#grumpy!reader

On the surface, Jack seems grumpy. Older man with a lined face connoting a history of frowning and squinting, drawing attention away from evidence of a history of smiles surfacing in his dimpled cheeks. All too late, patients and staff alike find themselves expunging their first impression as Dr. Jack Abbot narrowed his eyes only to see an ultrasound better and frowned when someone’s standard of care was in jeopardy.

Ellis didn’t initially seek him out to show him the patient with a fork speared in her nose, but after his semi-composed “utensil specialist” comment, she was sure to send him the photo. He did his duty as an attending to reprimand Santos for her REBOA yet managed to get in his praise from the “ER cowboy” perspective that he valued more.

“Perfect, keep it up”, “solid work”, “you got this”: his praise is succinct and earned which meant it was more impactful to each student and resident and nurse and tech and cleaner that he spoke with. The smile about his go-bag of medical goodies, the unshakeable faith in medicine and his staff’s abilities to do their jobs, his stupid jokes that got a reaction even during someone’s darkest hour. His stoic expression and grey hairs barely hide the steadiness he provides to any setting he’s in. His half-jokes amuses him first and occasionally a few others in the room second, but the ladies and gentlefolk of the ER waiting room adore him for them. They're not the only ones. 

Cue you, a pen with a chicken opposite the nib in hand and a notepad you’d let a paediatric patient decorate with glitter stickers, smiling at Gloria as she explains why she’s “not quite” responded to your recommendations for ER safety in the way you’d hoped. The smile didn’t fade in shape or in supposed warmth, even as you replied:

“Spare me the grief of the ‘we’re a family’ mentality, because if we were family, I would’ve gone no contact long ago with the way the administrators are bullshitting us.”

Jack finds himself smiling as he listens in, already having finished with this chart and needing a thirty-second brain break. Your collected tirade reminds him of when you called – on his behalf – his prosthetist to discuss compensation after his new one had worn a bloody big blister into his stump only three hours into attachment.

Your smile is not indicative of your mood. Those who know you better understand and those who didn’t could sense when “it” was directed at them. Your gaze paired with your teeth is less of a sun-ray and more like a spotlight and they’d been caught up against the chain-link fence with no way of surmounting the barbed wire over the top. All that is left to surrender to you in your watch-tower, hands above their heads, or else… well, the “alternative” is rather left unsaid.

Jack knows the smile without teeth is more genuine, reserved mainly for more vulnerable patients (often kids who were great bullshit detectors and more honest than adults) and himself.

Don't let the chicken pens fool, they were a tactic so that no one would steal them. Only one person had felt the wrath of that. Sweetest was replaced by sourness, a silent hand outstretched and expecting the pen back with an apology – which you received and continued with your day without further impediment in that department.

The fear of any deity a med student has entering the ER is replaced by the fear of disappointing you. Not to mention if someone does something that sank that smile from your face, because before then at least you had wherewithal to maintain a veil of professionalism. Your true expression surpasses the bitchiest of resting bitch faces. The idiot who made you stare icy unrelenting cold into their soul is set on a long road to reclaiming even a foot on the ladder towards getting back in your good books. It wouldn’t directly affect work. But so help them if they make eye contact with you across the ER… Jack actually seeks that out because you don't look away when he catches the beam full blast. Neither does he, raising his brow as if to ask "who pissed in your cornflakes today?" from the safety of knowing that it's not him. 

Never sugar-coating, you don't yell, only wield sarcasm to punch up, never down. Complaining is cathartic for everyone and you most of all. That doesn’t prevent med students from tiptoeing around Trauma 1 with the speed and grace of professional ballerinas in hopes of avoiding your signature stare, of course. You wouldn’t ever let this get in the way of patient care or a pupil’s learning - only pausing briefly if they asked a really, really stupid question... which was at least twice a day. This just ups the ante to conduct under. In fact, you respect those who weren’t put off by the reputation your intensity had built more. Better to face the discomfort of approaching you for help with a consult than be blasted with the wrath of avoiding appropriate patient care because "they're scared". These are real lives at stake.

After a bout of complaints during your semi-overlapping piss breaks, Robby once argued that, if you were a little more approachable, perhaps this wouldn't be an issue. His comment instantly bit him on the ass when you reeled off the numerous occasions his students had fucked up royally despite his softly-softly approach with them (the male med students) and the other half of his flock that had thrived in spite of his absence or scolding (often the female students who banded together to survive). Your performance review of him sent him spiraling for a week to compensate for his "alleged" sexism. It did little to alter his teachings, but you still took care of his day breakers whenever they were shunted onto your shift.

When you do give praise, it’s like that person has gotten a Paul Hollywood handshake back when it was still sacred. Med students flock together and chatter excitedly over whoever was dubbed worthy. 

These are adults here to learn or be healed and you to guide and do the healing. You don't coddle.

Well, you do coddle one person. 

Jack watches you with unbridled pride channeled into a smirk as you finish off with Ellis, walking her through with your constructive feedback via the shit-sandwich method and getting Ellis to predict what she should keep doing. Your senior resident is about to fly the coop, but that pat on the shoulder you give her on your way out still sends her off with a spring in her step. Lena waves you out, a snarky comment between the two of you before you fall in stride with Jack for your end of shift routine:

You walk out (together), head home (together), eat and shower (together) and go to sleep with black-out curtains keeping the world away (together). There's little variants. Don't fix what isn't broken. 

In the midst of your wind-down routine, Jack grumbles about the things he shouldn’t as a boss to his subordinates – the finer details of meetings and policies and “in the works” protective measures, not the general disdain for the treatment of medical staff. Meanwhile, you listen whilst you whip up some dinner, offering appropriate sounds in response to Jack's unloading. Batch cooking saves your life on the regular.

He finishes his tirade with a sigh, sipping his drink before bringing out the big guns: “Heard you being nice to Mohan about her work on that encephalitis patient. When are you going to defrost for me?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, didn’t realise you ran on compliments as well as protein bars and bench-pressing my weight in cast iron. Isn’t it enough that I feed you?” Another complaint, but this one has no burn to it.

Jack's version of puppy-dog eyes whilst you dish up flood you with endorphins. With a sarcastically grumpy eye roll, you tilt his chin up and kiss him with the exhaustion and yearning the day had built up.

“Satisfied?” You slide a plate in front of him.

“One more?”

“Greedy guts.” And you are worse for feeding into his “bad habits”, pecking his lips once more (and again, except it's less of a peck and more of a snog) before getting stuck into your own meal.

Despite the fatigue, your and Jack’s fond smiles intermittently return throughout your showering: Jack rubbing your shoulders whilst soaking the soap bubbles off, you twirling leave-in conditioner into his hair, trying to convince each other to leave the hot water for the no-man’s-land discomfort of towelling off and getting into pyjamas.

He barked a short laugh, but kept walking. Still, you felt his stare linger a second longer than necessary.

The first real interaction came during paired drills a week later. Aizawa paired you with Bakugou. Of course he did.

“Don’t slow me down, extra,” he growled, palms sparking.

You rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt. “Wasn’t planning on carrying you either, loudmouth.”

The exercise was brutal. Your shadows lashed out in short, irritated bursts while his explosions lit up the field. You worked in tense silence mostly, only trading clipped insults when one of you messed up a timing. At the end, both of you were breathing hard. Bakugou wiped sweat from his brow and glanced at you sideways.

“You’re not completely useless, but work on your aim.” he muttered.

You huffed. “High praise. I’m shaking.”

He didn’t reply, just shouldered past you toward the locker room. But the next day he tossed a spare towel at your head during cool-down without a word. You caught it, frowning deeper. What was that about?

--------------

Eijiro Kirishima entered your orbit a few days after that.

He slid into the seat across from you at lunch, tray piled high, grin wide and toothy. “Hey! You’re the one with the shadow quirk, right? That move you pulled in yesterday’s sim was super manly!”

You stared at him like he’d spoken another language. “I’m eating. Alone.”

Kirishima didn’t even blink. “Cool, I can eat quiet if you want. Just thought you might like company. No pressure though.”

You grumbled something about nosy people and went back to poking your food. He stayed anyway, chatting softly about his own training struggles, how hardening his skin took forever to get right. You gave one-word answers or annoyed grunts. Somehow he still left the table smiling and saying, “See you around!”

It became a pattern you couldn’t shake.

----------

Bakugou kept showing up in your training rotations. He never asked nicely, just barked your name when it was time to spar. Each session he pushed harder, explosions sharper, but he also started correcting your form in that gruff, reluctant way of his. “Elbow higher, dumbass. You’re telegraphing.” You’d snap back, “Mind your own explosions,” but you adjusted anyway. After one particularly rough round where you actually managed to pin him for three whole seconds, he stared up at you from the mat, breathing heavy.

“Not bad,” he said. Then he shoved you off and walked away before you could respond. Your chest did something weird. You ignored it.

Kirishima was the opposite. Persistent sunshine. He’d find you in the library, in the hallway, even once on the roof when you’d gone up there to escape the noise. “Mind if I sit? I brought snacks.” You muttered, “Do what you want,” and he did, offering you a bag of spicy chips without expecting conversation. Sometimes you took one, dometimes you didn’t. He never pushed.

One rainy evening you were alone in the common room, staring at nothing, when Kirishima appeared with two hoodies. “It’s cold. Figured you might want one.” He held it out. You took it after a long pause, pulling it on with a grumble. It smelled like him—clean and warm. You didn’t say thank you. He smiled anyway.

Weeks turned into a month. Bakugou’s presence grew steadier. He started leaving energy drinks on your desk before evening study sessions. You’d glare at the can, then drink it anyway. During one late night when you were both stuck reviewing sttrategy notes, he leaned closer to point something out on your paper. His shoulder brushed yours. You stiffened but didn’t move away. He smelled like caramel and smoke. The thought made you scowl harder at the page.

“You always this tense?” he asked quietly.

“Only when loud people invade my space,” you shoot back.

He smirked, but it wasn’t mean. “Get used to it.”

Just that one sentnec made you question something much deeper. 'Get used to it' would imply that hothead was here to stay...you didn't want that...right?

Kirishima chipped away differently. He started walking you to class some mornings, matching your slower pace without comment. “Rough night?” he’d ask when your shadows flickered darker than usual. You’d shrug. Sometimes you’d mutter a short complaint about insomnia or quirk backlash. He’d listen, nodding seriously, then offer small tips or just say, “That sucks. I’m here if you wanna vent more.” You rarely did, but the offer stayed open.

The first crack in your armor came after a bad evaluation day. Your quirk had spiraled, shadows lashing out uncontrollably and nearly hitting Hagakure. You retreated to the far end of the dorm roof, knees pulled to your chest. Footsteps approached-- two sets.

Bakugou dropped down beside you first, close but not touching. “You fucked up. So what? Fix it tomorrow.”

Kirishima sat on your other side, leaving a careful gap. “Everyone has off days. Even the pros. You’re still learning.”

You didn’t answer for a long time. When you finally spoke, your voice was flat. “People get tired of the grumpy version fast. Easier if they don’t stick around.”

Bakugou snorted. “Tch. We’re not most people.”

Kirishima’s voice was softer. “We’re not going anywhere. Promise.”

You stayed silent after that, but you didn’t tell them to leave either. They sat with you until the sky turned dark.

-----------

Time dragged on in small increments. Bakugou started saving you the last bento from the cafeteria when you were late. Kirishima began texting you dumb motivational memes at night—never expecting replies, but you read every one. During group training exercises the three of you ended up teamed more often. Bakugou would blast ahead, Kirishima would tank hiits, and you’d bind targets from the shadows. No one commented on how well it worked. You certainly didn’t.

One quiet afternoon Bakugou found you in the laundry room struggling with a jammed machine. He didn’t say anything, just shoudlered you aside gently and fixed it with a small controlled explosion. When it clicked back to life he glanced at you. “You’re welcome, gloomy.”

You crossed your arms. “Didn’t ask for help.”

“Didn’t need to.”

Another evening Kirishima caught you after a long run, passing you a water bottle and a towel. His fingers brushed yours. You pulled back quickly, but the warmth lingered. “Thanks,” you muttered, almost too low to hear. He beamed like you’d given him a medal.

Months passed like this-- slow, steady, almost invisible progress. You still snapped at them. Still folded your arms and scowled. But the snaps had less bite. The scowls didn’t last as long when they were around.

Then came the night of the small villain incident near campus. Nothing major, but enough chaos to rattle everyone. After the dust settled you found yourself in the common room, still wired, shadows twitching at your feet. Bakugou dropped onto the couch beside you without asking, close enough that his thigh pressed against yours. Kirishima took the other side, arm resting along the back of the couch behind your shoulders.

“You okay?” Kirishima asked softly.

You shrugged, jaw tight. “Fine.”

Bakugou’s voice was low. “Liar.”

You didn’t argue. After a long silence you admitted, barely audible, “I hate when it gets out of control. Makes me feel… exposed.”

Kiri’s hand found yours on the cushion between you. Rough, warm, hesitant. He didn’t squeeze, just rested there. “We see all of it. Still here.”

Bakugo shifted closer, pinky grazing your free hand. “You're not as much of a loser as I thought...stay how you are."

Your throat felt tight. You didn’t pull away.

-----------

From that night the pace changed, but only slightly. You started sitting closer during movie nights. Bakugou would grunt but make space without complaint. Kirishima would casually drape a blanket over all three of you. You still complained—“This movie’s stupid”—but your head would eventually lean against one of their shoulders when you thought they weren’t looking.

The real shift happened weeks later, during a rare free weekend. The three of you ended up on the roof again, this time with snacks Bakugou had “borrowed” from the kitchen and drinks Kirishima insisted on sharing. The sky was clear, stars sharp overhead.

You were quieter than usual, but not angry-quiet. Just thinking. After a long stretch of comfortable silence you spoke.

“I didn’t think I’d let anyone this close. Ever.”

Bakugou glanced at you, crimson eyes steady. “Took you long enough to notice we weren’t leaving.”

Kirishima smiled gently. “We’re stubborn like that.”

You huffed a small breath--almost a laugh. “Yeah. You are.”

Bakugou bumped your knee with his. “So? What now, gloomy?”

You looked between them, the usual scowl gone for once. Your voice came out softer than you expected. “Now… I guess I stop fighting it so hard.”

Kirishima’s grin widened, but he kept it gentle. “We can take it slow. However you need.”

Bakugou smirked, but there was warmth in it. “Damn right. We’re not rushing shit.”

That night you let them pull you into a careful group hug on the roof. Your arms stayed at your sides at first, then slowly rose to wrap around them both. It felt… safe. Not perfect. But safe.

The teasing started after that, tentative at first.

In the kitchen the next morning Bakugou shoved a mug of coffee at you. “Drink it before it gets cold, grump.”

You took it, lips twitching. “Bossy as always, explosion boy.”

Kirishima laughed brightly, ruffling your hair. “Look at that-- almost a smile! Progresssss!” he says in an annoyingly highpitched sing-song voice.

You swatted his hand away, but you were grinning now. Small, reluctant, but real. “Shut up, both of you. Or I’m going back to ignoring you.”

Bakugou leaned in, voice low and playful. “Try it. See how long that lasts.”

You rolled your eyes, but the grin stayed. “Idiots.”

Kirishima beamed. “Our favorite grumpy idiot.”

Training that afternoon felt lighter. You sassed Bakugou mid-spar-- “That all you got, hothead?”-- and he actually laughed, explosions flaring brighter. When Kirishima caught you after a dodge and spun you around once, you let out a surprised laugh instead of a complaint.

Later, piled on the common room couch, you were wedged happily between them. Bakugou’s arm rested along the back, fingers occasionally brushing your shoulder. Kirishima had your legs across his lap, tracing lazy circles on your ankle.

“You know,” you said, voice teasing now, “if you two keep spoiling me like this I might actually get used to it.”

Bakugou smirked. “Good. About time.”

Kirishima squeezed your leg gently. “We’ve got plenty more where that came from.”

You leaned your head against Bakugou’s shoulder, eyes half-closed, smile soft and open. “Yeah… I think I’d like that.”

The grump was still there, buried under layers you’d built for years, but it no longer felt like armor you had to wear every second. Not with them. Not anymore.

You were happier. Lighter. And for the first time, you let yourself believe it could stay that way.

𖧷₊˚˖𓍢ִ🍓✧˚.💥⋆ﾟ＊

A/N: based off an anon's request!! so happy you guys are enjoying my writing!! thank you for the request!

comments and likes are always appreciated!

Remus smiles softly, reaching up a hand to brush some hair back from your face and then trailing his fingers gently down your cheek. "Sweetheart…" he murmurs, voice rough with sleep. He doesn't want to wake you up, not when you look so peaceful, but he knows both of you be late for class if you don't.

He sighs quietly, thumbing your cheek again. "Love? Wake up, please."

You let out a quiet noise of displeasure, clutching your stuffed animal closer - the only you can never sleep without, the one Remus is very much aware of. He has to stifle a laugh at the sleepy protests that leave you, watching the way you bury your face against the pink fluffy dragon's body.

He's not sure whether to find it adorable or mildly offensive that you seem to enjoy the thing more than him.

He runs his fingers gently through the hair at the crown of your head, leaning over slightly to press a soft kiss to the top. "Come on, sleepyhead," he teases, quietly amused. "Time to wake up. Can't have you missing class."

"Rem," you whine tiredly, half-asleep and shifting in his hold. "Five minutes."

Remus laughs this time, soft. He would love nothing more than to keep you here all day - warm in his arms, tucked just below his chin, where he thinks you belong - and skip the whole day. But as much as he wishes otherwise...

He pokes your shoulder, gentle. "Come on, sweetheart. McGonagall will have our heads if we skip Transfiguration, you know that."

You, of course, know this, but you make absolutely no move to leave the warmth of his bed or his hold. Instead, you snuggle closer, let out a content hum.

Meanwhile, Remus is trying very hard not to laugh again at how grumpy you are in the mornings. You're not usually much of a morning person, that much he knows, but it seems exponentially worse today. Still, it's almost endearing how grumpy you are when you're sleepy.

He pokes you again, a bit more firmly this time. "Sweetheart," he chides gently. "Stop being so stubborn and wake up. We have a whole day of classes."

Letting out a tiny huff, you blink your eyes open, clearing the haze of sleep from them as you glare at him - but it holds no real malice.

Remus grins, that quiet, lopsided one he only wears for you. "There you are," he murmurs, brushing a thumb under your eye where a smudge of sleep still lingers. "Good morning, sleepyhead."

"Dragon survived the night?" he teases softly against your skin. "He’s looking slightly rumpled."

"'s a she," you murmur grumpily. "And she is fine, thank you very much."

He smiles at your grumpy reply. You're utterly adorable when you're grumpy. And especially when you're being so defensive of that ridiculous pink dragon.

"Is that so?" he teases, shifting you a little so that you're tucked firmly in his lap. He reaches over to give said dragon a slight pat. "My apologies."

You huff again, but lift your dragon to press its paw on his face, for no apparent reason, just to tease.

Remus laughs, a soft, breathy chuckle. You're grumpiness is too endearing for him to take seriously. "Did you just have your dragon attack me?" he teases, still keeping his voice low as to not wake anyone else. "That's quite rude, sweetheart."

"She wants to sleep more," you grumble, resting your head back against his chest. "She is tired."

He lets out a quiet, indulgent sigh and rolls his eyes, but his arms wrap around your waist anyway, pulling you closer. "Of course she is," he says, voice still full of a fond sort of sarcasm.

"How about her owner?" he asks, shifting to brush his lips against your hair. "Is her owner tired, too?"

You nod, pressing your face against the soft fabric of his sweater - the one you'd knitted for him for Christmas, until your hands were sore, with the little crooked heart on the blouse pocket.

He's still watching you with that fond amusement, but he can't help but soften at the way you bury yourself in his chest. Remus knows you'll probably be completely different once you're awake and coherent, but he wants to savour this rare, vulnerable side of you as long as he can.

"Poor thing," he murmurs, one hand coming up on instinct to cradle the back of your head. "I guess I'll have to take care of both of you then, won't I?"

✰ sunshine!robin who at first feels a little intimidated when she meets you, serious expression on your face, arms crossed in front of you, walking into the ice cream parlor behind dustin. — you're the first person who's come around looking for steve that actually is his age and she's completely shocked.

✰ sunshine!robin who inevitably throws some sass your way, only to be stunned when you retort back.

✰ sunshine!robin who lowkey gets her feelings a little hurt because you're kind of an asshole at first.

✰ sunshine!robin who for some reason keeps coming back, trying to talk to you, wanting to get to know you, wanting to just be around you.

✰ sunshine!robin who eventually makes you cave with one of her stupid jokes, earning a genuine laugh. — it becomes her favorite sound and she vows to herself that she'll keep trying to make you laugh like that.

✰ sunshine!robin who will greet you with the biggest smile and hug, no matter how much you pretend to hate it.

✰ sunshine!robin who manages to make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside and you absolutely hate it because you never let anyone in.

✰ sunshine!robin who somehow convinces you to cuddle with her during movie nights. — she fits so perfectly in your arms that at times you find it extremely difficult to let her go.

✰ sunshine!robin who you end up trying to push away because it makes you vulnerable.

✰ sunshine!robin who breaks your heart by showing up at your door with tears running down her face asking what she did to make you hate her.

✰ sunshine!robin who melts when you pull her into a hug, arms engulfing her fully, tucking her into your chest, mumbling apologies because you never wanted to hurt her.

✰ sunshine!robin who should be more mad at you but she cares too much so she forgives you.

Clark Kent | Superman 2025:

> Let Me Carry It by @satellite-evans

Tags: One Shot, 2nd POV, C Word Count: 1.8k Description: As someone with chronic migraines, I need a “reader trying to hide a migraine x concerned and crushing on them clark kent story. If possible, could reader be a super independent person who has a hard time asking for help? I just love stories where the LI just forces them to stop and take care of themselves.

> So Easy (To Fall in Love) by @/satellite-evans

Tags: One Shot, 2nd POV, C Word Count: 7k Description: Clark makes it so easy to fall in love with him (fluff, black cat!reader)

> It's Always You by @/satellite-evans

Tags: One Shot, 2nd POV, C + A Word Count: 5k+ Description: Clark loves loudly. You love quietly. He reaches. You steady him. You choose each other.

> (Blind Date You Fought) by @kryptidfiles

Tags: One Shot, 2nd POV, F Word Count: 9.5k Description: The last thing you expect on your Friday night decompression drink is to see a too-drunk blonde being carried toward the door by two guys—one anxious redhead and one unfairly tall man in glasses and a sweater. Your nurse brain kicks in, and you do the only reasonable thing: You try to fight him.

> I Never Was a Good Samaritan by @supershit-hits

Tags: One Shot, 2nd POV, A + F Word Count: 13k Description: A stupid bet between two coworkers with allegedly opposite morals. If all’s fair in love, war, and corporate life, then who’s willing to be kinder for a month?

> I Got It by @lomlsatoru

Tags: One Shot, 2nd POV, F+ A + HC Word Count: 2.3k Description: You tell Clark, “I got it,” so many times, and he is sick of it.

> Let Me In, Please by @herweirdass

Tags: One Shot, 2nd POV, A + HC Word Count: 930 Description: You always make little decisions without Clark’s input. Mainly because you’re used to your hyper-independence. But when you make one of the biggest decisions in your relationship without even consulting him, he gets very upset.

> Between Love and Hate by @katsu28

Tags: One Shot, 2nd POV, F + A + HC Word Count: 4k Description: Clark Kent is infuriating. He's tall, he's handsome, and he seems to have taken a personal interest in making your life harder. And by harder, you mean being so irritatingly perfect and lovable that it makes it impossible to hate him.

> Cherry Coke by @lo-vearchive

Tags: 18+ MDNI, One Shot, 2nd POV, A + HC + F + S Word Count: 13.7k Description: You’re not sure when the hating game between you and Clark Kent began, but you did know you were going to win it. He was unprofessional, perpetually late, blatantly disrespectful, and just too average to be promoted to senior journalist. So when you get an opportunity to ​interview Lex Luthor, you jump at the chance to drag Kent’s face through the mud with a high-profile article of your own. Too bad you both don’t seem to understand that love and hate are two sides of the same coin.

> North by @alovelikeyouandi

Tags: One Shot, 2nd POV, F Word Count: 3.7k Description: Clark Kent has been entirely too nice to you lately. The only plausible explanation is that he wants something from you. You’re going to get to the bottom of it— before he fucks you over.

> Yes, ma’am by @/night-scare

Tags: 18+, MDNI, Series, 2nd POV, S Chapter Count: Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 Description: Clark likes his editor, even if she's a little mean to him.

> Pretty Girl by @honey-on-your-tongue

Tags: 18+ MDNI, Series, 2nd POV, S + HC Chapter Count: Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 Description: You’re friends with benefits with Clark Kent, and he can’t keep himself off you, not even in the office.

Joel Miller | The Last of Us:

> If You Leave, I Won't Have Anyone Left by @applemunchers

Tags: One Shot, A + HC Word Count: 668 Description: After Ellie stopped speaking to Joel, he’s all but given up on everyone else in his life. You and Joel have had an off and on relationship since he came to Jackson, but the carefree facade crumbles when you threaten to leave.

> As It Always Was by @mirrormauve

Tags: One Shot, 2nd POV, HC Word Count: 6.9k Description: Joel wants you to come live in Jackson. With him, maybe. But you are stubborn.

> You Have Me, You Have Me Only by @familyvideostevie

Tags: One Shot, 2nd POV, HC Word Count: 4.2k Description: You get (minorly) injured on patrol. Joel does his best to patch you up and not worry too much. | jackson!Joel, hurt/comfort, wound-patching, some blood, a Jesse cameo, Joel being Joel, all that good stuff.

> Jackson!Joel Miller x reader by @lonely-ey3s

Tags: One Shot, 2nd POV, A + F Word Count: 5.4K Description: Established "secret" relationship, small age gap (Joel is late 50s, reader is late 40s), flirting, fluff, violence, soft!Joel.

> Ma'am by @mssalo

Tags: 18+ MDNI, One Shot, 2nd POV, C + S Word Count: 11k Description: Joel Miller’s spent a lifetime in control, but under your confident lead, he’s discovered just how good it feels to let go. As your right-hand man in Jackson, he’s desperate to please, finding himself worshipping you in ways he’s never dared before—and loving every filthy second of it.

> Texas Sun by @from-the-clouds

Tags: 18+ MDNI, Series, 2nd POV, A + F + S + HC Chapter Count: 14 Description: Twenty years later, Joel still doesn’t know how to describe what you were to him. You’d never made any promises to each other, but you loved his daughter like she was your own. Had he known what was going to happen, he wouldn’t have let you go.

> A Stranger’s Heart Without A Home (AO3) by @morning-star-joy

Tags: 18+ MDNI, Series, 2nd POV, A + S + HC Chapter Count: 29 Description: After leaving the Fireflies, you ended up in the settlement of Jackson with Tommy, unwilling to part with the only friend you had left. You were even able to carve somewhat of a life out for yourself after a few years. Until Tommy’s older brother shows up. You think Joel Miller is gruff and rude, and you’re pretty sure he doesn't have a fond opinion of you either. That doesn’t stop the attraction you feel for each other, but he’s gone in a day. You settle back into a routine, thinking you’ll never see him again. Then Joel returns a few months later and screws up everything about the comfortable life you had established in Jackson.

Multiple Pairings | The Pitt:

> You, Me and The Empty Space Between Us (Jack Abbot) by @mercvry-glow

Tags: One Shot, 2nd POV, A + HC Word Count: 2.7k Description: Jack literally talks the reader off the ledge, undefined relationship, but they're clearly in love and going through something, unspecified mental health issues, panic attacks, possible suicidal ideation, talks of losing people, bittersweet ending though.

> Fair Winds (Jack Abbot) by @discokicks

Tags: One Shot, 2nd POV, A + HC Word Count: 9.3k Description: Two months into your mandated veteran ptsd support group, your leader, Curtis, abruptly passes away, leaving behind a note with very specific orders. One of those orders? for his old vet friend jack abbot to take over the group in the interim. Lucky for you, another one of those orders is for Jack to keep a close eye on you. Even luckier, Jack just so happens to be one of your fellow attendings at your new job.

> I've Seen It (Jack Abbot) by @abbotafterhours

Tags: One Shot, A + HC Word Count: 5k Description: A self-indulgent fic based on Olivia Dean's 'I've seen it'. The reader who has spent the last 8 months getting to know Jack under the sheets needs a little tlc to take the next step.

> Against My Better Judgement (Jack Abbot) by @sunbeanie

Tags: One Shot, A + C Word Count: 2.9k Description: Your life as a SWAT member takes a twist when disarmingly handsome Jack Abbot starts moonlighting in your team and messing with your feelings.

> Private Patient (Jack Abbot) by @deliciousangelfestival

Tags: One Shot, F + C Word Count: 7.5k Description: What if Jack Abbott ends up with a rich wife instead of being the provider?

> Trial Run (Jack Abbot) by @lovebugism

Tags: 18+, MDNI, Grumpy!Reader, One Shot, F+ S + HC Word Count: 5.6k Description: When an abandoned baby takes the e.r by storm, and seems to only be comforted by you, Jack takes a keen interest in the maternal streak he didn't know you had.

> Sunshine!Jack Abbot x Grumpy!Reader by @ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff

Tags: One Shot, A + HC + F Chapter Count: Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 Description: Grumpy x Sunshine except Dr Jack Abbot MewD is the sunshine.

> Private Patient (Jack Abbot) by @deliciousangelfestival

Tags: Series, F + A + HC Chapter Count: Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 Description: What if Jack Abbott ends up with a rich wife instead of being the provider?

> Keep Up (Jack Abbot) by @/deliciousangelfestival

Tags: Series (Ongoing), F + A + HC Chapter Count: Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | ? Description: They spent years saving lives in a war zone and driving each other insane. Now they’re coworkers again.

> Don't Date The Three P's (Michael "Robby" Robinavitch) by @optimisticplb

Tags: One Shot, 2nd POV, F Chapter Count: 2.2k Description: There’s an unofficial rule in the Pitt emergency department: don’t date the three P’s. But after one too many handoffs and one shift that leaves you both lingering a little longer than usual, Robby decides breaking the rule might be worth it.

> I Wasn't Done Yet (Michael "Robby" Robinavitch) by @itwillbethescarletwitch

Tags: One Shot, 2nd POV, A Word Count: 5.9k Description: Major character death (patient), medical emergency, cardiac arrest, CPR, code blue, graphic depiction of resuscitation, terminal illness (AML/leukaemia), hospital setting, doctor/patient emotional attachment, intense grief, emotional breakdown, crying/sobbing, trauma, loss, depiction of death, distressing medical content.

> Through the Glass (Michael "Robby" Robinavitch) by @relaxdiva

Tags: One Shot, A + HC Chapter Count: 2.2k Description: After amputating a patient’s crushed hand in a last effort to save his life, you head down to the ER to deliver the news—and end up assaulted by the patient’s grieving wife. As one of the best plastic surgeons on the East Coast, you know exactly what a poorly closed facial laceration can do. So with blood on your scrubs and half the department watching through the glass, you take matters into your own hands and suture your own cheek.

Miscellaneous:

> Too Close for Comfort (Dick Grayson) by @dissolved-g1rl

Tags: One Shot, F Word Count: 699 Description: Weird awkward reader x mega babe dick

> Dear Desperado (Harry Castillo) by @damneddamsy