Olivia Benson And Dr. Dana Scully Are My Queens 💜💜
@misskirkstark
Marie | she/her | 22 | US Hi my lovelys! If you’re looking for shameless shipping and a place to cry over your favorite fandoms, you've come to the right place!! I accept fic recs. Just drop an ask! AO3
Season 1 Scully being so smitten with Mulder that she asks him if he has a girl coming over to his hotel room…honey that man does not know any girls besides you. She still hasn’t figured out he’s a loser yet 😔
Fanfic is a great way to practice self-indulgence while writing. It doesn’t even have to be good, it just exists purely for your pleasure, be a little freak about it. Worry about quality and what other people think when it comes to works you intend to publish in a formal setting
Thinking about Robby having a very whimsical girlfriend who forces him to try her lavender lattes and makes him bring little flower arrangements to work to "brighten up the atmosphere" 🥹
AAH this idea is so cute thank u <333
Les Fleurs
pairing - michael “robby” robinovitch x reader
word count - 3.1k
summary - you love life and robby loves you.
a/n - teacher!reader this turned out so fucking cute! i struggled to start it for some reason but once i did it was done in like 2 hours. reader has a nickname but it isn't used too much. i listened to les fleurs by minnie riperton while writing (queen). i think i want to continue their story i had an idea where robby comes in to talk about medicine for career day or smth? lmk if you’d be into that. kisses 😚
—
Michael Robinovitch was often described as grumpy; moody; curmudgeon-like, even. He didn’t have the best childhood, and as soon as he was given freedom to do as he pleased, he chose to put himself through eight years of grueling coursework and commit to arguably the most traumatizing medical specialty out there.
He spent most of his days as an emergency medicine doctor experiencing horrible emotional and physical devastation and packing his feelings away in a tight box somewhere behind his amygdala. The closest he ever got to expressing emotions was snapping at coworkers and letting a few tears fall in his lonely apartment. Each day, he came back home alone, bones aching, and numb. Numb, according to him, was still better than the alternative.
So when you showed up in an ambulance, with your bright dress, bedazzled sneakers, and flowery pins up the lanyard around your neck, he fully expected to be exasperated, if anything, by your interactions. But, as he would come to learn very, you were full of surprises.
You came in with a little girl of seven, a student, you explained as they carted her in. You let her cling to you as you relayed the situation. Layla, the girl, had been accidentally exposed to peanuts during lunch, and you had to administer her EpiPen. You had been unable to contact her parents, so you’d left your class with a substitute and come in with her.
“I just couldn’t stand to leave her alone,” you said softly, rubbing the back of her hand.
She did look quite afraid, tear tracks down her cheeks as she stared up at the doctors with wide eyes, braids splayed out on the pillow beneath her. They had no choice but to let you stay with her in the trauma room, as Layla screamed bloody murder when you left her sight.
“We’re just checking her over,” said Robby reassuringly as they placed heart rate and temperature monitors on the tiny girl. “She’s probably fine, the real issue after exposure is monitoring the blood pressure —”
“Epinephrine can cause a hypertensive crisis, I know,” you said with a smile, and he raised a brow. “I’m an elementary school teacher, I’ve administered my fair share of EpiPens, doctor.”
He couldn’t help the small smile quirking his lips as your attention was called away by the ringing of your phone.
“The school,” you explained, taking it without letting go of Layla’s hand. “Moony. Yep, we’re here. That’s okay. Great! Wonderful, okay — okay, talk to you later. Bye.”
You slipped the phone back in your fuzzy sun purse and turned to Layla with a gentle smile.
“I’ve got great news, Layla!” you said. “Your mommies are on their way! They’ll be here to take you home soon. Isn’t that good?”
The girl instantly locked her frightened eyes onto yours, and they softened. She nodded weakly.
Robby couldn’t help but admire the way you distracted her from the IV prick, pretending to blow bubbles and making your fingers dance. It was the least a pediatric patient had cried for one in all his years of practice, he thought.
“Moony?” he inquired, as they wheeled Layla out into a regular room to wait for her parents.
You followed his eyes to your school badge, where your name was printed along with your picture.
“Right, not my government name,” you laughed softly. “It’s a nickname, from childhood. I hardly recognize my real name.”
He matched your expression.
“Do you mind if I ask the origin?” he said. “I’ve never heard that used before.”
“Well, I wasn’t cognizant for this,” you said, sitting down in the chair next to Layla. “But my parents always said I was a ‘moon-eyed’ baby. Everything I saw was the most amazing thing on the planet.”
It was his turn to chuckle.
“That’s not a bad quality to have,” he said, eyes crinkled from smiling so much.
And to think, he had woken up that morning in a bad mood.
“Do you like your teacher?” Princess asked Layla kindly as she put on the continual blood pressure cuff.
Layla nodded, not quite smiling yet, but not crying anymore either.
“Miss Moony is the best teacher,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Well, I’m a lucky teacher,” you said, tickling her belly to hear her squeal. “I have the best students in the whole wide world.”
Miss, not Mrs., Robby couldn’t help but notice. He glanced at your ring finger too, to find it bare. It baffled him, how a woman like you wasn’t taken. So he fixed it.
Once Layla was safely discharged by a pair of frazzled parents, who thanked you endlessly, he sheepishly asked for your number.
“What for?” you asked, and your eyes did go quite big as you appraised him.
He cleared his throat, blushing slightly. It had been quite some time since a woman had been able to do that to him, and vaguely in the back of his mind he thought what deep trouble he was in.
“To call you,” he said simply, shrugging. “Maybe we could… go out.”
Your face scrunched into a smile and you shook your head exasperatedly.
“Right! Grown up things,” you chuckled. “Sorry, my brain is still in teacher mode!”
As you scribbled down your name and number of a sheet from a flowery little pad to hand to him, he mused that you had laughed more times in an hour than he had his entire shift. You waved as you made your way out, and he waved back.
Dana sent him a knowing smirk which he tried to ignore, but the smile still twisting his mouth was hard to quell.
“She was cute,” Dana said. “Oh, look — she wrote her number with a pink glitter pen.”
Robby wasn’t exactly a novice when it came to women, but he had some inexplicable feeling that that was the start of something amazing that had his hands shaking on your first date. They clutched a bouquet of flowers, something he hadn’t gotten a girl since the corsage for his prom date back in high school. It was a wildflower mix, heavy on the daisies, which he had noticed took up most of the plentiful flowers incorporated into your outfits.
You’d given him a kiss on the cheek when you spotted them, letting him in while you got them a vase. It gave him time to peruse the decor in your apartment, which there was a lot of.
His apartment was muted and bare. Yours was bursting with life and color. He had never before realized just how many everyday things could be made in the shape of food; you had an apple shaped kitchen timer, tongs like bok choy leaves, and a clock on the wall that looked like an orange slice.
Your fridge was plastered with cards and drawings you’d gotten from students over the years, held down with sparkly and 3D magnets from all the places you’d visited.
“You like to travel,” he said, as you carefully placed the flowers he’d gotten you on your dining room table.
“Yes,” you said, smiling brightly all the time. “I want to see as much as I possibly can before I die. It can be hard to get away, but I save through the year so I can take at least one trip during summer in between tutoring.”
His gaze turned to the living room. Every surface in there was covered with art, mostly water color, but some of almost every medium, and pictures. He could barely make out the yellow of your walls. A lot of the photos centered animals.
“These are your pets?”
“Oh, not all of them,” you giggled, coming to stand next to him. “I mean, they all were at some point, but most of them have passed by now.”
You gave him a quick walk through of all the pets you’d had from childhood. Maggie, your first ever dog, a hound with just one floppy ear. A couple labs throughout your teen years, an old calico named Sugar, and the cats you had currently.
“That’s Lisa, named after Grace Kelly in Rear Window,” you nodded towards a fluffy white cat, with blue eyes and one orange paw. “The little black one is Eloise, a favorite children’s book character. Then the striped guy is Harry. That was the name he had at the shelter, and I thought he was too old to change it.”
Robby wasn’t crazy about cats one way or another, but he smiled at the smile you wore when talking about them. You glanced at him.
“I suppose you think me a crazy cat lady,” you jested, bumping his elbows with yours.
“No,” he said quickly. “They’re cute.”
“It’s not an insult to me,” you said, turning back to the pictures. “I do hope to get married one day, but I’d be just as content growing old with my cats. They do make good company, one that really can’t be replicated by a human.”
“It really wasn’t what I was thinking,” he said earnestly. “I just imagined you to be a dog person, is all.”
“Yes,” you said thoughtfully. “Dogs are wonderful, and they have lots of energy, and might be more suitable for a person like me. I find a lot of people who dislike cats dislike that they don’t immediately love unconditionally like dogs. But I don’t think things are less worthy of love just because they don’t trust as easily. And I’ve never once found it difficult to love the things and creatures I do. When it's true, you’ll put in the work.”
He gazed at you, a revering gaze he didn’t capture just how endearing and wonderful he found you. Your words, uttered so casually, squeezed his heart. You just looked appreciatively around your living room, as though you were seeing it for the first time alongside him.
“Where are they?” he asked eventually. “The cats.”
“Oh, I put them in my room,” you said. “I didn’t think to ask if you were allergic. Would you like to meet them? Assuming you aren’t allergic, of course.”
He couldn’t say no to that sweet smile, even if he had been allergic.
You were like a drug, he quickly came to realize as the months passed; like sunshine in a bottle. He found waking up in your bright apartment to be a much better start to his days, and he soon hated staring at the gray, artless walls of his bedroom. He no longer felt the need to play the TV as he fell asleep, with your soft breaths under his ear. He found himself running late for work, in favor of sitting on your patterned quilt, watching you adorn your hair with clips, and apply colorful makeup that you knew your students would love.
Your cats eventually did take a liking to him, even stubborn Eloise, rubbing against his legs and curling up on his chest. Though he tended to prefer dogs, he started appreciating the quiet comfort cats offered after a hard day.
Soon enough, his coworkers started noticing a change. He held less tension in his shoulders. He was quicker to joke. He actually took needed breaks and ate full meals, packaged in the lunchbox you sent him with every morning. Dana had discovered a collection of handwritten notes from them, often with a Great Job! or Keep Going! sticker you usually reserved for your students, hidden away in his locker. They decorated the cubby like multicolored wallpaper. He was undeniably lighter.
Then you visited, one Saturday in Spring about three months into your relationship. One look at your honest and cheery smile had Lupe letting you through the double doors. You had on kitten heel sandals, embroidered jeans, and a tie-dye tank top that said Walden Summer Camp. Glass blown lilies hung from your earlobes, a gift from Robby. In your hands was a large tupperware.
Any one of these things would have you sticking out like a sore thumb in the bleak ER. Dana lowered her glasses as you approached the nurse’s station, smile never faltering through all the bloodiness of the department.
“How can I help you, hun?” she asked, unfortunately absent mindedly.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Robby’s girlfriend?” you said happily, not flinching at the judgmental looks shot at you. “I’ll be out of your hair in a jiff, I promise! He just mentioned it was a tough day, so I thought I’d bring by something sweet.”
You lifted the lid of your container to show her a few dozen lemon bars. The smell alone was enough to increase saliva production. Dana rounded the desks, now wearing a smile of her own.
“What a sweetheart,” she said, putting an arm around your shoulders. “Here, let me show you to the breakroom.”
“I also brought some vegan ones,” you said, pulling a little baggie out of your purse.
It was packed to the brim and had a hot pink sticky note labeled as such, with a heart and a little smiley face. Dana just shook her head, unsure how a ray of sunshine like you lived with a storm cloud like Robby.
“It’s much appreciated,” she said. “I’ll let people know we’ve got treats in the fridge. They’ll trickle in when they can. We’re getting slammed, as usual.”
“Oh, yes, I figured,” you said, earrings swinging as you nodded in sympathy. “I won’t take up any more of your time! Although, I have to ask, has Mike had his lunch yet?”
Quickly getting over your calling him Mike like you were calling the sky blue, she shook her head.
“Fraid not.”
Your lips pursed in displeasure, and Dana was sure this was the least happy you were capable of looking.
“Can’t say I’m surprised,” you sighed. “Here, will you give this to him for me?”
You had gotten a note from your purse, when the door opened and the man of the hour walked through it. Your smile was back in a flash, and he didn’t hesitate to wrap you in a hug.
“Moony!” he said, smiling widely. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m not here,” you said, fixing his hair like second nature. “I just came to drop off some lemon bars.”
He moaned happily, raising Dana’s eyebrows.
“You are the most wonderful woman on the planet,” he said, kissing your cheek. “Do I tell you that enough?”
“Yes,” you giggled, “you tell me plenty. Now sit right here, and eat your lunch.”
To Dana’s surprise, he did exactly as he was told, grabbing his lunch and taking a seat at the table. He pulled you down with him.
That was the interaction that had her realizing just exactly how you had been managing to get Michael Robinovitch of all people to adopt healthy habits. He was like putty in your glitter stained hands. Word spread quickly, as it always did in the pitt, but Robby wasn’t embarrassed. Didn’t mean he was ready to share you with everyone else, though. Dana was one thing, but the little shitheads he taught were quite another.
“Fine,” said Santos one afternoon, after about fifteen unsuccessful minutes spent trying to convince him to bring you in again. “Can you at least ask her to make more lemon bars? I see those bars in my fucking dreams, man.”
That night, he reluctantly passed on the message.
“You don’t have to, though,” he said, pressing kisses to your shoulder. “They’re just greedy kids.”
“No, I’d love to!” you said, doing an excited little hop that had him steadying your tomato-covered knife wielding hand — he didn’t fancy a trip back to the hellhole he’d just escaped. “I played it safe the first time, but I’ve been experimenting with lavender lemon bars. Do you think they’d be interested in those?”
They were, decidedly, he thought, a week later when he brought them in.
“Oh my god,” Samira moaned.
“Wow,” said Javadi. “I’m not usually a huge fan of anything lavender, but —”
“Oh my god,” said Samira again, grabbing two more.
“Well, she asked for notes,” he said. “It’s a new recipe.”
“It’s so delicate,” said McKay, admiring the layers. “Its not overpowering, you know? It doesn’t taste like perfume, it’s subtle. Can she send me the recipe?”
So you started a sort of parasocial relationship with his coworkers, where you would provide them with baked goods, and they told you what they thought. It was never negative.
“I don’t want them to lie to me just to spare my feelings,” you said one night as the two of you brushed your teeth. “I appreciate the raving reviews, but they’re not very helpful for improving the recipes.”
“Maybe they just don’t need improving,” he said.
Around the time you started sending food, you started sending flowers too. Robby was right in his assumption that you were a flower girl, not that you tried to hide it. He got you flowers at least once a month, and while those bouquets always got prime spots like the nightstand, they were hardly the only ones in the house. He knew you liked to have them in your classroom, and you had remarked on how gray and sad-looking his workplace was.
You just couldn’t comprehend it. How he could work in such a depressing place and not get depressed himself. He didn’t have the heart to tell you that they just did get depressed, and perhaps the only reason he didn’t seem so with you was — well, you. You made him smile, gave him life and energy from your seemingly unlimited stores.
So he let you send him to work with little arrangements you did. At first he put them in his office, which he hardly ever went into. But once Princess and Perlah spotted him bringing them in, they chastised him for keeping the blooms hidden away. He started leaving them at the nurses station, even giving them to the front desk from time to time.
He had underestimated the effect something pretty and bright could have, even in a space so weighed down with death and sadness. He caught Mel with her headphones on, leaning her chin on the formica and just staring at the petals after hard cases. Dana liked to lean over and give them a good sniff when she was overwhelmed.
And Robby started depending on them to get through shifts. Because every time he saw them, his heart leapt with the reminder of you. His moon-eyed, sunshine girl.
This is me praying that
This was the very first page
Not where the storyline ends
My thoughts will echo your name
Until I see you again
These are the words I held back
As I was leaving too soon
I was enchanted to meet you
@pscentral anniversary event - take four: love + typography + beginnings
If this lady is important to you, do not let her be like one of the projects in your study, something you are passionate about today but forget about tomorrow. You owe it to yourself to dedicate yourself to something.
I simply believed her...Believed that the love I felt in my head was made-up from the beginning. Believed that I should not expect you to recognize me or love me or commit to me - Sophie! Of course I love you. Do you believe me now?
SOPHIE BAEK & BENEDICT BRIDGERTON
― Bridgerton Season Four: Part 2 (2026)
We're Just Trying to Find Some Colour in This Black & White World
Summary: Jack's favourite colour, literally.
Pairing: Jack Abbot x Fem!Attending Reader.
Word count: 2k.
Author's note: This is my first time posting and writing in Tumblr, hehe. Color by The Maine inspired this particular fic! Another author’s note at the end of the fic!
⸻
Jack Abbot’s favourite colour is black.
Well, no. Not quite.
But he is the embodiment of that colour, and wears it almost always. It’s apparent in the way that his stethoscope hung loosely around his neck, as well his scrubs, his prosthetic leg, and even the way he takes his daily coffee: no cream, no sugar, just pure raw bitterness of the grounded roasted beans to keep him awake during his night shift and again afterwards, when he tries to fight off his sleep at the aisles of the grocery store in the early hours, making sure that his blend doesn’t run out.
Black doesn’t scream at him or transform. Black is dull, bland, predictable, quiet. It gives him something that he can hold onto. Something that he can control and navigate around in a world that is rarely calm.
So when you, the new attending who struts into his ED and taps him on the shoulder with your clipboard — you, with your violet-purple scrubs, and your yellow Nikes, with auburn hair tied into a messy knot, Jack is taken aback. And almost drops his coffee. It unsettles him. You introduced yourself, with a tight lipped smile that is nowhere near warm, but a hint of it is there. Your wandering eyes that scanned him from head to toe as if you’re memorising him in real time.
It must have been at least a minute, because the next thing he heard was you calling out his name.
“Dr. Jack Abbot?”
He blinks.
“Dr. Abbot, Attending Physician. Salt and Pepper hair? Brooding, senior citizen, grumpy doctor?”
Jack blinks again, and nods.
He grunts a response, “Yeah, I’m Jack, and I’m not brooding.”
You laughed.
He turns back to the monitor in front of him, hoping you will take the hint and move along. But you don’t. Instead, you’ve come up to him, shoulder to shoulder, looking at the trauma board like you own the place, and are used to the rhythm of the never-ending chaos of Pittsburgh’s ED.
There’s something rattling about you, he thought to himself.
You’re dressed too colourful, it disrupts his routine and eyesight. Yet at the same time, it feels as if you were shining in a quiet way.
He decided then and there that he doesn’t like it. But he quickly dismisses the thought, and reminds himself that it’s probably the coffee, bitter in his throat, that’s making him feel this way. He takes another sip anyway.
He heard you muttering something to yourself, something about a stab wound in Trauma 2, your tone rushed and clipped but not cold. It sounds like music to his ears for some reason, and he’s never felt this way.
He’s confused.
And when he glances up to look at you again, you’re gone. Off to take care of the stabbed patient, your sneakers squeaking on the floor that smells like disinfectant. He watches you go. He tries to shift his focus back to the monitor, but he’s unable to.
Black is supposed to be predictable. So why does it feel like his entire world just turned upside down?
⸻
At first, everything about you bothered him. It feels as if the colours that you wore everyday screamed at him, and when you’re quiet, the colours spoke for themselves.
He sees your leaf-green mug in the break room, with lavender tea, he notes while looking at the tag. The charge nurse told him that you’ve just lost a patient, and he sees it in the way that your posture is sunken, you’re fiddling with the mug’s rim, eyes downcast and you’re silent.
You didn’t even acknowledge his presence when he walked into the room. He doesn’t say anything. Only pulled out a chair, sat next to you, and just stayed by your side until you pulled yourself back together and squeezed his shoulder as a sign of thank you when you walked out, and he observed how you undid your hair and redid it again with your pink claw clip, he glints at the small shiny rhinestones on it.
Since then, something has changed. Your colours now begin to crawl obviously towards the edge of his peripheral vision. He tells himself he’s only feeling this way because you are new to the ED.
It’s nothing deep.
But it’s not, because there’s just something about you that shakes him. Even when you don’t interact with him outside of patient care, he can sense your presence from a mile away.
Because unlike the over-confident interns, or the stubborn residents who float in and out of the ED with extreme rashness, you stay. You’re the calm in a storm. He starts to notice that you began to orbit him, when you two are working on a patient together, he realises that you hand him the tools that he requires before he even realises that he needs them. It’s like you were able to read his mind, it also helps the fact that you’re a fellow attending as well, but there’s something about you that he can’t quite put a finger on. You ask for an opinion from him on difficult cases, you talk to him more now about your day, ask about his day, what he does for fun. He realises that he wants to get to know you better..
And slowly, he finds himself to be at ease with you.
Your colours begin to thrive more in the chaos instead of fading. It sort of reflects certain things back at him. Silent reminders of what he has long tried to not see in himself, tried to ignore ever since his wife’s passing.
Of course Jack tries to ignore you. He tries to keep his conversations with you to a minimum. Keep them short. Never answer beyond what is necessary. Keep his answers as brief as possible when it comes to patient care. You don’t need an explanation on why he does things the way he does, you're a goddamn attending too. You would understand why.
He will not fall down into that hole of trying to hope for the start of something new, he doesn’t deserve it.
Jack Abbot doesn’t get second or third chances.
But one day, when he was sipping on his tasteless, too bitter for his own good long black, you walked into the break room, took the mug out of his hand, and replaced it with a navy-blue thermos, with a little post it note that says,
“Try this. It’s better than whatever the hell you’re drinking.”
You didn't say anything, and just poured his coffee down the sink, left his mug there, and walked out.
He takes a peek inside the thermos.
It’s fucking cappuccino.
He scoffs in disbelief.
Yet he takes a sip. Not bad. He thought to himself, and took another.
Shift after shift, you brought him new coffee flavours for him to test out to find his new favorite. And he drinks them all. Even the ones he hates.
Not too long after, you found a yellow post it note on your locker that says,
“Flat White’s good.”
You grinned.
You’ve never made fun of his silence. In fact, you embrace it like an old friend. You don’t ask questions about his prosthetic like the meddlesome interns, there’s a mutual silent understanding between the two of you that you knew he had a rough past.
In Jack’s eyes, you kept turning up, with your stupidly bright shoes, yellow, orange, neon blue, depending on your mood. Yellow on a good day, red when you feel like you’re about to start a fight with a patient, and to an extent; him, and blue when you’re feeling calm.
He starts to notice the little things about you too — your nail polish, your perfume scent. All that while it seems that you’re unafraid of him, when most usually do when they hear of the ever dark tales of Jack Abbot and his military ways when he was in the Army or even in the ED.
He begins to lose track of how long it’s been since black was the only colour that he was familiar with in his lonely world.
And for the first time, Jack wonders what his life would feel like if he let just a little colour in. Not to change who he is. Not to betray the quiet comfort of black. But maybe, just maybe, to make space beside it. For violet. For auburn. For yellow. For you.
⸻
It happens on a night like any other when it’s past 3AM, the ED is in a low hum of hull, a rare pause between silent and chaos that feels oddly unnatural. A patient in Trauma 6, snoring like a caveman he is. Jack is reviewing a patient’s chart with his eyes burning at the back of his skull, lacking sleep from the afternoon before, when he focused too much on the Steelers rerun.
You suddenly appeared beside him, holding two mugs. But when he looks up, something in him relaxes visibly, like he was waiting for you. He could smell the flat white emanating from the navy-blue mug in your left hand. The leaf-green mug, that same one from that night smells like hot chocolate. He raises an eyebrow.
“Are you ten years old?”
You shrug. “Hey, if it works, it works. I’ve got a sweet tooth.” You extend your left hand towards him.
He accepts the mug without a word, fingers brushing yours briefly, a touch that really means nothing but at the same time feels too much all at once. It overwhelms him. Clouds his senses.
You lean back against the counter beside him. For a moment, neither of you speaks. The hospital hums around you, distant and alive. “Why is it that everything you own is in black?” you ask, voice soft, not prying but just curious.
He thought of just saying something basic like it’s his favourite colour. But he doesn’t. He tells you the truth.
“Black is quiet,” he says. “It doesn’t expect anything. It’s like…a room with the lights off. I know where everything is. Nothing surprises me. I’m used to the dark, even when I was in the army. That kind of silence just sort of becomes a companion to me.”
You hummed. “And me?”
“You’re the damn sunrise.”
Silence.
Your lips twitch, almost a smile, almost something else there too. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
He doesn’t answer right away. He looks at the mug in his hand, then at you. There’s a tension in him, coiled and reluctant. But something in him shifts. Maybe it’s the exhaustion. Maybe it’s the months of small kindnesses and squeaky shoes and post-it notes. Maybe it’s just time.
“I don’t know how to be around it,” he says finally. “How to be around you. All that colour. All that warmth. I’ve spent a long time building a life in the dark.”
You meet his eyes, and your voice is quiet, almost unsure. “Do you want it to stay that way?” Your hand crossed in front of you at the nurse’s station.
He doesn’t answer immediately, but his hand finds yours on the counter, almost thoughtlessly, and he holds his eye contact with you.
“No,” he replies. “Not anymore.”
⸻
A week later, he shows up in navy-blue scrubs. It ain't rainbow that's for sure, but it's small steps. You grin when you see him, and he rolls his eyes like it’s nothing. But his ears flush slightly. He doesn’t tell you that he almost didn’t wear it. He could not bear to wipe the thought of not seeing your smile.
And when you pass him that evening in the hallway, your fingers trail along the edge of the sleeves of his scrubs, a brief touch, you whisper, “Hey cowboy, blue looks good on you.”
And for once, Jack doesn’t deflect. Doesn’t retreat into silence.
He just looks at you and says, “Yeah. I’m starting to believe you a bit.”
To Jack, it feels like the whole palette of only black paints consisting of his life has shifted. And that maybe the quiet, colourless world of his wasn’t meant to stay that way forever.
a/n: this is my first jack story and i'm really excited. as a former healthcare worker (nurse!) the pitt changed a lot of things for me and it's my favorite show so far. hope you all like this idea of mine. sorry for any spelling mistakes. english is not my first language.
summary: all the times you were everyone's favorite person and one time you were jack’s person.
one.
you're a ray of sunshine.
that's your thing.
you’re nice, intelligent, competent, kind and still the best part of the day for some people. and you’re smart as hell. she loves it.
your calm energy it’s the reason why you work at the emergency department. people need your calmness around to work. which means you’re the favorite doctor beneath the staff, especially the nurses and med students - you’re their golden girl.
dana loved you for different reasons. your sense of humour, your energy, the way you pay attention to the details. and most because you stay out of trouble.
she never had a problem with you, actually, she was glad they put someone sane and kind to work in that shithole. every shift you showed up with something for the team.
maybe homemade cookies, a cake and even a bread if you feel inspired baking for your people to show how grateful you are for them and to keep the spirits up. thank god it worked every time. perla and princess waited for you in the parking lot a few times just to make sure you got something good.
what they admired the most about you was your strength to defend the nurses from the crazy patients. it doesn’t matter the shift, if someone is fighting with them, you’re the first one to show up and say some things. perla remembered how you got beaten up to defend princess from a perv that was touching her and how you ended up laughing about it with blood all over your nose (jack almost died when he saw you covered in blood - your blood).
“it’s nothing, dana. he was touching her and i don’t appreciate it when men do that. she asked him to stop and he didn’t.” you shrugged and smiled at her. “don’t worry, alright? i would've done it for any of you.”
“kiddo, one of these days you’re going to kill me.”
“no i won’t.” you bolwed her a kiss and she laughed. a relieved laugh. “it’s not my fault i would take a bullet for you guys.”
no one ever questioned your loyalty with the team, everybody knows exactly where’s the limit between respect and bullshit with you. from this day on, she put you under her wing and swore to herself anything that could ever happen to you during a shift was her full responsibility. some days the funniest part of her shift was explaining to abbot how you almost went home with a broken arm to defend them.
two.
robby was his own person and you knew that. he loved the space, the warmth of his own heart and the loneliness. of course you were worried a lot of times.
but for him you were like a breath of fresh air. the way you cracked jokes when you noticed he was this close to snap, when you distracted him for a few minutes with some picture of your cat, even taking him to the morgue just to swear bad words, or when you brought him coffee and chocolate. even when you covered for him for a few minutes so he could cry in peace.
and he loved you a lot for that (and a lot of other reasons, but let’s focus on the main ones).
you never said a word about any of the things he never asked you to do and you've done it either way. he could count on you any moment of the shift just for glancing different at your direction. sometimes you have conversations with your eyes, sometimes you just cursed him under your breath and that was it.
you even scared him a little.
“i don’t want to see you for at least twenty minutes, robinavich. don’t make me yell at you.” you don’t even gleaned at him from the computer. “i got this. go grab something to eat while you cry, i don’t know. call your boyfriend, go watch some babies at peds i want you gone. the kids are my responsibility now.”
“i need to be grown up now, i am literally their boss.” he tried to argue but one look from you was enough.
“if you don’t disappear in the next thirty seconds i’ll call jack and things will be worse.” you got up crossing your arms like a mother.
“jezz, fine. please don’t ground call papa” he rolled his eyes, laughing and walked away from you, disappearing from your sight.
“that’s how you teach grown men to be normal.” you winked at dana who was watching everything mesmerized cause she begged robby to take a break and he didn’t listen.
robby was gone for thirty minutes and no one noticed his absence. when he returned to the nursing station he saw you teaching the med students how to do a proper examination on a normal patient, listening and answering all of the questions they had like a pro.
you got everything covered and he felt good to have someone to help without needing to ask.
that’s why you were his favorite.
three.
the med students loved you. the absolutely worship the ground you walked on. they loved your patience, your mind and especially how you treated them like people. in your mind they were there to learn, which means they'll make some mistakes and that's partially fine as long as they don’t kill anybody.
“she has a masters and a doctorate, guys!” javadi once exclaimed like she found gold at the ED.
at some point you became their confident. you knew every little detail about their life. how withaker was living with santos, how javadi was crushing mateo really bad even how santos struggled with the loss of her friend. mel learned how to open up about her sister's situation and mohan was navigating through the loss of her father even after all this time. you even helped mckay with the legal proceedings for her to have her son back.
you knew everything.
during your shifts you did your best to rotate between them. each day you choose one to watch from close and teach what you know and everyday they fight to decide who stays with you but after dr santos and whitaker dared to start a fist fight robby and dana choose for them.
robby and jack were a little jealous of you, especially because you’re a smooth talker and you charmed everyone who listened.
“it’s unfair how they follow you around like some sort of queen bee.” robby almost cried with his words.
“i heard they have a groupchat with you, is it true?” jack nearly jumps from his seat.
“i don’t know what you’re talking about.” you sipped your coffee.
“oh you know exactly what i’m saying.” he shots back and you laughed hard.
“are you jealous of them? from what i’ve known you don’t even like interns, abbot.”
“yeah, but i like to know what they say about my girl.”
“they call her mama bear, brother.” robby looked at his hands trying to hold a chuckle.
they’re definitely jealous.
you use your time to teach them some valuable lessons. you help them navigate in the transition of becoming a doctor. smoothly and nice, just like you learned.
“you know, santos, i’ll be honest, you need to review your way of talking with people.” you were beside her with crossing arms, watching her stitch a patient.
your voice was hard and soft at the same time.
“i’m only rude to the jerks.” you hold your laugh.
“at one moment you’ll start to see all of them as jerks and this can’t happen.” you warned her softly. “imagined if you’re the one in their position. would you like to be treated like that?”
she stared at you and nodded gently, sighing at your words.
“what if i can’t do that?”
“you will call me and we’ll try a different approach.” you touch her shoulder and squeeze. “i don’t want you to be cold and indifferent. the medicine needs to make you feel something. you’re doing a good thing for someone you like or not.”
they listen to you and they care. if you say something immediately they’ll do it and will make it like their life depends on it.
at your birthday, for example, they made you a cake from scratch and even decorated it with pink frost and a glitter candle. you burst out laughing just for them to do that for you. no one else got a cake, just you.
they even wrote you a small letter.
“thank you for being the best teacher for us. we loved you, mama bear.
lots of love and hugs from your students.”
you were really grateful for those kids and they were grateful you’re their teacher.
four.
langdon was a problematic guy. it was no secret. he knew it, you knew it. but he was an exceptional doctor. no discussions about that. it was a fact.
when he first started struggling with his addiction he came to you. something was happening to him and you got it in your heart that in the right moment he would talk.
and he did.
he always talked about his problems with you. he came to talk about his marriage and how scared he was to broke things off with abby, how scared he was of being a shitty father. he viewed you more like an older sister, a protector of him. he liked how you never judged his fears, he liked the way you listened and tried to put some sense into his mind to do the right things.
but this time it was different. it was worse. eating him alive.
you were working a double shift when he found you in the stairs eating a burger in peace. you offered him some and he denied it. the air around him was thick, heavy and sad. he was a broken man and the sight almost broke your heart.
“talk to me, frank.”
“i fucked up.” you nodded, putting your food away to hold his hand.
“heard about it.” he sighed and you could see how embarrassed he was. “you need to get some help. i can’t see you struggling and acting like nothing's wrong. i like you too much to close my eyes and pretend.”
“i’m going to rehab. eleven months.” you smile. “robby is pretty pissed at me.” you both laughed.
“good for you, frank.” your hand find his shoulder “you’re gonna get better. i’ll be there to help you whenever you need someone to talk, to eat burgers or talk shit about our job.the world is pretty fucked and i’m pretty sure you need a chance to make things right from your mistakes, you hear me?”
he nodded feeling a little less lost knowing you’ll be there to help. he wasn’t alone anymore and when he understood he had you by his side, the journey was smoother.
five.
jack abbot was a man of darkness. he worked so much better at night. it was his comfort zone.
until you showed up years ago and messed up this whole dark theme he had planned for himself.
working doubles wasn’t strange to you. you have bills to pay and things to accomplish and no time to waste. you two get along pretty well. more than well, actually. you were unstoppable together and everybody knew that. even walsh recognize you were good. she liked you (a miracle in jack’s view) a lot.
you knew better than to date another doctor. you did this once and ended up in a pretty bad divorce. and with jack? you didn’t care anymore.
he also knew better than to date another doctor. to date anyone actually. but no one was you. no one had a contagious laughter like yours. no one had a brain like yours.
he was pretty sure god, or whatever divine figure, sent you just for him.
the whole ‘soulmate’ story was a lie to him, until it wasn’t. you definitely was his soulmate. his favorite person.
his person.
from the quiet drive home after a shift. from the warmth of your body curled around him. even your cold feet touching his feet in the middle of the night.
falling for you was so easy if you like to observe things from a closer perspective. he noticed how you always have something red when you work the night shift and how you have something green at the day shift. he noticed you liked your coffee sweet for normal shifts and how you drink your coffee black at night.
he observes how you treat everyone, how you greet them with a bright smile and the coziest hugs even on your worst day. he could spend hours watching you talk (he does that everytime you pick an online class to teach) or breathe (he watched your sleep like a crazy psycho).
you’re his person when you grab him coffee without him asking, when you sneak a sweet in the pocket of his scrubs. when you catch his gaze from across the room. when you start rambling about some gossip you heard through dana. when you talk to yourself trying to remember the article you just published.
to be loved is to be seen and he sees you.
you’re his person when he knows you’re his.
he knows you are his girl when you’re sitting in his bed with his shirt and his socks, messy bun, glasses, computer on your lap, cup of tea in the nightstand and his dog laying at your feet waiting for you to move. the comfortable silence. the white noise of the television playing something he lost track of what it was. it’s when he looks at you like you’re his salvation from the darkness. it’s the words that come through his mind when he writes you a letter or a note.
“i think i’m going crazy.” you whisper looking at him for a second.
“where is this coming from?” he chuckled.
‘just checking if you agree or not.” you winked and he laughed hard.
“pretty funny until you start accusing me of madness.”
“i could never! it was one time, c’mon.” he took your glasses and held your face.
“you’re the most gorgeous thing i’ve ever seen.” love. that was love from him.
he doesn’t feel bad showing you who he really is. you’ve seen him, really seen him. you love him for who he is, good baggage or bad. you love his mean remarks, his type of affection. you love how he is quiet. you love how he balances his life going to therapy, talking to someone. you find it funny how he tries to hide a smile when you compliment him. how he flustered when you kiss him in public. how he loves when you bake cookies for him.
“i loved your brownies. did you put some coffee this time? best one so far. love you. -j”
to be loved is to be seen and you see him.
it’s the hope of a future he know it’s worth fighting for because you’re his person. you’re his present.
the kind of love that doesn't need words to be there (but he has a ring in his drawer waiting for the right moment).
it hits jack on a sunday evening in the busy ED. it collides into his chest without warning, stars exploding behind his vision at the simple realisation. he wishes he could’ve prepared himself for this, taken a moment to understand what this means, but you’re bounding over to him with that sweet smile that steals the breath from his lungs.
“got anything else for me?” you ask, glancing at the board. “something a little more exciting than whatever that just was.”
there’s a bite of humour in your tone, but he’s too busy staring at the strands of hair falling out of your ponytail and around your face. you catch his gaze, your smile turning to an inquisitive expression.
“you okay? you seem a little out of it today.”
“just tired,” he lies swiftly. “few back to backs taking their toll.”
“we’re two hours into our shift, i can’t lose you yet,” you joke. “come on, i’ve got a pot of coffee with your name on it.”
as you leave with another pretty smile, jack closes his eyes. he’s well and truly fucked, and hopelessly in love with you.
heyyy! first i have to say i love the eay you write both for steve and bob my boyssss!!
i had this idea for a steve fic that takes place during season 5, they have been together since after the russian torture and like the six nuggets dream and all that steve said to reader and stuff they’re very much in love but jon and nancy are having communication troubles so during season 5 they’re kinda envious of steve and his girl and in the church scene in the upside down they just have this tender moment talking about their future or like getting married sisnce theyre in the church just some kinda angsty fluffy stuff
feel free to ignore if it’s not your cup of tea!!
soft, fluffy steve is what i live for
(and yet i write quite a lot of angst and steamy things)
mutual future | steve harrington
nancy and jonathan were fighting again. you tried to tune it out, but the old church echoed. it was hard to keep track of what exactly they were fighting over this time, but their raised voices made you sigh. dustin sat next to you, looking equally as bored and equally as tired of it. steve had given up trying to bring peace between them long ago, more focused on keeping dustin out of fights and making sure you never looked at him the way nancy was glaring at jonathan right now… it seemed too easy, between the two of you, to be happy and still all over each other at the end of the world. maybe you didn’t care enough about e everything going on… or maybe you just cared too much about steve… but fighting between the two of you had just never been a problem. you were never one to need to be heard, you never needed anyone to know your thoughts or opinions on the matter, and you weren’t the one to come up with daredevil plans that— usually justifiably— made everyone argue.
there had only been a few times you yelled at steve. and even then, you were never angry at him— just scared. he would jump in front of every fight and come back beaten and bloody and the last time, you had cried and smacked him, yelling at him and calling him selfless and heroic and fucking stupid, pleading with him to never ever do something like that again. he had apologized, feeling much more guilty than he probably should have that you were that worried about him. but behind his guilt, there was something else— something that had snaked around his brain and now dictated every decision he ever made. you loved him so much that the worst possible outcome for you was him getting hurt. hawkins could fall and vecna could win, but losing him would be worse than any of that to you. steve still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that anyone loved him enough to follow him willingly, without question into the upside down, into tunnels, and even into the dark— you hated the dark; it was something the party gave you regular grief about. steve had finally found someone that loved him as much as he loved them. fiercely, all consuming, without a single ounce of restraint or conditions…
steve sat beside you and nudged your elbow gently. you turned to look at him, meeting his soft brown eyes and immediately drowning out the still growing argument. he stroked your jawline, finger gentle against the drying blood you had earned from the rather eventful sudden stop. “does it hurt?” you had hit your head on the back of the seat, mostly cushioned, but hard enough to give you a bloody nose. the whiplash had been worse, though the dizziness you now felt was a bigger concern. you shook your head, though you suspected your nose probably was broken. steve would just worry if you told him it was bothering you a little. he had delayed the entire radio station and left robin without a sound man, because you had fallen off a ladder trying to reach records on the top shelf. once he had been unable to focus on a crawl plan, because you had gotten a paper cut and he couldn’t get the bandaids to cooperate to his liking.
you had blood all down the front of your shirt; your nose bleed having been quite the spectacle at first. you were only slightly relieved that steve’s car was totaled and stuck in a wall because you didn’t want him to see how much of your blood was probably in his back seat. steve watched you with a soft, anxious expression. he was worrying. you were right next to him, perfectly unthreatened and unscathed— except for your nose— yet you could still tell he was worrying about you. it was the shirt, you realized quickly. the blood down the front of it was putting him on edge. you gave him the slightest smirk, truly amused and endeared that he was so upset by this… you pulled your shirt off, ignoring the cold air and chill your arms felt immediately, now in only a tank top. the blood had soaked through, but the black tank top didn’t show it like the light blue sweater had…
steve was already pulling off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders before waiting for permission or for you to protest. you pulled it on all the way, the chill vanishing likely more from being wrapped in his scent, than the actual jacket. “thank you,” you met his gaze again, smiling softly and putting your head on his shoulder. his arm wrapped around you without hesitation and you felt him relax almost fully. you traced your finger up and down his arm, finger catching at his wrist. the hair tie he had stolen from you after your first date was around his wrist. it never left his car. steve had moved it to every new car, always leaving it on the stick, never too far away, and always close to him. he must have grabbed it before abandoning the smashed up, stuck-in-the-wall beemer.
“i don’t understand why you’re making such a big deal about this!”
“maybe that’s the problem, jonathan!”
you shifted slightly, exchanging a sympathetic look with steve. he must have felt better, then, that any boyfriend of his ex’s got the same treatment (oop, sorry nancy, shots fired) and that he was never the problem. as if you already hadn’t proven that to him… he still thought of himself as a screw up and couldn’t understand how you managed to love him so damn well…
“do you remember summer break, three years ago?” you were tired of the fighting.
steve shifted, looking at you with a small smile and nodding, “you were a life guard at the pool…”
“do you remember when you would bring dustin and the party and then just stare at me the whole time?”
steve tensed, cheeks reddening, “you saw that?” the embarrassment on his face was adorable, really; he looked like a sad, scolded puppy and you smiled, “i think probably everyone saw that… plus dustin and mike both told me that you had a major crush on me…”
steve gaped in surprise now; though it wasn’t that surprising— he had never been subtle and with you up in your stand, swimsuit modest enough to still leave lots to the imagination, you drew him in like a magnet.
you were smiling, watching his expression with utter amusement, “you never took your shirt off that summer. i kept waiting, glancing over the very rare times you weren’t looking— and you never did, just kept that damn shirt on and staring at the magazine that you weren’t even reading…”
steve looked like it was christmas, eyes lighting up, smug, cocky grin on his lips, “i couldn’t risk it. you worked next to and shared sunscreen with billy hargrove. everyone was looking at him. it was like he had been plucked from a magazine or something… you know i applied to be a life guard— i was on the swim team, so i was more qualified— they took one look at him and it was like my application and any hope of getting that job just evaporated.”
you smirked, eyeing him playfully; he always had been the jealous type. you had worked with billy that entire summer and turned down his advances almost weekly. you had eyes for someone else long before summer rolled around, ever since you watched him drive dustin to the snowball dance. “oh, i don’t think the shirt would have mattered…”
steve looked at you curiously, eyebrows raised slightly in question. you shifted, leaning further into him, head now fully braced against his shoulder, “no, it would only have been an added bonus. no, i see this guy with all these kids and i think what the hell is steve harrington doing babysitting? no, no, turns out you weren’t even getting paid, that’s just how you are with them— chauffeuring them around, taking them to movies… god, it was all much too much for me.”
steve was smiling, looking down at you like you had given him a gift, “so it was the little shits that did it? not the hair, not the smile? not my brown eyes?” you smiled wider, shaking your head, “all spectacular things i couldn’t live without… but no. every girl in hawkins wants someone to sleep with, everyone wants someone who can raise their social status, or has a body that they can brag to their friends about…” steve was clinging onto your every word; scared that whatever you might say next may very well push him even more in love with you.
you turned to look at him now, “not me… i want a family man. a guy who is good with kids, lets them hang around constantly, lets them annoy him, mooches free ice cream out of him every shift, without ever complaining about it coming out of his pay…” you raised an eyebrow just slightly, looking at him now with all the love in the world, “and then, god— i found someone who was all of the above— fuck, and such a damn good kisser and dangerously good in bed— startling good at everything, actually. literally everything… car trouble, monster trouble, bully trouble… period trouble, cooking trouble…. family trouble…”
steve, despite his best past efforts to look cool all the time, was remarkably close to tears now. he was smiling. god, he was smiling like you had never quite seen. it was like the smile he gave you the first time he saw you after your three day vacation last year… overjoyed, relieved, not fully convinced that you were real— and all his. “you know i still wonder how the hell i ended up with you? this seemingly— and proven— perfect man… who somehow– graciously, for me— no one wanted. everyone overlooked, everyone took for granted.. and shit— they’re all damn idiots— but holy shit, how lucky am i? i hope you know that i think that every day— that i look at you and i realize you’re the only thing i actually can’t live without and need to last in this lifetime…”
steve was speechless; truthfully, he looked like he was barely holding it together and could burst and implode at any moment. his arms were around you then, pulling you in for a hug that felt desperate and much needed. “i’m so in love with you.” steve spoke it like he was in a trance, mumbled against your ear, still clinging to you desperately. he pulled away and his soft eyes fell on you, now glossy, “i love you. i love you so goddamn much…”
you just smiled all the more, hands looping over his shoulders and around his neck, “i know. i love you too…” steve kissed you then, recklessly abandoned, not caring about your surroundings or the people that were around. “i hope you know you’re it for me… i hope you still mean everything you just said, sixty years from now when i’ve lost most of my hair and probably can’t take my shirt off without help—“ you almost laughed, but you knew he meant it. god, you knew he meant it… you just kissed him again in answer, this time clinging to him a little tighter, lips lingering against his a little longer.
steve pulled back slowly, hands on your elbows to steady himself, assuring you were looking at him, “did i ever tell you my dream?”
“was it me in a bikini that summer?”
steve laughed, softly, shaking his head, “no, not that dream…” that one had been more but fulfilled and satisfied. “my real life dream. in the future.” in the future… that word used to scare the shit out of you, but now, with steve, it was an exciting promise…
“a house on the cul-de-sac. finally getting a grown up job. something stable, good paying… a wife that loves me— hot, obviously– spoiled and never wanting for a thing… six little nuggets… a whole harrington army.. maybe in the summer we see the states, driving around in an rv, the kids constantly asking if we’re there yet.”
“six nuggets?”
“six… i want a big family.”
you grinned, “a big family sounds nice…” you thought briefly of dustin, max, mike, will, eleven and lucas. “we already have experience with six…” you tilted your head slightly and steve grabbed your face gently, turning your face towards him, “we already?” his expression was unreadable. you don’t think you had ever seen him look at you like that and you weren’t sure if you ever would again. your breath caught, heart pounding in anticipation. you shouldn’t have said— you didn’t mean to assume—
“sorry… i didn’t— no… i just meant—“
steve’s thumb brushed against your jaw, eyes locking onto yours with a soft expression, “nancy laughed at the idea of that… everyone has, actually.” you held your breath, not completely sure where he was going. “for a while i thought it was me. maybe i would just have to accept that most people aren’t like that anymore… big families, summer trips… marrying for love and then figuring it out as you go….”
you didn’t even blink as he spoke, clinging onto every word like he would suddenly think he would sound crazy and never bring this up again.
“it’s you in the dream.” steve spoke like he was terrified. like saying these words and confessing them to you was more terrifying than any monster he’s faced so far. “the spoiled wife… the one i marry for love… the only thing i think i’m sure about…”
“steve—“ he was sliding off the church pew, hairtie sliding off his wrist as he dropped to one knee. “this isn’t how i planned on doing this one day. truthfully, i never thought that i actually would—“ he took both of your hands and you were positive the world had stopped.
“will you marry me?”
you probably stared at him without saying anything or even blinking, for far too long. he probably thought he had fucked up by doing this here— right now.
“yes…”
there was only ever going to be one answer to that question, coming from him. steve looked near tears, breathing in relief, laughing in relief despite the glum surroundings. steve took the hair tie and twisted it three times, sliding into onto your finger in a gesture that only he could pull off.
“holy shit—“ dustin had noticed first, slowly standing up and staring at steve on his one knee. “did you— she actually said yes?”
“no need to sound so surprised, henderson…”
but you still hadn’t managed anything past yes, staring at the hair tie on your finger like it was finer than any engagement ring the world had to offer. steve stood up, still holding your hand, glancing down at your finger with a shy fondness, “i’ll get you a real one… after all this–“ you just shook your head, tears in your eyes, beaming.
you didn’t care. you didn’t need a ring…
you just wanted him.
all you ever wanted and needed was just steve…
“what’s going on?” the arguing had finally stopped, and nancy and jonathan crossed the church with speculative expressions. it should have felt wrong, somehow— to celebrate this now, in a place like this; when others couldn’t even have a conversation without a fight. you took steve’s hand and none of it felt wrong. you knew what you wanted. you knew if everything else went wrong and failed, you would still have all your needed in steve.
“they’re getting married!”
dustin’s joy and proud smile faded. it was not at all reflected off the faces of nancy or jonathan. they said nothing, staring between the two of you like you had done something to them personally. the room felt smaller, more suffocating than it had been with the fighting. jonathan’s fist tightened by his side, jaw clenching, eyes darting around the room in search for a corner to disappear in. nancy had froze, eyes wide, locked on steve like she was seeing a future that was stolen from her. grief shadowed her face, eyes searching steve like she held regret.
she straightened her posture, remembering that you were also watching her. she forced a smile but it didn’t go all the way to her eyes.
“congratulations…” nancy nearly stumbled as she stepped forward, pulling both you and steve into a hug, “congratulations…” it sounded more genuine the second time, but you didn’t miss the way her breath hitched. she pulled away, face turned away from you before she rushed to the door.
you didn’t miss the tears streaming down her face. you didn’t miss the way jonathan hesitated before going after her.
i miss you 2012 avengers. i miss you the avengers tower. i miss you irondad and spiderson. i miss you meme lord shuri and peter. i miss you loki lingering in the tower for no other reason than that he's the main love interest. i miss you poptart-eating thor. i miss you grumpy bucky barnes. i miss you old man, chronically offline steve rogers. i miss you clint in the vents. i miss you girls night with wanda and natasha. i miss you the rare bruce banner feature. i miss you sassy sam wilson. i miss you cheeky reader who always called fury by his first name. i miss you christmas avengers blurbs in the middle of the fanfiction written by an autistic 14 year old. i miss you 😔😔😔
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