now come on, Princess, weren’t you the one who said we had to hurry?”

What is it about this man that makes it impossible to tell whether she wants to punch him or drag him into the nearest supply closet? They don’t have time to find out.

“So there’s good news and bad news.”

“Bad news first,” she demands.

“They know there’s a mole.”

“Shit.” Of course they know, how could they not? She should have been more careful, less obvious about the correlation of their movements with the Empire’s plans. “The good news?”

“They’ve tasked me with hunting down this ‘pathetic rebel spy,’” Skywalker says, humor in his voice. “That should buy me some time.”

Leia can’t quite stop the snort she lets out. “Seriously?”

“Yep. You’re speaking to a professional mole-hunter, here.”

“Well congratulations on the promotion, Skywalker.”

“Thank you,” he says grandly. Then, quieter, “It won’t last, Princess. They’ll find out eventually.”

“I know. Just hang in there, it will be over soon.”

“Will it?” He asks, suddenly sounding very young. She realizes that she has no idea how old he is. She doesn’t know anything about the man who has saved them more times than she cared to admit, and the idea rattles her until they sign off.

Later, she looks up the name Skywalker in their archives. There are a few results, but only one sticks out.

Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight and hero of the Clone Wars. Killed at the hands of Darth Vader. There are gossip articles too, speculations on his relationship with the pregnant Senator Padmé Amidala, who died around the same time Skywalker did. The baby, it seems, died with her.

Unless he didn’t.

It’s ridiculous. It’s impossible. The idea is so ludicrous that Leia almost rejects it entirely.

But it makes sense. By the Maker, it makes sense.

The child of Anakin Skywalker, it seems, would be a powerful Force user indeed. Powerful enough for Kenobi to take the baby and run. Powerful enough for the Emperor to want him for his own gain. Powerful enough to send Vader after Kenobi and take the boy himself.

Maybe even powerful enough to shield his mind from Vader and Palpatine’s intrusions.

Powerful enough to hide the fact that he’s a spy.

Leia sinks into her chair, covering her face as she laughs.

Maybe Luke isn’t so bad after all.

“No, no, no,” she mutters, digging through the smoking wreckage of the TIE fighter. “Don’t be dead, please don’t be dead.”

“Princess…” Han lays a hand on her shoulder that she immediately shrugs off.

“No, he’s not dead. He’s not. Luke!”

A faint cough answers her, and she’s so relieved to hear it she could cry. Behind her, Han starts bellowing for a medic and, “Some damn help here, do you expect us to move all this ourselves?”

“Luke, it’s me,” she sobs. “It’s Leia. You’re at the Rebel Base. You’re safe.”

More coughing, and there’s a worrying rasp to his voice when he says, “You know…my name?”

“I figured it out.”

“Smart.” This time, the coughing is so bad Leia and Han both wince.

“Shit, kid,” Han says, moving another piece of rubble. “Don’t talk. We’re gonna get you out of here, all right?”

“Stand back,” Luke chokes out.

“What?”

“Stand back. Please.”

Han protests, but something in Leia knows they should listen to him. She drags him back, and motions everyone else to fall back with them. They do, albeit reluctantly.

“Clear,” she calls, hoping Luke can hear her.

The TIE explodes.

“Fuck!” Han goes back in, Leia on his heels with the terrifying feeling that she’d just allowed Luke to die, before they both stop in their tracks. Around them, the broken pieces of the TIE are floating.

And curled up in the middle is a man dressed all in white.

“Luke!” She pushes past Han to start dragging him out, and after another moment of staring around them, he helps her.

As soon as they get clear, the pieces fall to the ground with a clatter. Luke falls limp with them.

Han is still looking at the TIE. “Can you do that?” He asks quietly.

Leia pauses her examination of the unconscious man in front of her to glare at him. “Is that what you’re most concerned with right now? Really?”

“Excuse me for asking, Princess!”

“It’s white,” Luke grumbles, pulling at his hospital gown bitterly. “I hate wearing white.”

“Should I be offended?”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t even. You look great and you know it. I just feel like I never left.”

“Well,” she says gingerly. “I guess it’s a good thing you got sick of it. If we went around in matching outfits all the time, people might think we’re twins.”

He snorts. “Yeah, right.”

[luna-loveboop]

I love Legend sick fics because they all boil down to: "no amount of emotional stress will make him crack so let's give him a fever and see how that works"

[talaok]

If you’re taking requests I could kill for some Pedro fluff !! I’m thinking maybe sick reader and over protective Pedro. It’s been a ROUGH week and Pedro fics are how I’m surviving all of my autoimmune issues rn 😅

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x sick!reader

Warnings: just fluffity fluff

A/n: girl, I'm sorry to hear that, here's a much too short fic that I hope will make you feel better(sorry I took so long)

The stupid pot was taking an eternity to fill, meanwhile, you could feel your legs ready to give in.

Once the water was finally enough you closed the tap and forced your body to step towards the stove.

Unwillingly, it did, but you still had to rest your elbow on the counter and give your head a rest as you turned the stove on.

Your brain felt about to explode from how much it hurt, it was as if a million splinters were loose in your cranium, and you couldn't do absolutely anything about it besides praying for it to stop together with your runny nose and your sore throat.

What a shitshow, you sighed, feeling your eyelids closing on their own accord when the front door opened.

"hola mi amor" Pedro half-shouted from the entrance, making you groan.

Too loud babe, too loud

"hey" he greeted again, entering the kitchen, but his expression changed immediately the moment he saw you doubled over the counter "hey, what happened?" he asked, concerned, as he rushed to you, his hand going to your back to try and soothe you.

" 'm sick" you responded with a creaky voice

"Wha-when? Why didn't you call me?"

you couldn't help but laugh a bit "I'm fine baby"

"you don't seem fine" he scolded "What are you even doing up?"

"I wanted tea"

he scoffed, done with you "You should have called me"

"to make tea?" you laughed, forcing yourself to stand up.

He put his hands on your waist, gently bringing you closer

"Yes. To make tea" he nodded, inching closer "and to take care of anything else you might need" he explained, going in for a kiss.

"no kisses" you stopped him "You're gonna get sick too"

"I don't care, sweetheart, 'just want to kiss my sick little lady," he said, making you roll your eyes, as you regardless accepted his lips on yours.

"now" he said, as he moved some hair out your face "go lie down"

"what about the tea?"

"I'll make the tea"

"I'm not dying Pedro, I can make some t-"

you weren't able to finish the sentence as you felt your feet being lifted from the ground. You let out a small yelp as he picked you up bridal style.

"Baby!" you whined, hitting his chest "I can walk"

"doesn't mean you should" He didn't give your complaints any mind as he walked you to the bedroom.

He kicked the door open and laid you down on the bed.

"here," he said, covering your body with the sheets "I don't want to see you getting up anymore alright?"

You smiled, looking up at him "What if I have to pee?"

He shook his head, grinning "We'll figure that out" he said, bending down to kiss your forehead "Rest now, I'll bring you the tea as soon as it's ready"

" alright" you mumbled, relishing in the feeling of your bed

"Are you hungry?" he murmured sweetly

"mh-mh" you nodded

"I'll make you some soup" he decided

"I don't want soup"

"what do you want?"

You thought about it

"Pizza"

"pizza?" He asked, chuckling

"Yes pizza" You nodded

"Whatever my pretty lady desires" he kissed you "I'll order it right away, you stay put."

[extravagav]

Yk I never did truly recover from the sick fic chapter

[kkcauseway]

Pregnancy fics

All my fics relating to pregnancy/childbirth 🩷

Oh Baby- Joel Miller x F!reader (Series) (after outbreak) You're settled in Jackson happy in a relationship with Joel. The only thing missing, a baby. You cant wait to expand your family.

Caring hand- Joel Miller x F!reader (Oneshot) (No outbreak) You and Joel are travelling, on the way to your long awaited trip in celebration of your recent promotion, but your morning sickness is at its worst.

Life- Joel Miller x F!reader (Series) (No outbreak) Sarah doesn't die nor does she have a deadbeat mom. You and Joel are so happy together and extremely excited at the prospect of your growing family. (Also written from Joel's pov)

Forever- Joel Miller x F!reader (Series) (after outbreak) Follows the usual story events, you and Joel have been dating for two years when you find out your pregnant. You know Bill and Franks is safer than the QZ so you plan to move there permanently, but then you bump into Marlene and she needs help escorting Ellie. So much happens, but you get through it for your growing family. (includes childbirth, lots of smut & family fluff)

Something- Joel Miller x F!reader (Series) (No outbreak) New neighbourhood, new neighbours, new start. Unexpected friendships are made and life is changed forever. It's full of ups, downs, secret moments, lust and desire.

It’s happening!- Husband Joel Miller x Wife F!reader (Oneshot) (no outbreak) Joel has a dream that you're pregnant. You've been trying for a while, is this it?

Birthday wishes- Jackson!Joel x F!Reader (oneshot) (after outbreak) Telling Joel he's going to be a daddy again on his birthday.

Upgrade to Grandpa- Joel&Sarah Miller (Oneshot) (after outbreak) Sarah survives that fateful day and so she and Joel are happy in Jackson surrounded by family. She has been feeling off for a little while and so goes to get checked, it's there she finds out shes pregnant. Aged 22 and having recently lost her boyfriend she needs her family to support her and they do just that.

Mine for life- Parent Joel Miller x F!reader (Oneshot) (no outbreak) Your son has been on the earth for a whole two weeks, the day are all blending into one, but you wouldn't change anything about it. As you go about your morning routine as normal Joel has the biggest of surprises for you.

[olive-fics]

Gf Abby Anderson *Sick* headcannons

I'm sick and love Abby,so does my friend 100%🙄

-I need Abby to care for me istg everything would be solved ughhh.

Small TW: Mentions of like being sick ofc, vomit (there's a warning at that part) and that's kinda it. these are all SFW and just sweet sappy shit.

(I can't spell for shit so if there's typos lmk lol)

Made for the girls, be gone men. (please)

-Caregiver Abby Would come over with take out food you liked as a surprise to help you feel better, Abby would even stop at a local coffee shop for a hot tea to cure your sore throat. (Oh and if she saw a trinket on the sidewalk when walking to your house? It's now yours.)

-She wouldn't care about getting herself sick, she just wanted you to be happy even when you were suffering. You'd sit in bed and rant about how your illness feels like some 19th century torture method. Abby would pamper and care for you no matter what it was. Abby would hold you and cuddle you until you relax and you aren’t as tense from coughing or just sobbing because you're miserable.

-Caregiver Abby Gives you little kisses on the forehead or the top of your head to comfort you when watching your favorite movie or show.

-Abby Would seat you on her lap as she would brush your hair for you. She would play with your hair by either braiding it like hers or just getting it out of your face so your sweaty baby hairs didn't bother you too much more than they already do.

(mentions of Vomit) -Caregiver Abby Holds your hair as you throw up or lean over a bucket. She would rub your back in circular motions or pat your back gently. Abby whispers reassuring/encouraging words into your ears as she wipes your face with a tissue/towel to help you calm your tense muscles. “Atta girl..” “There’s my strong girl.” “I’m right here.. Don’t worry.”

-Caregiver Abby Would start a hot/warm bath for you and help you wash your body off. She would use her own pine soap that she left at your house for whenever she came over because the truth was, she loved it when you smelled like her. It didn’t matter how, it could’ve been through hoodies Abby let you borrow, or using Abby’s soap or cologne, she loved it.

-Caregiver Abby! Would wrap you in one of those big bathrobes with the tacky designs on them like cats and hearts. Abby would also give you her hoodies and boxers as pajamas so you felt even closer to her when se wasn't around.

-Before bed Abby would clean the snotty tissues, change the sheets and pillowcases for you so you can both cuddle up in a fresh bed.

- Abby 'secretly' enjoyed caring for you like this but... Caregiver Abby needs to be next to you as much as possible. Abby would cuddle next to you holding you, either it was you on her chest or in her arms, it didn’t matter. Abby just wanted you to sleep just fine and refreshed. Sometimes at night Abby will hum soft tunes to you or rub your back and scalp softly.

"Sweet dreams.<3"

note: Ok I'm currently coughing like a dying old person so I need to wrap this up. Reblogs are appreciated ! <3 Feel better soon ^_^

[romanarose]

No.

No outbreak!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Join my taglist : Masterlist

Summary: You're sick and Joel won't let you go to work.

Warnings: Being sick. Extra for talking about covid, but reader doesn't have covid.

Immersability: Reader is fem bc this is specifically written for someone. Usually in drabbles I try to make the reader gender non descript just to make them accessible to people of all genders but this is for someone. I toyed around with sick indicators like looking flushed or pale, but I just landed on describing a change in coloring. I'm sorry if that's not vague enough.

A/n: Written for @joelsgreys who I saw was sicky wicky and I just wanted to give a few short paragraphs of comfort.

Support writers and content creaters! Reblog and leave comments!

***************

"No."

Joel stands in front of your bed, arms crossed and already dressed for the day. You had been sleeping in, or trying to. How was he not cold? You were freezing.

You try to get out of bed, but Joel walks over, gently but firmly laying you back down. "Joel! I have to go to work!"

"Like hell you do." Joel pulls the covers up over your shaking form. "You were up all night hack'n up a lung, what if you have covid?"

"I don't have covid, I checked last night."

Joel furrows his brow as he looked down at you. "What? When?"

Coughing loudly, you try to convince your husband you were fine. "I took a test around 5 when I thought *cough cough* I was gonna puke."

"Sweetheart..." He kneels down beside you, brushing hair out of your sweaty forehead. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"Because you have to work too! It made no sense for us to be miserable."

Joel sigh, pulling out his phone. "Try and look as sick and sad and possible."

You didn't have to try too hard. Your change in coloring was apparent and your face gleaned with sweat. Your nose was raw and dry and chapped from wiping it and your eyes held deep bags from no sleep. To top it all off, you frowned and pouted, eyes glistening from the sickness.

He couldn't help but chuckle as he snapped a picture. "Good, you look awful." He sent the picture to Tommy. 'You're on your own today.'

"Joooooeeeelll" You whine. "I can't stay home if it's not covid, boss won't have it!"

He snatched your phone off the bedside table and dialed your boss, letting him know that you were running a fever and puking, and he was certain he wouldn't want you spreading that sickness to others knowingly, right? Your boss conceded, Joel tone leaving no room for discussion and his implication promoting your boss to say you can stay home tomorrow too.

Your smile greeted him when he got off the phone. "I love you, you know."

"I do."

*Ding!* Went Joel's phone, loudly. Joel always had it on loud so he could hear. He didn't trust the vibration or flash and his hearing was bad enough he wanted to make sure he always got important phone calls and texts involving you, Sarah, and Tommy. It was annoying, a slight irritant and sometimes made you jump, but it was a small sacrifice for him and his peace of mind. He looked at his phone, opening the text from Tommy. 'Disgusting. *puke emoji* Both of you stay away from me. I got it here.'

Taking out the Vaseline you always kept for your dry lips, he rubs a glob on your dried up nose. "I'm gonna drop Sarah off at school, then run to CVS and get you shit. THEN I'm going to IHOP and getting a breakfast fit for a princess."

"Oh my god I'm starving."

"I know, baby." Joel kissed your gross forehead before shoving a few things in his pocket as Sarah called for him downstairs. "Try and take a nap, I'll be home in an hour and take care of yuh, alright?"

"Okay. Thank you."

"For what?" He looked genuinely confused. That was Joel, alright. Joel Miller always took care of everyone around him. He raised Tommy, he raised Sarah always putting them before any need he had for himself. When you came into his life, he did the same for you. You liked to think you returned it, that you cared for him too, but to Joel, caretaking was second nature to him. He didn't need a thank you, because that's just what he did... but you thanked him anyway. Sarah was a great kid, but she was 14, and 14 year olds are in their own world. Tommy was like a brother to you, and you knew he'd care for you too and has before, but he lived his life knowing Joel would bail him out.

You would never take Joel for granted.

"For everything you do for our family."

**************

Hope you feel better soon Vee! I know we don't really know each others but I know how much a lil fic can perk someone up so I hope you are least feel comforted bc your right, Joel would NEVER let you work under these conditions!

@fandxmslxt69 @runa-falls @k-ra @whatthefishh @campingwiththecharmings @ahookedheroespureheart @mikaelak @littlenosoul @stevenandmarcslove @pikapuff-316 @del-ightfulling @faretheeoscar @harriedandharassed @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @campingwiththecharmings

[the-genius-az]

I want a Maizula Fic with more than 150,000 words.

Where Azula becomes Fire Lord at a young age because Ozai had tuberculosis (Azula contracted it later) and now he has to rule the Nation and end a war because he knows he won't survive and he doesn't want his people to die in a war to which she doesn't even go.

And all while carrying a terminal illness.

While Mai returns to the capital because she sent a letter to Azula to tell her that she needs her since she doesn't want to be in Omashu or anywhere with her parents and brother.

And then when he returns, he finds out about Azula's illness and immediately becomes her personal guard (he just wants to take care of her) and follows her everywhere.

[harleyification]

Can I talk about Avatar for a second?? Lemme talk about ATLA/ALoK for a second.

Like, so, I have many, many...many....grievances and hangups about A:LoK. I have tried to watch it twice, and while the first season is okay, the second season made me so mad that I dropped it. Twice. I have not watched the third season or got to see Gays In Action in 4k, because I was that disappointed.

I remember a hell of a lot about ATLA...but I can barely remember anything about Korra. That’s mostly due to my disappointment, but the fact remains that I barely remember the show, after watching it twice, and it’s the latest installment. That being said, I remember one thing that stuck out to me most....

Vaatu.

I am so, SO disappointed that they really just!! Made up this AMAZING concept of an Avatar counter-spirit, and they were just like!! “Oh yeah, his concepts are chaos and darkness, he’s EVIL, dudes.”

The one thing in the world that could possibly rival one as strong as the Avatar, would have been Another Avatar. They could’ve done something amazing with that!! They could finally have a balancing act!! A great leadup to this bigger enemy, with a twist at the end - like how ATLA did it with Ozai, with Aang refusing to kill him and instead taking away his bending!! The outcome wasn’t expected, but it still led to the same ending, with a better meaning behind it because it didn’t force Aang outside of his boundaries!! But...LoK didn’t have that. It was “Here’s this sketchy guy, we all Know he’s sketchy, but LOOK, THE TWIST IS THAT HE’S SKETCHY!! BUT ON A MORE EXTREME LEVEL!! Haha!!”

The only thing that LoK managed to twist was the lore of the world, by expanding on the Avatar, how it came to be, and by introducing a spirit of EQUAL POWER to the Avatar. I love Wan’s and Raava’s story, that isn’t my problem with this twist. My problem lies in the fact that Vaatu was merely made to be the Evil Avatar Spirit, in a world where balance and equality mean everything. I think Vaatu being the spirit of Chaos and Darkness would’ve been so cool to explore, if the creators had time to explore him - because Chaos and Darkness aren’t evil, they’re nature. What is morality anyway to a spirit?? Why make an Evil Spirit?? Why not explore WHY Vaatu is the way he is rather than say he just is??

Does that mean that Tui and La are merely good and evil, then?? They’re supposed to represent Yin and Yang, quite literally. Is Tui, the moon, evil simply because they can only thrive in the darkness?? Is La evil, because the sea is unrestrained and takes innocent lives, being a chaotic force?? Shouldn’t Tui and La be CLOSE, or at least GRATEFUL to Vaatu for giving them the darkness they need to remain balanced?? I don’t know too much else about the spirit gods in Avatar, so idk if there’s a Spirit of the Night, but my point still stands - the moon can’t prosper without darkness, and the ocean needs the moon. How can that be constrained to an idea as simple as “evil”??

Was La in the wrong or the in the right for destroying those fire nation ships, for taking control of Aang, for taking Zuko’s crew away from him after their other half died??

I just think that the world of ATLA/ALoK would have been so much better if Vaatu wasn’t just...Evil Bad Guy Spirit. The balancing act would’ve been restored if there are two Avatars (and Raava should be seen as something that can become Too Much - too much light, too much serenity/complacency, too much order means that there’s no room for self-identity, chance, risk, and the ability to look inward. If Raava can go too far, but be held back by their Avatar, then why can’t the same be held for Vaatu??). For a world that says that balance and equality is the true guide to peace, it seems really, really desperate to keep only one Avatar.

Vaatu would have been an excellent twist, if he just wasn’t so one-sided, and if it was anyone else but goddamn Unalaq.

That being said, I think Tui, La, and Vaatu (and maybe Wan Shi Tong, that giant Owl bitch) would’ve been/should be Ride or Die.

[josephquinnswhore]

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.

[ssreeder]

heres some sketches to go along with my rant (in a different ask cause i did these after) I FORGOT WHAT JET LOOKS LIKE BUT THATS SUPPOSED TO BE HIM W SUKI UHHHHH

so jet and suki doing the… spit handshake… or whatever… and then zuko laughing and sokka being shocked, then sokka dying from the spicy dumpling he took from zuko

OKAY THATS ENOUGH FROM ME THANK U FOR THE FLUFFY CHAPTER!!!!!!

WAHHHHH ART FOR ITF?!?! NO WAY!!! I love it!!! I AM GOING CRAZYYYYY!!

Jet looks so devious and also handsome!! SPIT PACT LETS GOOOO!!!

& zuko did get to laugh finally after over one million words haha. Thanks again for these they brought me so much joy!!

[aturnoftheearth]

i think the 6 hours of sleep over the last 3 days is starting to hit bc uhh the guilt is starting to set in

[nametakensff]

I have just over a week before I'm in SE asia for 3 weeks so I'm gonna try so hard to get the K/im x H/arry fic I'm working on out of the way before I go 🥲

Also I have, like...tomorrow morning, maybe?? To record my cold blessing wav because it's the last day I have alone for over a month

[oreo-cookies-fan]

Berlin quotes that made me scream MARTIN in my head:

Numero uno:

Andres: The love of your life is a fairy tale! I'm sorry to be the one to tell you, but … love just fades away. The only thing worthwhile is the beginning. That's the best part of love. When every song you hear reminds you of her. When you're having a meal together and all you do is talk. When everything she says makes you laugh.

Damian: No, no, no. Love is precisely what comes after all that. When the spell is over. Then, during dinner, you're happy to be quiet because you're at peace. To love someone, you must really know them. How can you love someone you don't know?

Numero dos:

(Don't know why the English version didn't translate this, but here it is:) Damian to Andres, while talking about how love ends and makes you suffer: You're a sick narcissist. Crees que estar a tu lado merece ese sufrimiento? (Translation: Do you think that being by your side is worth the suffering?)

Numero tres:

Andres: You see, I have become a fugitive of love. And what I'd really want, if I'm honest, is that it lasts forever. (...) my own experience of love is that it just melts away, you know? I realise the only thing I know, the only thing I've ever known about love is the beginning, but God, what I want, what I really want, is to experience a love that never ends.

((Damian: There's always an end.))

Bonus, because it's about Damian and his wife, Carmen, but it also hit like a line from a Berlermo gifset:

Carmen: Maybe you are the love of my life, but that doesn't mean we'll spend the rest of our lives together.

[actual-changeling]

had this little seed in my brain for a long time now and would lose my mind if you wrote one or seventeen iterations of it. a premise: ellie loses an important sense (sight hearing etc.) at some moment time for a short or long amount of time and joel has to do important and not important things to assist

thanks so much god bless i love you

hi, thank you so much for the request!

I have more ideas related to this and I will definitely write them at some point. This is me dabbling in it a little bit, I haven't ever really written any kind of sick fic, so this was a new experience. I enjoyed it, though, and if people are interested I might turn this into a full fic and continue where I left off.

-

Despite Joel’s fussing, Ellie insists she is fine for two days, the pressure in her ears mildly annoying, but she has cramps ten times worse than the accompanying pain every single month, so it isn’t even worth considering taking painkillers. They start feeling clearer in the hours before she finally lets herself fall into bed, and Ellie leaves him on the couch with a pointed see, I’ll be all back to normal tomorrow as Joel shakes his head, betrayed by the smile tugging on his lips. 

Then she wakes up on the third day to a splitting pain radiating through her skull and an aching face, ears ringing the second she tries to sit up. God, Joel is insufferable when he is right, and she is already dreading his ‘I told you so’ when she notices something is off. Ellie slowly kicks away her sheets and leans back against the headboard, an alarm going off in the back of her mind. Outside of whatever is stuffing her ears, she can’t figure out what it is until the door to her room swings all the way open, never fully closed while they sleep anyway. Everything is drowned out by the high-pitched noise, the frequency higher now that she is upright, but Ellie assumes Joel’s words will penetrate through it anyway, watching his lips with the first seeds of panic sprouting in her chest. His mouth moves, several times, and her breaths pick up speed when she realizes she can’t hear him.

“Joel-”

Ellie cuts herself off, disoriented when even her voice is barely audible, more of a dull feeling than actual words, and her vision goes static all at once, her panic a blooming pressure within her lungs as she struggles to suck in air. She meets him halfway, throwing herself forward despite the pain spiking at the sudden movement, and Joel catches her immediately, trying to pull her against his chest, but she resists, hands caught between them. His lips move again, more urgently, worry hardening his face and leaving only his eyes soft, and she tries to read the words he is forming, unable to pick up anything but her name. Ellie feels her tongue move, hoping she is actually saying what she thinks.

“Something is wrong with my ears, I can’t hear, Joel, I can’t-”

His palms gently cup her cheeks, tapping his forehead to hers in a silent request to focus on him so he can help her calm down, a gesture that somehow ended up as a part of their post-nightmare routine, and she gratefully sinks into the familiar pattern, tracking his breaths ghosting over her face until they match hers and the fear loses some of its edges. The state of her head remains the same, though her calming heart rate takes away the blood pounding in her ears, and she grips the fabric of his shirt with white knuckles and a pinch of desperation bleeding through. Being unable to hear what is going on around is disturbing in a way she didn’t expect, paranoia trickling down her spine, and if the slightest movement didn’t send tears to her eyes, she would stop suppressing the urge to check every corner of the room, gaze flicking between Joel’s face and the space behind him. After a few seconds, he carefully grabs her chin and tips it up until she is looking directly at his lips, his words slow and clearly articulated enough for her to figure them out.

“You will be okay.”

Joel softly brushes his thumb along her cheekbone, tucking back a few stray pieces of hair, and she clings to his reassurance, trust not a choice but so deeply ingrained she has no control over it. He says she will be alright so she will be. However, he said nothing about not panicking until that is the case. The urge to beg him to fix her rises in her throat, empty stomach twisting so tightly she tastes bile, and when Joel offers another hug, she falls into it willingly and buries her face in his neck, jaw trembling with the sobs she refuses to let out. Ellie hides in his embrace for as long as she can, panic and pain challenging each other to see who can rise the fastest, and when she leans back Joel taps her chin up again to get her attention. It’s only one word, but it takes her a few seconds to figure it out when her first assumption is ‘in it’.

“Clinic?”

Any other time Ellie would have fought tooth and nail to stay away from it, but this trumps pretty much everything, so she gives him a tiny nod in response. Letting go of Joel feels like a death sentence, but she does it anyway and grits her teeth through the throbbing ache that follows her when she gets back on her feet, and he leaves her to change with a kiss pressed to her hair.